Over-praising

These are actual compliments

Compliments are great.  Who doesn't like a meaningful compliment.  From the simple, "you look lovely, or you smell great," to the more in depth, "Great job, you really pulled that all together and present a well thought out argument."  Both of course make me smile, but having someone recognize my brains over my body gives me a little extra happy.  I never understood those whom couldn't take a compliment.  How hard is it to smile and say "thank you."  Just as kisses aren't contracts, neither are compliments.  So then if I enjoy a well made compliment, what's wrong with someone doting that attention upon you all the time?  and why do I become so blase when men compliment me on having, "a great ass!"  

The simple answer is, nothing if the compliment is genuine and based in truth.  When praising someone is used as manipulation however, it is not only annoying, it is destructive.  Being recognized for what you do, or who you are; well it just feels good.  The dark side to it comes into play when the one offering the praise is doing so as verbal bribery.  We've all encountered those so insecure that they feel the only way to garner your attention is to kiss your ass.  That jag gets old fast.  Much the same does the one attempting to butter you up, be it for personal or business gain.  The complimenting in those cases is all about manipulating you to do what they want.  One of my suitors whom was well aware of my general dislike of high heels.  For me, they are torture devices that unless made specifically for my "dancers feet" cause excruciating pain.  I would much rather be comfortable than force myself into another ideal of a beauty standard.  Yet here came Mr. Compliment, with his, "Babe you look so sexy in those 6 inch heels.  God you're beautiful when you wear them for me."  That compliment much like the "you've a great ass," which more often than not is followed up with "I'd like to be behind you right now."  Has absolutely nothing to do with actually complimenting me.  It is nothing more than a manipulator used as a jumping point for the other to tell me what it is the want and desire. 

Now to my mind, I'm beautiful regardless as the footwear, makeup, or clothing style I choose.  So this tactic does nothing for me.  And my ass, large as it may be in comparison to another's; is not different from anyone else's in it functionality.  I am not insecure, but for those whom are and require compliments to feel good about themselves will sadly fall for such ploys.  I'd rather eat dirt.  Then there are those that use praise or compliments to condition another.  Parents, boyfriends, bosses, and teachers alike and so many others can fall into this category.  In the interest of keeping it very simple (overly so)  praise as a conditioning tool is widely seen as abuse.  Many of these so-called “caregivers types” use praise not to raise self esteem, encourage kinder, more considerate or virtuous behavior, but to reinforce conduct that simply makes their victims more compliant, pliable, or easier to deal with.  So, if the complimentee's needs represent a nuisance or inconvenience for them, they often—through highly selective, manipulative praise—systematically encourage that person to refrain from sharing or asserting their thoughts, feelings, wants or needs.  Indirectly, they may cause the individual to feel that they’re good or worthy only when they’re focusing exclusively on the partner's needs.  Treating anyone in this manner warrants being seen as psychologically abusive, for seeking to mold anyone to conform to the another's selfish desires forces the victim to renounce their own quite legitimate wants and needs—unless, that is, they flat out rebel against such dictates, which, regrettably, has its own serious mental and emotional repercussions.

These are not: They have nothing to do with who or what the person is.

Running With Wolves

The beauty of being in the north is the wildlife.  There is such a variety of natural beauty that surrounds us at any given time, be it summer, winter, spring, or fall.  Today was a day for the wolf.  Running full tilt, along the side of the road showing the world the beauty in power and grace.  I cannot express how pleased I am that nary a soul panicked calling out for the destruction of such a stunning creature.  All went along their merry ways, smiling and in total awe of such wonders.

Run free my friend, you will forever make me smile just that much more.

My rescue has me encountering so many different animals, domestic to wild.  My three wolves are not as human friendly, at least not with those outside of us whom work with them daily.  I like it that way.  I am still a firm believer that wildlife should remain wild.  I am not now, nor have I ever been pleased with those whom take animals whom are meant to remain wild and making them pets.  We have truly screwed with their natural habitats enough, and to add this insult of trying to make them pets...it's unconscionable.  Almost as unconscionable as those who partake in the culling of wolves, also known as the slaughter of wolves.  A special place in hell awaits those people. 

