So much so much. Where to even start! I have been engaged with a mommy dearest level of conflict which was made even more prominent by yesterday’s holiday 😎 I’ve been trying to just focus on my own inner peace, because when i try to go down the route of being seen by someone who will never ever see me for me, it’s like getting slapped in the face on repeat.
The conflict was so bad I full on had chest pains for days that I went to the Hollywood Walk-In clinic for an ekg!!!! Side note, my skin is so silky smooth that the nurse could not attach the little sticky thingies. I full on had to get naked and put on a medical robe, fun times on a Thursday 🙂
I can’t choose the path for others in my life. I can only focus on my own healing. Starting reading the book Will I Ever Be Good Enough? that was hitting me in my f*cking core.
To anyone else well-versed in family conflict, know that you didn’t ask for it, it’s not your fault. And you have the power to not be like them ✨
I choose dance, I choose music, I don’t choose mommy and daddy issues.
I think about how 67% of people have had at least one adverse childhood experience. And with the lack of attention brought to neglect and emotional abuse where we constantly self gaslight, it makes me sad how many people have been trained to not even “go there.”
At this point if you want to say something, say it with your chest and to my face 😡 i’d rather know my enemies than lay in bed with false friends
In less emotional drama news, I viewed an apartment in a prime walkable location. It’s a lil baby studio which suits me, and has both modern interior and original furnishings. The parking situation also seems to be less of a pain in the ass.
I was thinking a lot about Colombia this weekend, like damn, yet another dictatorial South American power trying to squash the will of the people. I don’t think the U.S. cares or in the very least thinks something like that can happen here, when it clearly did just last January.
It feels like we are being gaslit by media and our government to think that everything is hunky dory now that Biden is president when just months ago we were on the verge of civil war (´._.`)
The whiplash of American democracy means having to quietly ignore all the historical moments where true will of the people was ignored for the sake of our own political interest. I don’t know how we can take ourselves seriously after what we did to Chile in the 1970s 🥴 “𝓲𝓷𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝔂𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓲𝓼 𝓪 𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓮 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮”
In order to cope you almost have to forget, but I’m like an elephant, I never forget (even when sometimes I wish I could.)
I’m worried that when we re-gain a sense of “normal”, people will forget all the lessons from the past year. How masses were exploited for their labor despite the health risks implicated in a P.A.N.D.E.M.I.C. ✨Or how if we want real tangible change, we have to be the arbiters of it, that sadly no one is coming to save us.
Don’t let anyone make you forget or attempt to deny your truth. Because unflattering truths are the most difficult to swallow because they uproot our entire understanding of the world as we know it. But they are perhaps the most vital.
I leave you with the absurdity of the Drake candle Postmates offer, and hope you enter the rest of your day in peace 🙏🏼
I am writing to you once again from my cellular!! Not by choice, I assure you. My laptop was ready for pick up last Wednesday, but I was not made aware of this fact as the email alerting me immediately went to my junk inbox—oops. However, I was able to pick up on Sunday. I would be using now, if my wicked witch ex roommate were not now polluting the space, picking up all her frat boy decor. And rather than go home I got gas and drove around aimlessly, until I decided to write to YOU dear reader, from pan pacific park. Something about being forced to hang out in the park because you can’t go home very much has the energy of being at after school care, you know after-school, & waiting with the counselors for your mom to pick you up, bc you’re one of the last ones standing. The counselors eagerly wanting to go home, while you’re just vibing on the monkey bars 😎
But we’re here to trust the journey, not the destination! A pug just ran up to me, and stared me down; I know not what this omen means. But I distinctly recall my dad owning a pug named Gigi, whom he was not the nicest to (is he nice to anyone), who would do these odd little snorts.
The housing sitch has been v tough as I may well be evicted within the next two months if I do not leave :;))))))))) My only solace in all of this, is that the witch has decided to sign a lease at a new place, so we kindaaaaa won, but not really bc my landlord h8s my guts 😇
My mental has been a rollerrrrrrrcoaster this past week, esp. after engaging in a dialogue with a person from my past which I most definitely should not have done bc it left me in tears *literally*. If you have a thing for Billy Idol, these are my eyes without a face 😔.
