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You got to know when to hold em,
Know when to fold em
Know when to walk away,
Know when to run.

Kenny Rodgers, The Gambler

I don’t know when to hold anything in. I am sorry. Sofa king sorry.

I have walk away. I know this. I should probably run. But I don’t know how.

Quote of the night last night

“Sarah, you might be the most honest person on this island.”

Yep, I might be. Pretty fucking sure I am. I cannot lie, even when I really should.

But I’m coming to see that that is not always a good thing.

Words are literal magic. I create what I speak, that is why they call it spelling.

I cast my future, my wishes and my wants with my words.

And I have not been using them wisely.

There is also a heavily quoted quote about
“You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.”― Anne Lamott

That too.

Which is actually what triggered this thought, which is quickly turning itself into an wordy article.

I have successfully eliminated 2 vexing individuals from my life with things I wrote. This pleases me.

I have alienated others purely by speaking too much truth in the wrong places.

Back in the day, when I started this blog, I had a crush on a man and instead of telling him how I felt I wrote an article and somehow thought he would see it. He didn’t.

It didn’t work and the window closed.

Mind you, he had to leave, there was no choice to be made so I suppose, by letting the window close on its own, without interfering I did him a kindness.

I think I finally grew up when I realized that actual true love is wanting the other person to be happy, even if that means staying away from them. Active participation in someone else’s happiness even if it means a sacrifice on your part.

Sit down, shut up and stay out of the way.

There has to be a balance between words, wishes, wants and actually doing something about it.

Lesson learned.

Also, there are things that should never be spoken of.

Not because I don’t want to remember, but because they are sacred, or I really actually fucked up beyond all words and reasoning.
My blog, my rules. I can write to remember and not hit publish.

It’s not a diary darling.

Once upon a time I sat in the Monastery Spa and Suites (by myself) and had the most fucked up conversation.
I turned it over and over in my head, this was something that really should have been written about, it would have made an amazing post and it seemed too crazy to be real, but real it was. I tortured myself for day about how I could get this pearl out of the oyster without hurting anyone.

After a few days I realized it wasn’t possible and I let it go.

I have entered into a covenant with Cronos the God of time and Dionysus the god of debauchery about erasing a monumental fuck up. I know what happened, I have my own memories that will suffice, even with the blank spots. Yes I done did it, and no we don’t need to talk about it.

Some things need to stay in the vault.

I would like to believe that in every library and archive there is a secret compartment full of things that are absolute truth and yet completely unknown to anyone but the author.

Things that I loved, things that I lost, things I held sacred that I dropped. Audioslave, Doesn’t Remind Me

Convo of the day
Tina: uh oh, you’re smoking in your room. I’m gonna tell mom.
Me: (oh god) I am mom

What kind of fuckery is this?

WHO LET ME ADULT?

I don’t like smoking in my room, I think it is disgusting, however…we have two late sleeping, non-smokers on the 2^nd floor where the common area is and I don’t want to smoke them out or wake them up.

Greater good.

I’m also taking 2 days off this week even though I can’t really afford to because we had a massive number of girls working and due to the weather etc., not enough men to go around. So I’m after begging girls to take nights off and leading by example.

Greater good.

It’s shark week anyways and my body could use the break.

I was getting a little weepy last weekend and one of the 2^nd floor girls kept trying to cheer me up by fussing over my hair, petting me and pep-talking me. She said something really sweet. “I watch you, and I watch how these local boys are with you, they look at you with reverence and respect even though you are sitting in front of them in your underwear, it’s pretty amazing.”

The first night I met her I had to break up a fight between her and one of said local boys, and to be perfectly honest, I was really proud of how I handled it. He did listen to me, nothing got broke and by the next week they were chatting nicely at the bar.

She went on to also say that I have been handling the house and girl situation diplomatically.

I needed to hear that.

I didn’t ask for any of this, but shit needs doing and I know how to do it. 2 full days of 4 hours of work before work. Phone calls, schedules and putting out fires before they got extra bad.

I am mom.
I am the skeet whisperer.
And, I am the key master.

Stompy Magoo was back less than a week when Sean left and I got put in charge. She didn’t stay long. Her hatred is for me is real and that is okay. Can’t win them all. I was hella uncomfortable having the keys to her room anyways, see a month ago wherein she ripped her own bible and blamed me and we just about had the Salem witch trials in the changeroom. Except no one (but her) cared about me being a witch.

