I approach my keyboard with nothing short of venomous rage. I won’t get into the particulars of my story yet, but there is not enough “good doctors” in this world to outweigh the scum rivaling the police (if you did not know there aren’t any ‘bad apple’ cops, the whole bunch is rotten). It’s time to understand these doctors are as much agents of chaos and evil as the police are. God complexes are nourished and let flourish in an industry that pulls on its sheepskin to tell you that they care about your lives. And unfortunately outside of this system, we have few alternatives of where else to look for help with our more immediate health issues. We are to look at our doctors as learned folks who took on a lot of debt and personal losses to enter a ‘helping’ profession, but what if we shifted perspectives and understood them as the fallible and many times over ignorant persons as we understand our kids to be? The deification of doctors, surgeons does no service to their spirit either – it feeds a monster ego, a monster culture where supplementation and cosmetic fixes are prioritized above all else to pump profits and keep an extremely sick populace hanging on by a thin and weathered thread to keep the cogs running. It’s being pushed to its absolute limits. People are too tired to grieve properly. They are too tired to inhabit rage. The veil is lifting and the thread is about to snap.
The non-gendered earth mother rages and grieves alongside us. The violent storms ravaging inland cities, the flooding of the coast. Climate catastrophes (‘catastrophic’ to whom and what?) are an inevitability. We have more emergencies than we were ever equipped to handle and now we must prioritize. Harm reduction. It has made its way into every profession, every industry, every system that was built on the foundations of exploitation and abuse – the justification behind why one mother got her meds administered first – why one inmate gets a change of clothes. How disconnected we ended up from them, the earth mother. Can you understand how every comfort in life has been provided to you by them? Yet capitalists continue extracting to fill the insatiable bottomless pit of greed they carved into their flesh sin any reciprocity, nothing, lest not love, comes back aside their untended to wastes and vacuous displays of ‘power’. The organisms commonly understood as ‘parasites’ may require a new moniker, but it will forever describe the unwell bourgeoisie. What is abundant about them? The soil is barren and the spirit dims. Take this hormone to counteract the hormones we added to your food to address food insecurity (huh?). Burn off these moles. Install the froyo machine.
What venom rivals seeing your doctor or medical professional of choice (shout-out nurses) in your stories, mask-free on vacation at a super spreader event, then go back to work BAU- fuck the quarantine? I’d be hard pressed to find one deadlier.
I asked the cards tonight, “what do I need to get me out of falling into another depressive episode?” and the three of swords returned. Ah, okay this is interesting. I’ve gotten three of swords as a love outcome card (actually it was my ghost), and as card to describe the quality of a situation but never as an answer to one’s fears. Grief huh. Are we depressed because we never fully grieve our losses? It’s often framed as lacking joy, but what if it was framed not as ‘the big sad’ but as lacking sadness too?
In my mind, I got my fair share of sad moments. In my mind, I’m constantly grieving. Or am I? What stone could I have left unturned? I notice that as the crying stickers on my habit calendar run dry, my habits soon follow and become sparse too. I can’t tell what should come first, or if there is a ‘should’ at all. What am I ignoring? Temperance. That’s a first. I very rarely see this card in my pulls. What needs balancing? The emperor. Structure and rigidity. I thought grieving was my solution. Now wait a minute. What if what I think grieving ‘should’ look like isn’t actually what grieving is for me? What if grieving for me is living a life and following a routine that I have laid out for myself? When Asked if I should wash the dishes, ten of cups. You sometimes hear of folks who use cleaning or movement as a crutch to not face their feelings. I guess I am one of those lucky few who gets face to face with theirs in motion. Maybe all it is is a transmutation. I think about how waves of grief wash over me when I begin a task or a chore because it means I have nowhere else to run from the acknowledgement that I am worthy, I am deserving, I am loved by myself. I deserve a clean space. I deserve to spend my time on what would help me thrive.
And most of all I deserve to end a conversation when and where I want if it facilitates actions like more rest to my physical, emotional or spiritual betterment. So with that I bid you a sweet night adieu.
