Thursday, October 30, 2008

my mom's response to the below post

;0) I am not angry....just annoyed.
See my response. you are getting mixed and apples.
Open up your mind. We also have casualties of our soldiers. I do understand the children being caught in the middle of this,( and having Mikayla) it just intensifies my bleeding heart 'cause I hurt so much for these children , but both have casualties , from Iraq and United States. Your anger is directed all over the place......and that is okay , considering you were recently betrayed by people that you thought were your friends...... I would be angry too. But in moments of quiet and meditation ( this can be done when all is quiet in the house or you can take for a walk as a time out) try to let go of the past---you hurt and cried, but then you also learned some new things, concepts, etc. and maybe you will know the differences from apples and oranges?


I can't believe she brought up Reny and Bell on this! Ooooooo. Moms can so push the wrong buttons!

Honor our Soldiers


My mom loves to forward these annoying, human interest emails that serve the conservative agenda. It is a source of many arguments for us and I tell her not to send me this stuff but she does anyway. I just had to post this beauty and my response, which will probably make her side of the family hate me because my cousin is currently serving. I also have a war photo, one of the ones myspace told me they would delete my account if I kept posting. I'm sorry if the photo traumatizes you but it's the reality of war and you should be traumatized by it.


Subject: FW: Sack Lunches

Sack Lunches

I put my carry-on in the luggage compartment and sat down
in my assigned seat. It was going to be a long flight. 'I'm glad I have a good book to read. Perhaps I will get a short nap,' I thought.

Just before take-off, a line of soldiers came down the
aisle and filled all the vacant seats, totally surrounding
me. I decided to start a conversation. 'Where are
you headed?' I asked the soldier seated nearest to me.

' Great Lakes Air Base. We'll be there for two weeks for special training, and then we're being deployed to Iraq .

After flying for about an hour, an announcement was made
that sack lunches were available for five dollars. It would be several hours before we reached Chicago , and I quickly decided a lunch would help pass the time.

As I reached for my wallet, I overheard soldier ask his buddy if he planned to buy lunch. 'No, that seems like a lot of money for just a sack lunch. Probably wouldn't be worth five bucks. I'll wait till we
get to Chicago .. His friend agreed.

I looked around at the other soldiers. None were buying lunch. I walked to the back of the plane and handed the flight attendant a fifty dollar bill. 'Take a lunch to all those soldiers.' She grabbed my arms and squeezed tightly. Her eyes wet with tears, she thanked me. 'My son was a soldier in Iraq; it's almost like you are doing it for him.'

Picking up ten sacks, she headed up the aisle to where the
soldiers were seated. She stopped at my seat and asked,
'Which do you like best - beef or chicken?'
'Chicken,' I replied, wondering why she asked.
She turned and went to the front of plane, returning a
minute later with a dinner plate from first class.

'This is your thanks.'

After we finished eating, I went again to the back of the
plane, heading for the rest room. A man stopped me.
'I saw what you did. I want to be part of it. Here,
take this.' He handed me twenty-five dollars.

Soon after I returned to my seat, I saw the Flight Captain
coming down the aisle, looking at the aisle numbers as he
walked, I hoped he was not looking for me, but noticed he
was looking at the numbers only on my side of the plane.
When he got to my row he stopped, smiled, held out his hand,
and said, 'I want to shake your hand.'

Quickly unfastening my seat belt I stood and took the Captain's hand. With a booming voice he said, 'I was a soldier and I was a military pilot. Once, someone bought me a lunch. It was an act of kindness I never forgot.' I was embarrassed when applause was heard from all of the passengers.

Later I walked to the front of the plane so I could stretch
my legs. A man who was seated about six rows in front of
me reached out his hand, wanting to shake mine. He left
another twenty-five dollars in my palm.

When we landed in Chicago I gathered my belongings and
started to deplane. Waiting just inside the airplane door
was a man who stopped me, put something in my shirt pocket,
turned, and walked away without saying a word. Another
twenty-five dollars!

Upon entering the terminal, I saw the soldiers gathering
for their trip to the base. I walked over to them and
handed them seventy-five dollars. 'It will take you
some time to reach the base. It will be about time for a
sandwich. God Bless You.'