My equilibrium has been really out of wack, that the odd stare down from a dude in a truck, or the guy on a motorcycle that saw me fiddling with my phone at a RED LIGHT, said “hey cutie why don’t you get off your phone” sends me automatically into fight mode 👊👊
But in the spirit of protecting my energy and trying to add light to my life, I took the plunge and went to my first ballroom (voguing) class in Van Nuys. I for sureeee felt like an ugly duckling and a fish out of water. But the instructor reassured me/the group “you guys seem really stressed trying to get it down, calm down.”
This is the second learning how to dance experience after my affair with belly dancing, which proves quite useless unless you are in a dance troupe. I asked my grandparents when would i ever even use belly dancing to which D*n*a, replied “the bedroom 🤨.” Ballroom seems so much more accessible and free form, and I think a good way to connect the mind-body-spirit in a way I can actually use that is really fucking fun.
My knees feel the burn, my thighs feel the burn, my a$$ feels the burn. I haven’t felt this level of sore since my HS cross fit level gym class. But it’s like a good burn. Although I definitely had to make an awkward schlep up the stairs at my work today. I’m going to try to practice my hand movements bc I’m still very much at a novice level and not the rave-boy-wearing-led-gloves-i-saw-once-level.
Hope you enjoyed my rambling, here are more shoes I’d like to buy once the check I cashed after 9pm on Friday clears
As I write this, I am once again laptop-less, and am coming to you live from mein Handy 📱 I almost considered not posting this week bc I was so down in the dumps yesterday. I had a charming lunch visit with my grandparents in Griffith Park, near the ‘Old Zoo’, during which I learned much disturbing information about—even in the 40’s visitors and the public alike were urging that it get shut down bc it was too depressing with its mistreatment of the animals I may or may not have seen a former hookup from afar (or it could have been the paranoia which accompanies unresolved feelings of resentment which cause you to see that person seemingly at random like a ghost.) Either way, cheers xx not here to re-live those cringe times 🤒 (& yet here I am talking about it!!)
I went shopping for work clothes after, and maybe the combination of feeling grimy from outdoors time, or seeing the blast from the past triggered something, but I felt absolutely disgusting. Something about shopping when I feel ugly brings me back to high school me. I would dread leaving the house and/or being seen, constantly comparing my features to everyone I saw, feeling the weight of being seen. Feeling the compulsive urge to examine my appearance in any remotely reflective surface. That feeling of wanting to fall into a hole and disappear 🕳 When I’m feeling like this, everyone seems menacing. I hear a laugh in the distance and assume it’s about me. Made the most, and went into a few stores. I don’t know if it’s a blessing or curse, but every single time I enter a store, without fail, I’m never greeted, yet almost always the person behind me is, and then comes the moment where I think it’s for me, but no 😍 I get it, my body language and demeanor is very much give me space, but it’s like when there’s a party you don’t want to go to, but you don’t even get the opportunity to say no to the invite. It hits the gut! I went into Kooples, and wanted to ask about the sales rack, try on in my size, etc. but my frantic efforts to be noticed failed. And then I felt like a disgusting ugly poor freak that they wouldn’t even dare to acknowledge. Mom would say that I look so self-assured & on a mission that I clearly don’t need their help (but I’m not so sure.)
I know how whiny this sounds, and I berate myself for how whiny and self-pitying my thoughts are. Sometimes I feel like my ego is split in two, like I have a false self. Either this grating overbearing presence or the one who wants to slip away forever. Who is the real me? ~I think this is why I can’t smoke weed at parties~
I started reading “The Drama of the Gifted Child” per Heidi’s suggestion and ooof it’s hitting some points—especially the split between depression and grandiosity. It very much reads like a psych textbook, and it’s a bit old old school, but there are some definite gems like this one:
If ur a lost sap like me and wanna do some ego work, I highly recommend. U can read online for free hehe
But the real drama of the week is my roommate who has decided to go totally nuclear. Since I moved into this house, I have been gently insistent that we maintain regular house meetings, to stay on the same page, make sure everyone gets heard, and just bond a lil more. Nothing major, just like roomie records-and-cocktail-hour.
I would communicate this several times in the group chat, and Karen-in-training, Kit would put it off and off and off with BS excuses. It was evident that she was unwilling to engage in conversation that mattered. And what do you know! Conflict is inevitable and a healthy part of any dynamic. Her growing passive aggression over petty chores, was palpable. She would send these obnoxious saccharine texts, reminding us of “house rules” that she has unilaterally declared, as though me and my comrade lived in a student dorm.