What’s not okay is the continuing absence of Sean. I didn’t realize how important he was until I had to be the one opening doors at 9am, changing lightbulbs, washing sheets, running the garbage out, cheering Mark up and keeping the peace. Plus he is my friend and I miss him. We all do.

I’m not getting anything for this but 2 drinks a night, going in late with no fees, woken up way too early, and a really big phone bill.

Greater good.

I was never on student council in high school, I’m painfully shy and conflict makes my stomach hurt. My way around that is to try and stop things before they escalate. So far only one fight and it wasn’t in the bar or house so…win? 22/24 girls are agreeing with me.

Also, the nights I’m at the bar organizing things till 11pm are the nights I haven’t been drinking as much.

And the greater good.

There’s one thing I want to say, so I’ll be brave
You were what I wanted
I gave what I gave
I’m not sorry I met you
I’m not sorry it’s over
I’m not sorry there’s nothing to save

The Stars, Your Ex-Lover is Dead

It’s on my preferred playlist right now and comes up often. There is a part where they repeat “live through this and you won’t look back” it hits me and haunts me. It’s exactly how I am feeling and I’ve quoted it before.

I wouldn’t wish death on anyone, but if you are gonna be a ghost, please disappear. This is just cruelty for the sake of cruelty.

Conversations with Less Drunk Josh

Me: I am unhappy in my current situation and the Nope keeps showing up

LDJ: What situation, the one where you’re beautiful and nice and everybody loves you?

Me: Awwww

LDJ: Well the Nope can fly to fuck

Me: The one where I’m lost and drunk

LDJ: If he’s bringing you down then he shouldn’t be a part of your life

Me: I told him last night. He can’t keep showing up. Dude I get trapped in that building. With all my mistakes. I hit the breaking point last night. I left early with zero dollars and I owe ______ 20 bucks

LDJ: No not your mistakes, it may be cliché but with all your lessons, you can’t leave your mistakes in a building and walk away from them, they follow you, you have to embrace them. How?? Did you drink all the money you made?

Me: No I didn’t do a single dance. No I mean literal walking mistakes named J___ and the Nope.
No, no I needed cab fare and I had a bar tab

LDJ: So look at them and remind yourself you can do better

That’s astute Less Drunk Josh. I can do way better.

At one point the Nope gave really good attention, then he took it away. No reason, no warning. Just poof.

It would have been a kindness if he actually ghosted, but his boat is docked for 3 more weeks 3 minutes away from my tiny little bar and every fucking night he shows up in a cloud of fruity vape smoke and bullshit.

I tried for the longest time to walk the high road, be polite-ish, and pretend it wasn’t bothering me.

Narrator: It was actually reaaaaallllly bothering her

Especially when he plunked himself down in between me and Tina last week and prefaced a story with, “You know I’m a manwhore right?”

Narrator: oh she knew

He had just finished telling me he was sorry but he just really needed to bang new girls all the time, and then launched into a tale about last weekend and “do you remember that girl I told you about from last year?”

Pick a storyline and stick to it. Please. Or better yet just stop talking to me or near me.

Sometimes it takes public humiliation for me to understand what is happening.

I had a moment of clarity where I saw what he was doing through other girl’s eyes, and Bob, Bob was there too (bought me a whiskey out of charity, thanks Bob) and I realized how cruel he is actually being. And I also realized I don’t have to take the high road, I don’t have to do anything at all really.

The Nope was like riding a Reaaaaaaally good rollercoaster and then not being allowed to ride it anymore for no reason.
Not like when the Hulk broke down…Hulk broke.
Also I have to be at the park every day and watch other people ride it. Or hear about them riding it, also there are a lot of carnies running around.

I have had less nightmarish nightmares. Like literally stuck in a building with people I don’t want to be with, and the catch is I have to be naked on command.

I don’t have a choice but to be there just now. But I don’t have to entertain broken boys either.

This is my circus and these are my monkeys. And I am trapped in that building.

I sat at the bar doing schedules and paperwork until 11pm last night. We have an overflow of girls just now and it’s akin to sitting on a powder keg stomping out sparks.

Also it snowed this morning. I might be in Narnia and I am pretty sure Aslan is dead.

