Miss Twist's Weblog

So I’m house hunting at the moment.

This started on Friday when on the way out to see the most lovely Persephone we stopped and grabbed a list of rentals in her area. We, being Frater Victatio and I, were laden down with tasty things and heading over to Persephone’s for fun and talking.We do this most Friday’s and it is much much MUCH fun.

Sitting with he and Persephone looking through the list enthused me more than anything has and I finally started actually being less vague and more serious about it all. So I picked two places to check out this morning. Created a Sigil for the one of the two I really liked and went off to dance the night away…

Well sigil got dance magic, sex magic (oh dear lords that was FUN) and a whole lot of intent magic thrown into it. Today, when inspecting the place, I sigil bombed it as I A) have no ethical qulams about doing so and B) loved it. By sigil bombing I mean that I dropped sigils by tracing them onto surfaces in every room as well as the front and back door. And yet at the far end of it I don’t think it’ll work.

The place is too expensive for me on my own as much as I love it (And oh my gods I DO love it, it’s gorgeous) and I think that knowledge is going to be my undoing. I’ve lined up a few other places out that way I want to look at. I like the area a lot, it feels nice. These other places are all within affordable range without a housemate and super affordable with one (Under $100 a week each).

Sooooo plans… I’m going to create a new sigil with a slighlty different intent that is basically bring me what I need (2 bedroom house, laundry facilities, with garden or balcony, sunlight and cat safe in the Reservoir area) sigil and do some major work towards this.

I’m enthused so I’m feeding that momentum while I have it.

This whole post has nothing to do with magic of any kind…

For several months now there has been talk of getting a second cat. My first cat (not first in a literal sense but first in the current), Mao, is bored because he’s on his own an awful lot at the moment. I feel hell guilty about this but there’s not much I can do about it as work’s the culprit.

Yesterday we went and did something about it and got a second puss. We rescued her from the local animal shelter. We renamed her Pasht after the Egyptian goddess (mostly because we couldn’t find any female dictator name’s we liked and figured a goddess was a suitable substitute for a dictator). So now we have dictator kitty Mao and goddess kitty Pasht. She’s asleep in my lap.

The newest furkid

What does this have to do with broken things??

It’s habit I’ve fallen into over the years to collect the broken things. My friends, almsot all of them, have mental illneses of one kind or another. Not necessarily the debilitating kind, but the type you can still function in the real world with as long as you’re careful.

Mao, when I got him, was this terrified ball of malnourished skin, bone and fur. He was tiny and had these really long white furs that stuck straight up out of his body. Looked kind of Franken-kitty. I looked at him and figured that if I didn’t love him no one would.

And Pasht… Pasht came out second best in a fight with a car. She’s beautiful and loving and very affectionate. She’s also only got three legs, is currently missing large quantities of fur and has stitches down her side where they amputated her limb. Yet she’s beautiful to me.

Pasht's battle scars

Sometimes I wonder if there’s something wrong with me mentally. I find broken things attractive as they are. Pasht would be no prettier for having four legs, Mao would ahve been no cuter if he was as big and boisterous as the other cats in his cage and my friends are what they are and I’d never want to change them. And if there is something wrong with me I think I’d like it to stay wrong.

There is so much beaty in the broken if you let it catch the light the right way.