Day of Snakes

St Patrick was as Irish as...well, he wasn’t really Irish at all

The patron saint of Ireland that everyone celebrates on the 17th of March wasn’t Irish at all but British.  

Legend tells it that in addition to introducing Christianity to Ireland, St. Patrick banished all the snakes from the Emerald Isle, chasing them into the sea from atop a cliff where he had undertaken a 40-day fast. ... The truth is that there were never any snakes in Ireland to begin with. 

Mark Ryan, director of the Louisiana Poison Center at the Louisiana State University Health Sciences Center in Shreveport, said in 2008 that the timing wasn't right for the sensitive, cold-blooded reptiles to expand their range. 

"There are no snakes in Ireland for the simple reason they couldn't get there because the climate wasn't favorable for them to be there," he said. 

Other reptiles didn't make it either, except for one: the common or viviparous lizard. Ireland's only native reptile, the species must have arrived within the last 10,000 years, according to Monaghan. 


Happy St. Patrick’s Day? I Don’t Think So.

Despite how it’s celebrated by you,  St. Patrick’s Day is a religious holiday.  It’s a Christian holiday. At one point it was (and in Ireland still is) a holy day of obligation in the Catholic Church.  It’s a holiday commemorating the conversion of Ireland to Christianity.  Its celebrations may have become more secular over the years, but at its origin, it’s a celebration of religious colonialism and the destruction of indigenous traditions inherent in the work of this man for whom it is named.  Why, in the name of all that’s sacred, would I as a Pagan woman, celebrate that? Why would any non Christian?  For many Pagan's and especially Druids St. Patrick's Day isn't a day of celebrations, as they see Patrick, famously attributed with converting Ireland to Christianity, as committing something akin to cultural genocide.

The "snakes" that Patrick drove out of Ireland were the Druidic priests, whom had serpents tattooed on their forearms. Celebrating him is like celebrating Stalin or Hitler. 

A fellow Pagan and author Isaac Bonewits called the day "All Snakes Day", and penned songs calling for the return of the "snakes" that Patrick is attributed to having driven out.  As a devout Pagan, and someone working very hard to restore and rebuild the very faiths people like Patrick sundered, I would rather cut off an arm than put on the green for St. Patrick’s Day.


I on 'All Snakes Day" have for many ears now chosen a God or Goddess of Pagan Ireland and celebrate Them.  Embracing the ways of old, with offerings of wine and food.  I’m both Irish and Pagan and by doing this, embracing my rich history and beliefs I am spitting in the eye of St. Patrick and his Church’s agenda of wholesale Christianization. It’s a small thing, granted, but if we attend to the small things, the large have a way of handling themselves. By doing this we’re making a statement before our ancestors and Gods. We’re saying ‘we remember You. You’re not forgotten. Christianity did not win. We’re still here. And so are You.”

Blessings to the three realms which connect us to, sky, sea, and land.

Walk in beauty my friends.

The Beer Guy

I starting talking to TBG almost two weeks ago.  He was direct, upfront and open about his interest in meeting and getting to know me in person.  Something I hold in high regard.  We had some great phone conversations and thus set up a time to meet and enjoy some live music.  TBG was shorter than I typically go for but over all a decent looking man.  Within 5 minutes of attempted face to face conversation however, it was clear that keeping the conversation going was going to be up to me. 

Now I always take into account that someone might be nervous on the face to face meeting and happily try to take away the stress.  I will however try to get the person to open up and to also see if they can handle me.  I'm not for the faint of heart as you are all aware.  There are a few items that I do like to get out of the way before either of us waste anymore of our time.  Knowing how someone handles stress, what their thoughts are on racism and LGBT right, and of course are they actual animal lovers.  I have to give TBG credit for landing two out the three without batting an eye. 

While I did my very best to keep everything light and friendly, through the entire conversation TBG made little to no eye-contact, and when another paid me a compliment he was visibly annoyed.  The stranger had said nothing more than he adored my hair.  Noting that not many could pull off a mohawk and still look soft.  It was a compliment, nothing more and nothing less.  It was sweet and made me smile.  TBG was openly jealous.  Yuck.  Insecurity is so unattractive, and such a huge warning bell for me.  It was becoming more and more obvious that between the two of us I was the one who had the bigger penis.  Ha!  This of course annoyed me, so I stopped being subtle in my conversation.  The kid gloves had to come off and it was time to see what he was really made of. 