Do I really hate cheese foam? In my dream, somebody went out to bring back food for me – it was an extravagant meal that fit my vegan dietary restrictions but they’d gotten only my matcha drink with cheese foam on top. They already started on their cheese foam less drink in a extra, extra large mason jar with a lot of ice and there was a lot left, and I think were contemplating to give me theirs but …in my dreams, the pandemic and sanitation considerations don’t disappear, and I don’t know how willing I am anyway to risk a H.pylori infection even if I could clear somebody for SARS-CoV-2. I recently had a good friend mix a refreshing aloe water drink for me, and upon my explicit enjoyment they wanted to try their handiwork, so when they asked if it was okay to drink from the same glass, I really should have said ‘No, get another and I’ll pour you some’. It only seems excessive, but would I have a dream this clear and this lucid highlighting my anxieties otherwise?
That was this morning and it’s now a solid 12 hours later. I was thinking about how badly I wanted to freeze time today like how time almost stuck at the beginning of lockdowns where everything came to a standstill. I want my consciousness to go on doing what it wants but I wish my hunger and cleanliness levels did not change along the way. Even if they did and everyone else took a pause, that would be enough for me to feel like I am caught up. I am catching up – that I am enough: learned enough, wise enough, charming enough so that when I step back into the real-time timeline I have the advantage to be loved more. But my girlfriend told me today “perfect people are not loved.” Huh? I had never heard such a thing. Tenet 1 of white supremacist culture: perfectionism.
The hole inside of me is growing. I am LONELY! and BORED! I proclaim, unsure of how to alleviate either I look outside of myself for answers. Many weekend nights I am inside the home playing a turn-based strategy game on my phone. No one is by my side; I have much to do to take care of myself and home, yet here I’m totally enveloped by beans of bean bag playing against AI on the ‘craziest’ mode. If that doesn’t work, ‘hard’ or ‘normal’ is okay too. I call my girlfriend back eventually and cry. Sometimes you (me, I) are the problem! I don’t listen enough to other people, and I don’t care what they have to say, and that’s why I’m lonely! Tears stream down my face.
“You may be right about that.”
What would we do without each other? What would we do if we lived in siloed worlds surrounded by the AIs of our choosing? I don’t like the Siri, Alexa or Bixby patches. I want the Gojo Satoru patch. I want the Gogo Yubari patch. Gilgamesh mid gargouillade set to Gershwin. Geronimo HD. It got a bit chillier then didn’t it. More and more realistic simulations of a human experience aided and performed by AI until the human is no longer necessary anymore. How many more monkeys must die for us to become AI? I know spirit interfaces algorithm already. I know there’s enough in the basement already. I’m not lonely anymore. I’m listening and learning (see Eiffel 65 – Blue ‘coz he ain’t got nobody to listen to’).
I got work and a daily itinerary to flesh out so I’ll try to make this short. Last night, I was riding my bike home for what I thought was 15 minutes but ended up somewhere down south not far from the border at least an hour away by train. I vaguely remember the city name – a hybrid sound between a Covent Garden and Pico-Union. The map said it was 2 hours and 48 minutes away from my home by bike. Fortunately it was a central hub for many trains departing from it. I got directions and got on a subway that would supposedly per the person who put me on would take me to Sepulveda. When I got on I couldn’t recognize the names of any of the stops. The panic would have set in by now until I noticed a washer on the train for your clothes. That’s convenient and mindful. I don’t remember if I ever got home, but I remember a tip I got to ask the people around if they are a SSW (this often comes with an extra letter in the front) and they would help me out. I wouldn’t need the full service. Besides a really weird and terrible date, the only other notable thing that happened was I could make food at the market using their stoves and pans with the ingredients I was planning to purchase. I ate at the Japanese market but I don’t remember where I put all the containers or labels for the food I used. I hoped they’d take my word for it. As you can tell by now reader, I am recounting a dream. But would it be so bad if we had a way to wash clothes on public transport and prepare meals in a grocery store?
May you have a blessed cycling day in the near future.
At least a few days. My latest post was to private, and sometimes it’s necessary to mull over ideas without a conscious witness. Keyword ones-that-you-are-conscious-of. I definitely have a couple of spirits in the home. I believe one is in my bathroom fan and the other lives in the kitchen adjacent to my living room and goes between both areas. It’s cool – they aight. I don’t blame them – I’ve cultivated the coziest space over time designed to host guests, but I just don’t have enough spirits with a flesh bag over so I guess the invitation extended itself. The fan dweller makes a lot of screeching noises at will when I turn the lights on as if I performed a whole exorcism (they’re so dramatic🙄) and the picky freeloader (with all the fire meals I’m preparing who other than a gourmand with the most exquisite taste) runs the faucet at will. I think they mess with the temperature of the house too because when I feel their presence most, the A/C will kick in. I try not to think about them that much and ignore their existence – this is probably the most I’ve ever acknowledged them and my A/C is really goin wild (maybe they got different temp preferences 💀) – so I don’t really know much about them besides how they like to physically present themselves. Maybe this blog will help open me up to learning more, but I’m not really trying to go down another rabbit hole and make myself more receptive than I already am.
