Not the end of Ender

I'm going to end this blog but keep it up, for several reasons. For one, I did such a terrible job of reading all those classics I swore last year I was going to read. I'm a little embarrassed. But moving on.

For two, it's now been over a year since Ender passed, and though the pain in my heart is still very much a part of me, I feel the need to no longer dwell on his death. He is still with me every day. I talk to him and hear him talk back, just the way he did in life. Sometimes, late at night, he mews at me from the kitchen to come and fill his bowl. I ask him more than I'd like to admit to please talk to our new cat, Muta, and convince him to not be so awake at 4 am every single morning so I can get an uninterrupted night of sleep.

I also feel like reading blogs are everywhere, and although reading the classics is still on my list of things to do, this year I want to focus more on my writing; the poetry and songs I've created and continue to pump out after nearly 20 years of realizing my calling.

So I've created a new blog, "Formidable Witch". I hope to debut a series of poems I wrote as a very Gothic teen, full of darkness and angst and nearly ripped off Nine Inch Nails lyrics. I also plan to post song lyrics to Thorazine Unicorn songs, and poetry I've written more recently. I may even add in chapters from my still-in-outline-form book, all about running away and stealing a car with my best friend when we were fifteen.

I want to use this new blog as a sounding board for ideas, so please feel free to comment and give constructive feedback. I will continue to post on my other blog, Always Stir Clockwise, about all of my magickal cooking adventures, and hope to see you all in both places very soon. Keep an eye out for the Formidable Witch!! 

Lady Chatterly's Lover

I haven't written in a little while, mainly because this is a blog about finishing books and I've been reading Shogun for the past month now, if not longer. I'm almost done!!! But I forgot that I never wrote about Lady Chatterly's Lover, which I read during the last two weeks of Ender's life and finished well over a month ago.

I really don't even know what to write about it, honestly, I just told myself I would. It wasn't as memorable or as gaspingly risque as I've always heard or hoped. Maybe I'm jaded because I'm a sexual deviant and I indulge in all sorts of fetishes, including bondage and domination, and I perform onstage as a dominatrix who indulges in all sorts of fetishes. It could be all the porn I've watched and filmed, it could be all the sex parties I've attended. Oh, is my family reading this? Not likely. They don't want to know nor do they care. I love that the word "cunt" is used. It's not used in a derogatory manner, just very matter-of-fact, in plain English, a vagina is referred to as a cunt. Funny to note that the word shows up as being misspelled. I'm sure the word has been around for centuries, and just fell out of fashion in the Victorian times when everyone pretended to be demure and virginal. I like the word cunt, I think it has a nice ring to it. I don't find it offensive, and think it's funny when many women go absolutely wacko when someone calls them a cunt in an intentionally insulting way. I think it feels good to be called a cunt. It's affirming for me. When a woman calls me a cunt it means I really, really pissed her off. This likely happened because she really pissed me off  first and I'm just returning the favor, and obviously I did it better than she. If a guy calls me a cunt, it usually means its because he wants to bone me and I've just bluntly turned him down. I wish I had specific examples of when this has happened so I can tell you a funny story, but I can't remember any. This could turn into a lengthy monologue about the word and its various uses, but I assume most people already know this and have their own experiences with it, either being called a cunt and it bothering them, or of being bothered by someone who you feel like calling a cunt. Either way, I'm limited by my own experience and the fact that the word doesn't bother me, so I'll leave it at that.You know what word does bother me, when referring to the female sex organs? Gash. It's so very open-wound-y sounding, like we have blood and pus oozing out of us at every moment of our life. Like we should really have that looked at before we get gangrene. It's just not appetizing at all, and I love vagina. In fact.. nevermind. I've realized this has degraded into something else entirely, and I was supposed to be writing about the book I read and almost totally forgot because it's been over a month and Shogun is far more interesting.

