like a personal mount everest—i just could not relax until it was done.

i genuinely felt like a ghost had taken over me—i didn’t even believe it was going to necessarily change anything—i just wanted to try something. i wanted to try caring—in a mainstream way. i wanted to try reaching but it’s always uncomfortable.

not because i don’t already have a practice of vulnerable sharing—but because my natural state is more akin to cumming on a page—and sharing than it is to calculated curation. it’s always a little more spastic, dramatic and in the moment.

i couldn’t figure out if doing all this landed mid because it felt vulnerable or ‘cuz i knew it was outside my normal and “everyone” would see it.

when i finally finished monday night—it felt—inconclusive? quite flat yet unnerving—a part of me was like now what? and the other part was like—YOU WAIT!

i hate waiting—but what am i even waiting for? engagement? some hollerback of resonance? i never thought it was necessarily going to be the thing that did anything different—yet i can’t say i didn’t feel pulled to do it?

so why did i?

i think a part of me thought it would bring relief—to say ok girl—unplug, you are now “present” across all platforms for at least 20 days. yet—it only tethered me more.

made me think about bots and how the ability to schedule online “presence” is sort of ghostly. i can blame algorithmic influence, my day job—the planets—but regardless of the why—the result had me sitting in my own discomfort.

despite the content being true—this type of sharing feels heavy and inauthentic.

like forcing myself to attend a social gathering because “that’s what you’re supposed to do.” sure i might like some people there but my energy is off and i leave a little anxious about my behaviour—was i too enthusiastic? did they notice i zoned out?

this isn’t about platforms necessarily—it’s about the narratives we absorb when we partake in them.

it’s about how much harder it is to hold a sovereign practice when you’re frequenting the marketplace of the masses. if you hang out at wal-mart every day you’re bound to get influenced—either by the price, the goods or the shit you overhear at the check-out counter.

i ripped my art box out of the closet this weekend and was suddenly reminded that i am—actually an artist!? i’d just wanted to suss my stock before friday’s market but quickly got hijacked by new ideas and ways to repurpose deadstock.

last year, on a whim—i had some of my photos printed on fabric. i made a few chiffon scarves that sold out and this neat picnic bag that didn’t.

i love how rich the colors turned out on polyester but was tired of this beautiful fabric laying dormant and unused! so i decided to cut one up and frame it as a more lush art piece and ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 𝑣𝑜𝑖𝑙𝑎 ⋆｡˚⭒⋆ suddenly both of us got a new lease on life!

it’s funny what a small shift in perspective can do. i’ve been hoarding vintage frames all year because i like the price and the look of my photography in them. even with the little scuffs and imperfections i’ve found they present and sell my photos better. i suppose they add character to the image—and since it’s ready to hang—it’s easier for buyers to justify. otherwise buying a lone print requires a second purchase—which becomes another task on a never ending to do list.

over the last 3ish years i’ve been experimenting with ways to play with my photography. first it was with poetry on instagram, then i made postcards, greeting cards, scarves and fabric totes. i made large poster prints, framed prints, poetry stickers and most recently made my book cover.

i love the range of items i can apply photography to—i especially love how my photography injects more meaning and emotionality—the grain of 35mm just ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑖𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑒 ⋆｡˚⭒⋆

it seems to speak to others too—i just need to get it in front of more people, which is why i’m committing to pushing myself and my art out into the IRL wild more often. just last month i sold 8 copies of my book from a passive 3-week consignment spot at a local café.

who knows what’s possible when i’m actually present and people are browsing to buy?

i’m also itching to sell my remaining stock so i can create new photo projects! there are certain photo’s i’ve been dying to print on vintage t-shirts, i’ve also got new greeting card ideas and a poetry photo book in the works.

but alas—i am confined by my current budget!

if you’re in montreal you can catch me at the following markets

• november 6th & 7th - the indigenous art market @ daphne

• november 21st - my friend frankie market @ the westmount park united church

i’ll be bringing my postcards, greeting cards, unframed prints, the last 20 copies of my book and of course a few one of a kind framed prints!

everything you can find on my website basically + a few special pieces.

for those of you curious—i used artofwhere for the fabric printing!

next month

you can count on me to share my end of month results—i’m as obsessed with experimenting creatively as i am with sharing my commercial results. imo too many people sell their top-line numbers as pdfs and paywalls—not enough share bottom-line transparency and satisfaction reports.

in fact i’ve been sharing my self-publishing journey here if you’re interested!

until next time—may your november also include playing with your art!

read more on creativity

read more on desire

i like to pretend i don’t need food—water—exercise. i wake up—make coffee and jot down my intentions of the day knowing damn well most of the bullet points are not time sensitive—yet i’d like to think i’m the type of person who will do it today anyway.

i don’t like taking care of myself.

i like writing—
i like dreaming—
scheming new ideas,
collaborations and,
following whatever whim
takes me over.

i like cleaning, organizing, running errands and creating a home—yet cooking, food, water even—falls to the wayside. there is a part of me that feels entirely too limited by my physical form—by the physical world even.

i said that to my somatic bodyworker a few weeks ago while i wept—at war with the physical—both my own and the worlds’.

spiritually i’m aware—yet find myself frustrated and resistant to accept physical realities.

in writing this i can see the dilemna.

a while back i had come to learn that i needed to stop.

stop extending, stop trying to serve others—stop trying to make a difference. i needed to be saved. i needed to let people struggle and come to their own conclusions as i was either enabling them or unknowingly making them feel uncomfortable.

it turns out i am more and more my mother.

algorithmically charged to cheerlead everyone to a finish line they haven’t yet admitted they were headed to.

this matriarchal algorithm is stronger than me.

apparently this is a thing—i just googled it and wow—i’d love matriarchal algorithms to become the norm.

anyways i no longer believe in helping people. not in the traditional sense. the phrase plays over and over in my head since last season. i do not believe in helping people.

helping people is not a noble goal—it’s selfless and i have a self to tend to.

none of this is supposed to make sense by the way.

it’s supposed to be non-sensical.

it’s supposed.

i’d like to scare off the grammar police.

the people who’ll stop at my slightest imperfections—typos—wrongly placed commas and anyone too attached to form.

form is a function—a cover of a book—a hook attached to meaning.

i cannot relate to people who’d rather point out a flaw than find value or meaning.

i am irritated by this norm.

though we should all take a moment of silence to sympathize.

it’s their mothers who coded care with critique—not me.

i just wish they’d see clearly.

