tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72628065441585184802011-08-07T07:24:26.583-07:00Odd Thoughts from an Odd GirlSitarra "Scorn" Seftonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266831987377726358noreply@blogger.comBlogger211100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7262806544158518480.post-61576141386714081702010-08-29T22:50:00.000-07:002010-08-29T22:50:57.103-07:00

Temple Grounds Home Page

Sitarra "Scorn" Seftonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266831987377726358noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7262806544158518480.post-79115726659047486292010-04-17T01:47:00.000-07:002010-11-09T18:00:15.684-08:00

I get this question alot, as do many many other pagans when a newbie is looking to make their first magickal journal, and the answer is simple: WHATEVER FEELS RIGHT TO YOU. The purpose of a Book of Shadows is to hold whatever has importance to you and your path. That answer is not always enough for some people who want more of a guideline, so here is one I put together real quick. First you

Sitarra "Scorn" Seftonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266831987377726358noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7262806544158518480.post-14306953495445670002010-04-08T20:55:00.000-07:002010-11-09T18:06:23.375-08:00

The purpose of skyclad was once depicted in a painting. There were three women, a high class woman, a mid class woman, and a beggar all undressing. This picture shows that through nudity all people become equal, with no class distinctions to judge another by, or to be judged. It is ofted debated that the same kind of equality can be made by having everyone wear matching robes. This is a decision

Sitarra "Scorn" Seftonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266831987377726358noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7262806544158518480.post-45853023475100980052010-04-05T20:05:00.000-07:002010-04-05T20:05:13.694-07:00

Well, I was watching the news and saw yes another segment on violence in America. And, yet again, the people on the TV were trying to blame Movies and video games for the violent behavoir. So, I got to thinking about why people are violent and came up with a theory. My thoery on why people are violent is because we are a violent race. What was that? You think Im wrong? Well, let me explain it a

Sitarra "Scorn" Seftonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266831987377726358noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7262806544158518480.post-46105130976201937222010-04-05T19:36:00.000-07:002010-04-05T19:36:37.557-07:00

AltarAltar clothsAmuletsAthame (black handled knife) (altar item)BasketsBeads (for jewelry/talismans/amulets)Bell (altar item)Besom (broom)Black Mirror (divination)BlindfoldBoline (white handled knife)Book of Shadows (BOS)Bowls (for salt, water, oils etc.) (altar item)Candles (all colors, beeswax preferred)Candle holdersCapes and costumes and RobesCauldron (altar item)Chalices (ceramic and glass

Sitarra "Scorn" Seftonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266831987377726358noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7262806544158518480.post-37631516085034467602009-03-20T18:11:00.000-07:002010-11-09T18:17:06.101-08:00

Ok, so in order to understand WHY those pesky little city people should not go to the woods I should start at the very beginning of the story. Shortly after getting off of work yesterday (around 5ish) I got a call from my buddy Roy. He wants to go out to the woods and build a camp fire. Now, I'm a Prineville girl, so I have a redneck inside of me. I'm more comfortable in the great outdoors. For

Sitarra "Scorn" Seftonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266831987377726358noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7262806544158518480.post-57105598785928003862009-03-03T18:10:00.000-08:002010-11-09T18:11:11.069-08:00

Ok... so first.... FUCK PEOPLE!! EVERY PERSON WHO I ONCE CALLED MY FRIENDS FUCK YOU ALL!!! You dont stay in contact, and the ones I can still get ahold of blow me off. EVERY FUCKING TIME I call wanting to hang out, invite you over, ect, you say "Ya, that sounds fun." Then 11 PM comes around and I still havnt heard from you. I call and all you can fucking say is, "Oh, ya. Im not gonna make it

Sitarra "Scorn" Seftonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266831987377726358noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7262806544158518480.post-44276425099260165862008-10-28T14:38:00.000-07:002010-11-09T18:05:12.656-08:00

MANKIND I killed God, therefore I am God. I killed Satan, therefore I am Satan. I am Mankind, I come to destroy or to create. The power rests with me, not with some diety. In this world, I AM the God, I AM the devil. Created to be perfect, a mixture of the two. Will I bring joy or will I bring sorrow? The choice is mine and mine alone. They say knowledge is power, and I want it all. Your God is

Sitarra "Scorn" Seftonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266831987377726358noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7262806544158518480.post-50810769696238090342006-08-23T18:09:00.000-07:002010-11-09T18:09:42.481-08:00

Fry Kids Jornal While I was frying I decided to write down everything I saw and thought. Now, It may be hard to understand. Its very random. Just remember that this is an exert from a Fry Kids Jornal. Double vision. CoCo Bear. TV. Phones ringing. I want techno. More pills. More Dex. The cross in the skull. The blood everywhere. Music! Dorm choose music!!!! TOM PETTY!! I saw, I say, fry kids

Sitarra "Scorn" Seftonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266831987377726358noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7262806544158518480.post-50389812425540579882006-08-12T18:06:00.000-07:002010-11-09T18:07:58.405-08:00

I shaved my head. No, Im not a guy, I am a girl, and I am not a full on lesbian. The reason behind doing this act was some what complicated, but I am going to try my hardest to explain it. Who says that girls need to have hair? People stare and point all the time now. They wisper when they think I'm out of hearing range. Why? Yes, I have no hair. So? Some people would call this small act a

Sitarra "Scorn" Seftonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266831987377726358noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7262806544158518480.post-52940323070594257582005-12-01T14:37:00.000-08:002010-11-09T17:59:28.105-08:00

