Since I am a big girl, I am entirely willing to share vampires with everyone, but I’d like to understand more about how the modern mythos of vampires as sexy, charismatic, objects came into being. If you look at the old myths, vampires aren’t really meant to be sexy. They were examples of people not really understanding the decomposition process. They were explanations for various diseases and plagues. They were meant to strike fear into our collective hearts. I mean, what is hot about an old moldering revenant gnashing on your neck? Little.

I think our current fascination with vampires has to do with several things, sexuality, power and fear. Fear of not just our own mortality, but our fear of change. I’ve heard that vampires and more importantly, being bitten is symbolic of one loosing one’s virginity. I’m not actually sure that I agree with that. After all, most virgins will tell you that that first time, well, it isn’t really all that sexy. In fact, far from it. So, while I can buy the whole “but, the loss of virginity (especially for women) is painful etc, etc”, I really think it’s the aspect of a being caught in stasis, and usually a hot, young, stasis that excites me.

Think about it. Being preserved in your prime forever (notice that there aren’t really too many old vampires). All that time that you would have to learn languages, think deep philosophical thoughts, create angsty blogs, and watch compound interest work for you. The only small prices you would have to pay would be, staying out of the sunshine, logistical problems, oh, and watching everything and everyone one you love wither and die. See this is the part that we don’t really think through. The reality of the situation. Thankfully we have things like roleplaying that we can do to help determine if vampirism is really for us.

Yes, you just saw me admit it. I’ve played vampire roleplaying games. I’m a geek, but it was awesome, and I’d totally do it again. Just like all small animals learn through play, this is what I’ve learned about being a vampire that totally suck:

#1. If you are poor, you’re totally screwed. Vampires always seem to be rich and work out all these elaborate plans involving lawyers and accountants and whatnot. Good luck with that if you start out poor. “But, Arcana,” I hear you protest, “I can just get money from the people I kill. Or maybe kill someone who is bad and rich.” Yeah, good luck with that. Oh, and when you do get the loads of non-marked, non-consecutive bills, good luck finding a teller open during the evening hours.

#2. Immortality?! Ha! You are going to die…and it is going to be violent. Drifting into the arms of Death while you are sleeping? Nope, you can’t has. Not yours. Some other vampire or vampire hunters are going to be out to get you. Or you are going to get bored, or wracked with the guilt of the monstrosity that is you and will kill yourself by solar immolation. Whatever it is, it is guaranteed to hurt.

#3. You drink blood and there is going to be some weirdness involving sex. It’s probably going to involve a lot of blood. Think how often you will be washing your sheets. Even the undead don’t have that much free time.

That’s about all I can think of now. I’d also like to add that as a woman, I think that the idea of power is also very sexy. The freedom to be able to walk wherever I want at any time of night and kick ass with my preternatural strength/pointy teeth, that would be nice. Christopher Moore explains this well in his books Bloodsucking Fiends and You Suck.

That being said, if you are a vampire and are reading this because you’d like to share your crappy fate with some new person to stimulate your dreadfully dull unexistence. Look no further, I may take you up on it, but only if you act before I’m out of my prime. Oh, and only if you give me a run down of the actualities of vampirism and give me a month’s notice so that I can lose these extra couple of pounds. Thanks <3

It’s not that I’m afraid of change or the inevitable elephant in the room that comes along with examining change: the fact that one day, I’ll have changed out of this state, out of this body and will have moved on to different things.  I guess FDR was right.  I think what I’m most afraid of is fear.  More specifically, the control that fear has over us.

It’s strange, but I think I’m often afraid of being present.  This should be something that we all strive for right?  I shouldn’t walk around in a haze, texting, talking on the phone, or daydreaming about places far away. Instead should focus on every moment, every step, every breath.  But what I find often when I focus is pain.  Not in some angsty teenage way or in a chronic pain–thankfully I’m very happy with the majority of aspects in my life–this pain is different and is so very interconnected with life.   So, the trick is how not to focus on the pain, how to move beyond it, how to wrench the control from its cold hands and cast it off with a loud guffaw.

I think that Maude (of Harold and Maude fame) was right, people do enjoy being dead.  I see it all the time.  People like to move from moment to moment involved in so many things that it numbs them to being present.  Multitasking seems to be the worst culprit here.  We often look at it as the epitome of effectiveness, but it’s far from that.  I have to watch myself with things like IM chats and facebook and opening too many internet windows at once, or else I skitter from moment to moment and don’t commit to giving friends and family and genuine people I feel connected to, the time they deserve (I suppose this includes myself too).  I suppose the same thing goes for the projects and such that I work on when I’m on the clock.

