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.