Ten young men left that flight feeling the love and respect
of their fellow travelers. As I walked briskly to my car,
I whispered a prayer for their safe return. These soldiers
were giving their all for our country. I could only give
them a couple of meals.
It seemed so little...

' A veteran is someone who, at one point in his life wrote a
blank check made payable to 'The United States of
America ' for an amount of 'up to and including my

life.' That is Honor, and there are way too many people
in this country who no longer understand!!!

From Theresa

Here is my response:

Dear mom,

I love our soldiers so much that I don't want them to murder others and get killed themselves in another country to serve the elitist, capitalist agenda of this country. I honor and respect them so much that I don't want them to put their own lives in danger, or those of innocent women and children who are the #1 casualty of war, unless it is absolutely necessary to protect our freedoms and civil rights.

Why do you send me this conservative propoganda, mom? How come you don't send stories about people applauding and donating to giving a homeless person a sack lunch? Doesn't everyone have the same intrinsic value? This war is creating a whole new generation of fucked up individuals that will come back and live amongst us in society just like vietnam. To be honest, I have much more respect for the protestors of this war than the soldiers. If you want to know why, just google the images for the war casualties in Iraq. Once you see broken and burned children from our bombs and guns, maybe you'll want to send your sack lunch somewhere else.



...more vivid dreaming and crazy weight loss

My friend Layla and I decided to move in together. We were in a very rural area and lived in a mobile home. I suspect that it is a replica of the mobile home I lived in as a child. We had lots of roommates, and we were all students at a local university. It was the same university that I always dream about. Large and built out of stone and bordering Italy for some reason. There were lots of places in this dream that I always dream about but usually separately. The mountains and forested canyons, the school, a bus that takes you from Canada to Italy, the beach, Green Valley, the airport, the mall and the swanky hotel. It's strange for me to mix the locations all together in one dream. Anyway, it was the classic betrayal script, where the people I choose to build my life with end up being horrible and totally flake on me and don't care if my life is ruined. This time I was left in a faraway land with no money and no way home and BOTH my parents came to my rescue. That was new. I also remember meeting a boy that was alotlike my x husband but younger and more innocent and mulatto (Jimmy is white). I begged this boy to come with me to the "fairy peninsula", the really great place I sometimes go to in my dreams where everyone is happy, and pagan, and magickal and fairies and people live together. However, he wouldn't come so I took my mom instead, but we had to turn back before we got there.

It's weird that I NEVER dream of my daughter. When I was pregnant all I would dream about is dead babies everywhere. Luckily I don't dream that EVER anymore. I wonder why she isn't in my dreams. All of my dreams usually take place with people in my past.

So I've already lost 5 pounds since Monday. The first two days were binge days so it's weird that I lost weight during those days. I've only been restricting my diet since yesterday. Yesterday I had the most terrible headache and was so tired. I had to smoke a bowl when I got home to ease my head. I had my friend take "before" pics of me and I thought I would be so bummed when I saw them but I wasn't. I definitely have some extra meat on me but I was able to see my physical beauty in the pictures and that is a huge thing for me. I have classes today from 11am to 10 pm so I will more than likely smoke a bowl when I get home tonight or end up vomiting. I'm almost out of weed so after that it's cold turkey. This morning so far I feel great. Lots of energy, no headache. I have an optimistic feeling.

Wednesday, October 29, 2008


Hmmmm. I feel like I need to put a disclaimer on my blog. Maybe I'm judging myself or maybe not. I just want to say that I'm not promoting or suggesting anyone do the things that I write about. This blog is not about giving advice. It is a personal journal that you, as a reader, have privy to. It is an observation of my life from my own perspective. The purpose is to facilitate my own healing,to tell my unique story, and do my own myth-making. Everybody's journey is unique, and what might be true for me may not be for you.