Just before my shower I read a brief short story that was meant to be graphic, visceral and intense.  It was all of these things and caused me to squirm just a bit in my seat.  I liked it in all its gore and disgusting grossness.  I liked how it ushered from within me a response that was somewhat repulsive.  After I read it I perused how culture measured it up.  This was accomplished through the comments left by other readers.  Ah Comments, the pulse of the internet.  Several people mentioned passing out at various parts or reading the story to others and watching them pass out.  Oh, if I were but so lucky.

I’ve only passed out once.  It was opiate induced and immediately following some faciomaxillary surgery to replace a tooth that genetics decided I didn’t need.  I was alone in our small home and I remember feeling an intense feeling of thirst.  I stood up from my bed and walked to my kitchen.  I remember opening the cabinet that held the glasses and feeling a wave of coolness pass over my body.  I breathed deep.  I think I realized that something was happening, that something wasn’t right when the white rushing noise began.  My peripheral vision was also fading and I began to focus, intently, on the mugs on the shelf.  I felt that if I could only breathe and think of them that I could hang on.

After succumbing to the darkness I must have fallen into bathroom.  I must have hit my head on something because it rang, though didn’t really hurt.  I quickly got back up and resumed my life, but first I got a drink.

I know that I’m afraid of pain, afraid of the control it exerts on me.  Afraid of how it makes me clench my teeth, makes me unwillingly tear up, makes me cringe.  Whenever I have any interaction with anesthesia it’s negative (a curse of my red hair, they say).  I wake up mid surgery or metabolize the drugs like it’s going out of style.  Novocaine lasts only about 35 minutes on me, no matter the dosage.  I’ll likely go through childbirth without any shots because they won’t work.  I can almost guarantee it.  So, if I focus on the present and the inevitable pain and suffering that is intimately bound with it how do I cope with the pain that follows?  I try to focus on my breathing, on watching rocks grow, or by tapping a rhythm out with my fingers (you’d be surprised by how ubiquitous music is in our society).

How will I ever get beyond pain and the fear of failure that comes with it?  I wonder.

In our next lifetime we’ll take care to not be human
We’ll be two wild geese flying high in the sky
The blinding snows
The seas and waters
The mountains and clouds
The red dusts of the world
From far above we shall see them
As though we had never fallen.

-Poet named something like Enquin Cauque, mentioned in the movie Winged Migration.

Genevieve Pattern

Genevieve Scarf by A. A. Leavitt-Reynolds is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License

Download the pattern (PDF) for free here: Charlotte Dice Bag

Charlotte’s Dice Bag by A. A. Leavitt-Reynolds is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.

Just a taste: I suppose this answers the question about the existence of a human soul. By all rights I know I should be gone. At least I hope so. I should have listened to the preacher more closely. Learned what I had to learn so that when I finally pass from this torment, I know my soul is going somewhere. (Read more at the link above).

Please, this is my first attempt at designing anything, so I would cherish and love your feedback and pictures!

Cthulhu Dice Bag – Fulfilling all of your geekery needs.

By A. A. Leavitt-Reynolds
Arcana Vitae Design

Why trust your dice to any holder? Put them in the hands…er..tenticles of the Elder Gods.

To construct your very own Cthulhu dice bag of glory you’ll need:

- 2 skeins, one each of black and a light green worsted weight yarn (I used Cascade 220 Wool)
- Size 5.0mm / US 8 straight knitting needles (I knit very tightly, so unless you love huge bags, use whatever is needed to get gauge)
- 1 set of 5.0mm/US 8 double pointed knitting needles (dpns) or what is needed to get gauge.
- Stitch marker or scrap yarn to make a stitch marker
- Darning needle or blunt end tapestry needle for weaving in ends.
- 30 or so dice to fill the bag.

Gauge: 22 stitches X 26 rows equals 4 inches of stockinette stitch.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Using the US 8 straight knitting needles CO 15 stitches. Knit 20 rows in seed stitch as follows:
Seed Stitch:
Row 1: K1, P1 and repeat to end. (Right Side)
Row 2: P1, K1 and repeat to end. (Wrong Side)
Bind off after 20 completed rows.