I don’t have time to be emotionally drained, and at this point it’s like drawing blood from a stone.

Once upon a time I wrote “I am not a snack for your starving ego, I am soul food for someone who actually has a soul.” Can’t remember who I wrote it about, ex hubby or the Poet most likely, but if the old quote fits…yep.

I was good food for his ego once, he showed me off, jumped on posts about himself and made himself known, showed me off to the boat boys and friends. Then nothing. And I think I know why. Deep down he thinks he’s a piece of shit, so instead of letting anyone draw their own conclusions, he proves it. Safer that way. He gets to write his own story.

I think it’s time to delete him out of mine.

If I can (and have) deleted posts out of respect for someone I love and want to protect, I should do the exact same thing with this parasite, out of love and respect for myself.

No more nope.

We have to keep believing
it’s gonna be okay
‘cause if we don’t we’re lost
Maybe we’re lost anyways.

Still don’t know what you want
but you have to let that go
and trust that the sun will rise in the morning

The Trews, In the Morning

There is more to the song, about pushing people away even though we don’t want to be alone.

It’s astute. I hear it most Wednesdays at work, Fridays too.

Not Monday.

“Sarah, just so you know, that boy is from the southern shore.”

“Thank you for the warning, I kinda figured.”

This place has accents within the Newfie accent and I am beginning to be able to tell them apart. A few in particular have stuck with me, southern shore being one of the ones that make me turn my head so quickly I get whiplash.

It’s been a long time. Hope floats and I am sinking.

The GM, otherwise known as Mark, was hiring a new bouncer while we are still mourning the loss of the old one. I do not envy my boss. I never really did. Crazy bitches, scraping by with the bare minimum and constantly having to put out fires. It hasn’t been an easy week/month/season. I’d wish for a hard reset if I could. I miss how things were to a degree, what I really miss is Sean saying “easy killer” whenever I would get riled up about something, and just knowing he was in the house. It felt safer.

Now I have keys and responsibilities.

Still doesn’t feel like home.

I am perpetually waiting for the money and the weather to get better and I only have 9 and a half weeks to go.

Hail Mary pass and a midnight miracle please.

I have always been a last minute girl. Essays and epiphanies coming together in the final hours. Everything makes some kind of sense at some point. It’s just in the rules, my rules. And no one can say I wasn’t brave coming here. I was. Still am, even when I don’t feel that way.

Meanwhile I exist.

Things change.

I have tiny dino now and a new room that shakes when the washer is running. The whole house is shaking right now, washing my sheets in hopes for yet another fresh start. It’s not just the washer, we are experiencing a tiny hurricane on this tiniest of islands, or the closest I have been to a hurricane really.

Closest I have been to a lot of things here, but they remain elusive.

One big tease.

I miss having things to look forward to.

The Nope prefaced a story the other day by telling me “You know I am a man whore right?”
Yes I know.
Very aware.

Said he needed new women all the time and told me a story about finger banging “that girl from last year.” in the same breath.

I don’t think you know what the word ‘new’ means. But I digress. I honestly don’t care anymore. Leering at me while I am on stage is impolite, but they all do it. It is a strip club and it is part of my job to be on display. I do not get to choose for whom. Drunk Josh seemed happy with my music selection so I focused on him. Thank the gods for Drunk Josh.

I totally forgot where I was going with this.

Full Strawberry moon last night and I hid in my room. Cocooning, fooling myself into thinking I was regrouping but really, I am just bone tired and soul weary. Reached out to a couple people, but there will be no follow through. I already know this.

Smiley said we shouldn’t fight to be with people who don’t want to be with us and I am inclined to listen. He knows who I am talking about, told you this island was tiny, and I dared speak his name for the 3^rd time ever.
“Really?” was all he said. Actually really? and “don’t cry babes”. My eyes watered, but I didn’t break all the way down. Tiny miracles.
He is in the same boat as me pretty much. Substantial enough age gap and loving someone who runs away.
I miss his face too. It’s only been 6 days, I keep notes about my nights next to how much money I made.

Keeps me going to a degree. Knowing that the bad stretches don’t last for ever. That my people come, eventually, like Drunk Josh on my birthday. Pauly too and the Nope did make an appearance and stayed for a bit.

Blessings in their own ways with different faces.

