Needy people make me crazy and extroverted men are the worst. I go to Starbucks at lunch because I can read there and download new books and other content on my Kindle and also to get some peace away from my desk and work. There is a temp that sometimes follows me over. Today I’m sitting, head down reading when he decides he needs to talk to me because I’m obviously not doing anything important because I’m ‘just’ reading. So I kept my head down reading or at least trying to while he complained about one of my co-workers sneezing as she came out of the bathroom. She might have sneezed in his direction and he wasn’t looking. Seriously dude???
He finally gave up and went and got his drink when it was ready and went back to work. Now he’s in a snit. I’m one of the few that will talk to temps so I guess he thinks that makes him my friend. He also misguidedly tries to flirt, Dude is a white late 30s Mormon male and as such is totally clueless that he is talking to a 60 year old Druid lesbian who doesn’t give a flying fuck about his flirting and doesn’t have the social skills to see the blowoff. It’s making me nuts. I’m trying not to be rude but I give up.
But this happens to me all the time if I’m sitting alone on a bus and reading. Some needy guy will try to talk to me and when I don’t look up I start to see a foot bobbing up and down or a hand jiggling just inside my sight line or a pen clicking and if that doesn’t work , the foot or the hand gets closer and sometimes it goes so far as a bump.
What is it with some men that they are so needy that they go out of their way to annoy people because they need attention? It happens in airports and restaurants. It happens on buses. It happens in post office lines. It happens anywhere a grown up person should be able to entertain themselves. Women don’t do this, It’s always some guy. I love people that have their head down on their smart phone. It means they won’t be bugging perfect strangers.
Introverts have to go out of their way most of the time to get some peace and to own their own space. Extroverts too often don’t get that or they frankly don’t care because it’s all about them and what they want. They are the guys that sit on the train and on the bus with their legs wide open squishing some poor woman into the wall and looking surprised if you dare tell them to put your knees together. I have a really bad habit of planting my cane and starting to push them into the space they are supposed to be in. Too often it reminds me of back seat battles with my little brother because he was over the line into my side. Men, grow up! You have your own space, you can’t have my seat too.
It’s bad enough that the whole effing building is oriented to right handed extroverts without territory encroaching morons. How do I know it’s oriented to right handers? Our elevators have to be programed to the floor you are going to and you have to enter your floor on the pads in the hallway to get the elevator to go to your floor and once in the elevator you can’t change it. There are no floor buttons inside the elevators. All the key pads are on the right side of hallways walking from any entrance. There is not one key pad on the left side of the hall. There are 8 in total on three hallways on the main floor, again not one on the left side of the hall even though you must turn left from the employee entrance hallway to get to the elevator. This means any leftie has to cross the hallway to find a keypad or wait until they get to the actual elevator bays to key your floor in.
Can you tell I’m having a cranky day?
Day 23 Your own composition – a piece of writing about or for this deity – I have many prayers that I have put up and the story of the Flames POV but these are still my favourite
The Littlest Druid celebrates La Fheille Brighde
Once upon a time, Aisling was sitting on the side of the hill above the flocks of sheep. She was thoroughly wrapped in a sheepskin coat and leggings and she wondered if the sheep cared that she was wearing one of their old friends. It made her feel funny until she remembered how cold she would be if she wasn’t wearing them. She was feeling marooned.
She’d been sent out here to watch for the ewes to start bearing their lambs. She wanted to be back at the village while they got ready for Imbolq but once again she had made herself unwelcome. Everyone was all excited for the feast and ritual. Most of her friends were more excited about the feast than the ritual. It had been a long time since the Winter Solstice festival and the winter had been cold and hard. It was time to celebrate spring’s return.
She had been trying to help out with all the preparations but her teacher and the Chief Druid had finally sent her out here to be with the sheep.
They had told her it was a very important job but sitting here alone in the cold it didn’t seem so important. It seemed like punishment. She lowered her head to her knees and felt a rush of self pity.
She always meant well but things just didn’t seem to ever work out well for her. She had been helping with the beeswax candle making but got distracted making wax build up on her finger. She couldn’t help how nice and warm the wax had felt on her hands and it smelled so good!
Somehow the druidess in charge of the candlemaking hadn’t seen it that way. She’d gone over to hold the wool that a group of women were spinning and some how it ended up in one big knot instead of a ball that they could use to knit.
So now she was here, by herself, while the regular shepherds went in for dinner and a nap. They had told her not to worry. None of the ewes were ready to give birth yet so all she had to do was sit.
So she sat in the dark surrounded by sleepy, stupid sheep even the sheep dogs had gone with the shepherds for their dinner. She gave a heavy sigh.
The Chief Druid had said this was an important job because they couldn’t start the celebration until the ewes gave birth and their milk came in. This usually happened around a full moon and a half after solstice so it was a few days yet. He had said someone had to be here because sheep sometimes got into trouble and the mother died giving birth so someone had to be with her and some one had to make sure the lambs would be alright. Aisling just felt punished and not important at all. The only thing she could see was that if there was extra milk there would be really good cheese and she loved cheese.
She was trying to stay awake by counting falling stars and watching the Aurora shift and move across the sky. One of the boys had said it was Brighid’s green skirt moving across the sky and she wondered if she tried hard enough she could see the rest of Brighid.
She was starting to get really drowsy when a ram hit her from behind and rolled her forward into the grass. “Hey!” The ram stood looking at her and then turned to run across the field. He stopped to see if she was following so she did.
He turned around and started running again toward the far eastern part of the field. She struggled to catch up. He was moving really fast. She had no idea a sheep could go that fast. She fell twice and each time he stopped and waited for her to get up.
What was happening here? The shepherds had promised nothing would be exciting in the least but she had a feeling they were wrong. At the edge of the field was a dip and in that dip was a very pregnant ewe. She was bleating softly at the ram and she looked like she was trying to give birth. She was on her side and Aisling knew that wasn’t good. Sheep give birth lying down but she didn’t look right.
The ram butted Aisling again. Aisling knew she was in real trouble. The sheep’s side was heaving as she strained. Something was very wrong and Aisling was very scared. They had promised nothing would happen and as usual they were wrong! She had never even watched let alone help a sheep give birth and there was no one else around.
Aisling started praying to Brighid because she couldn’t think of anything else to do while she patted the sheep and tried to remember to breathe.
What was she going to do? If the sheep or the lambs died she’d be in real trouble then and it would mean a bad celebration and year.
She was too far away to call for help. She just kept stroking the sheep’s head and felt a tear down her cheek. She’d really done it this time. They had promised it wasn’t time yet!
She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up. There was a woman in green kneeling next to the sheep. The woman smiled at her and began to touch the sheep gently to find out what was wrong.
She motioned to Aisling to hold the sheep’s upper body and rolled up her sleeves and reached into the sheep’s birth canal to straighten the lamb that came sliding out. The sheep gave a jerk and turned to lick her lamb while the lamb tried to stand. The woman gently pushed the lamb toward the mother’s teat and wiped her hands on the grass.
She watched the lamb and ewe for a moment and smiled. She stood up and gave Aisling a hug.
“You did well and now you better go tell the shepherds and the Chief Druid what has happened. It’s time for the feast.”
Aisling looked at the woman. She was dressed all in green with embroidery of red, black and white around her dress. The woman had red hair worn in braids like a crown and had warm blue eyes. Aisling wanted to ask her name but she had a feeling she knew who she was. She had asked her to come after all.
“Yes, I am who you think I am. You asked with all your heart and I came to help. Prayers are always answered when you ask. You just may not like the answer.”
Aisling looked at her with doubt. She looked at the Goddess and she looked at the ewe and her lamb. The ram had sat down with his legs folded under them and just looked at the two of them. She decided they were the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
Brighid gave Aisling’s hair one final stroke. “You’d better go and tell them the news.” She said again and gave Aisling a slight push. “But don’t tell them I was here. Let it be our secret. They don’t need to know. Well, maybe the Chief Druid.”
She laughed and walked away over her shoulder she said, “Keep trying Aisling, just keep trying.”
Aisling took off running back across the field. The boys were right. The Aurora did look like Brighid’s skirt she thought as she ran.