I think when living with anyone there is give and take. You are bound to annoy them as much as they annoy you, and so you TALK. I expelled so much labor, creating a bb chore chart (which was promptly rejected), even suggested a google doc where we could share our concerns if Karen was so adamant about not talking to us IRL. Because she was the only one on the lease, she liked to wield arbitrary power over us. Very much if you asked this person would you rather be feared or loved, you know which one she would choose.
Gotta be real and say that bc of it all, I have had trouble sleeping and have dreaded coming home, even lingering on the steps or in my car before walking in. Now Karen, after several weeks of avoidant behavior, has decided to drop an email announcing that she will be kicking us out bc we are affecting her mental health, like i’m right there with you 🙂 If she would literally just TALK to us, a resolution could be reached. I don’t know how else you expect tension to go away. Let it marinate until it’s gets coagulated and moldy, THEN WHAT. Gotta just trust karma, that she will reap what she sows 🤢 𝐀𝐋𝐒𝐎! 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐠𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐝𝐝𝐝𝐝𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐋𝐀 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬’ 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬. 👊 I am tempted to create a hoodie with “tenants’ rights” emblazoned à la the iconic I❤️NY.
Anyway off to make dinner. Stay safe, stay sexy! Bisou bisou 💋
I come to you with another edition of The Shedonist. This time written on my iphone while my laptop is finally being serviced by a third party apple repair affiliate store. I finally thought to myself “yeah okay the constant fan whirring and crunchy sound is too much.” 😌 I’ve just completed my first week of work and honestly everyday I keep waiting to receive the “can you come meet me in my office at the end or the day” text Keep trying to make myself seem important even though the load is light some days. I always feel like such an imposter in office spaces, like i’m just a ape baby learning how to send emails and seem ~normal~ in my work clothes that i definitely don’t agonize over. I definitely don’t agonize over my weird digestion sounds which I worry is IBS. I remember a former work study boss of mine (who i loathed for not only being canadian but also loving The Office, so much so she took a road trip to Scranton, PA) commented on it one time, saying “boy you must be hungry”. I wanted to scream NO ALLISON IT’S AFTER LUNCH, i just drink too much coffee and feel the constant weight of anxiety and that trips up my large intenstine.
I heard that exercise or movement cool the gurgly noises so I walked to the park for lunch that day (and today! okay, ngl today i drove bc last time i got sweaty and today was very much summer in southern california weather.)
I’m not even a granola person, but I have to get out and stretch my legs at least *once* a day, before going back to being an indoors recluse… But oddly enough routine is good for me. It gives me a reason to do things. Otherwise I will stay in bed until 1pm. It is ironic though, my anxiety means that I never get more than 6, maybeeeee 6.5 hours of sleep. And then here I am day in and day out writing about the importance of sleep. In some ways it feels cruel 😥 If anyone has any sleep tips, please share.
Been sad and in a contemplative mood after a talking stage fling ended a couple weeks ago. It’s making me want to change my whole personality into being more accommodating. Sometimes I subconsciously think if I hate myself enough and self flagellate enough, I can become a version of myself that is more loved and widely adored. But then I remember that even if I did make myself a slug, no one would want that slug. Need to prosper and metamorphosize into a beautiful butterfly. 🦋 Also the fact that people will always hate you no matter what; and that’s okay bc I probably hate a lot of those people. We have the option of flattening ourselves into the greatest common denominator at the risk of being boring and unmemorable, or being our true authentic self, and pissing off people sometimes. And that’s okay! Sometimes I annoy myself. Sometimes I have a running stream of consciousness, and my higher self goes that’s enough ❤️. I think it’s okay that we annoy ourselves and others from time to time. But the full truth sometimes needs to be censored. Not out of shame or embarrassment but just on a need-to-know-basis. For example, a few weeks ago, I remember sitting on the porcelain thrown of my apartment, naked, and witnessing my reflection created by the shower door. I thought, even if a guy had seen me from angle, I don’t think he could see this one. Not even for the sake of stomach rolls, but that I looked like an actual heathen.
I miss people. I miss parties. I miss happy hour and dates. My energy is very much the tweet below. I’m fully vaccinated and yet, who will have my deranged self. 😳 You can meet people on apps, but I get so bored, and everyone looks ugly. Which I know is bc men actually incapable of taking decent photos. Wish they could just sexualize themselves a smidge more… I can the same three people, but forgetting that my vax status is a privileged and other people are still being really cautious. Also they are on the hustle grind making money, so I cannot fault them.