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

All things Binge

I don't know if this blog will seem boring to y'all but it's part of my practice right now to honor all of those "bad habits" that I am giving up and leaving behind as I spin my cocoon. I am now doing the "Simeon's weight loss protocol:pounds and inches". I inject myself with a hormone every day for the next 40 days. Yesterday and today are "LOAD" days, which supposedly trick your hypothalamus into thinking it has plenty of fat to work with and not to send the message to your body to store fat. After today, I will be quasi-fasting for a month. Eating only lean meat and veggies and only about 500 calories per day. The hormone I'm taking is called HCG and it is from a pregnant woman's urine. YUM! The hormone makes my body think I'm preggo, and when I start the low calorie diet it will begin to flush thousands of calories a day from my fat reserves (butt, thighs, stomach)in order to feed my phantom fetus. The result will be a loss of about a pound a day, without losing any structural muscle. Uh, I meant it when I said I was going to liquefy and transform. Inside and out.

Yes, I know. Sounds fucking crazy. It's exactly the extreme kind of thing a person like me gets off on. And since I'm wrapping it in my spiritual descent for this year it should be a crazy adventure in the dark. Please spare me the "it doesn't sound safe" talk, I've heard it about 100 times. The fact is, people fast all of the time and it can be done safely and I'm not completely fasting.

I have a green ally to help me, The lady Dandelion. I've been foraging in the sidewalk cracks for her and made infusions, elixirs, and wines already from her leaves, roots and flowers. Part of the protocol is drinking a gallon of water a day and she will be infused into most of it. Her young leaves can be cooked like spinach, her blossoms tossed in a salad and I will be nourishing myself with her daily. If you see a lady in Venice walking around with a spade and digging in the weeds, that's me foraging for my dinner.

Okay so this part is to honor all of those things that I binge on and how they nourish me. Just saying, "oh these are bad habits and I'm bad for doing them and my resolution is to never do those bad things again..." is not authentic or reality. The fact is, I don't think anything I do is really "bad." I take things past the point of nourishment, and that hurts me. But everything has served me. I just don't need to take it with me anymore. Okay, let's start.

sex/relationships - I can't seem to have a close relationship, platonic or not, where I don't end up feeling like a victim and lacking in self worth. I honor, all of my relationships, good and bad, as they are my largest source of learning. I plan on developing a loving relationship with myself in the dark(oooh baby).

smoking medical marijuana- I really do believe this herb is a gift of the Goddess and a medicine. I have such anxiety at times that I feel like I'm going to explode and the herb cools me. It halts the grinding of thoughts like a freight train through my head, eases my always anxious and upset stomach. Stills the throbbing in my brain. Allows me to slow down to my daughter's pace when I need to play dolls with her for an hour or read her the same book 6 times in a row. It helps me open to the Divine, to sit still and listen. However, one can easily misuse it to not feel one's feelings. I think I need to feel my anxiety, pain and nausea now. Explore that voice in my head, that bitch, Erishkigal, that is back there screaming that I'm a big, fat loser, a shitty mom, and why would I think that I could ever achieve any of dreams or desires. I think that it's easy to crawl into a bong and hide from the scary world, to hide from her voice. The voice is getting louder regardless, and the sacred herb is bringing me no joy lately.

FOOD GLORIOUS FOOD- Just like the herb a gift from Goddess. Nurturing, mysterious, beautiful how life feeds on life. Just like the herb, a great escape and an instant sense of gratification can be easily overused. I am a compulsive eater and I use food to not feel my feelings. I want to severe this abusive relationship I have with food and create a loving, healthy one.

Socializing/Partying- I am a party animal and I love bars and good music but there is no way in hell that I am going out anywhere until next year. I'm going to indulge a bit of my social anxiety and become a hermit for a while. Besides, it's hard to hang at a party when you are liquefied and in a cocoon.

Well, got to get ready for school. Tonight is the new moon, my last night of feasting and I will be spending it in ritual with my coven sisters. Their love and energetic support will help me through the tunnels ahead and provide a light when I need one. Lots of spell work to do. I'll write about it tomorrow.

Wednesday, October 22, 2008


Hallows is less than 2 weeks away. The moon is waning and enters into Scorpio tonight. I just began to bleed for this month and I'm already starting to dream heavy. In this time at the end of the witch's year, I can really feel endings. I am so looking forward to the time between Hallows and Yule, between endings and beginnings, the time between time. I feel such a strong desire to recluse myself from the world and just sit in sweet darkness while I liquefy and transform into myself. Like a caterpillar I'm desiring to build myself a cocoon.

