In the end, most were fine, but the mouse, I'm sorry to say, is a tad worse for wear.
I wrote this ode, for it should be noted that no one has ever told me I was too young to write odes:
Behold, in the deep gray morn
A vacuum, wielded with scorn.
Lo, the mouse he doth bend
And never shall be on the mend.
With burning rubber the mouse did expire
Smelling quite like a burning tire.
Repugnantly cleaned, this room has been
And harmonious dust mites still live within.
I'm off to Desert Magic tomorrow morning, bright an early, and very much looking forward to it. I'd also like to point out that despite what I'm about to write, I'm not feelin' down. Just more or less confused.
"Eris gave birth to painful Distress and Distraction and Famine and tearful Sorrow."
When I open my text editor, the passage from the Theogany detailing Eris' children always opens on top.
In some ways, it's the way that I'm reminded of what Her patronage means: we make our own mistakes and messes. Eris begets the strife we cause within ourselves and between each other. She is the creator of man-made chaos.
I realized at some point yesterday, probably in the car going down to feed a friend's cat, that I really, honestly feel like I haven't made a good decision since . . . April 13. Yes, it's been that long, and I've felt that. . . out of sorts.
It's strange, the feeling that everything you do is going to go wrong, going to lead to more problems than you ever though it could. I feel like I pissed off half the people I love in my life, like I hurt them, like I have only made them angry or given them damn good reasons to hate me.
Not all of the decisions I made are resolved, which might have something to do with it, though I'm not sure of that. I'm still not eating well (though my appetite is coming back slowly, even when it takes a hit every so often). I've found that, unlike previous bouts with uncertainty, I have a need to talk this out on occasion (though I still like to choose when and how much). The problem with talking is that it sometimes just seems to lead to more pain, but yet I have to talk about it sometimes.
I'm not sleeping all that well, either. I've found only one thing gets me to sleeping right now, and I'm praying that I don't have that sort of trouble in Arizona: I sleep so much at Pagan festivals as it is, I don't need any more excuses to go to bed early (or in the middle of the day, especially given that workshop lineup).
For the most part, I feel like all this stuff is for me to deal with, to worry about. I don't particularly like burdening others with this stuff: I brought it all on myself, I caused this stuff. I recognize that. Maybe that makes it harder, or weirder, or just plain stupider.
My omen for the day, though, indicates things are lookin' up:
19. Yes, I will play for gumbo.
I'm incommunicado at the end of the day, kids. I'll see you on next Wednesday, when I'm back from Arizona :)