La Sventurata...
hiyee!!
I just transfered from Livejournal, so this is my first post... in accordance with personal tradition: MY FIRST POST IS A REPOST!!! hihihi!
I am a practicing Wiccan – okay, not so much practicing as much as just deeply engorged in the Old Religion… while I was walking home from where my bus had dropped me off from the office one night, my attention was captured by the unearthly iridescent light of the first night of the full moon. I also remembered reading about an ancient Italian ritual of invocation that was to be performed during the full moon – preferably the third night, where the moon is most powerful.
The moon was so large and beautiful that no one could have looked at it and not have been moved, or at least inspired or touched. So I raced home, and without even bathing (or changing my clothes for that matter), I locked myself in my room and gathered up my old “supplies” – the usual, candles, athame (an old steak knife, which I had stolen from our kitchen and kept in my secret cupboard, which is magickally blessed, of course), matches, a bell, and a chalice with milk (so I was having difficulty finding wine! Traditionally, any symbol of fertility would have done, and I guess cow’s milk is enough of a fertility symbol, at least for me).
I wrote my own spell, called the corners (twice, since my candles were having difficulty standing on their own!), and cast it – and invocation to the Gods of Love: Hymen, Venus, Cupid, Medea, and just to give it an old Filipino twist, I called on Pag-Ibig herself. I think I performed the ritual quite well, nothing burned down, not too much mess to clean up, and even an elevated feeling of being blessed by the Gods themselves.
And so, I waited for my Love Candle to burn out – a red one, for passion. I blessed a pink ribbon with my Love Candle, also blessing my ring with it, and in the end, it was a success – with harm to none, so mote it be.
My main wish for that spell was to attract love – for me, and for him. Him, I define him as a person (a man, or a boy) for whom I will feel love, and from whom I will get love. It isn’t really that selfish, I mean, I want to feel loved, but I also want to be able to give love and take care of someone. As simple as that, senza il voce di Mercy Manzano…
A few days later, I was off… the spell was off. I was going out of town, not on a personal account, but I wouldn’t exactly call it a business account either. And there he was… gorgeous, with dark brown eyes, pale white skin, a goatee and a beard – a little sweaty though, we’ve been working for hours and everyone was sweating – but he was doing it most exceptionally. I felt he liked me, I knew he liked me. God! For once, someone was actually crushing on me! I felt special, I felt pretty. When we went out to a bar after having dinner that night, he put his arms around me, and explained to me his “situation”. Basically, he was trapped in a fruitless, loveless, and very, very rocky romance. He loved her, I could tell. Apparently, from his stories, she didn’t care all that much for him! And she had broken everything up with him on that very night, while he was a thousand miles away – no wonder he was a little soppy during dinner.
He leaned in, I thought he was going to kiss me. But he was just whispering something to my seatmate… that night, I gave him a massage. If you’ve ever wondered how geishas feel (and I often have), well you no longer need to. I’m gonna tell you. I was sitting, very geisha-like on the side of his bed. He had lain on it stomach down. I fixed his shoulders, just to get him comfortable. Then I worked on his back, down the spinal column, along and around his scapula, and his sides. Then I worked on his arms – god those are big! Muscles, muscles, and a little bit more muscle, but it was sort of soft and gooey, I know I’m not making sense, nothing was while I sat there working on my first male massage. Finally, I worked on his hands – they were actually quite soft, but maintained a very manly feel. When I had finished, and I had been thinking about how to end my little massage, I simply tapped his palm and said goodnight – I believe I heard him snore more than once during our session. The nerve, he asked me to stay and do his legs. I immediately answered that I don’t know how to do legs, but he insisted. What, in the name of Heaven, did this guy really want with me. One moment, he was sweet, the next he was distant and flirty with other people. One thing remained constant though – he was always a little too full of himself. That night, I suppose he expected me to make the first move – and I was most careful not to go too close to the buttocks, or to the groin area. What, did he actually expect me to do something – I mean, I may be lonely and alone, but I’m not easy, at least not that easy!
So moving on… I’ve met someone else! He’s perfect! Tall, dark, and extremely charming. The sweetest man I’ve ever met – he opens doors for me, always let me go through first, calls me annoying nicknames, and he’s funny and smart. I’ve spent the last 24+ hours with him, and I’ve felt even more. I was actually sitting next to him one time thinking, ”I think I love this guy”. Well, I still think I do – I’ve seen him get really pissed off one and a half times, and I think he’s absolutely adorable. He’s just perfect… He would do anything for the girl he loved. Ergo, the problem – he’s in love with someone else. The story of my life… I could burst out into a solo of “On My Own” right now, but I’ll spare you the agony. Perhaps I’ll just belt out “Alone Again, Naturally”, or maybe later…
Anyway, he’s perfect, he really is. He’s totally devoted, he’s a great guy – in the purest sense of the word. He’s older, of course, but I suppose only age can get you that enough maturity. He smokes too much though… and she’s trying to stop, or at least cut down a bit. They’re perfect for each other – she’s funny, a little loud though, and he’s perfect. I don’t really know if I love him, well, basically because I’ve forgotten how love feels – am I really in love with him, the perfect him, or am I just in love with the idea of having someone like him court me, like he’s courting her right now.
I suppose another reason why I’ve really come to like him is that he’s so damn sweet. I mentioned that already, didn’t I? Well he is. He buys stuff for her, even if she doesn’t need them, even if she doesn’t want them. All he talks about is her, all he probably thinks about is her. I have never seen any boy, or man for that matter, who has been so devoted, so… so, see, damn it! I can’t even find the damn words!
And it hurts to see how he’s spending all this effort on her, I’m still not sure if she’s really worth it. I don’t want to speak ill of her, I like her and everything. I just hate the fact that the sweetest, most perfect (double superlatives intended) man is standing right in front of her, and she still can’t see. I think a club to the head should do it… But then, he’d hate me.
This morning, everyone was whispering what they really needed at that time – someone said coffee, someone said power drinks, he says he needs her. I need a boyfriend. I suppose he’s not that thick, I suppose he knows I like him, and I really like him. I mean, I’ve not done anything to conceal that I like him, I’ve just covered that fact that I may love him… and usually when I really like someone, and he doesn’t like me back, I start to hate him… But try as I might, I can’t hate him. After all, how can you hate perfection – well, I suppose someone who’s prissy, and perfect, and always clean, and really smart may be hateful at some times. But he’s nothing like that, he’s just perfect. Period. I also can’t hate him, because I like the fact that he’s persistent, and dedicated, and probably headed towards a really serious relationship with her… But every time I think about it, the same thought comes through… When’s it gonna be me?
I mean, I love that fact that he’s in love, and that he’s in a good state of mind, but I really hate the fact that I am, once again, in the background… this sucks, it always has. Will this be yet another “On My Own” solo, or will I finally sing a “Too Much in Love to Care” duet? Damn it, damn it, damn it! I cast that spell to get me love, not to be attracted to someone who’s full of himself, or someone who’s so full of someone else. I suppose what the spell’s really done is to show me love, the ones that I really need. Love for myself, and love for that someone who’s worth it, or at least someone whom I think is worth it.
Anyway, to end this lengthy crap of an essay (ok, it’s not an essay, it’s just me talking to myself about me)… how the hell do you undo a love spell that’s backfiring?! I suppose you don’t. I just have to accept the fact that he likes her, and that someday he, not necessarily the same he, may like me too. Until that day I should wait. But damn it, I hate waiting. I’ve been waiting! What, you think I just sit in front of my PC wanting to be alone? Of course not! I’ve tried online dating (not my thing), chatting (still not my thing), webcams (really not my thing, well I suppose it has to do with who’s on the other end of the cam). Anyway, shit, someone stole my Aida recording, and I’m having another migraine. Ciao!
