Wednesday, 10 August 2011


Remember her? Yeah, so do I. She's that part of me that, just a couple of troubled months ago, I thought I'd lost--or worse, that had never existed at all. At best I thought she'd been left behind in the move, packed away in a box stored in a far corner of an attic, perhaps given away in the final mad scramble to disassemble the last decade of my life and tidy away the details in preparation for the next phase. I thought there could be no place for her in the very different world I was entering.

And I thought wrong.

Some things in life seem irrevocable, unalterable; they're the things that you always come back to, or the things that simply are. I will always have distinctively blue eyes; colored contacts could disguise or conceal them, but the essential fact of their blueness remains beneath. A trip to the spray-tan booth only briefly alters the fair skin that betrays my ancestry. I like Warehouse 13, but it's The X-Files that holds my heart as a personal, modern mythos. I'll drink the wine you serve me, but I might secretly be wishing for the moscato or plum that I like best.

I have many interests in this life--you can't live this long without discovering a few things you like--but some are more enduring than others. Egyptology is a long-standing one, dating back to about sixth grade when a school trip took us to Chicago's museums and my first glimpses of mummies and funerary goods and shiny lovely things. Egyptian religion, in theory and then in practice, was a later awakening. These things endure. But witchcraft? I can't remember a time when I wasn't infatuated with witchcraft. And no matter that the books I was reading as a wide-eyed youngster were tainted with questionable scholarship or authorial bias; the die was cast, the spark was struck, and a little witchlet was born who eventually grew up, looked around, fell in with the wrong crowd, made it out on the other side, licked her wounds, and--

And what? Gave it all up because her life got weird and other people were assholes?

No. You know what? Fuck that sideways. That's not how this is going to work.

Just as spray tans fade and contacts can be removed, so the disguises and distractions all fall away eventually. The truth is, I love this stuff. And if it took me this many years to physically and psychologically and spiritually and magickally sever all the miserable bonds to that Wrong Crowd, then so be it. And scars add character, right?

I will be doing the spooky blog I mentioned before, I think, but there's something else I want you to see first. I think some of you may end up liking it:

And here's your appropriate Bones quote for the day, from Agent Booth:

"I'm BACK, baby!"

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