He failed horribly.  Not only was he insecure and jealous.  TBG was homophobic.  Double yuck!  His rigid frame and looking directly ahead, no eye contact form was a wall of ugliness that made me laugh.  I've come to a point in my life where I'm not even surprised by these things, I just find them and the person one big dumb joke.  We finished off our appetizers and called it a night.  As I changed and got comfortable TBG actually texted me to ask if I wanted to have a "sleep over" stating that he was hoping I would come back home with him.  Once I had stopped laughing and showing my daughter the text, both she and I sat with tea chuckling about how damn difficult it was for me to find a man of substance, but who was still open minded enough to also accept that I think a little more outside the box than most.  We've come to the conclusion that while my dating is necessary, in the end it is probably best that I accept the likelihood that I will remain single forever. 

I might need to change my stance on fuckboys.  I won't have to talk to them will I?

Christopher Asks:

What do you believe that not many other people do? (i.e., what are some of your unpopular opinions?)

Oh bless your heart, most of my opinions seem to be pretty unpopular most days.  I'm not one to shy away from a verbal volleying of ideas, and when it's with someone who can share with me their viewpoints without either of us slandering the other I'm so happy.  But hey this is the internet and more often than not people either run screaming, or just think I'm a fat lesbian.  At least that seems to be the popular go to slam.  So my go to hot button opinions seem to be:

*Animals are better than people.  Harambe's death was avoidable and yes I would have been ok if the kid didn't make it sad as that is.  I'm reminded of a young girls death, many many years ago at the Met.  She was on a school trip and chose to slide down the large marble railings there from something like the 2nd or 3rd level.  She didn't make it of course.  People were crying and asking why and talking about the wasted life of one so young..... I was shaking my head and thinking, "natural selection works."  At some point we've got to realize culling the herd isn't as bad as it seems.  Yeah that tends to piss people off.

*I am a liberal whom thinks gun control is both good and bad.  I always carry a knife.

*I'm Pro Choice (not pro abortion, most days)


*Zoo's should be set up in a manner that the animals run free and the humans are in cages should they wish to go.

*Marriage is laughable. I am in awe of those whom make it last and work, but I don't believe marriage is good for me.

*P0rn isn't evil.

*Men whom have ass fetishes and lurve anal, 95% of the time are shitty lovers. (pun not actually intended butt humorous to me now)

*All men are not created equal, nor are all women.  Different is good and individuality should be celebrated.

*Fashion policing (ie: pull up your pants or you can't shop here) is so damn stupid!

*Animated TV or movies are more fun to watch than real people TV or movies.

*Washing your hair every day is a silly thing to do. Plus it's bad for your hair.

*Dressing up for a partner is stupid.

*Men and women can be just friends.

*Any and all testing done on animals for human benefit is wrong.  Yes even for medical advancement.

Of course there are many other unpopular opinions that I hold but those are the ones that popped into my head first.  As always these are just my thoughts, now go have a few of your own.

Here's Your Sign

We're a motley crew, with a humor that would make any HR department head vomit in his mouth, repeatedly.  Some work like they were built for such things, while others; well we apparently keep them around for comic relief.   Kenny, if the name was indication enough is a grand bit humorous antidote.  For a time he rode his bike to work.  A bicycle, not a motorcycle to be clear.  A bike that he used in good measure until it and he met with a sign from above.  A big red STOP sign that is.  To date we are unsure how he ran over the sign; on his bicycle.  But run it over he did indeed.  Hit it hard enough to leave the entire twisted mess on a 45 degree angle.  Seriously.

How does one run over a stop sign on a bicycle?  We've hypothesized, sketched out the path and trajectory, pondered, and laughed until the tears flowed like a heavy rainfall.  Kenny for his part cannot seem to explain in any further detail than what we can come up, not how this event occurred or how he came to be missing so many fingers.  Then again, maybe he likes I our theories better.  Suffice to say the only real evidence we have is the mangled stop sign, and the vast amount of heavy bruises mottling Kenny's entire physique.  To the naked eye, I can state that the stop sign for all it's wreckage of cold metal, won. 