I also realized today that my hair is extremely greasy 2day. I think while I was doing my hours long meal-prepping on Sunday, I just figured that my hair was still wet from the bath I took (yes, fight me 😤), and I was so busy that I didn’t investigate further. (Side note: I also did a candle DIY wherein i utilized the leftover wax from my candles to create a new candle. Felt very Martha Stewart.)
Anyway, probably gonna do a scalp scrub tonight, in between cleaning the bathroom and laundry and watching Degrassi (¡¡important!!) ~whatever it takes, i know i can make it through~ I got gas tonight and a gas can so that I will not be stranded with AAA again in the imminent future, hehe. Hope is on the horizon, maybe???
A gross tourist dude with a 45 t-shirt asked why I left texas (bc of my plates—also what is the trend of driving with your windows or hood down, and men wanting to kidnap you when you’re at a red light yelling HEY hey HEY HEY. like what do you want me to do?? leave my car at a red light and get into yours??) and I wish I had channeled the gift of the gab, and retorted back “to get away from people like you.” Roomie situation is sus, and I don’t know what’s happening. Things have been very tense and awkward, with one roommate pushing off all conversations until the end of the month 🥵 But you know, gotta remember the tik tok trend “ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪ ɴᴇᴇᴅ, ɪ ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ…ʙᴄ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇsᴛɪɴʏ ɪs ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ”. Signing off! ₱Ɇ₳₵Ɇ ₳₦Đ ⱠØVɆ ₮Ø ₳ⱠⱠ. 🕊🧿
Last night I stayed up with my finger hovering on the “BUY” button on Depop. Will this grape Mariah Carey inspired butterfly top and coordinating thong bring me inner peace? The jury is still out. I have thought of styling the thong à la whale-tail, but in all my years of thrifting and online shopping I have yet to find a genuine pair of ultra low rise jeans. I’ve never been particularly attracted to my midsection, but sometimes if I have reservations around something I force myself to do it anyway, as a lil bit of informal exposure therapy. If we base our self worth on the opinions of others, then we end up listening to narc bros who made us feel like shit for eating pizza The line between body neutrality and positivity. I like clothes and I like wearing them, and sometimes I just try not to think about how they look on me or how I’m being perceived in them.
I am floundering, and the days blend together as I go about my lil tasks of trying to get myself to leave the house at least once a day, so that I can remind myself that I am living in addition to existing, and also so I don’t snap at my roommates. I am set to start a job in Burbank, which is exciting, the company sells an array of silk pillowcases, face masks, and eye masks. I’m hoping that if I’m nice enough, they will let me test drive the products hehe.
It’s been over a week since I quit smoking. I did not quit for the sake of my organs or longevity, but for fear of creating nasolabial folds. I have been highly interested in facial yoga as of late, and did not think it was wise to throw away what little strides I was making with an action which was literally setting me back! Also you stink. Your clothes stink, your hair stinks, everyone knows you stink, except you. And if you do realize it, then you try to mask the odor with a strong-smelling perfume, which gives you the aroma energy of a stinky bathroom smell being masked by Febreze. Quitting smoking forums are encouraging as they are depressing. The stark realization that you were filling your life with an addiction because it was a way to pass the time and avoid introspection. This past year has felt like nothing but boundless time. SO much waiting, and sitting. And waiting. And yearning. And missing people & places & new experiences.
I’m lucky to have gotten my vaccine a bit earlier due to essential work. But it’s been a bit of a mind f because in my head I’m like okay we’re good now, let’s get started on this new normal. But then remembering that the vast majority have still not received their vaccines, and the pain of waiting, and the pain of my Citizen app saying that there are now factory delays. It’s hard though to think of the ‘old days’ and how much sadness still plagued me then or uncertainty. Not knowing how to act in groups. Feeling sad for myself but then oscillating between that and being my own persecutor, telling myself to get over myself and stop feeling so comfortable in this black sheep victim chair, which I didn’t place myself in, but that I have the option to move from.
I think I miss getting ready and pre-gaming most. Which is funny because that is essentially already what being homebound has become. I think it’s the knowledge that you are going off somewhere with your friends. That good or bad, you’ll have a laugh over it. I did a virtual happy hour with a friend I’ve reconnected with from high school and it was so nice. We both bought cheap wine from our respective grocery stores, and cyber-stalked people who made us feel unworthy, people we hated, people we crushed on and/or are crushing on. Even if it’s just Bad Bunny.