How in hell am I supposed to do that?

School, parenting, working...just daily living is busy enough but now add the holidays to that! In this time of the year when we spiral towards darkness, the universe whispers to us in the brisk wind to slow down. Sit around the fire and cherish the people in your life. Lay under a warm, wool blanket sipping hot tea and daydreaming. Yet, the bright lights and commercial jingles of patriarchy flash to do just the opposite. So much needs to be done in order to impress everyone else! And so so much needs to be purchased and consumed! Hurry! Get it while it's on sale! Trees are how much now? Final Exams! Study or you'll fail! Lights, lights, everywhere to drown out the darkness! Keep moving! If you slow down you are depressed and lazy! Go! Your child will hate you forever if you don't buy her that! Must adhere to being a "Good Parent"!!!!!!!!!!!

This year I am feeling the need for something drastic. I don't think I can handle the usual. I want to really dive deep this year and dwell in the void between Hallows and Yule. Gestate in the time between time. I think I have found a method for me to do this. A material to build my cocoon out of. It's something many Leo's hate and fear...abstaining. And I don't mean just from sex. I'm going to restrict myself to very sparse socializing. No parties. No eating out. No watching commercials, no reading magazines. No alcohol, no smoking. A very strict, low calorie diet consisting of no refined starches. I will be using hormone therapy to help with that part. I know that it sounds a lot like punishment and deprivation but in order for me to feel something else, or to even feel the authenticity of my feelings, I want to take away the things that allow me to escape. Not that I won't nurture and soothe myself. I plan on taking walks. I plan on making herbal infusions out of burdock and dandelion, red clover and nettle, and asking the plant devis to talk to me in my dreams. Maybe even find and dig up my own herbs in the crevices of the sidewalks while doing yoga, or on a crisp, canyon hike. Getting lots of massages. I love reading and writing both for school and for myself so that won't be a problem. I'd like to journal my experience. I want to practice playing my guitar and meditation as much as possible. My abstinence will make space for these other experiences and allow me to introvert and introspect in a very different way than I'm used to. Maybe come face to face with certain things I've been successful at hiding from. I don't want to hide anymore. I have compassion for myself during this process as it won't be easy. I am scared shit less yet there is a part of me that strongly craves it. Solitude will be my ally on my journey towards wholeness.

I guess I will have the perfect place to prepare to "Go Dark." This Saturday is Circle of Aradia's Hallows ritual and feast, a great place for me to say "goodbye for now" to the world. Until then I will indulge myself in worldly pleasures and pay attention to the nourishment each one offers me. In November I will be taking an Erishkegal workshop with COA, which is perfectly aligned with my descent. Wow, I really look forward to this magical process and I'm excited about the new species I will emerge as in the spring!

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

weird dream last night

I was at some hotel/vacation resort with family.

I left the pool to go back to the hotel room to take a shower. The bathtub was filled with poopy toiletpaper and used tampons and everything was mushy and damp. There was a kaleidascope in the tub as well. I just got in there and started cleaning it all up with my bare hands, touching all of the tampons and pulling some bloody toiletpaper out of the drain. I think I knew all of the used tampons and toilet paper were mine and that's why I didn't care to use gloves. oh, and I was skinny again in my dream and didn't have any body issues about being in a bathing suit. I think I was getting ready to go on a date or something.

Friday, October 17, 2008

dirty laundry

Holy shit this is scary. Deep breathe. No body likes to air their dirty laundry. However, often when we lie to others the lie is believed by ourselves. In order to stay connected to my authenticity, I am going to write some things that I hate to think about in hopes that the extra oxygen will help those parts of me heal. I'm officially releasing all this crap from my being.

First, my husband beat me on the morning after our wedding. We were married at the little chapel of flowers in Vegas June 8, 2002 by a bi-polar Elvis impersonator. We did a lot of drugs and partied separately all night long and he passed out before I did in the morning. We were sharing our suite at Caesar's Palace with Jimmy's paraplegic friend from Illinois. Jimmy's friend had been in a car accident because he was in the back of a pickup truck when the driver, who was on acid, crashed the vehicle. Jimmy's friend smoked meth to pass his time.