Spiritual Will and Testament of Ender's Life

 My dear sweet child, Ender Wiggins McDermott

You have been such an important part of my life for almost 13 years now. Your life is ending, and yet mine will continue, as difficult as it will be to be without you. I want so much for you to remember me always in love and trust, as your True Mother, companion, and love.
Though I did not birth you out of my womb, my need to have you in my life was birthed out of my spiritual womb, and the gods answered by delivering you straight into my home, in my room, in my closet where you were born and protected by your birth mother until you were ready to become my son. I remember the first time you saw me, and the love in your eyes for me was Pure and complete. We locked eyes, we fell in love, and we became Each Others' caretakers from then on. You will always be my little man. I will never forget waking up every morning, on our futon on the floor; waking up and opening my eyes to see your sweet tiny face right up close to mine, staring into my eyes with deepest trust and love. And how you would stay close to my side all the day long, and be waiting for me when I would come home from school and work, and sleep with me until your kitty mother called you back to the cardboard box in which you and your two brothers slept and ate. Every morning you were waiting for me to wake so we could play and love each other.
When I moved out of my mother's house I brought you and your brother with me. You loved each other very much, but I could always tell you were more than just a kitten. You were, even then, smarter, cleverer, and more aware than him or any other cat I've ever known. You understood me from the moment you heard me speak, you learned your name early on, and your commands and what was required of you. You were generally always very obedient and well-mannered, something I will always sing in your praise for the rest of my life.
When I was sick one day you and your brother were driving me crazy, so I let you outside and sat on the porch, watching you closely. While he would wander far away from home, you always stayed close, and would watch me for safety and approval. You always knew when I wouldn't approve of you exploring a place that was too far from my watchful eye. You even knew when you weren't supposed to be doing something- like jumping on a counter top or table, or trying to steal someone's food- even though you sometimes did it anyway!
Whenever we moved you would only take a few days to become accustomed. I know you were often scared, and never liked moving- you even knew what was going to happen before we ever left by the appearance of cardboard boxes in the house. But you always trusted that I'd never leave you behind, no matter what, and I never did. And I always tried to let you outside after I felt comfortable that you knew the smells of our new home and felt safe that you would come back after exploring the new neighborhood.
Some of my best memories of you are funny. Like the last time I ever gave you a bath. I was throwing us a party for your 3rd or 4th birthday, I can't remember which, but we lived in the apartment behind the Gate. I bathed you and made sure everyone knew not to let you outside before or during the party, because you had been so difficult- scratching the hell out me, really- and I wanted you to stay clean. Well, someone let you out right before most of the guests arrived, and you were gone for the rest of the night. The next time I saw you, you were almost completely covered in dirt! You were grey with it. I was horrified, of course, yet vowed to never bathe you again. I guess that was your way of setting your limits with me! But I'll never forget it.
Another wonderful set of memories I have with you are of us walking together. If you were nearby outside when I walked to the Gate to buy a soda, you would sprint ahead of me, anticipating where I was headed (I usually got a soda every day from there), and wait just a few paces in front of me until I passed you by- then you'd spring ahead of me again- until you hid behind the dumpster. Once I coaxed you to the front doors of the store, but the noise of the cars and people scared you too much, so you stayed behind the dumpster until I returned, and then you'd walk home with me, the same way as we walked there. One time I tricked you by going the other way around the building, but somehow you heard or saw me come around and beat me to the front door anyway. My favorite memory of us walking was when Jason Kesser and I had a bottle of wine and walked around the block, to the church parking lot and around. I'm not sure if you'd ever been that far- but you were our escort the whole time. And it was a lovely walk that evening. I'll always remember that as our Best Time Together.
I have so many wonderful memories with you, my dear Ender boo. The time that you wanted to follow me through a field in which the path had flooded, and how you cried to be picked up and taken to where I was so you wouldn't have to walk through the water; the first time you saw snow, and what you thought about it; the first time you met Sean and our road trip to Florida together where you behaved so well, except in the hotel room that night when you cried.
You always got along with other animals so well, from Puppyface to Zoper, from Cheeba to Raisin. Zoper was definitely your best buddy ever, and I want you to know that he loves and misses you still.
You've gone by many names: Ender Boo, Ender Bender, Oogie Boogie, Booger Boy, Fat Cat, Fats McGee, Senior Ender Wiggins Widebottom, Angel Food Cake, Fish Face, my little angel, among others. They all fit you, and you knew each one.
Of the people whose lives you have touched, I want to name a few who particularly loved you and learned from you. My mother and sister and brother and father all love you and remember you as a kitten, and as a big fat cat. Seth is an old friend who still loves you, as is Christina. I'm sure Giffe remembers you fondly, and I know that Tyson and Jared both loved you and still miss you in their lives. Robert and Nikki got to know you well when they took care of you while we were in Ireland. Bee and Kristi love you most of all out of those who knew you then. Even Stirling and Chris and Patrick will forever remember and miss you. There are countless others- you have such an amazing personality- you never really were a cat like all the others, and everyone who met you has been affected by your loving attention.
You know how much Sean and I love you and want to protect you and care for you. We want to make all your pain and suffering go away. We want you to be happy and healthy and fat again, and always to remember how much you have done for us. You are my Familiar, and your energies have helped me out scores of times too many to mention. You have protected me in daily life and in the Astral, dreaming with me so many times. We've talked very frankly, in plain English, those times, and have even had course to make love with one another on several occasions, in the Astral. I will always remember you as my companion, my mate, my protector, and I thank you eternally for your help and love.
As you sit here next to me, purring your sweet purr and nudging my hand with your cute little head, I fully realize the importance of your life and place in my own. My husband, who has been affected by you more than anyone in our lives aside from me, also gives so much of his appreciation to you. You have helped to solidify our love in so many ways, and brought us together in our love for you.
We now stand together in our love and admiration for you to tell you that it's ok to leave us here in this realm of existence. It is ok to pass over into Summerland, and to find peace and happiness and all the comforts of kitty life once again. And if you feel the need to be with us once again, you may always visit us on the Astral plane, a place which I know you will find your way back to. When you are ready, you will find your way back into our life through another cat-body, and I hope you will once again stay with us for a very long time. We will know you if you visit us a ghost cat, and encourage you to visit us anytime, as much as possible. You are free to go out of your body which is in so much turmoil and discomfort, if not pain. We will always love you, and always need you, but what we need more than your living presence, is the knowledge that you are happy and healthy again, and not suffering as you seem to in this body. If you are able and your strength is up to it, please visit me in the Astral soon and tell me if our plans for your body are to your liking and acceptable. Please know that all we do for you, is done with love and reverence and respect. I love you so much. I just do.