They bulldozed my old high school building, which resided in the former Porter Middle School (or PMS as it was affectionately referred to) which was built in the 60s. I remember there being chipping paint and that in the bathrooms some of the windows opened. I remember sometimes I would go to the bathroom in the middle of class and would have the passing thought to escape prison break style. But now it is no more. Two of my former teachers have now quit in light of being expected back for in-person classes while the pandemic still rages in Texas. I don’t think any of my teachers liked me. Probably because I was a little shit due to mental-physical-spirtual disturbances from only sleeping for like five hours and not receiving emotional attunement. But we all have to grow and start from somewhere. ❤ A teacher I enjoyed for his being as socially awkward as we were, is now teaching at another school, and has pink hair. It made me think of Lady Gaga. He was from Washington, the harrowing place where I endured my soul-searching journey in 2019, as I attempted to gain access to enter the army base where I was born. I hope he is well, pink is always a sign of better times.
Looking forward to see where this job takes me. Feeling #blessed. Trying not to ruminate, trying not to fixate. Trying to be in this world but not of this world. Watched a very problematic Spanish film, Loco Por Ella which definitely is worth the distraction if not by its very absurd nature. Cheers X
Sorry for the late post, I have been severely depressed and asking the Universe why I was ever born/unable to eat type spiral 😥 Last night was my first semi-okay meal. Combining that with the side effects of the second jab and wooooo has it been a trip. Surprisingly on Day 1 (Sunday), I felt relatively okay. The immediate effect while I was still in my car was a mild high/tipsy/loopy feeling. (But then that could have just been me feeling anxious.) I bared witness to a man in another car in the observation line, who was either facetiming or vlogging, say ‘ahahahaha I feel great, I don’t know what these people are talking about SIDE EFFECTS, i feel good‘ but of course maybe he was feeling a bit high too. (This moment was coupled with with the fact that How Do U Want It was playing in the background.)
Been faced with existential depression and the meaning (or meaningless of it all.) But remembering that sometimes we are not meant to understand everything. Tupac could still be alive after all. Andddd on the topic of conspiracies I binged all of that Q Anon show on HBO. I think most of our first reactions to these people is “wow, what complete morons”, but there’s something so sad/human about people who are not equipped with the skills to understand something and so make up answers on the fly. Of course, it gets more insidious when you realize that this insecurity projected becomes an opportunity to project their racist, sexist, anti-semitic hate. It also is the reason why I am much less sympathetic to these people.
We’re all confused and lost, but using that fear to spout off disgusting bigoted views is NOT OKAY imo. I’d much rather hang with Robert at the nail salon who talks about talks about chemtrails and is always trying to get me to smoke weed with him at the beach tbh! What I think is so ironic about these people is that they purport to want to protect children from pedophiles and baby eaters in the Deep State, yet won’t willingly acknowledge that sites like the former 8 Chan are active gathering sites for the sharing/distribution of child pornography. I feel like these people are also the type who would willingly endorse the sexualization of teenagers (yes teenagers are children and not just mini adults.) So much hypocrisy! The people I went to high school and middle school with who spouted off on Twitter and Facebook around the release of Cuties (who probably never even watched it!) The film definitely could have been written better and more sophisticatedly, and not portrayed this strict dichotomy that Western=good and TheOther=bad. The fact that so much energy is exhausted in order to teach young girls and AFAB kids what kind of women they should be is exactly the whole point!! Hate lazy conspiracy theorists that are so close to being on the nose of acknowledging systemic oppression and then instead pull a Bill Gates or Hillary Clinton ‘gotcha’, its booooring.
I also watched all of It’s A Sin, in one sitting (thanks Joseph for the rec! the irresponsible viewing was my own bad!) Really heart-wrenching to think about all the years of unnecessary suffering that occurred due to the early years of AIDS. To think that a COVID scale public health emergency, was simply ignored and did not received the same international attention as COVID (as it rightfully should have received), is so endlessly tragic 😦 A whole generation of brilliant minds </3 It is funny though because at the start of COVID, I did think a lot about AIDS. As I guess that’s the only widespread epidemic I can think to remember. The number of conspiracies born from COVID were not all that dissimilar from those which came about from AIDS (wow our dummy brains never really change, huh.) I’m so grateful for the peeps who gave their bodies to science and went through test after test to get HIV/AIDS treatment to where it is now. And even if the COVID vax (which literally has not reported any adverse effects despite the tons and tons of people who’ve received it) means that I’m being a test baby, I’d rather be a test baby to science than a test baby to my own stupidity. People my AGE, who still can’t smell or experience the occasional brain fog, not for me!