The Littlest Druid Creates
Aisling watched the rain fall outside the stone window and expected that this was going to be a long day. It was a soft rain but steady and since it was just another day in a long line of rainy days. She sighed.
She supposed she could work on the piece she had been trying to write. It was almost La Fheil Brighde and she had been trying to write a new hymn to Brighid. It was the first time in almost a year she had been back to the village since she had been consecrated a Bard.
It had been a wonderful year but a lonely one. She had told all the stories she had learned. Learned some new ones along the way. Sung some songs and walked long distances alone except for sheep and a few wild deer she had been lucky enough to chat with along the way but now she was home for a rest and to celebrate Brighid’s day.
She wondered if Brighid was going to appear at the ritual. Here Aisling was one of many and the newest Bard still so she wouldn’t be part of the ritual unless she could come up with a good enough piece to please the Chief Druid and the Head Bard. The Head Bard had never forgiven her for her raven’s thievery so it was always hard to impress him.
She had a tune that kept circling her brain like her raven drifted in the sky but it wouldn’t settle in or enlighten her with the words that were supposed to go with it. She supposed she could go get one of the smelly sheep skins and wrap herself up in and find it but that had never worked well for her. All she could think about was the poor old sheep it had come from and they stunk. Sheep’s wool was still itchy on or off the sheep. She wondered if sheep itched from their wool but probably not and she couldn’t really ask them and get a good answer.
She decided to take a walk in the rain, maybe that would shake something loose. She grabbed her cloak and her carved staff which had gathered more carvings when she had been away and her bag with her whistle and started on the path out of the village to their standing stones. She could hear the sheep in the fold moving around and knew they would be out on the hills soon and giving birth. She wondered if her favourite ewe was pregnant again, she was an old friend.
It was too wet for the raven to be out and about so she walked alone up the hill. She pulled out the whistle and started to play the tune that was swirling in and out. It was lilting and she could almost hear the words but they were just out of her reach. She reached the circle of stones and sat with her back against one. Somehow these stones were always comforting. She could see the first snowdrops blooming on the hill behind the stones and she started to sing.
Spring comes and brings the lambs
Brighid comes and wakes our land
From darkest night to the coming of day
The light returns after darkest day
I sing of healing
I sing of new life
I sing of love and the return of the light
We are inspired and live to create
We use our hands, wonderous things to make
From nothing they come, to use they go
The coming of spring after winter’s snow
I sing of healing
I sing of new life
I sing of love and the return of the light
I sing of her guidance and the sense of peace
I sing of her patience while I try to create
I sing of inspiration and the raising of hope
I sing of her flame we keep in the grove
Brighid, I welcome you at the start of your day
Please guide me with your flames to light my way
Inspire me, create me a new every day
Forge me and make a flame for a day
I sing of healing
I sing of new life
I sing of love and the return of the light.
“Thank you.” a voice behind Aisling’s stone said and Aisling turned around quickly. Brighid was standing there in her beautiful green cloak and dress.
“You heard it?” Aisling finally squeaked out.
“Every word and note.” Brighid laughed softly. “It’s lovely and you had better share it.” She said with a twinkle. “Aisling, I thank you for honouring me with it. Blessings of the day, dear one” and she was gone.
Aisling shivered to herself. Brighid had liked it! That ought to be enough for the Head Bard but most of all it was enough for her. She settled back against the stone after tugging her hood back down on her curls. It was going to be a wonderous day.
Female only space protects female safety. Purely that. Nothing more.
Safety is a human right, not a privilege.
The Victorians, when promoting public hygiene , noted that sex segregated hygiene facilities were essential for female participation In society.
This had nothing to do with modesty, or prudishness, just safety.
Male only spaces do not, and have never, existed to ensure male safety.
They exist to protect, promote, and promulgate the privileges of males, and only males.
Naturally , there’s a furore when either segregation is challenged, as illustrated in the following podcast – http://www.theguardian.com/news/audio/2015/may/18/1 – regarding the. Garrick Club.
After all, who wishes to give up their safety?
Who wishes to give up their privilege?
Nobody. That’s who.
And some in society use “equality” as an excuse to keep their privilege whilst ensuring females never achieve actual equality.
Thus…..they insist that access *must* work both ways.
That if females…
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