Jimmy's friend was lying on the bed and I realized that he had shit all over himself. I ended up lifting his broken, shit covered body and carrying him to the shower. I showered him, dressed him and cleaned up the sheets. He was grateful.

After that I decided I was going straight to the pool to lie out in the sun and I walked into the bedroom to get my glasses. Jimmy woke up suddenly. His eyes were normally blue but when he opened them they seemed black. His hand shot out and grabbed my wrist hard. "You stole all my shit." He said gripping me tightly. "You've been taking my drugs and selling them, haven't you, bitch!"

I was offended. He hadn't realized that he was the one that took all the meth amphetamine with him last night. I told him he was being a stupid dick and to go back to bed and by the way, I just cleaned up your shitty friend, jerk.

He grabbed me by the shoulders and threw me on the bed. Then he wrapped his hands around my throat and started to choke me. I'm pretty strong and I fought back, full of rage, but he was still stronger than me. Not to mention he was a sociopath after a meth binge. I took out my hair clip which was one of those ones with the chopstick that you stick through the bun. I stabbed him with it on his arm. He grabbed me and lifted me up, and threw me into the jacuzzi bath tub, still full of last night's bathwater, now stale and cold. I screamed in rage and scrambled out. He grabbed me by the hair and straddled me on the floor but I landed a few good punches.

Suddenly, there was a loud knock at the door. It was the cops. I put on a happy face and Jimmy turned on his charm. We got them to leave. I flopped on the bed, crying, and tried to overdose myself on zanex. I don't really remember the ride home. Jimmy said I just cried the whole time. I didn't know it then, but I was 6 weeks pregnant. When I was eight months pregnant with her, Jimmy head butted me one time and I developed toxemia. That's when I swelled up like Violet Beauregarde in Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory.

The main reason that it took me so long to leave him was because I had social workers up my ass for smoking pot while pregnant. I did and still do believe that it was not harmful to my baby. In fact, it was the only thing that aloud me to cope with a nightmare pregnancy with a nightmare husband. It really helped when I went into labor, it helped me stay calm when I was the most helpless feeling and in a complete panic. I looked for studies telling me the harmful effects but there were none. Anyway, I had a social worker come to my house for almost a year and I was adamant about keeping up appearances. At any time that social worker could decide to take my child away. I wanted her to think we were the perfect, little family and I played the part well. When I think back on all the things that happened that year I wish I had gotten rid of him much sooner. He was able to do a shit load of damage in such a short amount of time.

Well, believe it or not, my daughter is perfect. She is healthy, beautiful, smart, precocious and confident. The body is a miraculous thing. Her angels must have worked hard to protect her when she was in my belly since I wasn't able to. At times I can forgive myself for that.

As for me, well, I've come a long way. I still have PT SD from it all and deal with overwhelming anxiety at times. Hospitals give me anxiety attacks and even doctor appointments. I haven't been in a relationship since my divorce and that was over four years ago. Jimmy is not in our lives at all and I believe I have a healthy, loving home and a great family (me, my daughter, and my mom, oh and all the freakin' animals) all be it an odd one. We do just fine.

As for Jimmy, I actually can thank him now and feel love for him. He was the one who talked me out of getting an abortion. He was instrumental in my destruction, which was absolutely necessary in order to create the person I am today.

Reborn and awake. A conscious person. This person who believes in love, magic, Goddess, peace and quiet, compassion and justice. This person who mothers and nurtures, rages at patriarchy, writes, plays the frame drum and guitar, goes to college, weaves spells under the full moon, and does volunteer work. This Goddess who feels so alive even when scared to death, and is grateful for every moment of this freaky roller coaster ride we call life.


p.s. domestic violence is an international epidemic. The stats say 1 out of 4 women have been abused but that's just what has been reported. I think the number is more like 3 out of 4. Maybe if I would have called one of those dv hotlines, where one could remain anonymous, I could have received information that would have allowed me to have the courage to leave Jimmy sooner. If you are experiencing domestic violence, which includes verbal and mental abuse, I urge you to call, 1800-799-SAFE or dial 211.