Add to that, LA experienced a 4.0 magnitude earthquake at 4:44 AM (angel numbers apparently) on Monday morning. I woke up in an achy sweaty mess, and it felt like my bed was a bit on the waterbed side. But I went back to sleep because it did not feel urgent. (Okay I lied, I stayed up and watched John Oliver on Last Week Tonight because I was still feeling pretty anxious and depressed. )
Next morning I was able to get cleaned up and wear my little outfit and do my little tasks, but still nauseous and feeling the dread of existing, which was not a COVID vax effect 🙂 BUT I took a little drive to Venice, I experienced the ocean, and my feet in the sand and I meditated (albeit a little distracted about where I should pee because I’d been pounding gatorade to combat the dehydration effects of the vax, and the public bathrooms at Venice are notoriously horrible.) Watched the skaters do their thing, heard a random beach bum proselytizing about the interconnectedness of it all, and how you should stay away from sugar and eat tofu, or okay maybe chicken if it’s cooked healthy.
I also picked up this half-size of Gucci Bloom, which I have been obsessed with ever since I received a sample like three years ago. I recently got another sample, and when that baby ran out I thought okay, it’s finally time. Very much gives the energy of a 13 year old’s first nice perfume or that really competitive soccer mom, and I’m here for it. Peace and love to all :-*
What a world, what a life. Much to think about. This past year has been a lot of time for me to process and to hash, and to re-hash. To obsess and re-obsess over and over again! Past relationships, past friendships, ego death, the works. I am glad for it because it has allowed me to come back into conversation with people I’d drifted away from for whatever reason. Be it the insecurity brought on by age, or attachment issues. PLEASE take the attachment style test, I am begging you. It will change your life more than astrology or Myers Briggs: https://www.attachmentproject.com/attachment-style-quiz/ …. Also please find your A.C.E. (or adverse childhood experience) score–not to brag, I got a 4–as it will genuinely cause you to reevaluate everything and lead you down the YouTube rabbit hole of watching these genderless blob babies on Psych2go. https://acestoohigh.com/got-your-ace-score/ .
Some people say “the past is the past, move on!” Ah but yes, how do we move on unless we are able to evaluate the root of our dysfunction. Valid that forgiveness and acceptance is the goal, but how do we get there! And for people wanting to raise a baby farm (not for me, maybe a puppy farm or random shit I bought off Instagram farm), it is so so so important to know what wounds were passed onto you that you can STOP in its tracks. ~Generational curses and trauma innit~
But on topic of reevaluating past relationships, yesterday I was forced to reckon with my past head on! I was on my Postmate hoe grind (I’ve also been catching myself pronouncing it with an emphasis on the O in the Canadian “about” manner due to all my Degrassi binge watching, all these hours of watching and there’s still five more seasons???????), picking up Sugarfish on Sunset (bc Sugarfish is where the tips are at), when I opened the door and who was I to see but a former friend. We fell out because she was connected to a friend group that I realized was incredibly toxic to my mental health. Lots of passive aggression on the basis of “it’s just jokes!” as well as being buddy-buddy with a dude that burned me who I am pretty sure is a certified Narcissist.
This former-friend in question, I think always meant well and never actively did harm towards me, in fact I think at certain times she was the butt of these “jokes” and felt that she had to go along with it. I tried to be there and support her when she needed it, but like moths to a flame, empathic people always return to those with narcissistic tendencies 😥 Not to say that empaths can never be an asshole, I’ve been an asshole many times. But yeah it was weird, we locked eyes in recognition of each other, and then sped past one another.
Don’t know what I did to upset the universe, but this order ended up taking me to this godforsaken labyrinthian corporate apartment complex, where I quite literally got lost. My rule is that if you live in one of these hell-holes you have to at LEAST meet your courier in the lobby of your building, otherwise you courier might begin to cry and breakdown such as moi! I had the strong urge to just leave the order in some random bushes. I think people underestimate that going to one of these absolute mazes is not easy breezy beautiful Covergirl as it may be for you, the person who exists here day in and day out. In our defense, the layout numbering system of these places is literally shit. It reminds me of when I got lost at the Lorenzo and ended up completely outside the building, stuck in an alley way overlooking the freeway. And yes, I was almost stuck 127 hours style recently when I tried to deliver a weed pen (blazeee it) to these girls from the UK who lived in one of those Grove-adjacent pads.
