I heard about a story earlier today through the Human Rights Campaign and was thoroughly outraged. It's about a PASTOR who is suggesting gays and lesbians and queer folk be put into concentration camps. This is bound to be far from eloquent, because it's an issue I get riled up about quite easily. I try to keep things here on an upbeat tone and positive manner, but this guy was just...ugh. Pushed too many buttons.

His reasoning for putting all LGBTQ folks in concentration camps was so that over years they'd die out. This implies that it takes a lesbian to make a lesbian, yet by his own admition (and the obviousness of it) two women can't reproduce. So therefore his "argument" doesn't stand to reason. It also fails because you can't find a straight-er woman than my mom and yet I'm far more attracted to women than men. Actually, it's kind of funny, because towards the end of a youtube video he asked "can you imagine kissing a man?" and my immediate response was "no"! (I seriously, really can't. With Angelo as the exception, the idea of kissing a guy is pretty repulsive to me.) I know he meant to ask guys that question, but he didn't state that specifically (he was addressing an off camera congregation), but ask any lesbian that question and you're going to get the same response a straight male would give.

Going back to the original topic. His saying that LGBTQ folk would all die out if we were all in concretration camps is wrong on another count, because LGBTQ folk are born everyday to straight couples. To my knowledge, everyone in my family is straight. Everyone in my high school best friend's family is straight while he's bi. I am friends with a number of trans folk, and, as far as I know, they weren't born to trans (or otherwise LGBTQ) parents. We wouldn't all die off because LGBTQ people aren't born solely to LGBTQ people. His own argument is flawed, and he kicked himself in the butt in his schpiel.

*deep, calming breath* Okay, moving on. As stated before, this guy is a PASTOR. A Christian. I have no problem with Christianity, even though I'm not a follower myself. My problem comes when Christians try to twist Jesus' message to suit their own needs and wants. And that's what this guy is doing. Jesus' message was LOVE, not I DON'T LIKE THAT GROUP SO LETS KILL THEM ALL. I doubt Jesus would put anyone in a concentration camp.

I renamed my writing site and changed the url to it. It's now The Faerie Scribe. Last week I totally gave it, my twitter, and my Facebook a makeover and they actually match! They are all designed around the same background image. I have to say I really like how they've all turned out, and I feel really good about these changes~ The old name of my blog (Flames & Flowers) was chosen quickly, on a whim and it had no real meaning to me. But The Faerie Scribe? Lots of meaning, and I explained it all when I changed my twitter name several months back. (I've also made a few new posts recently, and am about to make another regarding the name change~)

These changes were not made on a whim, and they all have a purpose to them. I'm still brainstorming ideas for my Etsy shop, and the new name of the blog MIGHT give you a small hint as to what it could have to do with. I'm also in the process of developing something else that will tie into it all, but is, for now, a secret project!

Every now and then I get the strongest urge to pull a Rune. Considering Odin has a hand in my life, this doesn't really surprise me. And yet, Runes are not my main method of divination. Actually, I rarely use Runes because I much prefer the tarot~ I've been trying to make an effort to honor Odin somehow every Wednesday--whether that be by drawing Runes, writing Him a poem, performing some kind of ritual...whatever. Just something to show Him that I recognize His role in my life, and (even though He put me through hell last Fall) He's still welcomed in it, and respected and honored~ I was going to draw a Rune yesterday morning, but sped out of the house too fast, and by the time I thought about it, I was here. When I got home last night I was so frazzled and antsy feeling that I was almost beside myself, and there was no way I was going to be able to center myself to draw one.

I suspect Odin knew this--I had seen a single solitary raven on my drive home, so I have no doubt that He was in the know.

Before I went to sleep I was able to calm down--mainly with Angelo's help and by watching Criminal Minds, one of my favorite shows (though nothing tops Once Upon A Time!). But when I woke up this morning, I just wanted to draw a Rune. So I did. I drew Isa: Standstill.