Fast forward a few months, and Kenny had saved up enough for a truly stellar heap of potentially heinous vehicular man-slaughtering junk.  It's as though anything involving metal would ultimately be Kenny's downfall.  Or maybe that was just my take on it all.  Still I cannot say that I was far from the mark when I first laid eyes on the...car?  You see Kenny found public transportation disagreeable.  Even more so than the physical damage he did to inanimate objects, not to mention himself when he was in control of the wheel.  Thus the heap of what can only be described as scrap metal was purchased.  Unseen.  Yes, you read that correctly. 

Kenny saw an ad you see.  An ad that offered a "running beater" for best offer.  He offered $200 and was told that he could have both sets of tires for that fine amount.  This to our minds; those minds unencumbered by repeated trauma that is; found this to be a massive warning.  Kenny however whooped and cheered his good fortune.  A fortune I am still awaiting the arrival of.  The car? of his dreams was delivered, yet unseen via tow truck.  This did nothing to dissuade Kenny's elation at having a four wheeled chariot that was now all his own.  That was until he popped the hood; for a brief moment I saw Kenny's joy falter but was soon replaced with a renewed happiness.  Not only did Kenny have a car, but he had a project. You see Kenny's new chariot had a dust problem.  If by dust you understand it to mean an engine full of sand.

Oh boy.  

It took Kenny a few weeks, but remove all, or almost all the sand he did.  As the engine sputtered roared to life so did Kenny's spirit.  For all his quirks and oddities, I must give the man credit for unending optimism.  In no short order Kenny was driving himself to work.  Proud to have wheels all his own.  A man of the road once more.  I, for all my optimism gave Kenny and his car a very wide birth; never taking for granted that being upon the sidewalk was to be a safe haven.  Need I remind you of his track record thus far?  Not to mention I still have nary a clue as to why he is short so many digits upon each hand. 

One particularly frigid evening as I was about to walk my way home, Kenny appeared keys in hand and smile brilliant upon his grubby face.  Jade, no need to walk hun, it's too cold!  Come, I'll drive you.  I am uncertain what cosmic events or sudden onset of cerebral apoplexy overtook me, but get in Kharon's ferry but get in it I did.  As I searched my pockets for the gold coins required of such a ride, as Kenny turned the key.  Doing my level best to ensure Kharon was paid in full lest I be swept away into the depths of the Styx.  I awaited the the tell tale whirl of the fan kicking in offering us some warmth within the safety of this, vehicle protecting us from the elements.  What came to pass had me quite literally gobsmacked. 

There was no whir to be heard or felt.  I reached for the knobs upon the dash to ensure they were indeed in the on position.  Kenny smiled at me like a parent about to tell their slightly daft child some truth that was yet unknown.  "The heater doesn't work.  Actually I don't even this there is a fan.." he continued.  I stopped listening somewhere between doesn't work, and the backfiring of the engine that followed.  I was going to die.  It was time for my heathen phatass to pray to my heathen gods.  I was so caught up in my thoughts and prayers that I didn't quite catch the following diatribe, but snapped my head back around as a lit candle was foisted into my rather numb hands. 

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

"This will keep you warm!" Kenny happily chattered away.  I did my best to retain the scarce eyebrows I possessed.  It was the first and last time I rode with Kenny.  Opting to flag down men offering candy from the half opened windows of unmarked white vans.  I've found that after 5 full nonstop minutes of 100 questions they are more than happy to drop me off anywhere I want to go.

Where the road ends

On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair 

Warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air 

Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light 

My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim 

I had to stop for the night. 

-Eagles

 There is a deep sense of peace driving through the desert.  It is so pervasive that it seeps deep into the core of your soul, and nourishes you like only a handful of things for me to date.  The isolation, the sounds, and the scent of the earth making you feel at one with the night.  Gazing up at the stars like fireflies swarming in the sky, breathtaking.  Listening to the life of the desert carry on the all too uncommon breeze, coyote's, frogs, owls, rodents, small mammals, the occasional rattle of sidewinders and hum of insects.  Driving until there's no more road, and dust is all that follows you.  Like being far out in deep waters, it is a place where you can loose and find yourself all within the same breath.