Omg hi babe!
We’ve come a long way from googling “What is Substack?” And I love that for us. I hope you like me I mean *it*. I am launching this space for several reasons:
To create community. 3 of Cups energy. Can you feel me through your screen? I’m reaching out and handing you a beverage, a blanket and a cookie! Or a Xanax! Or the Concept of Time!
To write more. I have and do so much writing, but I haven’t really found a home for her yet. I would love to share my lil creative bumblings with you.
Magical guidance in the form of Tarot and furthermore, things I pick up on my Journey.
Finally: Exploring the Essential Self and the Performed Self. Here we will play with both. Okay duality, she contains multitudes…
Ready for a ramble? Off we go:
Mercury Retrograde is over today and I can feel it, which is so iconic of her (Mercury). She cast her final shadow last weekend in the form of me dropping every object I managed to grasp onto with my baby fingers. I guess I’m like, so reliant on infantilizing myself. Must unpack that! I can feel the absence of cosmic upheaval: after weeks of hearing nothing from anyone, I am now overwhelmed with delayed responses regarding job opportunities and messages from long lost friends. Chic!
Except.
I don’t want to sell tinned fish and smile against my instincts. I don’t want to teach when I know that I can do, actually (you know the saying), or whatever else makes its presence known and pays me not enough to do more than my spirit can handle. Sorry for the run on sentence, I’m a 🎀~writer~🎀 not a Writer, y’know? The friends, yes, the friends are wonderful and I am happy to hear from them, but every coffee hang will be a pedagogy of my Failure to Launch, and why can’t I ever just synchronize with hopefulness?
Wait…literally laughing because I saw a rainbow the other day, and I breathed out a sigh like a Girl in a Movie. I have always been obsessed with signs from the Universe and Reinventing Myself. I am looking for meaning in the clouds. I’m smirking at the sun. Fear not, I am also ripped grocery bag, covered in rain water on the kitchen floor yelling “Why are you doing this to me?” My relationship with my Angels is complicated; when I got an Akashic reading done in 2021, my guides spoke to me entirely in metaphors.
I am clawing my way out of my Flop Era, which is funny because recently I deleted the Gel Extensions I was sporting on my nails for a few months. They made me feel so clickity clackity Hot Girl with her Life Together, but I was tired of collecting avocado goo and SPF skin tint in their domes. Sigh, now I’m a peeling nubby gross girl. Can someone tell me how to break free from the curse of aesthetic qualifying? Would love to #lovemeforme, but Capitalism, Patriarchy & Co. are telling me 1000 different ways to Build the Girl.
TikTok is a dangerous place for me. It latches onto my quest for reinvention and tells me what to buy, what to have, what to strive for to Solve the Problem of Me. The true problem, though, is that it keeps me in the prison of my brain. I save all of these videos, for “The Me who can afford it someday,” and, “The Me who will surely listen to it later.” What actually happens is I rarely return to these videos, and instead of being in my life and listening to the Me who is Here Right Now, I find myself returning to the haunted rectangle for more information. I am inundated. I am immobile.
TikTok tricks my brain into thinking I am spending time with friends, laughing at their jokes. I’m having cocktails with the girls and chuckling beside them. I’m rooting them on and helping them mobilize. I’m traveling to Europe and protesting injustice. I’m witnessing their Coquette picnics and pilates, their matcha sipping Saturdays and rehearsing the process in my head, for myself, for a later performance.
But baby? Baby.
The truth is, I am pillow rested and sweat pantsed. I’m numb legs on the toilet. I’m crumb dusted in a dark room and time is weaving webs around me. I have spent three years living a life on this app that has never come to fruition. I fear I may die as an Avatar in My Mind.
Let’s pull a card, shall we?
The Four of Cups Reversed. Hilarious.
Cups represent all things Emotional, heart based and relational. The Four of Cups reversed says “sweetie, let’s reassess.” It can indicate a time of inward inspection and reflection, and perhaps warns that we are too stuck inside of ourselves (TikTok Brain Prison, perhaps?). It also may suggest that there is much to work on in there, or for an entirely different interpretation: that we are bored, aloof and disinterested. But doesn’t this all tell one story? There are many traps when living inside of ourselves, like never being In Your Real Life, but there is also much to learn. We can use that time to uncover our willpower, to lift ourselves out of the muck, maybe to start writing a Newsletter. Fear not going inward because someday you may find yourself escaping on the heels of your own grit.
You might be asking, “why did she choose to include old coffee, dead headphones, W2 and weird big notebook?” and to that I say this: must I curate? This is where I laid the card, and this is the truth of its perimeter. I strive to reject the imagined. I am here, I am now, I am crying at a rainbow.
See you next time.
xo,
A