Get ready to be rabble-(a)roused 

Welcome to my humble corner of the internet, where the rules are made up and the points don’t matter because the internet is not a 3D object, it is not a room, and it therefore does not have corners and my ability to come up with witticisms is stuck in 2005.

I’ve created this blog in an attempt to salvage my self-worth, rebuild my confidence in like, well, most things, but I guess primarily writing and “sharing myself” with “the world”. Which to some might sound ironic, because I guess sometimes I might “overshare”. But (if you’ll believe it) I used to share even more and I’d like to get back to that time, when I was unabashedly Me: bitchy and witchy and eager to learn.

I’m here to blog about everything under the frickin sun: recipes, money management, mental health, feminism, cultural commentary, spirituality, books, writing, our dystopian present & future, and then probably more mental health.


Molly’s a real jerk sometimes. Like, I’ll roll over and show them my belly and nuzzle up to their leg and they’ll insist on petting me. Right on the belly. What the hell? Don’t touch my cute fuzzy stomach, I say. Yet here we are. And sometimes they give me the wrong brand of food. How hard is it to just give me the usual? It’s not like food ever runs out. But they’re a pretty cozy chair most days, so, I’ll let it slide. Also, I mean, yeah, ok. I help them with their witch stuff. But don’t spread that too far, my friends would never let me live that down.


Yeah, I’ll admit it, Molly’s really aggressive, especially when they’re playing Mario Kart or hasn’t eaten in a few hours. They always get the job done though. And right after they’re done beating you at a squatting competition, they’ll give you Reiki for 20 minutes and hold you while you cry about your childhood trauma. It all evens out, I guess.