I had previously identified what had made me feel so damn frustrated, and it's a certain situation that I have no control over. No matter how much I wish or want or hope that things will change, I can't make them--I'm at the mercy of someone else. And I don't like that~ I'm not a patient person by nature--I see something I want and go get it. There isn't much "mulling it over" or waiting or anything like that. But in this particular instance, I can't do that. I am forced to be patient, to wait and surrender. And that's exactly what Isa is telling me to do--I am to do and be those things that I'm not good at doing and being.

"The darkness before the dawn." That is, in a nutshell, what Isa is telling me. That I'm in a Winter, and soon it will be Spring. Soon there will be light and warmth and beautiful flowers. I just have to be patient and rest, let things gestate and bloom when the conditions are right.

Last night, Angelo and I had a sort of mutual spiritual experience. It's not something I want to talk about, but suffice it to say it brought up the topic of names. I love my pen name, but really dislike my real name. I know I've talked a bit about this before, but our conversation spilled over to this morning and it's had this on my mind (actually this has pen on my mind ever since I explained--very shortly--the meaning behind my name to another friend). My pen name is the one you all are familiar with and know me by--Willow Rose Seanchai. My real name is Renee Lynn R. and I've never in my life felt like it was mine. I remember as early as kindergarten asking my mom to call me by other names--Carrie, Julie, Kimberly were the common ones. None of them resonated with me, but I liked them well enough, so I asked her to use them and wouldn't answer when she called unless she did. Of course I was delighted when I learned in Paganism that it's typical for a person to choose a new name, a name that more represents them.

Most people start off choosing "fluffy" names. And I'll admit I've had some of those myself. My first "craft name" was Moonstar, but perhaps the fluffiest was Sunflower Daisywolf. Suffice it to say that I'm glad I outgrew that phase (and thankfully I neither of those names lasted long!). The name I went by the longest was Krystalraven, and that was usually broken down into the two obvious parts with the person calling me using whichever they preferred. Around the time I met Angelo I outgrew that though and had been on the hunt for a name that fit me ever since. Of course, me being the lover of names that I am, I tried out many different ones. I finally came to rest at Willow.

I bring up the long back story, because as part of our conversation Angelo was telling me that he didn't like the name Willow. Or rather, it had the effect of nails on a chalkboard to him, and he wasn't sure why. Then he jokingly said that if him and I were married my name would be Willow D'Argenio (since I had mentioned that I will someday legally change my name to Willow), and that led him to figuring out why the name "willow" has an icky effect on him. It's because my legal last name has the word "bush" in it, so when you put them together it's almost redundant and a little fluffy sounding "Willow ...Bush", which, I admit when hearing it like that kinda grinds my nerves, too. Since identifying the reason though it's not bothering him so much, but I did mention that I don't actually use my legal last name in my pen name--I use Seanchai.

"Seanchai" (link gives pronunciation) is a Gaelic word that means "Storyteller", which is what I am. Above all else, I am a writer. Jody (irish_horse) has a beautiful quote on her profile page about how she makes sense of the world, communicates with it and moves through it with words. I have to admit that what she said is incredibly true for me~ If you think about it, every piece of writing tells a story. Even if it's a nonfiction piece, a poem, or a blog post--they all tell a story. I'm telling you the story right now of how I got my pen name and what it means to me. So when I discovered Seanchai meant Storyteller in Gaelic, it just seemed the perfect fit. Even more so because Irish is my hearth culture--the one I'm obsessed with and study and try to model my practice after (the latter is still very much a work in progress).

Moving backwards, Rose is next. Initially when I was trying to come up with a pen name Willow was all I knew. But I was submitting a piece to SageWoman magazine and wanted to a surname to go with that. Unfortunately my deadline was looming so I had to think fast. The first thing that came to me was Rose. Again, it was the perfect fit~ My grandmother has called me Rosebud since I was a small kid (in fact, I still sign her cards "Rosebud" to this day~) and I had always loved that. Aside from that, in the language of flowers, what is the first thing that comes to mind when you think of Roses (of any color)? Love, right? Love is probably my biggest muse of all. It's found in all my stories, and Love is the sister to Kindness and Compassion--two of the most important things in my spirituality.

And finally we come to Willow. The name that started it all~ Cerridwen used to be my matron Goddess and I came to associate Willow Trees quite heavily with Her. I researched them and the lore surrounding them and fell in love. Willow Trees were planted on graves (they used to be grave markers!) and it is said that if you sit beneath a willow tree and listen you will hear the music of poetry on the air~ When I was a child I used to play beneath the wispy branches of a White Willow tree behind my grandmother's house. That was the safest, most magickal and enchanted place I can remember being. When I was there, I felt like I was in fairyland--a place of pure happiness and unbridled joy.

So, for me, the name Willow Rose Seanchai actually holds a fair amount of meaning and was not just quickly thrown together or drawn from a hat. Sure, I came to parts of it by chance or on a whim, but then again, there are no coincidences in life. Everything happens for a reason.

(Crossposted to Flames & Flowers, which is currently undergoing a makeover~)

I've been working on transferring all my photos from my Facebook account over to my Photobucket and I'm almost done--finally. It's taken awhile, but it's worth it~ In light of this, I've been thinking. The only real reason I dislike FB so much is because my family is on there and I don't feel like I can just relax and be myself. Plus there are many family friends (some of whom I've never met!) on my Facebook which makes me feel even more like I have to have my guard up. I don't like this.

Awhile back I created another Facebook account, then under the name of Raven Valaskjalf. I won't go into why I created it (it wasn't for anything bad--just a sensitive situation that I had to deal with), but I did and it's still in existence though I haven't been using it much up until a few days ago. I've decided to start using it again, but this time I'm only using it for friends--people I know and love and trust and can be myself around~ To make this page harder to find for my family (and someone else that I wish to avoid) I've made it under my pen name, Willow Rose Seanchai, and changed the url it's found under. I'm also going to make it a totally private Facebook that only people I've friended can see (though it will still be searchable). That way, should anyone I don't want to find it do so, I won't have to worry about what I post.

The other reason I've been thinking about Facebook so much is because of Destined. I'm really loving this story and I feel really good about it. The more I write of it, the more I flesh out the characters and the plotline, the more I believe in it. I've said it before, but once I finish writing and editing the hell out of it, I'm going to actually submit it to agents. One of the best ways for a writer (or any artist!) to gain a following is through social media, and Facebook falls under that category. Thus this will eventually be my professional/writer Facebook account and (as of today) will be linked to Flames & Flowers.

If you aren't sure you're on this Facebook, but would like to be, send me a friend request! Once I'm done transferring all photos off my old account I'm going to deactive it.

A friend of mine, Naomi (naomi_jay), has been running a werewolves vs vampire debate over on her blog, and she has guest posters share their preferences and why. I've enjoyed reading the different viewpoints, so I thought I'd share my own. :D

Today's guest blogger is in favor of vampires. I used to see the appeal in them--I used to be on the side of vamps myself. When I first began writing, I wrote vampires almost exclusively. I wrote some werewolf tales, but they were few and rather far between. I guess my thinking back then is (when writing male vampires) he's pretty much the ultimate bad boy. I mean, he's dead and without a soul, so there's nothing making him worry about Karma or the afterlife (which he's already survived--to an extent--anyway!), and so he can do pretty much anything he wants without a lot of consequences. Plus there's the danger factor. I mean, the guy wants to suck your blood ,and if he drinks enough, you die. For some reason, girls like dangerous guys. I guess it's because if the dangerous guy treats them gently or protects them, it gives them that feeling of being special, of "oh he loves me enough to protect me even though he wants to kill everyone else". That was always a bit of the appeal for me anyway.