"May the Lady of the city of BAST known as BASTET guide Ender with a minimum a suffering into a new incarnation filled with warm laps and easily caught vermin."
"tis not him we will mourn but the absence of him from our lives”

The Wonderful Wizard of Oz

     "WHAT?! You've never read The Wonderful Wizard of Oz?! Weren't you ever a child? Are you even American??"


     That is what you're thinking right now. Don't judge me. I was a strange child. When most girls my age were reading books such as that one, I was reading Stephen King- a pastime I was over by age 13. I liked horror and gore and Rambo First Blood Part II. I had read Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy five times before 6th grade. And I never liked the movie, The Wizard of Oz. I wasn't fooled by the green-skinned witch, the obvious segregation, the boring song and dance numbers (though I do love Klaus Nomi's cover of "Ding Dong, the Witch is Dead!"), the frightened, doe-eyed Dorothy. I had the moral of it figured out as soon as the Scarecrow said he wanted a brain. On top of that, I partially grew up in a pagan household, and though my step-grandmother had a really good sense of humor about villainized, Halloween-style, scary witches- even entering me into a costume contest dressed as a green-skinned witch when I was 6, I had a problem with witches being portrayed as inherently evil and supernatural. The whole movie just bored and bothered me. I wanted to be impressed. I just wasn't.

     When I was twenty-something, not long ago at all, my mom gave me a copy of Wicked she'd picked up at the Hospice Attic. I'd heard really good things about it, and thought the idea of telling a classic story from the perceived villain's point of view to be very clever. I absolutely loved the way Gregory Maguire breathed new life into the story and even fleshed out the myths, the characters, and the whole universe in which they lived. He gave the Wicked Witch of the West her motivation, a soul, and a conscience. He even made her sexy! Who wants to take me to the Broadway musical for my birthday?

     Cue forward to my very early 30s, and now I see the merit in reading classic children's books. So I picked it up and took it with me to the temp job I was doing. I read it in a day, and really liked the story as it was meant to be told. I was able to visualize it and believe in it. I think my favorite part, completely omitted from the film, was the little world of porcelain people. They were so tiny and fragile, and funny when they were offended by Dorothy's bumbling clumsiness.

Spring Resolutions: A New Way

     With the onset of a series of increasingly stressful and depressing events in my life, I was coming to the realization that I had no healthy means of escaping the harsh reality I've been forced to experience. I tried drinking, but after a couple nights of falling asleep next to an empty bottle of wine and waking up with a killer headache, I proved to myself once again that I'm an occasional social drinker and little more. I'm too broke for other drugs, and anyway I have no interest in acquiring a habit as expensive as that can be. I don't have insurance so therapy wasn't an option. I was starting to feel like I was overstepping bounds with some of my closer friends, always being the one who needed the ear and having little energy to be the ear for them when they needed it. My only safe comforts in life are my wonderful, loving, near-perfect husband, Sean, and our darling 13 year old marmalade and cream cat, Ender.

     But now, Ender is dying, right here before our eyes, of an intestinal tumor the size of a lemon that we were advised is dangerous to remove and would likely only delay his death, making it harder for us all. And we're devastated. This news, along with all the other stressors in our life- the passing of Sean's father last September, still fresh; moving across the country in the dead of winter; rejection letters from every job for which we've applied; even positive stress such as starting several new musical projects together and my own religious training as a Wiccan Priestess- has been a blow to our hearts that we never expected. We are both absolutely at the bottom of the barrel, so to speak, as far as energy and the ability to care about things goes. We are lucky to have a very strong marriage, and we handle each other with the utmost care. But the depression has been crushing, and we've shied away from going out with friends, having fun, even taking care of our own bodies the way we normally do. We hurt to the bone.
     Ender is still with us, hanging on by a thread. I will spare you the awful details of his slow transition from fat, healthy, & happy cat to the state in which we find him today. He isn't able to hop up on the couch or the bed anymore- we've made little staircases for him out of cardboard boxes. The vet says he's not in pain, so keeping him at home while he's still alive isn't cruel. We couldn't handle it if he was in pain and we were selfishly prolonging his life. We don't want his last memories to be of being dragged to a strange place and forced to go to sleep, to never again awake, so unless he begins to show intense discomfort or pain, his choice, and ours, is for him to die at home, in our care.  But we also wish his passing would occur soon so that we can properly mourn and recover from the loss, and be able to return to normal life without the guilt of doing so.