When I was a kid, I remember I had this moment looking at a VCR player where I would see whole galaxies and timelines and completely disassociate from the material plane of that moment. I used to have moments like that so often when I was younger and they are some of my more vivid memories from youth. It’s funny cos I never really felt compelled to experiment with any kind of palpably mind altering substances as I got older – my brain’s already wired pretty wacky, and honestly, I’m still decently frightened. I got a hella strong ego that doesn’t want to surrender. So I haven’t. I had to get up here for a moment to really close my fridge door cos the kitchen ghoul actin’ up again… I gotta clean out my fridge soon to appease it. Now the A/C comes on. I don’t have enough stank eye left in me. I’m as abstinent as it gets on many fronts so I wonder what my vices are sometimes. Maybe it’s taking on so many new exciting roles and ideations of what I could be, munching on the golden apple of discord a little too often. When I asked the deck what my vice was, they returned ten of cups. Is that even possible? Hahahaha, don’t make me laugh. The negatives of that card via this site are listed as “liking the thought of having something but not being happy when you achieve it”. That’s a theme for sure. I’ve been wondering about that. I begged the fridge ghost to leave me alone for like ten minutes so that I can finish this post.
It feels like 3 in the morning, but it’s not even close. Anyway, I sat down to write initially to mull through the plans I laid out for myself. The tedium, monotonous nature of it makes me want to escape so bad. My vice is wanting to escape in something novel, a new novel for example when I know I Barely read. I can’t stick to the plot for very long, but at least if I keep writing I have a tool to observe myself with, my patterns and tendencies. Someone wrote about the ten of cups as “yeah, stability… happiness.. but there’s always something off there isn’t there”. In herbal tarot, this card is represented by marijuana. I don’t look to weed to solve my existential issues, but it might be my other habits that take me out of facing my reality of being. Per The Spirit of Herbs by Michael Terra & Candis Cantin,
Marijuana
Spiritual properties: There is always danger in taking oneself too seriously. Joyful intoxication can be used as an exercise to learn to discriminate the true inner reality from outer delusions. In one sense, intoxication is at the heart of all living. Through insight and meditation on the moment at hand, one can pierce the illusion that can veil the eternal truth and reality of existence.
The Spirit of Herbs, A Guide to the Herbal Tarot
There is inference to an inability to be grounded. A lot of my acupuncture sessions were grounding ones. Before I started the treatment, I didn’t have a lot to tie me to this realm – I was always somewhere else. Over time, I realized our spirits chose to or were called out here for one reason or another not unlike how we choose our birth charts. Sometimes our only mission is to live, but considering ten of cups is my vice, there is something else I have yet to realize tying me here – otherwise I would have been taken out by now by my own will or someone else’s. I will stay on for as long as I possibly can until I can realize it. Then when it’s my time, I can see everything for what it was. I am glad to be here. I am glad to have this chance to figure out my own will and my own trajectory. And I’m even more glad I can do that alongside people who are nothing less than a neighboring letter in our primordial alphabet soup, figuring out their own will, their own place in a larger word, sentence or phrase. Damn, that makes me hella happy. Do you think I’m the ‘F’ or the ‘art’ in ‘Fart’? Do you think my ghoul friends take up the little spaces in between us letters so that we could be read? If a certain banking institution asked “what’s in your soup” instead of “what’s in your wallet” maybe we could have all have soup this fall.
I’m an adult so I can simply write my to-do list Pilot G2 in hand (why) on a steno pad or dot grid moleskine (if you’re a bohemian) equip Uniball vision Elite, and color code my google calendar as needed, right? NO, well yes, BUT NO! Where are the stickers?
Stop denying yourself the childhood joy and wonder of circle dots or gold stars to mark your progress.