Read more

It was extremely tempting to take the bait last week—to share MY perspective on the S.G. SNL situation BUT I chose to pause…

I genuinely did not want to:

• add to the noise

• capitalize on everyone’s triggered reactions

• add frenzy to the PR moment

What I did was start drafting something, then get bored with my own processing. As I put the piece down, I realized it was much more fun to step back, observe, sit with my feelings, and digest what this mess means about society.

Personally, as an Aries—I am enraged by a lot of things. But this bit didn’t trigger me at all. I did recognize it wasn’t very good, I found it lazy comedically—but I didn’t cling to any of it. SNL has never been funny to me, and I’ve always seen it and him as a byproduct of American Culture.

That’s how I see Trump, Rogan and whichever soulless idiot is gaining power.

Humans are the byproducts of their culture/environment, and one thing we hate to see and even refuse to admit is that American Values breed greedy, hierarchical assholes who, despite not caring about anyone, rise to power and fame.

America is no longer hiding its values behind a white picket fence.

I’ve felt this way since everyone’s outrage at Trump winning. “Where have you all been?” was my thought… “Why is everyone so surprised?”

Perhaps we are just at different stages of grief when it comes to realizing the truth about American Culture. Despite New York, LA and a few other cities being pretty cool and sometimes progressive—most of the country is MID and running on the lowest denominator of values.

From my POV—the reason that S.G. and other mid men rise to comedic fame—is that men need models (probably more than women) because the average man isn’t socially innovative or brave. He asserts himself through male validation and social alignment.

The average man lacks an inner compass—he’d rather succumb to groupthink than stand alone. When a mediocre white man reaches success or fame for telling shit jokes—the male audience thinks “see i’m not that bad—it’s not just me.”

All humans are born with a void. Women are culturally conditioned to fill it by pleasing others and being “good”—while men are culturally sold the dream of capital, power and control.

We all have the right to be triggered and angry about anything. If you saw the list of shit that pisses me off, you’d probably be like, “Girl, get a grip!” It doesn’t really matter.

What the anger points to—is the things we actually care about.

What I care about right now—is media literacy. It seems to be at an all-time low, and while I know social media and short attention spans are to blame, I feel pulled to point out how serious the situation is.

Even our own campaigns fail to be upheld, laid out or outlined. No one wants to actually lead a movement—they want to signal a groupthink to ensure the public knows they are not with “the other side.”

Decenter men!
Decenter Romance!
Decenter the Male Gaze!
Decenter Decenter Decenter!!!

Perhaps this is the issue with social media slogans and generalist rules being spread like wildfire. They become merely taglines, said over and over again for attention, but no one actually lays out what it means. What it doesn’t. Where is the line drawn?

I’m already annoyed that I am spending my Saturday morning writing this.

I wish I could be writing something artful instead—but mainstream media is doing its job—distracting me from my real work—my real skills and interests. Just like it hijacks everyone over some shit we’ll forget by the end of the year.

The one point I want to make is this…we cannot decenter men when they hold so much power. We cannot decenter men when they are an object of desire—we cannot decenter whatever our souls want/need us to pay attention to. Because when we do—or at least try to—the desire and accompanying resistance (dare i say policing)—leaks out in the same way S.Gs monologue did.

Creatively sideways—by taking shots at “the other side” through a self-deprecating and disrespectful lens.

S.G. hasn’t been to the gym in so long that he’s only now noticed that it’s socially acceptable for women to “dress like whores.”

This tells me he hasn't been taking care of himself and therefore feels behind on social evolution/norms. His noticing that it’s now socially acceptable for women to dress a certain way (that wasn’t normal before) is him making a joke about how far men & women are on the spectrum of social evolution.

Men are “just getting to the gym,” and women are “comfortably doing what they used to be judged for/are still judged for.”

Men are behind and confused.
Women are comfortably moving ahead (knowing they’re being judged)

Personally—I don’t care if that makes him uncomfortable or he doesn’t like it. I am not surprised that he and other Men feel behind—confused or don’t approve of what some women do with their freedom.

Aren’t we all constantly confused by each other?

Aren’t we all a little uncomfortable?

Perhaps the highest judge of character is what someone does with their discomfort.

How do you answer the call of your desire, anger and disgust?

What I’ve witnessed over the last few years is the cost of performing anger and grief in public (with quick turnaround via social media).

You may attract an army of like-minded thinkers, but you also perpetuate shame, a lack of discernment, and you supercharge your audience with anger and outrage—only to leave them no productive place to discharge.

This breeds an overwhelming sense of powerlessness and heightened vigilance.

I’ve seen the consequences of this the most in Queer spaces.

Every Hinge match is a political screening.
Every date is a history lesson.
Every text is unsolicited therapy.

The constant screening of everyone and everything through a binary lens is morally corrupt and unjust. People cannot be wholly right or wrong, fully allies or opponents, just a victim or an evil perpetrator.

To paint a person as only one thing, not another—makes me angry and uncomfortable, as it breeds the same unsafe environment S.G.'s joke perpetuates.

I have never known one person to be wholly right—pure and perfect. I have only known people's beauty to lie in the tension of their contradictions.

I find solace in the people & places capable of this play.

i
miss
be—ing
loved
by
you

that’s it—

can you feel it ?

the space
between
what was—
what is—
what could—
but
couldn’t—
be .

that’s what i was thinking about…
when you called me.

when i answered—
you spilled seamlessly,

immediately—
inviting me,
out the depths
of my ocean—
to play in shallow sea,

that’s
how you leave me,
every time,
a little—
more
free. . .

i love quitting and i hate the concept of quiet quitting (sounds like actively letting your soul die?) ever since i was a kid—my mom let me quit anything i didn’t love or want to continue.

there was a brief period where i wish she’d have held me accountable to commitments but i no longer give a fuck and here is why.

there is no reward for persevering on commitments you don’t enjoy

i’m not one to quit something because it’s challenging, i quit because the challenge isn’t paying off—or the challenge isn’t something i actually value, or want.

for a long time i thought i quit figure skating and gymnastics because of fear. as soon as i got to the scary moves or flips i froze. i got rigid, scared and though i tried, the fear always got in the way. it was no longer enjoyable and what i realize now with almost 30 years of recul is that the cost of success wasn’t tempting enough for me.

i have push passed many fears in my life, and had my mom pushed me to do it, it may have also taught me to override very important safety signals in my body. the point is though—for me—that i didn’t find the idea of doing a flip—worth the cost of fear and potential injury. genuinely.