What else… I’ve been filling my mind with garbage like watching YouTube videos on how to attract rich men and looking at my ex’s house on Zillow. This Swedish lady gives tricks and tips on how to scam your way into high society. Eating fast food and using phrases like dude are a no, guess i’m out ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ . Another interesting point is that she encourages women not to act masculine. Granted it is selling yourself into these strict heteropatriarchal relationships so what’s new. Gold digging and sex work moreover is seen by many sex-negative people as demeaning or “lazy” labor. What’s lazy about having to constantly maintain your physical appearance or totally transforming your personality to be two-dimensional happy go lucky. It all goes back to people internalizing sex shame, and judging others who take ownership of their sexuality or who profit from it. How dare you exist in a way that I can’t control, is the sentiment. The people who engage in sex work are usually minorities, women, trans people, POC. With all these heavy/weighty historical burdens that make wealth inaccessible, this is a way to game the capitalist in a way that somehow leads to survival.
Not like it’s all rainbows, people engaged in this work get raped, assaulted, robbed, kidnapped, and even murdered. (Thinking about the recent massage parlor shooting in Atlanta was hard. I think of my asian grandma who cultivated her sexuality to “get ahead”, could this have been her?) Because once again we victim blame the dead. Some people might say then why don’t we ban sex work? Yeah right, and ban the oldest profession in the world? Even Jesus was hanging with sex workers. It puts the blame on people who might genuinely even enjoy their work, but just want to be safe.
Not everyone is crazy about this work but not everyone is a victim! That is a patronizing bullshit take. Does Middle America cry when the coal miners go off to work? no! My family is from West Texas and you would regularly see people out and around town still in their work clothes, fresh off an oil rig. This is seen as “tough blue collar labor”, but that is admirable nonetheless, whereas the two-faced form of Christianity which dominates the area would regard sex work and sex workers moreover as entities to be eliminated for being so “morally reprehensible”. There is still cost-risk at play here, but at least labor unions. How are sex workers meant to advocate for themselves when their very existence is constantly sought to be eliminated by the state?
I think there is something admirable in sex work, I met many people in college who were engaged in it. This classmate of mine in my WRIT 340 class who was studying to become a sex therapist, that did cam work. She told me how the dynamic was really all-encompassing. You are providing your body as an object of desire, but also providing social/emotional support. These Johns may be lonely or depressed. You could be the first person they’ve talked to in a week. You are giving the gift of care, much like any other service. You are providing emotional labor. (But then at least you are getting paid!)
I think a lot about the sort of labor that women and other folks often go through in their relationships with men. The expectation to be flexible, to be nurturing, to be easy-going, to be nice, to not be argumentative, to not have their sexual desires be just as important and valid as penile ejaculation. It is getting better, so much better, I remember the comprehensive high school sex ed at my all-girls school. But then I think again how we talked about blue balls, yet never talked about how to give ourselves pleasure. Although a question from the anonymous question box did inadvertently lead to a discussion of produce-oriented masturbation (yes cucumbers and eggplants.)
I know so many people who have given their whole souls to maintain a relationship with a man, myself included. It’s very much the cool girl trope. We have to be one of the boys that they can fuck, with as much emotional/spiritual needs as a house cat. To profit off that emotional labor seems at least an even exchange than fighting with a man who won’t even go to therapy :S Anyway, under capitalism, WE, the workers are all being exploited. It’s imperative that we realize this solidarity, that we don’t judge others’ decisions which enable them to survive.
THAT’s MY SOAPBOX.
But on a lighter note, I saw this TikTok and hope to attain this sweet baby on my run to CVS later today for some biotin and B12. Love always, Violet. ❤
EDIT: The Shedonist went to four separate CVS’s in search of the beloved HK Easter plush. Word on the street (Reddit) is that it may be an East Coast thing only. I’m gutted. But found some valuable news sources in the process.
A weekly passion/resume addition project created by yours truly to inspire laughter, commiseration, unity, and at times entertainment.
A little bit about little ol’ me.
I am a freelance writer in the City of Angels, one of the many artists who wishes to accomplish their dream of recognition and authentic existence all while living it up in the ~big city~ (while actually frantically running around with my phone all the time for Postmates™.) Right now I am sharing a room in a 1920’s home with my two other crazy dreamer roommates, who I met on Craigslist. They may or may not be in THE BIZ and could tell you a thing or two about set action or the behind-scenes drama of Little Women Atlanta.