I don’t remember what struck me to do this, but I wanted circle dots real bad and a giant visual calendar to mark daily habits progress with. I put one and one together and got one. I do have that book Atomic Habits that I bought two years ago, but I can safely say it’s been flipped through. Looking at this book I never finished served as a visual reminder for me to “just do it” and stop reading. That only worked for so long. Cue my 6th house profection year and boom second Saturn return babyyyyyyy (as in it retrograded back into my sign I’m not in mid-life yet – in my eyes, Saturn rx is another name for ‘glow up’).
Now, I tend to go overboard, but you could effectively do this for ONE or a couple things that you have a hard time making into a habit. I fought tooth and nail for every last one of those stickers, so you can imagine how proud I was even if I didn’t meet my goal counter for the month (it’s only a guideline for me – you can be as flexible or stringent as you want, I don’t know what a rule is). Let’s get into the juicy breakdowns for August:
My categories were guitar (sight reading), piano (sight reading), drums, skincare, 1-min plank, and cleaning. The stipulation for piano and guitar to earn a sticker was to sight read two pages, but I might have also done other work. For guitar I was more lenient if I spent a significant amount of time otherwise (failed that category by grade technicality only, but I didn’t fail in my heart because anything is better than nothing). For drums, it was more about if I sat down that day typically 20 minutes to an hour or two a day. I already have worked on building this habit into my routine for about two years on and off but I wanted to do better. Skincare is simply me washing my face and doing my routine. The yellow sticker for plank,depending on how I felt, also included on the knee push-ups and standing dips. This took less than three minutes total. Cleaning got a sticker if I left my place cleaner than it was before OR if I had set out an intention for an irregular cleaning task (like the oven or bathroom or floors or whatever) and completed it. Soooo there could be more days I was doing more daily pick up tasks here and there like washing dishes, wiping counters and taking out trash that did not get logged, but it was more about following through an intention. Red dots were for my period (you’re welcome big brother).
Drums: 26/25 (first number is accomplished, second is the goal set) = A+
Guitar: 6/15 = F
Piano: 24/15 = A+++
Skincare: 20/28 = C
Cleaning: `12/30 = F
Plank: 24/31 = C
I think I did really good, lol. I am probably not going to add ‘grades’ for my next time since I added like four more categories. I am such a hard ass on myself for cleaning, but that’s what happens when you have a Rahu 4H, wherever it lands it brings mess with it, and a lil obsession. There’s other patterns you can track too like I can tell I hate playing drums on a Saturday or doing much on the weekend in general.
I was supposed to do the 1-minute plank with a friend but I don’t actually know if she did it and never asked. (That’s also the story of how I got into pottery). I could barely do a push up on my knees when I began. Now, I can do a baby pushup off my knees. I varied the amount to my increasing capacity. Plank is easier and I can go for longer than a minute. My form is better.
Here are some of the reason I cried as logged on the calendar (I think I forgot to log some tearing up later in the month, so note that there are more tears than this calendar reflects. Everyone I told this to – air & earth heavy placements – were so shocked and saddened, but this is so normal for me to cry regularly. I only realized a little too soon ago that people understand a crying face as manipulation. Fortunately, these were all in my home/car by my lonesome. )
I stopped logging reasons after that 🙁 I’m pretty sure one of them I didn’t record was in a public place. That happens sometimes. For some reason, the abscess in my soul that controls my tear ducts decides its showtime at the most random buttfuck times when I am in the grocery store or walking outside and it’s the only time I wish I was a sunglass wearerer. (Edit: I wonder if these are meltdowns tipped by overstimulation). If by some weird happenstance I have them around, I also like to be masked and hatted for maximum coverage. I love wearing hats or having a hoodie up if I’m Mclosin’ my shit. If I am wearing sunnies at night, it is not because I am kewl, it is because I am sobbing.
It’s important to put this calendar in a place where you can actually see it. Mine hang at the end of a hallway I can see to my right when I walk into my home at the junction between studio and my room. Can’t miss it and really accessible. I kept the old one up for fun. It’s cool to see over time too.
Now, it’s September and I have added to my existing repertoire drinking my endometriosis tea (haha uhhh), taking my herbal medicine cos I gotta do it, meditation, and writing – a category I knew I would have no trouble populating as I already had strong habits for it. I added ‘reading’ too as another type of sticker since I ran out of colors for dots – this I was simply curious about. I think reading web comics counts (working its way into being as strong as a habit as writing), but I want to be more intentional about reading books so I might make this category specific to books only. I want to balance my calendar with stuff I enjoy, is good for me, and those I need a little extra pick me up for. I think all these fall into the ‘good for me’ category by default as positive reinforcement, but I guess there isn’t anything stopping you from making a calendar that tracks your more unfavorable habits. I started writing my low mood days into my September calendar, but I do have an astrological planner that could be best purposed for this. It collecting dust atm.