I did it again. The agony I endure day after day causes my soul to morn. So I slice through my human flesh, searching for warm liquid. The major loss of blood causes all feeling to parish, leaving me numb. Watching my red juice trickle to the ground, I realize pain and termoil are parts of my reality. All happiness I have ever felt leaks through my wound leaving behind a cruel poison called

Sitarra "Scorn" Seftonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266831987377726358noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7262806544158518480.post-40047957816212669842005-11-30T20:24:00.000-08:002010-11-09T17:57:59.345-08:00

The Demon in Me Alone as I dwell in the darkest corner of the alley, the screams of my latest victim still echoing in my mind. How I despise the demon in me. The taste of blood lingers in my mouth, a reminder that my burden is to feed on the flesh of the innocent. I fear what I will do next, cursing the joy I feel every time I kill. I hate the peace that comes whenever I cause death and

Sitarra "Scorn" Seftonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266831987377726358noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7262806544158518480.post-25386681613861486232005-11-28T14:32:00.000-08:002010-11-09T18:04:45.644-08:00

Just Another Kill My victim cries and begs for mercy, but I do not know the meaning of the word. Why should I care if they live or die? Of what importance are they to me? The answer is the same night after night, they have no importance, so I dont care if they die. I look up and down the ally. No witnesses allowed. When satisfies, I stare intensely at the wimpering coward currently clinging to

Sitarra "Scorn" Seftonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266831987377726358noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7262806544158518480.post-62558995648615809392005-11-26T20:33:00.000-08:002010-11-09T18:03:30.966-08:00

Note to My VictimMy destiny is to reap the mortal souls of this hopless world. Your fate is inevitable, death comes to all and my burden is to deliver you into the grusom hands of satanic angles. Your sanity is tested when you become my victim. I will not lie, it will be terrifying, but I must ask you not to panic. Your screams of agony will be my morbid dream for I feed on despair. Find comfort

Sitarra "Scorn" Seftonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266831987377726358noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7262806544158518480.post-82052705413297010812005-11-24T20:25:00.000-08:002010-11-09T18:04:06.887-08:00

DrowningFilling the bathtub, the falling waters voice of peaceful death calls out to me. I strip off every piece of clothing, my mind on what awaits me on the other side. When completly nude I sit on the tubs edge, running my fingers throught the enchanted waters. I find myself wondering how long it will take for deaths angles to come for me.When the water reaches the rim, I turn the handle and

Sitarra "Scorn" Seftonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266831987377726358noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7262806544158518480.post-55371391143869927312005-06-04T14:05:00.000-07:002010-11-09T18:00:01.370-08:00

I moved to Grass Valley my freshmen year of high school, and my first day of school was, of course, Valentines Day. Here are some entries I had put in my journal while I was living there. May 17th, 2005 You know how those cartoons, when the character runs off a cliff, but they don't fall until they look down. I use to think that was the secret to life, not to look down. But now I think its not

Sitarra "Scorn" Seftonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266831987377726358noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7262806544158518480.post-10003159147293130282004-09-05T18:04:00.000-07:002010-11-09T18:03:05.572-08:00

What Are You Gonna Do? Listen to the rain, Remember all the pain, Your completely worthless, Your life is hopeless, What Are You Gonna Do? Die by the knife Hang your pathetic life, Drown in a tub of water, Poison will make you feel better, What Are You Gonna Do? Nothing is right, You fight through the night, to see another day, but the day is gray, What Are You Gonna Do? Its your choice not

Sitarra "Scorn" Seftonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266831987377726358noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7262806544158518480.post-4526443716782769022004-08-10T18:11:00.000-07:002010-11-09T18:01:31.547-08:00

A Tear Shead I cried when you left, You were the best, A tear was shead, this pain will never end. I miss you dearly, I know see clearly, How much you meant to me. I wonder if you would have felt the same way, If it were me in that grave. My only plea, Is that you would come back to me. Me dead and you alive, Is better than this reality. Written After Levi Stevensons Death.

Sitarra "Scorn" Seftonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266831987377726358noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7262806544158518480.post-29362144197875215882004-02-14T17:43:00.000-08:002010-11-09T18:02:31.633-08:00

LOVE Love is a pain I care not to endure, Love is the curse that binds me for life. Love is a sorrow that brings tears to all eyes, Love is the trap that causes every destruction. Love is a tragedy that speaks of sadness at its end and Love is the death of this worlds sanity. Love causes loss and heartache yet we all fall to its poison. Love blinds us into thinking there is hope when all is lost

Sitarra "Scorn" Seftonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266831987377726358noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7262806544158518480.post-65934594177455601052004-01-16T18:14:00.000-08:002010-11-09T18:01:02.770-08:00

His Name Is Chris Coming home tonight I hear a cry Daddy wont let mommy sing a lullaby. Dishes break, curses clash, I hope this is over fast. Im 6 years old, then night is cold. I hug my favorite teddy bear, Cause I'm so scared. I pray all night that mommy wins, So daddy will just leave again. His name is Chris, he's full of shit, And he never ties his shoes. Written 2004, 8th Grade

Sitarra "Scorn" Seftonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266831987377726358noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7262806544158518480.post-58953186056330542572003-09-10T18:07:00.000-07:002010-11-09T18:01:57.545-08:00

Class Notes Sitting in class, Notes are passed, But none are for me. Why cant i be, The girls with the notes? I look at their clothes, They look pretty in pink, and mine are as black as ink. There so perfect, Im not worth it. Im ugly and dark, My past has left its mark. Written 8th Grade, 2004

Sitarra "Scorn" Seftonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09266831987377726358noreply@blogger.com0