i know this because i am not competitive when it comes to physical skills, nor sports nor much. i compete in the realm of desire only. i am committing to winning at doing whatever the fuck i want and that means i start and quit shit often. it also means i get to learn a shit ton about myself. and most recently i realized that the reason quitting doesn’t slow me down is i have little shame around it.

for context, since birth—i’ve quit:

• figure skating

• gymnastics

• karate

• basketball

• track

• volleyball

• dance (jazz, hiphop etc)

• bowling (yeah a league)

• makeup (as a job)

• hair (as a job)

• owning a hair salon

• multiple business ideas

• university

• a corporate job (after 2.5 weeks)

• a contract gig that was no longer serving me

• relationships that caused anxiety

• relationships that were missing something i couldn’t name

• romance with no sex or emotional progression

• airbnbing a room in my apt

• friendships that felt off

• and probably more

most recently, i quit a corporate job after 2.5 weeks and it hasn’t slowed me down one bit. in fact it only amped up my motivation to succeed at my own projects and goals.

in thinking about this over the last few weeks, i found it funny because in 2024 i decided to go to university because i wanted to take my writing more seriously, i also wanted to take First Peoples Studies to learn more about my Indigenous history and validate my existence as a community member, to work in non-profits or at least towards helping the community.

what i realized after just 1.5 years of university was that i already am who i need to be and that i actually didn’t value the validation i was getting there. however it did equip me to understand the system. and with that i found something funny—a loophole almost. because going to university in your 30s means you are there with a purpose not to kill time.

as soon as i enrolled, i started getting internship opportunities, and because i have a quality cv i was accepted to 3 internships. i chose the one that most interested me, i was there for a little over a year and enjoyed most of it. during that time i also started receiving a bunch of emails about places to submit my writing and to read at open mics. i applied to those too.

suddenly i had 3 added credibility features on my cv and it only kept growing. i didn’t need to finish school actually. i applied to a grant to fund my first book based on my enrollment in uni + 2 published pieces in local mags and a letter of recommendation from a teacher. i wasn’t even actively attending anymore—i had dropped all classes.

i got the grant and from there i got a mentorship to curate an event based on my book. and from there i also applied to be an editor at a youth mag and though they didn’t choose me off the bat, they circled back yesterday to give me the job. 6 months later.

they initially had went with someone with more editing experience, but realized they needed someone who was more gung-ho about setting up partnerships to up submissions.

being a do-it-all pays off. where some people suggest niching down, i find my business background a well valued asset in creative spaces—because DOERS will always be more valuable than THINKERS. CONNECTORS will always be more valuable than ISOLATED skills sets. At least specifically when we are talking about career realms.

in a room full of editors, an organized and social strategist is valuable. in a room full of business nerds—an artist has increased value.

every since writing my book i’ve been obsessed with the 3 circle diagrams…mainly this one:

i might be biased but i’ve been able to use this map for literally everything.

in the book this is about the different worlds you can tap into in any given moment but in this context, we can use it for career shifts and pivots…

your spirit is what energy or vibe you bring to the function. mine is enthusiastic, optimistic and brave (not afraid to make mistakes or ask for help).

the physical skills i bring to the table: project management, business acumen, ability to use a plethora of online software/tools, graphic design, web design, writing, photography, communication skills, and mentorship, team management and much more!

in terms of the collective—i think about who needs my spirit and skillset most? where do our goals overlap? my current goals are in storytelling (all forms) which is why i am pivoting into spaces where storytelling is valued—film, novel, comedy, podcasts etc.

the best way for me to do that is to present my skillset and naive optimism as an asset! cuz it truly is.

there’s so much talk about pivoting these days and a lot of fear around looking random or unqualified. i would argue that your historical career baggage is exactly what makes you a valuable asset—the issue is—only qualified managers or directors will see that. not all managers/bosses understand how to leverage an out of the box skillset. the hurdle—is finding the people who will not just see your value but have the capacity to work with it.

a while back an ex of mine who was 12 years my senior said “well when you do a lot of things—you’re bound to have a lot of failures—and a lot of stories.”

he said this because i was like “damn how do you have 5000 stories from 500 adventures and still going strong?”

the lesson for me is there is no such thing as failure, only lessons learnt and if you commit to carrying every lessons and skillset forward then you only gain value over time. and yes this also applies to people who have niche skillsets—as long as you are attempting new projects and entertaining new realms—you are likely learning.

my issue with the narratives around the perseverence & quitting is they assume that perseverance pays off—without inviting you to question if the cost of the perseverance and the pay off is even something worth it for you.

committing for the sake of it can breed a jaded attitude of martyrdom—and believe me no one ejoys working with those people.

as long as you are aware of the why behind both your motivation and your urge to quit—you may stay shame free.

in my recent corporate stint, i quit because i knew my why. i was there for financial stability and to learn about how a young company scales while maintaining noble values. i quit because the financial stability was not worth how badly i was managed—and worse i learnt what i needed to know in that 2.5 weeks. i was a better manager than my manager and wasn’t going to stick around hoping he’d change—he’d already lost my trust.

essentially, i am obsessed with learning systems and how things work—it’s part of how i feel safe in new environments. it’s also why a lot of environments don’t work for me—i learn so quickly how things work that i opt to cheat the system instead.

and maybe this is the gift of trying, quitting and continuing—you forgo playing the victim and learn to trust yourself instead—you grow such an enormous trust in yourself that playing is safe feels unnecessary—following someone else’s suggested path feels unjust.

it’s not all glam though—i’ve been judged for my quick decision making. it can look chaotic from the outside—uncommitted—impulsive and even destructive

during my biggest tower moment—dark knight of the soul shit i was judged for a lot.