I do draw the grids for these by hand. I think I am getting better at it, no? That’s part of the enjoyment for me. I do this because it makes me happy. Hey, I still use to-do lists alongside this calendar. I think for me it’s about having a system that compliments each other, and a to-do list doesn’t really compete with the calendar. It is where I can flesh out the specific intentions I have for my habits too (like as for the music related ones, i.e. what I want to do as part of its dedicated time that day so it has a set target and direction that works to address my larger goals) and where I can write about my work or other daily life trials like shopping lists. I have nothing related to work included in these calendars – they are solely for my personal development & enjoyment.
I put this off for a few days, I really hope you enjoyed this post and maybe take some inspiration from it if you also struggle with organizing the habits you are trying to build. Don’t be so hard on yourself where you don’t have to be. This is meant to be fun to where your day can align to the type of life you want to live and secondarily keeping yourself accountable to that. I have a hard time sticking to one thing because of switching goal posts. I might not use these calendars come October who knows. I will milk it as much as possible though while I still got some traction on it.
It helps if you know your ‘whys’ 😉 take some time to think on it, write ’em out & keep it close to your heart.
What a hard weekend this was. It probably is the hottest weekend of this year, but I don’t want to speak too soon. I slept through some of it during times when I had hoped that I would instead work on my daily habits I set forth for myself. I have not yet written my habits post. I have not yet made my endometriosis tea batch #2. I have not yet washed the dishes. I have passed out in my bean bag unwillingly (curse you Muji for making a bean bag that is so conducive to impromptu napping) opening my eyes again to the night. Then again today, I told myself “I’ll rest my eyes for a bit” and fast forward a couple hours the sun set, my grog at its peak. There is something in the air, a tropical astrologer exclaims it is the shadow period before a Mercury retrograde. I’m not sure what characterizes this time, but maybe stillness. Activity pausing to a halt before the ensuing chaos. I only remembered to pay my rent today, the fourth, after my dad called me up to play 20 questions. “See, you remembered because of me!” Yeah, thank you.
I wrote up ‘meditation’ as one of the new habits I wanted to make in September. I skipped the first three days of the month I guess, I wasn’t that eager to confront it. I’ve had a bit of a slow start with the habits calendar – maybe there is much too much on it – maybe I am still tired. I feel sleepy even now. I don’t want to activate myself too much, but I might try to push through a bit more so that tomorrow me feels a little more invigorated. The 10 minute guided meditation I found in YouTube, not too unlike the yoga nidra I tried some weeks ago, left me in tears at the end. It might have been because I was sitting on a zabuton floor cushion with my knees dangling below me, soles touching. I have really tight hip flexors. I was born with a hip dislocation that made me wear a brace as a toddler, but I think I store a lot of my trauma in my lower body. Bringing awareness to those parts of my body made me realize how much pain I was in – how painful it felt, even as a static sitting stretch, and I could not help to cry out at that point. I felt lighter once it ended. From one intentional guided meditation, I realized how disconnected I have been from my body. I make my blog as another way to interface with the divine. It is my form of prayer so that I may not forget, so that I can speak into fruition the desires of my most emancipated self.
I am concerned for those around me. I would like to balance my concern for others with that of my concern for my daily doings. I am having a hard time striking this balance, because the more I focus on myself, the more unreliable I feel I become to anyone else. The less I feel I am extending myself outward. It is a false dichotomy for sure. I’m not sure I am doing a good job supporting my girlfriend through a demanding work period. I think I could be doing more, but I don’t really know yet what that could look like. I am not that proactively affectionate without being prompted. It feels a little difficult to do when I have so much I haven’t yet accomplished for myself. On days that I kill it, that I really impress myself, funny enough, my love for her deepens and those words gush out of me. Ah, it really doesn’t feel real sometimes, why would this make a difference! How are we all connected?
There is a discord chat excerpt I’ve been meaning to put up to make an example out of (yep. Say what you will or hold your peace) from two days ago after one calamity after another befell my girlfriend (unresponsive phone didn’t sound off an alarm. Overslept for work. Car was towed. Ordered a brand new phone to be delivered to the film location, but later that day phone went back up.) that really left her no choice but to take it easy that day. I really believe we must accept these as the larger blessings that they are. Maybe the energy of our thoughts aren’t too unlike one another.