Talking to my girl about noods and foods. We both love good food. I sent her a video about noodle masters, it was mesmerizing.

I asked about pho and banh mi this was her response…

“There’s a very crummy express version of banh mi at rocket but I doubt that it would fulfill your craving in anyway lol this is the land of disappointment my dear!”

I answered

“Oh it really is

You have no idea how much truth there is in that statement.”

I am finally willing to admit, out loud that I might not belong here.

There is a chorus of women out here right now saying ‘thank Christ, I hate that bitch’ and a group of men saying ‘no stay’. But not the right one.

It’s 4 degrees here today, the day before my birthday. My girls back home are sunbathing and going to the quarry, I am here trying to figure out how to be a cute stripper with layers, coordinating bra and pantie sets with cardigans and thick socks.

Tomorrow, for my birthday I am going to see Solo, I will be wearing my lightsaber socks, flurries be damned.

I am working on my birthday and taking my usual Tuesday off, going back to Bell Island with my Sunny girl.

The wind is blowing hard enough to shake the house. Please let this be the winds of change, or drop a house on a bitch for me would ya? Please?

This isn’t Kansas and there is no place like home but I have no idea where home is. I thought it was here. But here I am the wicked witch from the west or the good witch depending on who you ask.

I told my son I wasn’t overly happy here, he said “You like warm places, maybe go somewhere warm mama.”

I do so love warmth and there is a definite lack of it here.

Maybe I picked the wrong coast.

I have no idea where I am supposed to be.

And that meme/tweet is true. Time has been measured out in bitter chapters since I last saw your face (Cold Mountain)

I haven’t cried this much since I left the farm. Nor have I been so bent on escaping this reality I put myself in by pouring vast amounts of whiskey on every fucking thing every fucking night.

I got sent home for nodding off on a bar stool Friday night. I thought I cried on Smiley and I was devastated. I did not for the record, but regardless, the absolute fact that it was a real possibility was there.

Because I drink and I cry, a lot more since I have been here like I said.

And because I care about him. He has been nothing but solid, keeping me tethered and offering insanely good advice as I stumble around this fucky little island. Whatever girl he ends up with will be a lucky woman indeed.

I have made some good friends here and I have made some serious mistakes. They were all in the bar last night.

It is not going how I hoped or planned and now that I am over the hump of being here longer than I have left to stay, I am questioning everything.

I am also nursing blown out calves and in the death grip of a cold that won’t let go.

I swear I feel like I get past one thing just to trip and fall into another. Physical and emotional.

First I fell and bruised my tailbone, then I fell again.  Followed by a crippling period that was worse than usual. Now I am down with the sickness, 12 days of coughing so hard I have abs now.

That piece of shit creep that sent out sleeping nudes of me to his buddies parked his creepy ass at the bar last night and refused to leave. Thank god for Drunk Josh and Smiley. There is a rotating circle of girls that hate my guts, Stompy is back in the house…like fuck, when do I get to catch my breath already?

We had a bouncer/DJ who lived upstairs in the cathouse whose job it was to take out the garbage, change lightbulbs, deal with keys and comings and goings. He left, badly. They moved me up to his room and I hate it. I needed the change and my room is super cute but I’d give it up to have him back here.

The act of moving out of my old room and into this one is how I fucked up my calves.
I didn’t plan it out right, and my heart was heavy. Took me the entire day and half the next to get settled. Add the that going up and down the stairs 500 times flat footed when my feet are used to being in stilettos and my muscles were screaming the next morning. It is down to a dull roar now.

The only good things to come out of the move so far are finding a lost stocking and gifts from Nausicca, a closet purge and a soft reset. Plus two rogue earrings. It really means more stairs and having to change lightbulbs. I don’t want the keys to this kingdom.

And this upward move of mine is just getting me more hated by the haters. “Why does she get to _____” fill in the blank with whatever sin I committed this time. Like coming in later than usual so I could go to a birthday party.

It makes me sad really. These people who allow my existence to affect their own. Handle your own shit sis. Woman up and talk to me if I am bothering you.

If you could get a peek inside my head and see how scared and lost and lonely I am maybe you would think twice about hating my guts.

Everything is telling me to run. But to where? And I can barely walk, my calves hurt. Among other things.

But hopefully this is true too…one day it’ll make sense…

The title of my last post was mildly misleading. I didn’t explain the Dildo part.

Nor Dick’s really.

Clickbait babes. I am not ashamed to admit I name things to get more hits.

Anything with sex fuck vagina or dildo gets read more often.

On the first day of adventures with my Ripley sisters they told me to call in late for work and get in the car.
They had to take me to this place and it was a secret.

Our destination had been chosen for 2 reasons. There were supposed to be whales feeding and breaching and, the name of the place. I was thinking it was going to be something like Immaculate Karma Bay or something mystical and magical.

They took me to Dildo Newfoundland.

That’s a real place.

The locals said it got lost in translation between the French and English.

In French it is D’isle de l’eau. The island of water due to an abundance of fresh water springs on a tiny island in the middle of the bay.

But ya, in the way white people do shit and the amazingly thick accents on the Newfies here… It’s now called Dildo.

I have never seen whales in the wild.

As we were driving and catching up on the first day, I started to look at this place with their eyes. Same as how I got to revisit the Wizarding World of Harry Potter by imagining the Last One beside me. I got to borrow a new set of eyes.

I forgot why I was here.

It is incredibly beautiful even in its rocky barren and decidedly brown state. Everything is brown or grey. It’s just rocks and trees and dirt. And it is beautiful.

Came back along Marine Drive on the 3^rd day and my eyes were well fed.

But on the first day…

We sat down to eat at the Dildo Dory Restaurant, overlooking the ocean.

I had a moment wherein I stated out loud, “I really hope we do see whales, I think that would fill me with profound joy.”

And we did, and it did. And in this moment I am happy.

You kinda have to relax your eyes and watch for what looks like puffs of smoke coming off the water. But when you finally see them, it is glorious. They were far away. I will get on a proper boat tour before I go and get closer.

Day two was a place called Bell Island. Dick’s is the name of the fish and chips place we went to. There was a theme to the trip. Best fish and chips since childhood suppers out at Erie Bell where I am from.

Third day I was in charge. I am not good at being in charge, but I had two things on my bucket list and 2 things I had already done that made me happy, so we did those things.

Finally went up to Cape Spear without a boy and actually got out of the truck and toured around. It is amazing and old and weird, just like this whole place. Tiny Dino enjoyed herself.

We went to Middle Cove, which is numbered among my happy places. Everything good starts there.

Finally made it to Mallard Cottage and the food was orgasmically good.

Between those two trips, we did a circle around the area, I actually planned that part okay. I took the girls to the Ocean Science Center. My last trip there the sun was out, the tide was high and the waves were crashing rainbows in this skinny little inlet, it was awe inspiring.

This time it was raining, the tide was low and nothing was crashing. It was just damp and yet still pretty.

I didn’t actually realize I had been there before, when my boss had tried to pry me out of one of my earlier funks by driving me around.

It was cold that day so we didn’t do much.

I’d been told that I just had to go back and see the seals. I was expecting some grand beautiful vista with seals lounging on rocks and puffins flying around.

Ya, that didn’t happen. It was 3 seals in 2 tanks with little ramps and platforms to hang out on, casually looking over their shoulders at us.

It was hilarious and kinda a metaphor for my experience with the boys here.

I get so excited, and they end up being just cute, big-eyed, lumps in a fenced in area. But I got so worked up about them, I forgot to drive around the island and actually look around at where I am.

This has been amended.

Amen.

par·a·digm shift

noun

1. a fundamental change in approach or underlying assumptions.

Needed that.

I woke from a strange dream wherein a blue alien who looked and spoke quite a lot like Benedict Cumberbatch was leading me around old places I had lived so I could revisit them (and I had to get the boy to the dentist weirdly in the midst of all this). While trying to teach me lessons and turning down my sexual advances, also weird, it was a dream and I watch a lot of 3D anime monster porn on Pornhub.
But at one point I did or said something and he looked at me and said “You’re the shift” with this look of great relief and satisfaction on his face at this grand epiphany. Then he morphed into the boy. I gave him a dance and he fucked me, I orgasmed for reals in my sleep and I woke up happy.

There was a part in the dream where there was a hard to see glass door that kept changing locations, and sometimes I would wait for someone else to open it, sometimes I would go around and sometimes I could just go through if I relaxed my eyes enough to see it. The boy was on the other side of it.

I also, immediately knew what it all meant.