Read more

Read more

this week i came across an article on Substack titled you need to crash out to lock in—and immediately i was awash with frustration—anger, even.

why can’t we just crash out to crash out?

i understand it’s framed this way on purpose—to show it’s part of a linear process—an important step to realignment. in fact, i pretty much agree with the statement—i’m just annoyed by the collective urge to narrate and brand every part of the human experience.

i include myself in this segment of the population because i too—am a chronic helper. i too see someone struggling and want to offer advice and mental reframing.

what i find funny or absurd even—is that to provide advice means you genuinely think someone doesn’t know this already—otherwise you wouldn’t bother mentioning it. or maybe you just learnt something, and you want to share your learning.

neither motive is bad.

i am instead simmering on what this means about society—that we collectively think everyone needs our hot takes and help?

a few weeks ago i wrote an article about hitting a wall with Chani Nicholas (pop-astrologer), and i was grateful that for the most part it sparked a sigh of collective relief.

i’d been looking for this conversation online, on reddit, everywhere and wasn’t seeing it discussed so i started it myself.

but there was a small part of me nervous that it would be perceived as a takedown—to the contrary, i think she’s an important person, i respect her overall and have benefitted from a lot of her public labour and education.

i am capable of respecting someone, whilst not agreeing with or enjoying all parts of their practice.

not many people online show this capability—though i was pleasantly surprised that 99.9 percent of comments shared my sentiment.

i think i achieved what i set out to do in that article because i centered myself—i hit a wall with Chani—not everyone should unsub from Chani ‘cuz xyz.

i also pointed out that in doing business on attention economy platforms—we can accidentally adopt the practices of our enemies. acknowledging that we all fall prey to these behaviours (myself included).

afterall, everyone is a by-product of their environment

what i found funny about the very few comments that were upset with my take or didn’t agree is they were unable to see that this article was about me and my own processing.

some suggested that i was resentful, that i was unjustly taking her down because she was a woman—saying men who do the same are celebrated. one person even disregarded my reasoning because i used the word cringe.

what these handful of comments reminded me was that because algorithmic online spaces are unfiltered—and we’re seeing journalism aside personal blogs and brand content amidst “here’s how to succeed” articles—we’ve lost the ability discern one person’s truth from a collective truth.

and this—it turns out—is exactly where my frustration with online spaces lies.

a couple weeks ago i was in the Yancey Strickler’s DFOS blog where he asked for advice shaping an article he was writing about architects and being inspired by Robert Moses when it comes to architecting online spaces.

i had trouble getting through the article—not only was there was a lot of name dropping and unnecessary justifications (imo) but i grew enraged—trying to understand why i hate this type of writing.

what i realized was that i am much more interested in why he’s inspired by Robert Moses than the linear justifications and grand generalizations he was preceeding his point with.

i found the whole thing to be a lot of word salad and very try-hard. which again made me curious—why is this so triggering for me?

contrary to some people’s assumption—i know that my frustration is saying something about me—i don’t like him less because i don’t like the article—in fact—i just wish he could just say it like it is and didn’t feel the need to fluff it up.

i hate academic writing—i hate words that are beggining to be understood.

in sitting with this anger i realize—it’s because i love words that understand themselves. i love writers, creators, and artists who understand themselves enough to withstand the urge to be easily understood and digested.

this pattern i’m seeing online—makes me sad.

why is a personal truth—centered on the journey of the self—somehow seen as less valid or valuable than an essay with peer-approved footnotes and name drops?

when did personal storytelling lose credibility?
why is everyone trying to look smart and educated over experienced and human?

in my recent book i came to many conclusions but one was that “much of what’s sold as news isn’t new”—we’re just using new words to reframe things (to grasp attention.)

i love words—i too made a new word for my book—Indigenish—i think we do this collectively because words fail us—or fall short when the collective narrative shifts the meaning of a word or action.

humans—these days—are overly reliant on words—forgetting they are human made— ignoring the fact that their meanings change throughout time.

to me, i know a word has lost meaning when it no longer sparks curiosity but an inhumane level of certainty—when there is no longer room for nuance.

we see this in right/left politics, gay/queer sexuality labels, even in words like Mother, Feminist etc.

i chalk this unfortunate habit up to the fact we’re no longer publically involved with Religion, God or Spirit. because who then—do we believe in? who then holds ultimate truth?

we struggle to accept that the answer is no one—or at least no one person or thing. not science, not god, not the judicial system—not politics—nor grammar can hold any universal truth applicable to everyone.

what my anger has been circling lately—is my disappointment in humanity—my frustration that the majority of my algorithm and people i respect still don’t feel confident enough (even after a ton of validation) to just say “yo Robert Moses is sick, here’s how he’s inspiring my next moves.”

i’m angry that we’re pulled to justify our human experiences—instead of sharing them for connection (the very thing we’re starving for.)

i’m annoyed that the algorithmic town squares cater to people with the least amount of inner authority. those who can’t agree to disagree—who aren’t curious or discerning—the people who’re looking for truth because they haven’t found their own.

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I’d taken a break from Chani Nicholas’s content for a while because I’d grown annoyed with the hypervigilance.

• watch out for X

• be careful of Y

• don’t overbook yourself etc, etc.

I noticed this advice, and style of future-casting was no longer serving me. In fact, it started to sound like a whole lot of word salad.

Suddenly, all astrology readings online felt redundant. Always talking about the same inevitable cycles and themes.

• death/rebirth

• starting a new/letting go

• surrender/discipline

It’s like there was always, I mean ALWAYS, something happening that was going to make us feel something— that, TO BE HONEST, we would feel, whether we listened to the reading or not.

Which got me thinking, why am I even listening to this? What am I looking for?

I suppose I was looking for hope. Some sense of control or outlook on what’s to come. I was looking for a tool—rose-colored glasses— to enhance my outlook on the week or month ahead.

But what happens when astrology as a predictive technology meets late-stage capitalism—in the attention economy of business?

• fear mongering

• anxiety-induced messaging

• divisionary language

Look, I’m not saying I only want the positive take on the month ahead; I’m just saying that I want a balanced take. I want to be empowered to make my own decisions and feel out what’s right for me.

But when every transit is marketed as a once-in-a-lifetime event, every placement as a “this only happens every 6 years” chance—it quite literally just ADDS to the noise, paranoia and anxiety we already feel.

And this is why I’m annoyed with Chani Nicholas.

She’s employing marketing techniques similar to those of the systems she claims to be against. Capitalism, Fascism, Patriarchy, and AI are all value systems that run on scarcity, fear, distraction, and hierarchy. Yet her readings and forecasts are steeped in the assumption that we don’t know how to manage ourselves—how to interpret the world or deal with our own consequences and life’s never-ending shifts.

This morning, I pulled a Karen. I wrote to her marketing team. Because, truly, I think they need to know that the promo code FUCKAI is cringe—specifically as it’s marketed under the guise of “wanting to help you through the end of the eclipse.”

If an app needs new users, if a company wants to provide support—I would hope that it could do so without fuelling the binary divide of left/right politics. I would hope that it could offer a promo by communicating its benefits.

Plus—I don’t actually believe it’s entirely in her control to say her app is AI-free. She can’t guarantee the coders and back-end people aren’t using it. I doubt she has a human transcribing all her video captions—and even if she for some reason does…all her social media content is on algorithm-driven platforms that are guilty.

As a worker and observer in the marketing realm, I worry that leading with far-left ideologies in marketing drives more engagement than it does sustainable sales.

I’m open to being wrong, but here’s where I know I am right: when people pay people for their political positioning, they're actually engaging in a sort of ideological nepotism1. Supporting her for her politics—but not the service, skill set, or value she actually offers—is a murky investment.

It’s not that I don’t think we should support values-aligned businesses. It’s that I am critical of politically led marketing—because the attention economy promotes bold and binary positioning—and distracts us from the actual VALUES a business, artist or service provides.

Which, surprisingly, is a frequently called-out far-right tactic.

Say one thing—do another. Distract with X, take action on Y.

I don’t think she or other astrologers are doing this consciously. I think this is just what happens when we become products of capitalistic platforms. This is what happens when attention is incentivized—we unknowingly replicate the tactics of our enemies.

And this is why, as conscious consumers, we’ve got to look past marketing, past promos and advertised positioning.

We’ve got to ask which consumption habits actually feel good?

Because personally, I feel best—consuming content that doesn’t fuel anxiety, fear, or division. I want advice from people who speak honestly, who explore nuance, and if anything, nudge me gently to see the world through a hopeful non-dualistic lens.

Because anyway—isn’t every time unprecedented? Isn’t every day a new cycle?

How is adding so much individual responsibility to every natural cycle a collective benefit? Personally, I don’t need added weight to my personal responsibilities; I don’t need more things to watch out for—no more prompts or things to consider.

I need levity—to get outside of my own head.

I need a life worth living—don’t we all?

amidst softening my ether she cracked—

“when are you going to tell me why you keep crying?”

finger tips tracing my face,
tucking hair behind my ear—
dragging awareness down the side of my neck
far—and beyond,

this type of tender triggers the salt of my sea to billow over my lower lash line—running streams over my cheeks.

i feel my peach fuzz,
i feel my tear ducts,
i feel my body expressing
some thing that i still—
struggle to define.

“i’ll tell you later” i say. unsure how to tackle something so soft and ephemeral.

i’m stuck—splaying spiritually—digesting the effects of such physical and ethereal delights. like a glitch in the matrix—i ebb and flow. between mind and body—body and mind—

this poem writes itself,
this poem weighs a metaphysical ton—
it hovers above us,

i feel it—
but she wants to see it.

she wasn’t the first person to ask—nor would she be the last. it’s a weight so heavy, that even i have struggled to carry it.

i’ve wondered whether i might have been sexually abused in this lifetime or another—cuz i’ve always been so spiritually sensitive to sexual experiences. but i’ve settled on this sensitivity having no rhyme or reason.

this just is—my factory settings.

there is something otherworldly about sex for me—and it’s not that every session has to be soulful. i’ve enjoyed all kinds.

it’s more likely,
that there’s something tender
about surrender,
something curing
about care,

i’ve always cared—for myself. i’ve long required an intangible trifecta to trust and open up. i once joked that i needed the davinci code to cum, or some impossible planetary alignment to feel a desire worth pursuing.

connection costs me—disconnection too.

sometime during childhood there was a shift.

i started pushing my mom away—her desire to soothe me physically left me drowning in disgust. i rejected all her advances dramatically.

“get away!” i would yell—i even kicked her one time from distress.

there were prior happenings—that likely split me in pieces—events that disconnected my soul from my body and my body from my mind.

this left me with a sharp relationship to pleasure—a deep relationship with pain.

a sensitive constitution of distrust.

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i was staring at the lake—at the sky—at the grocery aisle and noticing that wherever there is space and time to consider—i will consider how much fuller a moment could be with a human tether to god.

what annoys me most about being single is knowing how not being single feels. like a newsletter pop-up prompt—the thought reminds me of something i want, but that i’m annoyed i must sign up for. typing my name in the box with hesitance, i must agree to unknowable terms & conditions.

no promises, no promotions, no formulas to follow…

just sign up…accept…and wait.

there is no one-size-fits-all welcome journey.

i am but a mailchimp…

likely to experience a series of unfortunate events that will lead to something…

at some…point.

these days it’s de-center men, romanticize your friendships and focus on self-self-self. but let’s be real… this is just another CAPITALISTIC PLOY to consume, consume, consume. i’m sorry but when i’m fuckin’ i ain’t buying and when i’m in love—i don’t need much.

que de l’amour et d’eau fraîche—c’est tout.

my question is why they’d assume i’m doing anything outside of already overly obsessing about myself. isn’t this era—entirely about self-obsessed navel gazing, self-optimization and growth? how much self can one do?

we quite literally do ourselves all day, fuck ourselves, feed ourselves, converse with ourselves, and now we’re supposed to love ourselves too? what kind of back-ass-wards world are we livin’ in?

you know the issue with desire—is not that we have it—it’s that we deny it.

or more so we are taught to control it.

we may not claim religion like we used to, but we sure love policing—love dictating—love telling everyone who and what they should care about. who and what is worth pursuing…

attention.

that’s it…pursue the attention economy so it can be monetized but do not pursue a love interest—a sex interest—a desire interest. no ROI they say, but they fail to measure immeasurable returns.

if it was up to the internet, we should care only about diagnosing our neurosis—slapping labels on the very symptoms caused by a mass lack of love—lack of belonging—of sustenance.

but when i am loved—i need nothing because i have proof—physical proof in the flesh that i am not a psychopath weirdo—just a girl—just a human—worthy of sustenance.

and forgive me if i am wrong but god dammit—i was born to need physical proof. is this world not—quite literally—in TOTALITY about needing physical manifestations of desires met? why is acquiring a home, a car, a family, a job somehow of value yet a lover—selfish?

ah—yes—it’s about collective benefit. collective buy in—one must buy in to usefulness but again…immeasurable returns are to be had when one has a lover of non-toxic decent.

when you are loved—you believe in love…and suddenly all the rigid clinging falls flat.

the last time i was fully, truly—madly—deeply in love it felt like i was in a reciprocal relationship with the universe…

unfortunately for me it was a short run relationship—either god knew i was not ready or this person was not ready—either way it was a piss off tease. the universe edged me—gave me a climax, then pushed me off the ledge.

there’s been a carrot dangling ever since.

i always fall—hard. is it the scorpio moon? the libra rising or aries sun? the gemini venus—my daddy issues or the fact that i finally know who i am? i don’t know really but what i know is i can smell shamed desire a mile away.

i can smell the desire you’ve buried ‘cuz mine’s been buried too. under obligation—responsibility—under rational justifications. i can hear—the muffled sound of your soul crying for a sign of aliveness—because mine—has cried for many moons too.