Now switching to your set of 5.0mm DPNs (or whatever you need to match my tight gauge) pick up 70 stitches from the edges of your square (15 on the top and bottom and 20 on the sides worked for me). If you need help picking up stitches, check out the nice tutorial on
knittinghelp . After you have picked up the 70 stitches and they are on your four double pointed needles feel free to place a stitch marker or tie a piece of waste yarn to the beginning of the round. Place marker and join together to begin working in the round (being careful not to twist the work).

Knit 8 complete rounds in stockinette (knit) and then begin chart. When knitting in more than one color carry the unused color LOOSELY (or else it will pucker unevenly when your bag is full) across the back of the work. On the longer stretches of a single color, wrap the unused color once around the working yarn to hold it in place on the back.

Cthulhu Chart

After completing the chart:
Knit eight rows in the MC (Main Color).
Next row: K5, yo, K5, yo and repeat to end, ending with a yo.
Next 8 rows: Knit
Bind off.
If desired use the contrasting color to attach a decorative border of single crochet on the bind off edge, or not.

Now create the i-cord for your drawstring bag: Using your dpns, cast on 3 stitches in the CC (contrasting color) and DO NOT Turn work. With right side still facing up, slide the stitches to the right needle tip and bring the yarn across the back of the needle and knit the three stitches. Knit in this way, repeating with sliding the stitches to the right tip until you’ve knit a tube about 20 inches long. Tie an overhand knot at the end of each end of the cord

Weave in all ends!

For an extra special touch you might try to imbue your dice bag with good vibes as you knit it by thinking about how you’ll roll awesomely, or perhaps if it is a gift for a friend, how they will roll epically. That will really help them out so the next time they are a swashbuckling hobbit or a classy artistic vampire and they come across some werewolf they can take it down. Don’t worry, the werewolf was a jerk anyway…..single too, so no family or pups to worry about.

Copyrighted by Creative commons…share and share alike…or roll for damage.

Cthulhu Dice Bag by A. A. Leavitt-Reynolds is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 Unported License.

So, today when I came home from work I looked at the overgrown lawn and realized that once again it was time for me to whip out the ol’ lawnmower. The yard at our house has been a constant struggle. As you can see from our house picture below, the grass that borders the street is dead and you can also see in the same picture our piteous attempt to revive it with our hose and a little sprinkler. I know it is entirely irrational to have a lawn in the arid Southwestern clime, but again, did I mention that it is not my house. Nightly, I awake, frightened and I remember, somewhere back in my wee brain signing a paper saying I would take care of the lawn. A. feels that that means it’s entirely up to us how we “take care” of the lawn (his version involves a magical xeriscaping fantasy complete with us spending lots of money). Being the destroyer of dreams that I am, I take the water the hell out of stuff approach and see what happens. Well, it has happened.

Our “hell strips” are covered with green. Green purslane, which is edible. I’m an urban farmer! Well, not really a farmer, I would consider myself more of an urban rancher.

When I first moved in two things bewildered me about my situation: First off, how the hell do you work a box filled with automatic sprinkler settings? Yeah, I still don’t know and thankfully A. showed up. Impending crisis averted. Secondly, the bewilderment of the lawnmower. It seemed simple enough and I could understand the symbols enough to see that it did indeed have gasoline. Good, good. But it sat intimidatingly on our porch mocking me and my inability to pull its string (which had previously broke and been knotted back together). One day I became fully aware that it would only be a matter of time before the property management company told me that my lawn was a fire hazard. It was time to conquer the lawnmower.

That was several weeks ago and once I realized that my lawnmower is, in fact, a sentient horselike creature things have been alright. Instead of suckling at stock tanks, he gulps on gas. He’s like an old camp horse, surly and ready to go home, not out on the trail, or lawn as the case may be. At first I used to jump at the various coughing sounds made on thick patches of purslane, but not anymore. Just like riders get used to the coughs of horses and their stumbles and pops, me and the lawnmower are working out our relationship. I get fewer blisters each time I mow and we’ve sort of gotten a rhythm going. So, imagine me, in a tank top, freckled shoulders glowing, mowing in the fashionable short shorts of today showing off my less than fashionable vampiric white legs…complete with cowboy hat. Truly an urban lawnmowing cowgirl with an edible lawn..that looks just enough like grass (when it is mowed) to fool the property management companies. Win!

Random thing I’m obsessed with right now: Hair pins!

I probably shouldn’t have but, for the last two nights I’ve been reading for fun! It’s very different reading something that you don’t have too.

Oh, and there is still unpacking to do, but this is the new abode: