Living my best life is sucking the life out of me.

Its 2:00 in the morning, and I am writing because I have, once again, destroyed my sleep schedule.

Well, not just my sleep schedule.

I have idiopathic intracranial hypertension. It makes me forget things, feel crushing headaches every moment of the day, occasionally lose my ability to see, and want to sleep basically forever. Left to my own devices, I will sleep for twelve hours and still be able to take a substantial midday nap.

Such is life.

Unfortunately, this doesn’t allow me much time for anything else. This doubly sucks, because what time I am left is also devoted to coping with the headaches, dizziness, anxiety, depression, and other trappings of having a head full of surplus brainjuice. Showering is tiring. Clothes hurt. On a high-pressure day, even holding my head up is more than my neck can manage.

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When hexing is a feminist act.

“Harm none.”

If you’re in a witchcraft-using community, you hear it a lot. It’s a truncated version of the Wiccan Rede, “An harm ye none, do what thou wilt,” informally interpreted as a binding rule of witchcraft. It isn’t, though — there are plenty of witches of different religions, or none at all, and most of them aren’t bound by it any more than they’re required to follow the Ten Commandments.

Don’t get me wrong, the Rede isn’t a bad thing. Really, it’s pretty liberating… Particularly for people coming to it from more dogmatic religions.

“If it doesn’t hurt anyone, do what you want.” Does your partner consent? Sex isn’t a sin. Does your desire to get tattoos or piercings hurt anyone else? Do as you please. Do you want to carve an image of something? Knock yourself out.

I’m not going to lie, though. Misapplied, it blows.

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Why “Unseelie?”

So, I’ve gotten asked, “Why do you go by Unseelie J online?”

There are a couple of reasons. Yes, it’s a pun on unseelie fae, but it goes a bit deeper than that.

While the word unseelie, particularly when attached to the unseelie court, is taken to mean “malevolent,” it has a number of uses. Seelie, its opposite, meant blessed, lucky, or happy. Unseelie, therefore, meant unhappy, unfortunate, or not blessed. It’s a term that resonates with me.

I have mostly created my own luck in life — I was born to a poor family, in a not-terribly-great family situation, raised by an abusive, staunchly religious homophobe, nearly killed in a car accident as a teenager, and, to top it all off, was diagnosed with a very rare, poorly understood, incurable, potentially lethal neurological disorder about six years ago.
It’s been quite a time.

I’ve also long realized that my primary purpose in life may very well be to serve as a cautionary tale to others, and I’ve become okay with that. I’m also okay with the fact that I am chiefly alive out of pure contrariness.

After all, like Maria Bamford says,

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So, while I’ve got a neurological disorder, anxiety, physical pain, and the weight of my past to carry around, I’m okay with being unseelie. At this point, I also aim to be the biggest thorn in the side of the status quo that I can be, so I’m even okay with being considered malevolent.

It all depends on who’s doing the considering.  💜

 

I did the thing!

Years back, I had an Etsy shop. It worked out pretty well — I made a little money, a few friends, and had customers who genuinely enjoyed my art. Unfortunately, I fell out of it after I moved, was diagnosed with a neurological disorder, and began losing my sight.

I’ve always wanted to start it up again, though my artistic output isn’t as prolific as it used to be. Finally, I figured, why not? I have some finished paintings, jewelry making supplies, and other things I could use to start my store up again, so why not?

So, I did:

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It isn’t yet fully stocked, because I had the sneaking suspicion that, if I chose to wait until it was stocked to my complete satisfaction,I’d never get around to actually opening it. So, if you’re interested in tarot readings or prints of my artwork, I’ve got you covered. In the meantime, I’m working on more things to add, so please favorite and keep an eye out!

 

The Science in Magic.

I don’t think I’ve ever really talked about how much work goes into something like, say, making a magical oil.

I used to work in a chem lab — I did soil and water analysis for an environmental testing company. I loved the job, and worked there up until I was no longer physically able. It was challenging, rewarding, and allowed me to work a job that paid my bills and didn’t require me to sacrifice my principles.

All of this is to say, I really dig the science underlying the patently unscientific things I do.

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I’ll give you an example. There’s one particular divination tool I’m in the process of working on. It hasn’t been easy, and it has required a lot of research. Not only did I have to delve into the magical properties and folklore of all of the ingredients, I also had to figure out their respective contents of estragole, anethole, thujone, and other compounds that are soluble in alcohol, but only weakly soluble (or completely insoluble) in water. Hopefully, this will yield a final product that not only has the magical properties I desire, but the physical properties I need to work the way I want it to.

Another example is oil. Sure, most of the oils I make are infused, not dilutions of essential oil, but I still need to be mindful of their capacity for toxicity, unwanted side-effects, and (perhaps most importantly) sensitization. I’ve been in the process of re-working a recipe to guard against nightmares for weeks, just to yield an anointing oil that will protect your sleep and not give you a rash at the same time.

Of course, sometimes the toxicity is the point. I don’t walk the poison path in the same way other witches might. At the moment, with my particular health challenges, the risk is not necessarily worth the reward when I have other herbs and tools at my disposal. But “the dose makes the poison,” and the poison path is a rewarding one nonetheless.

It’s fun process, albeit a frustrating one. I do get a fair amount of people who roll their eyes, and ask me why I even bother for something they see as fake to begin with. It’s the kind of thing where, for people who understand, no explanation is necessary. For those who don’t, none is possible.

Besides, the challenge is half of the fun.

 

 

 

The baby got locked in the car, and then an exorcism broke out.

I wasn’t always self-employed. Did I ever tell you that I used to work retail?

If not, this is why.

Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t a bad gig — I learned a lot, especially about nutrition. The management was often a nightmare, but the work was decent enough to keep me doing it for several years.

I also had a number of customers who seemed to think I was pretty neat. One lady managed to avoid putting down her son’s dog after I made a dietary recommendation (he had been medicated for severe allergies of unknown origin, then needed phenobarbital to counteract the seizures his medication gave him. It turned out to be a severe allergy to corn). One couple straight-up told me that, when I changed stores, they would continue shopping at whichever one I ended up working at.

Those times were nice. The other days, though? Ho-lee crap.

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