The Writers Fantasy

Is the delusion thinking I can live without the expression of self that I so desperately need, grasping at understanding of myself and the other.

3 months from now, 6 months from now, a year from now, I hope I hear:

“Receiving your words is my favorite part of the day. You are gentle and keenly observant in giving words to a struggle I am dealing with.”

When I was young I absolutely loved M.A.D.D. (Mothers Against Drunk Driving) presentations. I really don’t remember a lot of the content or stories, but living in a rural area I was fascinated by the theatre of it. Projectors? Big Screens? Wow, this was better than the rolling cart for VHS movies. I guess you could say I always wished I was mad (funny drum sound).

Every movement I did became of vital, earth-shattering importance. It was a shame I was never then offered or supported by counseling, but I saw how counseling could have caused harm also. I wish my younger self had words for what my body was like and why my mind seemed different. However, I am grateful to know what is needed for now and in the future. It is time to become my adult self, echoes from the Saturn Return telling me, I am not supposed to work for anyone else but myself, and even that is not supposed to be work.

It is meant to be a connection. I am not a mirror, I am a messenger.

I already wrote about the accusations of delusion somewhere else and I’m not going to keep living in that story. I am pounding through self-development and growth podcasts like somehow somewhere I will find the answer, they are a comfortable ambiance to write to, it connects me to collective energy, riding the waves of my ambition. I am ambitious but often unfocused. I’m pulling in thoughts from non-linear time.

“Slow down and do the work.”

Dr Pedram Shojai (Conscious Life Reset Super Conference)

I’m redirecting my capacity from binging a season of story content (see future hyperlinked article: how rewatching deep space nine five times and binging star trek discovery three times cured my PTSD) in one day to listening to conferences, workshops, virtual schools, podcasts, and support networks (my favorite that I’ll shout out is Divergent Design Studios, thank you, everyone, from that community who has lent their eyes, mind, and attention to me).

bad screengrab from my dusty laptop of Anna Kendrick in the movie Mr. Right with a big font in pink, yellow, and red quoting the movie, “I Feel Motivated” - I love this story so much because it feels like a dark night of the soul layered in silly outfits and conforming to a comedic love story narrative. See Surrender.

Let’s break down some of the accomplishments so far. I will agree with the judgment that my layout of life doesn’t seem the most effective, I am taking the scenic route and I am just learning the mechanics of Feng Shui. I told my mom, someone, who generally isn’t too fond of my whimsical speak of energy and windows that I learned some principles of Feng Shui and that my present organizational system does not have very good energy flow. She agreed and started sharing some of the general “rules” she had learned, which were different than what I knew. Colour me surprised!

Surprise.

In the divine journey of healing, SURPRISE is a dangerous and unpredictable element. The flow blockages in my home make sense because it wasn’t safe for energy to flow.

These barriers are mine and they have served me. Holding down my creative potential was a life-saving activity when I was held under the microscope of a hand of hate. The association between creativity and death is getting broken down, that was the real problem.

I don’t know if it was just an association or dead neural pathways that I am fighting for my life to navigate through.

I am having a crisis of faith over the power I can exert over my own mind.

Surrender.

Over and over I say Project Process and I will not devalue the confusion and mess I’ve made in the journey of my Process, but I also realize that I have held back from TRUSTING the Process. Astrologically (I am not an astrologer), this year for me represents confusion, giving way, surrender, embracing the process and the journey, and detaching from my own sense of ego in this mess.

Everything is perfect.

Everything is divine.

Everything is aligned.

I’m sick of being told I’m sick when I can feel the depth of perfection that exists in the magic of reality. I’m sick of being told I am sick when I allow myself to feel deep hurt for myself and the world. It is disorganized, but it is not sickness.

I am MAD.

I am hitting my highest views + likes on TikTok rn, and for once it is not because people hate me or my face, it’s because they are appalled at the ignorant actions and attitude of another that lead to me catching COVID last summer.

I made an angry diss track about the meme shit yesterday.

I paid for a tarot reading online last night because it is always easier to hear reassurance from someone other than myself. I’ve been convinced I’m not a reliable witness to my own life (I need to reprogram that belief). I have just enough security that my mind is settling down some, and I can pick through all these broken ideas of my life, lost & tangled ambitions.

I took the credit card that only Magic could’ve approved me for, and I ordered some sound equipment. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. But I know I am supposed to scream in every medium I can. I am gathering scattered inspiration for writing and pondering how to make this an uplifting story. I have to turn it into action. I have to start living the truth of my life so it is so loud I can’t imagine any of these false narratives taking up space in my mind anymore.

Writing the book won’t save me. Writing saves me, every day.

P.S. Is anyone else excited about Kesha’s new album GAG ORDER? I woke up thinking bout her and it dropped today! This is her first album OFFICIALLY WITH A NEW LABEL (with Rainbow & High Road, she could avoid the asshole, but they were both still with Sony).