A couple weeks ago I started a patreon, a podcast, a youtube channel and have been fucking around on shorts & reels. It’s been a little insane but A LOT important.

I wouldn’t recommend anyone start marketing 3 different things overnight but when I feel pulled to do something—I follow the urge.

Increasing output actually gives me a lot of momentum and internal purpose. Without the multiple output channels I easily get caught overthinking and under-doing. This is something I see a lot of freelancers do.

OVERTHINK & UNDER DO

But it’s most often a freeze response to stress.

The issue with overthinking is our brain is in la la land—not reality. You can’t think your way into a new reality—you’ve got to physically create a new reality. And unfortunately you can only create in the REAL WORLD.

Plus, our brains are quite biased. We can easily visualize dream results without doing the work. And the work—is vital to knowing if you’re on the right path.

I briefly questioned if I have some sort of visibility kink—because I genuinely don’t mind being seen trying. I think it’s an important part of success. The path to success and finding what works for you is built with exponential bricks of trial and error. Plus my definition of success has more to do with learning new skills than going viral.

It’s more about learning what works for ME and what doesn’t than finding 10 clients overnight. And while there are days I wonder if I should just get more hobbies—I’m ok with my hobby being business right now. I genuinely find marketing fun and interesting. Especially because it changes so often.

Lesson #1: Treat every whim like a project

When I thought about the possibly unsustainable speed at which I was creating weekly podcasts, weekly YouTube videos and 30 shorts—I did obviously consider “what if none of this works?”

But WTF is works anyway? Sure I would love people to join my Patreon, subscribe etc blah blah but even if none of this “works” it’s a great portfolio project.

In two weeks I’ve created branding, copy and graphics for a Patreon, a podcast, a YouTube and linked a whole ecosystem. This project is about consolidating my freelance knowledge in one place. Should someone want any of my workshops, Notion templates or insights I’ve acquired over 15 years in business—Creative Coworking Club is where they’ll get it.

I’m committed to one month of intense output and I’ll adjust after I see the analytics. After I sense how my body enjoyed this project. Besides I’m amassing skills in CapCut editing, audio editing, the rules and regulations of online media, thumbnails, SEO ETC. CRASH COURSE MASTERCLASS for free taught by myself.

Lesson #2: Low output = low rewards

If you’re only posting once a week there are too many variables for your content to be judged against. It’s not that I want to upkeep such a high cadence forever but how am I to learn what’s landing if I only take 4 shots a month?

It quite literally is a gamble in the algorithm world. More shots = more learning.

And the algorithm gods love to emphasize consistency—weekly cadences on Substack, YouTube, reels etc. I understand it but I don’t think it’s THE MOST important thing. Certain channels value daily output, others weekly.

Play around with different lanes. See how they feel—where are you having the most fun? Most followers won’t even see everything you post so don’t be scared to post too much.

Lesson #3: Low effort content doesn’t mean low value art

There is a big fear that a lot of creatives hold—low effort content will look like marketing low value art. But in social media world—low effort is sometimes seen as more approachable, relatable and human. As long as your paywalled or for sale art is high value—you aren’t underselling yourself.

Plus if you ask any high output content creators, they’ll all tell you you should find a way to naturally include content creation in your day. Unless you have a big budget to hire a podcast video team you are just going to procrastinate or never get around to it.

Lesson #4: Lessons learned are never lost

I’m actually enjoying the casual nature of my pod. I personally love voice notes and it feels like sending one to my bestie so anyone who likes that—this is for you—that’s why I called it freelance friends.

Also in learning how to set up the podcast through Patreon, link to YouTube and Apple etc, I now can offer this service for clients. Which I’m about to do with a new client of mine who has a YouTube show but hadn’t had the time to distribute it.

I’m now also skilled enough to offer to chop up their 2 seasons of videos into shorts for reels and cross platform promo.

This free self-led masterclass is about to get me paid—in record timing.

Lesson #5: The most common advice is misleading

Substackers keep saying to fuck around on Notes for more subs and while it does help bring in subscribers, it often brings the least engaged ones. No one seems to be mentioning that.

I pulled my own numbers last week and it’s not subtle. Notes is half my entire list. Those subscribers have opened 4.2 emails in the last six months. The seventeen people who found me through Instagram? Thirteen. One-eighth the volume, three times the engagement.

YouTube shorts brought me 3 subscribers. It also brought me 16,840 views, and none of those people watched a longer video. Zero of them ended up here. Six of them clicked anything at all.

And here’s my favourite one, because it’s the advice everyone gives and nobody audits: my website ranks number one on Google for “small business consulting.” Position 1. Also number one for “business consulting” and “business management consultant.”

Clicks from all of those, over three months: zero.

Not a low number. Zero. Turns out you can win the thing everyone’s competing for and still not get chosen.

Subscribers and followers actually don’t affect the algorithm like they used to anymore. Individual post performance is more important and that’s actually a good thing! More reason to fuck around and find out.

What often gets the most views/engagement isn’t actually aligned with my highest value output. If you are also a niche creative take analytics data lightly. Or use it to your advantage. My most popular pieces on Substack or Instagram are rarely my favourite most soulful work. Sure I could lean in that direction but I also don’t have to.

Feel free to take Mythra’s advice here: be the click bait you wanna see in the world.

It’s literally only been a few weeks since I started all this and I’ll likely do another recap of lessons learnt. But for now this is it. This is what 5 podcast episodes, 2 YouTube videos, and 40 shorts and reels have taught me.