But, over the years, my opinions have shifted. I find I'm much more in favor of the werewolf these days. If I think about it, it makes perfect sense to me why I would be. Werewolves are essentially wolves that also have a human form (or vice versa)--they mate for life, value family, run free, and live as a part of nature instead of apart from it. Maybe it's my own love of those same things that makes me so drawn to the werewolf. Or maybe it's this. If you think about it, the wolf represents so much that is wild--kind of like a Mustang horse would do. They have some rules, yet aren't bound by the tight confines human society is under. The moon forces them to honor the part of themself that most humans seek to ignore--that of the wildness and their base instincts. When a werewolf is in the thrall of change, or when s/he is changed, they don't operate on the social conventions that humans do. Instead they act on feeling and instinct and gut reactions. If they want to run wild through the trees, wind ruffling their fur, they do. If they are hungry and need to find a rabbit in a hurry, they find one. If they want to spend time with their mate, regardless of it being the middle of the day, they go shack up.

I mentioned before that vampires have the dangerous factor. Well, werewolves (as I've already mentioned) have the wildness factor. Wolves have the reputation of being mean and vicious, loners and unsocial. All are false assumptions, but they make for interesting characters. That girl sitting in the back of the coffee shop, veiled in shadow and reading Hemingway could be about to change in the next few days into something totally unrecognizable. Instead of having long dark hair, she could be covered in silver-grey fur and not want anything to do with coffee...or books XD Yet, if she has a mate, she'd still recognize her and want to be with only her. Even when operating solely on instinct, she'd still want just her one mate. What could be more romantic than that?!

Last night I finally got to get back to walking. The sun was shining and it was relatively warm outside, and I'd been away from it for so long I didn't even care that it was a little muddy (part of what I walk is in grass~). I was so happy the day was bright and beautiful since the previous day we'd had storms and I wound up being in a kind of funk. Not upset or sad or anything, just umotivated and didn't really care about much. It was Beltane and I hadn't even written my ritual, much less did I feel like doing it. So having the following day be brighter and happier brought me out of that.

I did my ritual last night and was quite pleased with it (it involved Roses! I am currently obsessed with roses~ <3), and my walk took place before that. A few of my friends have recently been talking about totems and what theirs are and it got me thinking about my own. Butterfly has been with me for many, many years--since before I even knew there was something called Paganism--and it's presence has meant a great deal to me. Every Spring I look forward to the arrival of the winged beauties and always smile when I see them. I've seen butterflies this year already, but last night seemed to be full of them.

Part of the path I walk is a gravel trail lined with Dogwood trees. I was wearing flip flops as I walked, so was walking a little slowly since the thin sole of my shoes offered no protection from the larger rocks. About halfway down the gravel path I noticed something sitting on a rock. It was so small, and nearly the color of the gravel itself, that I almost didn't see it. I bent down to get a closer look and discovered it was a butterfly with it's wings folded together! I whipped out my camera and tried to get a few shots of it with it's wings spread. When I tried to pick it up (to move it off the gravel and therefore out of harm's way) it took flight and fluttered away. It landed back on the gravel, but once again fluttered when I tried to pick it up. I frowned and decided to continue walking, but on the other side of the path was another butterfly! It was the same kind of butterfly (a Red Admiral) and this time when I dipped my hand down, it happily climbed up on it!

Outside the library is a "machine" that sells the local newspapers, and this story was splashed all across the front page today. It's about a boy, Darnell "Dynasty" Young, who brought a stun gun to school as a way to protect himself from bullying. He now faces expulsion. The twist is that his mother, desperate to protect her son from bullying, gave him the stun gun. The other twist is that Darnell is openly gay, and a little flamboyant.

When I first saw this headline (without having read any of the story itself) I thought, okay, lightly punish him because A) weapons aren't permitted in schools and B) despite the fact that his mother gave him the stun gun, he's old enough to know what's right and wrong. It wasn't until I read the full story that I learned he was being bullied for being gay, and that kids had thrown rocks and bottles at him.