It’s funny because we are all transplants, but as are most people who live here. I have East Coast grandparents in the Valley who would beg to differ that I am not in fact a transplant, but I guess in some ways I still consider myself a tourist, the way I still get giddy to drive my convertible on the freeway… I came here in 2016 to attend school at USC. A place I only really applied to because I had an adolescent crush on James Franco and was told he would be teaching a film production class. I now revoke the crush considering his reprehensible actions, but I think even then I knew he was shady, but I think like most teenage girls, I was attracted to danger. There’s this great Britney Spears quote, which should bear further consideration in light of the #FreeBritney movement, and the way she was exploited unknowingly, yet one which has still resonated with me:
“Well, I think we’re all girls, and I mean, that’s a part of who we are. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like to feel sexy. You know what I mean? You’re a girl.”
But back to USC-Franco debacle. On the eve of admissions, my mother told me not to “get my hopes up”, to which I sneered, because I only did this for jokes, everything is a joke, right? My mother logged onto the portal and there it was. I remember leaving her room in a very self-satisfied told-you-so way. And well would you believe that I never even saw Franco all four years that I was enrolled at USC! Mostly because I wasn’t cinematically inclined, at least in a technical way. I studied the Media Arts pathway at my all-girls college preparatory high school, and made many a short film which scraped short of disaster. Making an homage to The Graduate involving not only my mother, but the teenage family friend that everyone insisted I date, in which HE was the pursuant. This is what happens kids, when you are cooped up in a Girls Scout cult for too long kids, you end up unintentionally making an allegoric erotic Feminist film the likes of which would have even disturbed Lina Wertmüller .
Back to Franco. You see I am taking you on non-linear journey, because historically, writing has been dominated by the upper echelon cis dude class, which is very phallocentric (which reminds me of all the lectures I sat in on with my kick ass former Comp Lit Professor Mia Du Plessis, in which she continually compared writing and the act of begetting to male ejaculation.) The only time I ever even heard of Mr. Franco was when I was having my regular brunch (of americano and either the egg-white-spinach or the frittata-ciabatta sandwich) at the on-campus Illy, when I overheard a couple of girls talking–that’s right, I am an active eavesdropper and write down anything interesting you say in my iPhone notes. One said to the other “oh so you have class with Franco? what’s he like” to which the other said “well he always comes late and he always has like four cups of coffee on him” [pause] “oh yeah and he like sleeps with everyone.”
My teenage soul was crushed that I was not in that class to be a coffee-bearer or “extra-credit” achiever, and yet I am glad my lack of talent afforded me to avoid this track because maybe I would have ended up dating even more film bros than the the thirty year old who lives in Koreatown and doesn’t “believe in deodorant” per his Pacific Northwest woo woo.
And so why am I still here even though I’ve already graduated, per Class of Covid? It’s actually kind of funny because I’m the last person I would expect to like Los Angeles. I’m originally from Austin, which is like sunny Portland lite. Hollywood was so ewwww, mainstream was so ewwwwww. When I came to USC for college acceptance day with my mother, missing my own prom, I remember crying and saying to her I don’t think I can be here. But then what did I know, I was only eighteen and I had no taste. It’s like when I met my former trust-fund-baby-from-Mexico-boyfriend’s neighbor who was affectionately referred to as his “American Mom.” She asked me how old I was at the time, and when I told her she said “oh honey you don’t know anything.” And I’m so glad she said that, even though it stung at the time because she was right.
I was naive to think that L.A. is “fake” and just a glorified amusement park for influencers and social climbers. There is so so so much history and soul here. I’m always in awe of the cultural diversity, and the history of the city as a counter-culture to modernity. New York has a history of order, while L.A. has a history of disorder. Sure the trains always run in New York, but half of the freeway merges you see look like they were designed by children with building blocks and hard hats. Not to mention the rich history of social justice movements that have existed here. Black and brown liberation have always had a strong grip here. The way that artists, communists, and general rabble-rousers have habitually resided here is comforting.
I hope I’ve convinced you by now to take an interest in the weekly newsletter which I intend to produce. Even if it is in the most minuscule way, I hope to bring some content which will inspire, perhaps occasionally irk, but mostly inspire! Tschüssi <3(✿◠‿◠)
P.S. leave me a comment below of the SATC character you most adore, and the one you most relate to.