Currently listening to Aurora – Foo Fighters.
Currently watching Skull-face Bookseller Honda-san.
Currently listening to Ain’t It The Life – Foo Fighters.
Currently watching your mom cook backside facing me. It will be okay.
Every time I feel like nobody cares or is paying attention, someone comes through to prove me otherwise and it got me crying in this crib right now. Some days I feel really positive and optimistic, but mostly it’s hard. It’s been hard. It might be that this is that peak time on my calendar two weeks before my period or so where I cry easily, every single day maybe. It’s important to me to do so anyway to really process the gravity of my circumstances. It is also a really unique time astrologically as all of the celestial bodies are in a separate sign. I have a birth chart that’s dynamic like this, even has a Star of David in it.
I’ve been meaning to have a big unveil of my habits calendar and how I do them. I made a new one for September and took all the photos. I’m not in the mood to tell people to seize the day right now when I’m unravelling slowly at the seams. It’s weird – it’s hormones, right? Something you would have ignored one day affects you the next. If it’s not hormones, is it like an incubation period… the clock counts down until you can no longer ignore or distract yourself from facing whatever those words in yellow highlight, that comment section, those deliberations on public display were stirring within. Or maybe another unforeseen reminder came on a day where the air was denser than usual. These reminders cloak and take on new forms like the big bad wolf in a new tracksuit. These roots go so deep. It takes a new tool, a new take, a certain articulation to bring to surface the last of them. That’s what this last reminder did to me, but I cannot say my roots stop there.
The sun has set and it’s still uncomfortable. The air conditioner is so loud.. but it’s preferable to none. I let it run for a bit before turning it off now to focus on writing. Day’s end draws near, but did I get to do everything I wanted? Did I figure out what today was good for? I took my medicine once.. Oh! to take it twice. I am really devastated by the piece of paper my acupuncturist handed to me with choice highlight of ‘beef liver’ ‘lamb’ and ‘salmon’ on a sheet of iron-rich foods she handed to me… with a note: Include animal protein. She is doing her best to get me off a vegan, hell even vegetarian diet. I simply don’t want to. Every time I begin to warm up to the idea, something like this catapults me back into the opposite direction. I can do it without all that. I am really hesitant.
It’s not that I was always vegan. It’s only been this way for a couple years, but I have limited how much meat I ate for years prior to that with some back and forth. I know that in that endo book I am to be reading, the Dr. recommends a plant-based diet (not that that means vegan necessarily). I don’t know how I could possibly eat a cow or a chicken or a goat or a rabbit or a pig. I have eaten all of these before. It weighs kind of heavily on my spirit. I really wish sometimes I was a plant that could photosynthesize. I know decaying matter eventually becomes organic fertilizer for plants too. I really don’t want to eat other animals under the economic system and incentives we have now. I think the plants have spirits too, and I thank them and am so grateful before every meal I have with them. It really destroys me thinking about factory farming conditions and more selfishly, I don’t want to eat a tortured animal. I cannot guarantee any of this because we are so far removed from these processes. I know that at least in this country, there is little respect for industrial and farmworkers that likely does not stop there. I can’t compare the suffering, because I cannot comprehend it from the exploited agricultural workers perspective (I can seek out their stories, but I don’t know that I can truly empathically understand because I have never worked a field hours on end in extreme weather for pennies to survive) and really not from the non-human animals bred for consumption in tight captivity perspective. I support where I can – honor boycotts, buy as much local produce as possible from small farmers directly, signal boost farmworkers marches to the capital but a variable like that where I cannot predict at all I would like to avoid. I won’t die if I don’t eat meat, at least not immediately. I can still eat a fig. All figs are vegan to me.
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dddddddddddddddddddddddrfd that was me falling asleep really.