Now that I read the story though, I have a very different response. And it's not just because Darnell is gay. It's because of the reaction of the school administrators. They blame Darnell for being bullied just because he's openly gay! They say he's too flamboyant, that he shouldn't be so into dance, or want to accessorize his outfits. They claim he draws too much attention to himself by doing these things and that's why he's being bullied. I cannot articulate how furious that makes me, and how much that breaks my heart.

I am lucky enough that the most homophobic bullying I've ever endured anywhere is when a few kids in my junior high school asked if I was a lesbian. I had no idea what the word meant at the time, so when I hesitantly answered no (I didn't know if it was good or bad to be lesbian and I didn't want to be on "the wrong side", so to speak--already having endured years of bullying for other things, I wanted to avoid yet more of it) all they did was turn around and snicker. No one's called me a faggot, no one's threatened to beat me up for liking other girls, no one's thrown things at me or raided my locker or poked fun at me in the locker rooms. I know I am incredibly lucky in this.

There's a saying that goes around the internet that people are more comfortable seeing two men hold guns than they are seeing two men holding hands. Why is that? People would rather see lives destroyed than lives filled with joy and love? Please someone explain to me why this is?! I don't understand it. Not in the least.

The article puts forth these questions: How can parents protect their children from bullying? Is self-defense a valid excuse for violating school rules? Where does a school's responsibility begin and end?

This is my answer:

When it comes to bullying at school, it is completely and utterly up to school administrators and officials to stop it and protect the children. Teachers and staff are there to educate and guide their students, and by not stopping the bullying, they are telling the bullies that what they are doing is okay. It's not. No one deserves to be bullied, and, I can't say this plainly enough: NO ONE EVER ASKS TO BE BULLIED. My childhood is filled with being bullied, it's colored who I am and done a number on my self confidence. Before bullying I was a leader, after a few years of being bullied, I was so much a follower I could barely even think for myself. I'm not exaggerating. It's taken me an effing long time to get back what little confidence I've managed to gain. It wasn't easy and it's still an ongoing process.

If school administrators and officials will not do their job, then I say the only choice a student has is self defense. A parent cannot (and should not) be there every minute of their child's day to protect them. The student needs to learn to stand up for themself. If the student doesn't go to school, they get in trouble for missing too much and face expulsion--not only that, but it damages their record if they miss too much, and then it can negatively impact their future. I fall back on my own experience to support this position. Again, in junior high, my friends had turned on me (for reasons I still don't know) and one of them threatened to beat me up. This had nothing to do with being gay--I had no idea about my sexuality at the time. Why Amanda wanted to fight me, I don't know. I just remember one day, after lunch, standing on a staircase and her saying "meet me right here, right after school and we'll settle this". I don't know what she wanted to settle, but again, I was lucky (Sagittarians are infamous for being lucky) and there was an alternate route to get to the school buses, and thus, safety. But what would've happened if there hadn't been that alternate route? I would've been forced to defend myself, possibly by fighting.

This is getting long, so I'll wrap it up and say that if someone is merely defending themself, they should not face severe punishments. I think, in this case, expulsion is far too severe. I'd give him a few weeks of detention, or ban him from dances and talent competitions, or have him write an essay on why weapons aren't allowed--something like that. Expelling someone for defending themself teaches them that in life, they have to just sit back and let the world dish a bunch of shit on them--that they can't do anything about it. Why would we want to teach people to be followers instead of leaders? Why would we want bullies to get away with what they're doing? When you punish the victims, that is what you are doing and allowing. And that, I believe, is why we have a bullying epidemic in this country--because people are taught that they can't stand up for themselves, and victims are punished just as much as bullies (assuming the bullies are punished at all!).

In conclusion, I will say this: no one invites bullying when they are just being themself. No one--I don't care what race, nationality, creed, religion, sexuality, gender identity, whatever--should be punished just for being who they are. Ever.