I made a decision to be the sad, lost homesick (with no home to go to) girl sitting at the bar stagnating and drunk.
So I can decide not to be.

This is not a weight to carry, this is lightness, this is freedom.

If I belong nowhere, I belong everywhere too.

I don’t have to sit and wait for things to happen, I can make them happen.

I have been hiding out from the world, afraid of who I might run into, then Dani and I ran into the Nope holding hands with a vanilla pudding girl. Instead of being painful, I howled. This is what they do. They run and hide behind the plainest girl they can find. Enjoy your cardboard cut out honey and be well.

At one point this week, in real life, I met a man at the bar, he was from Singapore and was delighted that I spoke a smattering of Cantonese.
At one point he looked at me and called me “enchantress”.

I forget myself often. I am exactly that, ancient and magic, among other things.

Then some random person, place or thing reminds me and I am alright again.

Shouldn’t need to be so fucking hard
This is life on earth
It’s just life on earth
It doesn’t need to be the end of you, or me
This is life on earth
It’s just life on earth

The first light
The first light on the silent shore
Just the ships set anchor me and you
The way home
This is always the way home
So you can rip that map to shreds, my dear

This is not love you had before
This is something else…

Snow Patrol, Life on Earth

I sent this to the Giant a week or two ago, called it life changing… it is.

I needed a change. A shift.

IT SHOULDN’T HAVE TO BE SO FUCKING HARD.

But I was making it that way.

Put your happiness in the hands of others and they will drop it every time, every fucking time, without fail.

Things didn’t go the way I wanted so I just stopped living.

Then 3 things happened.

1. The blue alien Bunnyface Cumberbuttons dream
2. My girls came from away
3. I got a little blue dinosaur in the mail

I have done more adventuring and living in the last 3 days than I have in my last 3 months here.

I saw whales, caves and “secret” beaches. Ate amazing food, hiked in the rain and was disappointed by seals.

Halfway through my time here and I am finally enjoying it.

I hit my fulcrum last week too. I have been here longer than I have left before I leave.

I don’t know where I am going to end up.

And that is really okay.

The way home
This is always the way home
So you can rip that map to shreds, my dear

I don’t have a map. Never did. Instead I have strange dreams, amazing friends, gut feelings and a renewed sense of adventure.

Tiny dino and I are going to have an adventure a week, and I am going to start living again.

So mote it be.

Ex hubby messaged because he’s having reoccurring dreams that I’m yelling and drowning.

I’m trying to convince him I’m okay, but there is some truth in his dream.

I am drowning a bit and I am trying to figure out how to stop it.

I know I just need to stand up, yet again.

Fall down seven times, get up eight.

I also have to figure out what I am doing wrong. I am not sure yet. But there is something.

I’ve had an absolutely garbage week, starting with Monday the creepy fuck boy and continuing on until, well kinda now.

Girls are mad at me again for whatfuckingever reason they have decided on this week and I’ve spent more than I have made. The ban on playing cards is still in place and I’m just cranky. Nope is docked at the harbor and that isn’t the easiest thing to deal with although, it’s been keeping me more sober-ish.

I’m going through hell, so I will keep going. Winston Churchill

That’s all any of us can do.

Except the ones who look around at their own hells and decide it’s someone else’s fault.

Me playing cards has nothing to do with how much money someone else makes.
I am not casting bad mojo around the bar, that’s the bad drugs honey.

I have a long list of things that are most definitely my fault. Mostly centering around mistakes I made with my child especially when he was young. I’m working on forgiving myself, but it is difficult.

We spoke on Mother’s Day and I apologized for the thousandth time for fucking up so bad and he responded “If it had have been easy I wouldn’t be so tough now, and I need to be tough.”

He is my favorite thing on the planet.

We have grown so much together since he was born and exponentially so in the last 4 years. He astounds me every day with his logic and determination.

I made a decision to be where I am and it was not made lightly. A few things I have done since then were regrettable see that last 90 days of posts about being drunk and sleeping with the wrong person.

There is no one to blame but myself however, and I know this.

I used to play the blame game. And my life just kinda stayed in a shitty holding pattern. The outside influence I was blaming would change, but my circumstances did not.

Until I realized I am the common denominator and these are MY patterns.

I still blame the moon sometimes and there are hormone fluxes I can’t exactly control, but I am, at the end of the day in charge of my damned self.

And my ‘self’ is a stripper witch.

I think I got comfy and cozy back home surrounded by likeminded or at least understanding people.

It’s not like that here.

They throw the word at me like it’s a bad thing.

“You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.”
— Inigo Montoya, The Princess Bride

See also, “I’m not a witch I am your wife”

I am no one’s wife and I am a witch.

All that means to me is instead of having a cross for comfort I have runes of protection on my door, black salt under my bed.

I clean and smudge when the moon is in certain phases. I can read your palm and if you are sick I can cook something that will make you feel better.

My superstitions are different than yours.

I believe very firmly in karma and what I put out comes back to me, so I try to only put out good.

Sometimes I fuck up,. I’m fallible and human and I’ve been drinking, but still. I wouldn’t wish ill of anyone. I might not want to share my space or conversation with you, but I’m not going to cast a spell to get rid of someone or harm them, because it will come back at me threefold. To me that’s better motivation to be kind than an old white dude up in the clouds watching me masturbate and judging me.

What it means is if you need a baby wipe or a Band-Aid, I will gladly give you one of mine because I can. And potentially one day I might fall down and need help.

I am currently burning “Jinx Removing” incense that was sent to me from home. I also know that if a jinx does exist, I created it, therefore I can reset my thinking and destroy it.

So mote it be.

I went looking for my horoscope before I started writing this. It’s not there yet, but this was…

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I had such a lovely Sunday. I truly did. Protective circle of pretty boys at the bar, made a bit of money, had charming conversations and I didn’t get too drunk. Got tipped on stage. Everyone left in a good mood.

Then came Monday.

What the actual fuck Monday?

That was just rude.

I usually love Monday’s late start, early finish, day off the next day. But we can’t play cards and I am pushing through until my girls get here so I can have a good night out.

This was not a good night.

Add to it the loveliness of Sunday as a juxtaposition. Just heinous fuckery most foul.

Nightmare night.

I have slept with 2 people since I got here and at one point they were the only 2 people in the bar.

Nope and the one that should have been a nope and never fucking happened.

Wait, back up.

The bar was dead for most of the night, except for one exceptionally obnoxious drunk man.

I have dated alcoholics that hit me and hurt me, and I can recognize the ones who have a mean streak. This one did so I steered clear until he poked me, and even then I stayed calm and told him ‘no touching.’ He called me an asshole and was asked to leave.

Then I get a message request on Instagram. Ex hubby asking me if I am a Newfie now.

It’s been 4 years since we had any kind of contact. It didn’t go well last time.

He asked me if I remembered why he stopped talking to me.

“I am a giant whore.”

“I was gonna say oversharing, but I suppose it’s the same thing.”

Kinda wish he had just said what he wanted to say in the first few lines which was he would look after my son so I could go be happy. But we have never been able to keep things short and sweet. We had text fights that would go on for days and days. I am not that girl anymore.

“Looks like you are stripping.”

“I am.”

And it kinda went downhill from there.

None of these things were really enough to make the night that bad exactly. Drunk Josh, no the other Josh, Josh with the crazy girlfriend Josh popped in and was in a sooky mood and pulled me into his lap and bought me a couple whiskeys. So that was nice. The lack of clientele meant we didn’t have to go on stage till late, so that was good too.

Nope showed up mid stage show looking adorable. I am still unsettled by this. He said something about making me lose focus, to which I replied “It’s not the same anymore, you broke whatever this was, and I wish you hadn’t.”

I miss the attention. He gave really good attention.

The other one however. I do not miss. I regret. And I rarely regret anything.

And of course he waltzed into the bar last night. Asshole. Who takes pictures of sleeping girls and shows their friends? Apparently that guy. I do not like being recognized by a boy I have never met because he saw pics of me sleeping naked. The level of creepiness is overwhelming.

I wish I had a magic eraser for that few weeks of my life. I was exceptionally depressed and made a very bad decision which I think was a catalyst for other things not going my way. Lesson learned.

And kudos to the Nope, I told him what was happening and he asked me what I needed him to do.

“Just stay with me for a minute.” And he did.

The other one left without incident and everyone seems to have slipped into the portal wherever fuck boys go.

I made it, I always do. No meltdown, despite a thousand triggers.
Tonight is a new moon, thank god. We need a little new around here.

Good omens and moonflowers instead of a chaotic mess in a scary place.

I cussed out the creep so hopefully he will stay the fuck away.

“I pity your wife if you think 6 minutes is forever” Freddie Mercury

Also, if you are gonna be a fuck boy of epic proportions at least be good at fucking.

Once upon a time I went to see “Get Out” with a 25 year old Scorpio who did steroids. It was our first date and I truly believed it was going to be our only date. The preview for Beauty and the Beast came on before the movie and he said “we should go see that”. I laughed and said we wouldn’t make it that long, but sure I will agree to the imaginary thing in the future.

He pulled a mind fuck on me and showed up the next day with cheeseburgers and cuddled me on the couch while Panda grilled him to make sure he was worthy.
He just kept showing up. A few months later he surprised me with tickets to Beauty and the Beast.

And it was good, until it wasn’t.

I think that was the last time a man proved me wrong.

Heard this on the radio this morning

The moon is on my side
I have no reason to run
So will someone come and carry me home tonight
The angels never arrived
But I can hear the choir
So will someone come and carry me home

Fun, We are Young.

Kinda sums up my night last night at the bar, surrounded by lovely, sweet, young men. Except I didn’t need carrying and the angels did kinda arrive.

Went out for a cigarette and told one of them my age, he immediately said “oh you’re ___’s girlfriend”. No I am not, I do not belong to anyone.
He said he recognized me and told me a rather creepy story about seeing naked pictures of me sleeping, but I am not ready to deal with that just yet. He is my birthday twin, 23 and put his number in my phone as “future husband”.

This is a tiny fucking island, everyone knows everyone and everything. I spent 3 weeks with the wrong person and it is still haunting me.

I stated very clearly that I only date younger men and we discussed the dangerzone that is those approaching 30. They want to nest and I am not wifey. So of course he immediately proposed.

But this isn’t about him. We have a mutual friend.

At one point in the conversation I found myself thinking “my kingdom for a 21 year old Scorpio on Tren who knows what he wants.”

He had been in a few days ago “I want to tell you a story” he said.

It wasn’t so much of a story as he was looking for a bit of advice and reassurance. I am the Scorpio whisperer and the younglings trust me. This one is 21, a Scorpio and I call him Smiley. He has a very distinct and infectious smile.

He isn’t one of mine per se, but he buys the occasional shot of whiskey for me and we talk about the Matrix and the Mandela Effect. On this weird little island I will take intellectual sanctuary where I can find it. He is a snappy dresser and he makes me smile. So there is that then.

There are others like him. Boys I have no design on at all, but whose company I enjoy. No strings.

But this is the story of a 21 year old who told a really long rambling tale about the older woman he wants and in doing so taught me a valuable lesson.

I saw this video a year ago. And it hit me like truth in my chest. Unlike her I have always known I had to go. That there was more for them than me. That my job was to love them and leave them wild.

https://www.facebook.com/heyirisdotcom/videos/1771510762916269/?hc_ref=ARTS4bBDViqIfPy_4atc-KcPWnTlvqaXqsEuLwyZ4Hw22N2VITb_nmzWCtUOlz0fN30

“I was 45 and he was 29” she says.

She got 4 good years with him. They forced themselves apart and came back together like a wound that wouldn’t heal. Both trying to concede to other other’s needs, even though that wasn’t their fate.

I know that ending well.

But…

There is always a “but”.

Conversation with Smiley last night. He wants a woman who is 12 years older. He is dead set on having her. In a way I have yet to see in men twice his age. Like, she is his person and he decided and this is just the way things are.

It’s falling apart because she is being stubborn and I kinda wanna smash her over the head with the truth, which is how can you squander this gift from god?

I only ever see things from my side. Like somehow I am the adult and that gives me the right to decide how things are. But I am not the only person in the relationship and I don’t need to be right about everything.

Smiley has more emotional maturity and poise than most, and it is unfair that he is being dismissed over a number.

In spite of everything, I listened to him state in a very logical Scorpio manner all the reasons why she thinks it won’t work and that he understands everything. Then he said “but I am still in love with her.”

It warmed my heart and reminded me of what Our Sara of Lords said once upon a time. “It is not a burden to be loved by you.”

Goes for both of us, we aren’t burdens, we are blessings.

May we both get what we want.