Thursday, October 16, 2008


EVENT: My mother is Filipina, from the Visayan Islands. She immigrated to the United States when she was 26 years old. Even though she had a bachelor’s degree in journalism from a Filipino university, her first job was in a Farmer John’s meat locker, packaging frozen meat on a conveyor belt along side other immigrants. Soon after, she met my father, a white middle class male who gave her the impression that he could offer her financial and emotional security and the “American Dream.”
When I was five, my father decided that we were going to be farmers and moved us from the city to a small town outside of Valencia, California. This was a blue collar little town with only white residents and a few Mexican immigrants that labored on the farms. I did not realize then that I was the only Filipino child in the town. At that time in my life, I had no realization of race or that I was different from everyone else in the town.
When I was eight years old, I came upon a classmate of mine torturing a spider. I regarded myself even then as a defender of the weak and pushed the boy, telling him to leave the spider alone. He got upset and said to me, “Why don’t you go back to your own country!”
I had no idea what he was talking about. I was born in Los Angeles. For some reason his statement bothered me more than the usual child insults like stupid or dork. When I came home from school, I asked my mother what he meant. She told me not to pay attention to the boy. That he was a “white trash racist” with ignorant, red neck parents. This was the first time I had heard the word “racist” and the first time I racially self identified as a non-white, even though my father is white. Soon my parents divorced and I lived only with my mom, which re-enforced my identification as Filipino and not white.
CONCEPT: In the article, Constructing Race, Creating White Privilege, by Pem Davidson Buck, the issue of racial ideology to create a ruling and ruled class is discussed. Buck writes that. “The elite had to ‘teach whites the value of whiteness’ in order to divide and rule their labor force.”(p32)
This lesson in white superiority historically taught to European immigrants in the United States was crucial in satiating the growing dissatisfaction with living conditions of poor whites. The elite pushed a version of whiteness that came with a “psychological wage.” This was of sorts a reward for being white, without the elite having to share any of their own material resources with the poor immigrants. This psychological wage was in fact, an expression of “superiority over non-whites and defining them, rather than the capitalists, as the enemy.”(p35) The definition of freedom changed, not only giving status to the rich, but creating and giving status to a new type of “white folk”, the working, middle class.
“Freedom was equated with the right to own and sell your own labor, as opposed to slavery, which allowed neither right. Independence was now defined not only by property ownership but also by possession of skill and tools that allowed wage-earning men to acquire status as a head of household controlling dependents.”(p36)
ANALYSIS: I believe that this historical education of white privilege is still taught today and most definitely came into play during my childhood interaction with the spider-killing boy. At eight years old, he was already familiar with the “psychological wage” and taught by his working class parents that indeed he was more deserving of living here than I was simply because of his paler skin. Of course, this must have come from a deep white superiority sentiment that must have been often expressed by his parents and their peers as well as reinforced on television, the radio, in church and even in my elementary school. At the same time, minorities are taught to accept this racist ideology as well, as my mother never thought to go to the school administration and complain.
Even though both of us as children were living in the same, small town and attended the same school, it is obvious that our individual education was quite different and adhered to the institutional and social promotion of white superiority and racist attitudes in this society.

note: all page number refrences are from the book, Race, Class, And Gender In The United States, by Paula S. Rothenberg

Wednesday, October 1, 2008

vivid dreaming

My dreams were vivid early this morning. I was resting my head on some one's chest. I loved this person and they loved me. Will I ever find this person in this life? Their arms were circled around me and I felt safe. A carnival ensued around us and mimes dressed in orange throwing orange balls passed us by. We were by the sea. There is a peninsula that I go to often in my good dreams. It is a safe place for me. There are always fairy festivals and happy pagans there who I sometimes visit with.

When I awoke there was pink light splashed all over my wall, yet when I looked out the window, it was gray. I felt confused. I ask Mikyla if she sees it. She's mad at me so she ignores my plea. Last night the heat was so oppressive that I could not eat nor sleep. I felt so helpless. Today, I'm feeling very strongly the pull to get out of Los Angeles and travel North. I can't leave yet so there is nothing to ease me.