I just transfered from Livejournal, so this is my first post... in accordance with personal tradition: MY FIRST POST IS A REPOST!!! hihihi!
I am a practicing Wiccan – okay, not so much practicing as much as just deeply engorged in the Old Religion… while I was walking home from where my bus had dropped me off from the office one night, my attention was captured by the unearthly iridescent light of the first night of the full moon. I also remembered reading about an ancient Italian ritual of invocation that was to be performed during the full moon – preferably the third night, where the moon is most powerful.
The moon was so large and beautiful that no one could have looked at it and not have been moved, or at least inspired or touched. So I raced home, and without even bathing (or changing my clothes for that matter), I locked myself in my room and gathered up my old “supplies” – the usual, candles, athame (an old steak knife, which I had stolen from our kitchen and kept in my secret cupboard, which is magickally blessed, of course), matches, a bell, and a chalice with milk (so I was having difficulty finding wine! Traditionally, any symbol of fertility would have done, and I guess cow’s milk is enough of a fertility symbol, at least for me).
I wrote my own spell, called the corners (twice, since my candles were having difficulty standing on their own!), and cast it – and invocation to the Gods of Love: Hymen, Venus, Cupid, Medea, and just to give it an old Filipino twist, I called on Pag-Ibig herself. I think I performed the ritual quite well, nothing burned down, not too much mess to clean up, and even an elevated feeling of being blessed by the Gods themselves.
And so, I waited for my Love Candle to burn out – a red one, for passion. I blessed a pink ribbon with my Love Candle, also blessing my ring with it, and in the end, it was a success – with harm to none, so mote it be.
My main wish for that spell was to attract love – for me, and for him. Him, I define him as a person (a man, or a boy) for whom I will feel love, and from whom I will get love. It isn’t really that selfish, I mean, I want to feel loved, but I also want to be able to give love and take care of someone. As simple as that, senza il voce di Mercy Manzano…
A few days later, I was off… the spell was off. I was going out of town, not on a personal account, but I wouldn’t exactly call it a business account either. And there he was… gorgeous, with dark brown eyes, pale white skin, a goatee and a beard – a little sweaty though, we’ve been working for hours and everyone was sweating – but he was doing it most exceptionally. I felt he liked me, I knew he liked me. God! For once, someone was actually crushing on me! I felt special, I felt pretty. When we went out to a bar after having dinner that night, he put his arms around me, and explained to me his “situation”. Basically, he was trapped in a fruitless, loveless, and very, very rocky romance. He loved her, I could tell. Apparently, from his stories, she didn’t care all that much for him! And she had broken everything up with him on that very night, while he was a thousand miles away – no wonder he was a little soppy during dinner.
He leaned in, I thought he was going to kiss me. But he was just whispering something to my seatmate… that night, I gave him a massage. If you’ve ever wondered how geishas feel (and I often have), well you no longer need to. I’m gonna tell you. I was sitting, very geisha-like on the side of his bed. He had lain on it stomach down. I fixed his shoulders, just to get him comfortable. Then I worked on his back, down the spinal column, along and around his scapula, and his sides. Then I worked on his arms – god those are big! Muscles, muscles, and a little bit more muscle, but it was sort of soft and gooey, I know I’m not making sense, nothing was while I sat there working on my first male massage. Finally, I worked on his hands – they were actually quite soft, but maintained a very manly feel. When I had finished, and I had been thinking about how to end my little massage, I simply tapped his palm and said goodnight – I believe I heard him snore more than once during our session. The nerve, he asked me to stay and do his legs. I immediately answered that I don’t know how to do legs, but he insisted. What, in the name of Heaven, did this guy really want with me. One moment, he was sweet, the next he was distant and flirty with other people. One thing remained constant though – he was always a little too full of himself. That night, I suppose he expected me to make the first move – and I was most careful not to go too close to the buttocks, or to the groin area. What, did he actually expect me to do something – I mean, I may be lonely and alone, but I’m not easy, at least not that easy!
So moving on… I’ve met someone else! He’s perfect! Tall, dark, and extremely charming. The sweetest man I’ve ever met – he opens doors for me, always let me go through first, calls me annoying nicknames, and he’s funny and smart. I’ve spent the last 24+ hours with him, and I’ve felt even more. I was actually sitting next to him one time thinking, ”I think I love this guy”. Well, I still think I do – I’ve seen him get really pissed off one and a half times, and I think he’s absolutely adorable. He’s just perfect… He would do anything for the girl he loved. Ergo, the problem – he’s in love with someone else. The story of my life… I could burst out into a solo of “On My Own” right now, but I’ll spare you the agony. Perhaps I’ll just belt out “Alone Again, Naturally”, or maybe later…
Anyway, he’s perfect, he really is. He’s totally devoted, he’s a great guy – in the purest sense of the word. He’s older, of course, but I suppose only age can get you that enough maturity. He smokes too much though… and she’s trying to stop, or at least cut down a bit. They’re perfect for each other – she’s funny, a little loud though, and he’s perfect. I don’t really know if I love him, well, basically because I’ve forgotten how love feels – am I really in love with him, the perfect him, or am I just in love with the idea of having someone like him court me, like he’s courting her right now.
I suppose another reason why I’ve really come to like him is that he’s so damn sweet. I mentioned that already, didn’t I? Well he is. He buys stuff for her, even if she doesn’t need them, even if she doesn’t want them. All he talks about is her, all he probably thinks about is her. I have never seen any boy, or man for that matter, who has been so devoted, so… so, see, damn it! I can’t even find the damn words!
And it hurts to see how he’s spending all this effort on her, I’m still not sure if she’s really worth it. I don’t want to speak ill of her, I like her and everything. I just hate the fact that the sweetest, most perfect (double superlatives intended) man is standing right in front of her, and she still can’t see. I think a club to the head should do it… But then, he’d hate me.
This morning, everyone was whispering what they really needed at that time – someone said coffee, someone said power drinks, he says he needs her. I need a boyfriend. I suppose he’s not that thick, I suppose he knows I like him, and I really like him. I mean, I’ve not done anything to conceal that I like him, I’ve just covered that fact that I may love him… and usually when I really like someone, and he doesn’t like me back, I start to hate him… But try as I might, I can’t hate him. After all, how can you hate perfection – well, I suppose someone who’s prissy, and perfect, and always clean, and really smart may be hateful at some times. But he’s nothing like that, he’s just perfect. Period. I also can’t hate him, because I like the fact that he’s persistent, and dedicated, and probably headed towards a really serious relationship with her… But every time I think about it, the same thought comes through… When’s it gonna be me?
I mean, I love that fact that he’s in love, and that he’s in a good state of mind, but I really hate the fact that I am, once again, in the background… this sucks, it always has. Will this be yet another “On My Own” solo, or will I finally sing a “Too Much in Love to Care” duet? Damn it, damn it, damn it! I cast that spell to get me love, not to be attracted to someone who’s full of himself, or someone who’s so full of someone else. I suppose what the spell’s really done is to show me love, the ones that I really need. Love for myself, and love for that someone who’s worth it, or at least someone whom I think is worth it.
Anyway, to end this lengthy crap of an essay (ok, it’s not an essay, it’s just me talking to myself about me)… how the hell do you undo a love spell that’s backfiring?! I suppose you don’t. I just have to accept the fact that he likes her, and that someday he, not necessarily the same he, may like me too. Until that day I should wait. But damn it, I hate waiting. I’ve been waiting! What, you think I just sit in front of my PC wanting to be alone? Of course not! I’ve tried online dating (not my thing), chatting (still not my thing), webcams (really not my thing, well I suppose it has to do with who’s on the other end of the cam). Anyway, shit, someone stole my Aida recording, and I’m having another migraine. Ciao!
posted by Mikee @ 7:03 AM
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