Okay, it’s now the morning of September 3rd, and I am picking up where I last left off. I totally passed out in my beanbag while I was writing this while holding down ‘d’ seriously. I think it was because I turned off the A/C and it was unbearably hot. After waking up at 22:00, I stayed awake until maybe 4:00 (are we surprised), feeding myself and continuing Link Click (what a tear jerker). I was too tired to continue the blog and wanted to take care of myself. It’s always a little shocking when I pass out like that in a weird place. It used to happen all the time when I was younger in my early 20s working a full time job at an office. I would pass out in restaurant booths after eating a meal waiting for the bill. My roommate would take pictures of me while I was asleep sitting upright with my arms crossed. I was a sleeper in high school too. I preferred sitting in the back where I could pass out if I needed to. My high school bullies would put random objects on my desk like a string cheese and take photos of me sleeping with my hoodie on face buried into my arms. I didn’t really sleep at night because that was when I had to work on homework or study. It was always too loud at home – I had to wait until everyone else was asleep.
I felt better earlier this morning to write when I woke up at 10 but damn I’m feeling kinda wrecked now. I spent a little too much extra time on Twitter looking at other things when all I wanted was the fig tweet. I spent a little too much time discussing this awesome article I found with a friend – I think we both came out of it more learned. Now it’s almost 2. Today in contrast feels like a good day to write the habits blog, wash the dishes, and feed myself something nice. Let’s make the endometriosis tea too! I found that in a totally serendipitous occurrence walking by an apothecary on my way home in a book on their shelves. Then I asked them if they could measure out and prepare the blend for me, and they did! Had everything in stock then except for the pau d’arco bark which I told was used in S.America as an everything cure and is an anti-fungal. The herbalist there wasn’t sure why it was included in this recipe, but they would call me when they got it back in stock. Here it is:
I didn’t grab the name of the book, but I think I got photos of the surrounding pages. If somebody requests, I can update with those. I want to note that this recipes is not customized to me nor you, and to consult wherever possible. Some medicinal herbs could do more harm than good; beware of assigning morality to “natural” things. I consulted with my acupuncturist that I could take this tea along with the herbs that she pressed prepared specific to me. Since some of the herbs she prepared are already in the tea, we decreased the amount of cups of tea I am to drink per day from 3-4 to two. I have had a hard time finding Vitamin E supplements that do not have gelatin in them in stores – gotta look online. :\
Signing out!
Yeah, I’m not really up to writing in depth about every one of last night’s dreams. Chaotic for one, a nuisance to the mind for another right when you have to be the vessel for the fallout of your parent’s anxieties and traumas. I stood up for myself. I was at a job maybe in education with a very open office layout where I was embarrassed and chided in front of a lot of people. The criticism, the insult came from the back of the room, and I raged back. My reaction was perceived as ‘too much’ but once I started including exactly what his issue and history was, the bystanders in the room that only knew how to mind their own started to take my side and show support. Fuck everybody in that situation, how exhausting. I believe people’s rage. If you can’t differentiate in others or yourself between a rage that seeks to harm others and a rage that seeks to protect the self and stand up for its autonomy, then I can’t really help you.
An old coworker of mine made an appearance as the only other person who had stayed overnight at the school to finish up work. He slept only four hours from 1am to 5am. It reminded my of my girlfriend who now actually is working 21 hour days and sleeping 3-4 days a night. She said if it wasn’t her friend’s production she wouldn’t have done it. I don’t understand anyway under what circumstance would anyone want to put their body, mind and spirit in harm’s way like that. I told her even if she enjoys the work it’s still self harm because she’s sacrificing a full night’s sleep and any rest and rejuvenation over a prolonged time. I don’t know how her body works because I am not her, but I am worried she will burnout badly. One of the crew at 2am in their hotel had screamed out in the hallway, over it all – “That’s it. That’s it. I’m done. I’m never working for a company like this again” loud enough to startle most everyone else who was staying nearby from their rooms. She ran out under duress and my girlfriend went after her to calm her down. My girlfriend was also assigned an assistant who was on their first ever production and they were missing calls (good for them) and ran up to get fed first, even though there is some unwritten rule PAs are to look around and wait to make sure everyone else got their share? Lmfao, yeah okay. These hierarchies need to be inverted for now and not exist at all period later. When my girlfriend told him about this general protocol, he said “I was hungry.” and she let him off. I am glad she did what she should have (show mercy every step of the way), but I am concerned these toxic attitudes from the industry will seep out due to the toil it has. The ironic thing is it’s a horror production and … it seems like a horror. Beautiful locations from what I’ve seen so far. From what I hear, there are no labor unions in this industry in Japan for the majority of its workers aside from perhaps..a director’s guild.
In a more positive news, she is taking care of two frog actors that she named Schwarzenegger and Stallone. Questionable naming aside, here’s one of them big chillin:
