Friday, March 17th, 2:47pm
I've just successfully burned my first smudge stick. The white sage has been sitting in my drawer for a while now due to fear of burning down the apartment. Nothing a quick google couldn't fix. The smell is what I would describe as a preparation of weed, incense and Mum's cooking. I've fallen sleep almost instantly and I'm conceiving the image of an ancient Native American shaman offering me a cure for hopelessness as a new weekend approaches. My anxiety visits most typically on Saturday mornings and usually via unexpected texts, bored Facebook stalking or when all of my friends are occupied by plans in which lonesomeness then strikes - and not the kind of lonesome I normally revel in.
I spent most of the day organising up and coming projects, creating mindful pros and cons list about future career possibilities and picking at an awful carnivorous breakfast I wasn't even looking forward to. I've decided to end with a sweet pen to paper kiss to dispose of all of the weeks knotted stresses in the hopes that I can go forward this Saturday with ease. The first thing I'd like really like to question is fashion bloggers and why they insist on sharing their inspirational styling and must have outfits yet refuse to reference where they got their items from. Why is this a big secret? And I'm not interested in the "Oh it was so long ago, the only one left in a store that closed down in the middle of no where" nonsense. You just leave that to me. Quit the "I wanna be the only one who owns this" garbage, don't fear if we end up buying your things - because most of the time, we actually won't. Sharing is after all one of the greatest acts of love (I made this up) and if you're here to shove your insanely delicious wardrobe in my face, but won't care to help a sister look her very best, you should be ashamed of yourself.
Secondly, an itty bitty rant reserved for the friends that spoke to me this week only when in the following circumstances;
a) My life is finally going fantastically! Let me tell you every infinitesimal detail in the hopes to inspire only just a pinch of envy. How else must I remind you my life is going much better than yours?
b) My life is a tragedy! I don't want advice, rather just an ear to drown my inconsolable and poorly decisive misery into. I will continue to ask valid questions but refuse any provided logic. Oh but please answer, just don't exactly help - unless it means concurring that my life totally sucks. I also need you to remind me that nothing is actually my fault so that I can continue this viscous cycle of outputting external blame and no-responsibility-taking.
and also;
c) I'm going raise a delicate and casual conversation with you to imply I am showing sincere interest in you and your life, however it will be motivated by the need to put you down so that I can make myself feel better about whatever awful thing I am currently enduring:
"Hey, hows that horrible issue going on in your life? Any progress?"
"Yeah sorta, feeling a lot better actually,..."
"Oh, well you know you should have been more careful in the first place, you wouldn't have been in that situation had you just been... different. Here, I'll list a tonne of things you've done wrong, and I'll explain them to you using numerous examples of just how much you stuffed up".
What's probably most interesting is that I myself have likely been this friend at some point in time, too. But isn't that the beauty of reflection, you see in others what you are of yourself. So, I suppose, here I am asking myself; let's not be that friend, that's not a good friend to be. This week I've certainly had enough of them. Perhaps if these moments were separated by sweet, genuine and fulfilling conversation I wouldn't be so miffed about it. Ehh.
Rant number three goes to online shopping and why I wish I could pay to reserve items (I believe it's called lay by?). I'm sick to death of missing out on clothes that will complete me, (Yes! I am that superficial - and I wont deny what a good pair of pants can do to my self confidence and therefore my overall approach to life and relationships). I will never forget that Lazy Oaf blouse I was only just days away from getting my hands on before it was totally, and globally, sold out.
And last but not least a shout out to the voice in my head that found one hundred and one reasons not to continue writing and sharing any future work in fear of OVER sharing. It also attempted to convince me that I'm a massive artistic poser that tries to seek validation by way of materialism. How ridiculous that it managed to let go of all the memories and maturity that built me to understand the depth of human experience (heartbreak, divorce, distance, disconnection and loss) that I have learned to accept just so that it could try me as a pathetic individual who's only good for collecting man made shoes from China. You are hilarious! To think for a second that I could be reduced to only the pretty things I like to share, capture, touch and collect. Did you ever stop to think that all of the wonderful things in life (art, food, attractive black men) only work to provide a balm for me that helps to cushion the walls of this insufferable dunya (reality - life/world as we know it)? There is so much more floating beneath the ocean grabbing me at my toes that I won't stop, I'll continue to float on the glittery surface, so that I can catch a breath every so often and maybe even watch the sun go down.
Until next Friday... Yours,
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