Stay tuned or join the CCC for more :P

here are my take-aways (though there are many more!!)

disappointment is a catalyst; a call to action

it’s easy to perceive not getting what you want as a sign you are on the wrong path. but the universe doesn’t work in binaries. wanting something is human, not getting it is godly magic—pulling you to something else—something better.

true friends let you venture (into the unknown)

by all modern standards, her idea to go to harvard would be met with “decenter men” answers and “girlfriend getaway” weekends. neither would honour her real desire and her highest truth. friends let friends follow weird whims. friends don’t tell friends to not care about something they care about.

salons are church & beauticians are gods; their chair a confessional

beauticians are some of the least judgemental people i have ever met. i spent 15 years as a hairstylist, so i know this to be true. find your version of a salon, with a god who’s in touch with their own desires so they don’t shame yours.

smart people chase dumb ideas

it’s easy to see Elle’s harvard idea as dumb—but i’d argue that the uglies who are there to fulfill some weird family status quo are dumber. they’re also more likely to hate the reality of their choices.

dumb people chase smart ideas

in general, the most rational ideas are most often the actual dumbest ideas. beware of “smart” ideas. rarely is anything smart or rational that revolutionary.

be the pink you want to see in the world

be the weirdo—the odd one out—the one who breaks the mould and makes everyone uncomfortable for just being themself. the best way to challenge archaic and hierarchical systems is to enter them like a fool—confidently and with a smirk.

a crush is a call; answer it

to desire is to be alive; otherwise we’d all stay in bed or die. to deny yourself the pleasure of wanting is to deny your humanity—get a grip. it’s all an experiment.

support is on the other side of vulnerable sharing

notice how much momentum is built when she’s honest about what she’s after? notice how she feels less alone and more supported by just sharing her quest? be on a quest or die trying. truly. anyway, if you succeed alone—have fun cheers-ing yourself.

doing it all alone is less fun

find friends who celebrate with you. notice how her friends bond over the good and the bad. notice how they all have their own quests and aren’t in competition with each other. notice how they're quite accepting of each other's absurdities. that’s trust. that’s community. get with it.

bend and snap your way out of helplessness

if you freeze in the face of a crush or desire—you’ve got to find an action that helps you snap out of it. even if it’s the weirdest fuckin shit—you’ve got to get out of your head and into your body. it’s the only way. notice how Paulette’s awkward snap led to a bonding moment and the beginning of a relationship? that’s real shit.

frigid bitches are always jealous

anyone who is challenged by your natural way of being—is living a lie. it’s as simple as that—people who follow systems and formulas hate to see a Barbie coming. and by Barbie, I mean a fun bitch who does whatever she wants—a person who breaks the status quo.

it’s not the guy you want; it’s feeling worthy

people and dreams are often placeholders for feelings we want. if you want the job—the man—the girl—the car—whatever—it’s the feeling of worthiness you’re after, not always the tangible thing itself. consider how you might bypass the thing and get the feeling anyway.

trust men who see you; but don’t chase you

notice how, from the beginning, Emmett treats her like a human? he’s curious and clearly in admiration but observes her without needing to own her. he sees her and gets to know her over time without budging on who he is. that’s hot.

feel your fucking feelings

notice how she’s not watching a youtube on how to get over him—no podcast insight. just “bad” advice and support to go for it and try. she wears her feelings on her sleeve—and that’s where she gets the fuel to go for it. the act of trying moves her through a feeling—because real-life results beat rationalization EVERY time.

*also love that in this scene she doesn’t need Emmet to validate her frustration. she just feels it and moves about her business. she doesn’t call her friends to vent—she uses the feelings as fuel.

don’t be afraid to live your values (even when they make others uncomfortable)

she held a secret for a person she respects—even when she had plenty of rational reasons to divulge it. at first she is dismissed as stupid—later she’s a respected genius. she stands out because she’s a stand out—she’s working from another value system all together.

proving to yourself > proving to anyone else

because she’s not after the “known” version of lawyer success—she ends up getting what the others wanted. once she starts proving to herself that she’s smart and capable of playing this game on her own terms—she doesn’t give a fuck about Warner. she has the feeling now. she doesn’t need the person.

i got plenty more where this came from, but if you haven’t watched it in a while, go watch it and report back your lessons! it’s genius. truly.

last night i felt the weight of the void.

this morning i feel like an empty basket thrilled to be filled.

i had once again scrolled too close to the sun and every word heard through the you—tube blended into sounds and the sounds felt like noise because they all lacked meaning. it’s been funny—to watch what types of content fuel me and which confuse me…

i forget if it was on discord or patreon but somewhere in the sighswoon world i saw a comment that said “i’m listening to your backlog and…” suddenly it hit me that if i needed some company—her spoken words would be a more likely partner.

as i loaded her video from 2022 about art & ritual in the age of social media—i eased into knowing. i was at the right place—there is something about people who speak their own tongue—who own their own jargon—who speak from between worlds.

the development of their own language is captivating—it invites intrigue > attention.

it got me thinking about the abundance of redundant content—how so little of it feels useful or additional to an existing conversation.

we’ve all gone a little mad—myself included.

but it’s no surprise. after watching this video—i giggled because the majority of online content seems to employ the manipulation technique Chase Hughes calls FEAR.

funny enough this astro guy is inviting us (for full moon) to observe how peoples content actually makes us feel because many induce fear/activation under the guise of empowerment.

you should leave people the same (if not better) than you found them—says Dan Savage.

but most content finds us activated, lonely, or high—so it sort of does leave us the same—and on the off chance—better.

regardless Gabi/sighswoon was talking about her approach to spells—how she insists you find your own personal symbols—because who the fuck has a symbolic attachment to mugwart or rosewater?

this makes a lot of sense to me, it’s likely why many Indigenous practices don’t speak to me. the few times i’ve been to the longhouse for ceremony—i’ve felt more empty—sometimes lost/confused or performative. it’s hard for me to find meaning in a ritual i never practiced—nor witnessed the benefits of.

this speedy train of thought brought me to ask claude what he thought my personal symbols were for support and money. he said “your hair scissors likely symbolize earned support but it could be interesting to find a symbol of support outside of efforting.”

BARS claude—BARS.

i was like damn you are right—when i think of my hair scissors—they feel solid, earned and prideful. i’d like to cast a spell but definitely do not want to invite another opportunity of this sort in.

i placed my wallet open by the window—ready to receive—be filled and i sat on the couch wondering…when was the last time i felt supported without earning it?

supported for just existing?

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it’s been a fucking week!! i dunno if it’s the planets, this cultural moment or just my personal ecosystem—but it’s felt like a pressure cooker over here.

the good that came of this though, was that i’ve completely restructured how i’m doing business. i’'ve come to terms with the fact—i’ve quite literally done enough.

and you know what?

you know what my true deepest desire is? to be paid for my work.

this is quite literally my fetish and always has been—nothing lights me up more than getting a big fat invoice paid or unexpected money landing in my account.

i’d bet you feel similar.

i’d bet you too have been scrounging the web for tips, tricks, solutions and formulas to get paid for existing.

isn’t that the dream?

but while we all seem to agree on that—there’s something atrocious that keeps getting in the way. something uncomfortable and confusing.

there’s a game we’re playing, and we don’t even realize it.

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i woke up slightly frantic today—i’d fallen asleep to miscellaneous youtube videos after inhaling a random array of snacks. i was craving chocolate—but had to settle for some pita crackers and my daughter’s costco snacks (my checking account held $2.)

the moment i am kid free; i become a shell of myself; an alter ego. a stoner boi named josh who flips hinge with disdain after smoking the roach he stashed in the dark corner of the terasse. i become one with the couch and spread my attention over multiple screens, swapping tasks at every mild inconvienience and my mind wanders fast because nothing is good enough—not for me—not for anyone.

this is what recalibration looks like after 12 days of solo parenting. i swing in the opposite direction of child rearing—i become the sun again. i revolve around me. until i become me—fully.

mothering is great, i feel mostly me but naturally i become attuned to her rhythm and though i am far from a selfless mother—it’s impossible to march to the beat of my own drum in the presence of my daughter.

she is a very social and energetic triple leo. she says absolutely everything that’s on her mind at all times. this means she asks a question or starts a convo that even she doesn’t want to entertain—every 2 minutes.

i am an internal processor—so her presence disregulates my usual method of existence. this is the thing about parenting—it has a sort of yin/yang dynamic or co-regulation that’s hard to shake.

she’s intense; i’m calm.

she brings me out of my shell, i bring her into hers.

it’s a delicate dance that we appreciate in eachother—yet naturally it’s a contrast that makes both of us wholly aware of our different baselines.

it always takes me a day or too to recalibrate; it always starts with degenerate behaviour; with a rejection of my productive self and an over indulgence in unsatisfying consumption.

this process caused me a spiral this morning because my task list was unmotivating. despite the two dollars in my bank account, i feel no urgency to get anything done.

• i journaled

• i pulled tarot cards

• i wondered about ex’s and old friends

• i cleaned my appartment

• i got back to the couch & loaded youtube

i loaded a video about ignoring your reality (sound fun) and i listened for truths while ignoring his very business bro demeanor and the lol of him “sponsoring” his own video.

i wrote in my notebook the words that stuck, the lessons i already knew—the ones i’d learned years ago…

but how the hell does this apply to needing money? i can’t focus on money i don’t have. i curiously asked claude how he though i should apply this to my situation and he said that i should focus on tangible tasks that get me closer to money. as focusing on the problem is robbing energy from applying focus on the solution.

ah ok, i should be:

• printing my damn book

• offering my services to people i know

simple enough—only i’m resisting.

i’m not in the mood. i want peace—i want boredom i guess.

maybe i don’t even want money rn?

maybe i’m enjoying the space.

yesterday i was texted by a guy that i’d matched on hinge over a year ago. we’ve recently connected just as dance buddies and he was suggesting some parties he was going to, to see if i wanted to join.

i was thinking about it and realized i have this new affinity for my outer circle friends.

i used to not understand the concept—i used to prefer 1:1 hangs because i like to get deep and philosophize about shit so i didn’t get the appeal of maintaining relationships where we weren’t excavating eachothers insides.

but after the biggest tower moment of my life and several mismatched friendships faded—i suddenly get it.

what i love about it is there is little psychological expectations in a low maintenance friendship. it’s more about physical presence and sharing moments in action than it is about mentally supporting each other.

sure i could ask for mental support if needed but i actually like that my internal turmoil isn’t the focus of these connections. i like that i can just show up however and be however and we walk away however without taking any of it personal.

this has me thinking that maybe the loneliness epidemic is a symptom of more than the internet.

maybe all this optimizing gave us too high expectations of the people in our lives?

every chill session was organized around—eating out—grabbing coffee—a concert—a show, whatever. it was also booked on a premise of “catching up,” exchanging information about our lives.

but the recent economic shifts (and growing older) have highlighted just how badly this approach to relationships robbed us of the ability to fucking chill.

noone knows how to just be around eachother—without expectation or tangible exchange.

the last time i went dancing with this guy, we danced for all of 20 minutes before we both found our own fun elsewhere, and i low-key loved that neither of us was hung up on it.

is this what they call radical acceptance?

i recently had a new connection sever without any discussion of it.

we hung out multiple times a week for like 2 months and then we just stopped.

no one said anything. we even saw each other in the wild a few weeks later and said hi without much concern.

the level of peace this brought me was manic. (can we make manic peace a thing?)

it’s just that there didn’t need to be a discussion—there was a felt truth. we are on different wavelengths and conversing started to feel taxing.

i think we both felt it and both acted in accordance.

this experience blew my mind because over the last few years i’ve experienced many drawn out unnecessary conversations where one person grasps at a connection that is clearly gone.

i’ve been the leader of these convos just as much as i’ve been the victim of them.

they rarely lead to strengthening the connection—they serve mostly as a tool that empowers the perceived victim to state the obvious and try to gain a sense of control or authority over a loss.

it goes something like this…

“this relationship has changed and i am unhappy about how it’s changed”

“oh, i’m sorry. tell me what i can do”

“do what you used to do, please let’s go back.”

“hmm, ok, i can try but i can’t promise because i’ve got xyz on my plate now.”

“ok, we can try but i will be the judge of if it’s good enough.”

* cue end of relationship *

suddenly there are stakes and who wants to be in relation with someone you are already disappointing by just being yourself?

a little over a year ago i had a friend tell me that they didn’t feel prioritized anymore and they felt like i was “fuckboiing” them around.

this was funny to me because my immediate reaction was “when did i ever prioritize you?” because from my perspective, i never did. on top of it, i was now jugging an internship and university (a top parenting, and freelancing.)

my friends were quite literally (at most) #5 on my priority list.

instead of saying that or flipping shit which i could have done—i simply asked them how long they felt this way.

they replied “since we met.”

this dissolved any last bit of guilt or confusion i had—their response said it all.

they never actually liked me or our relationship.

they just liked when i paid attention to them and now that the attention was gone or less frequent—they refused to fill the gap.

they prefered to stare at the space and blame me for a discontentment that was always there. it was quite literally not my problem to solve.

i’ve seen this pattern over and over again across multiple relationships (romantic and not.)

this idea that if someone has brought us joy before, that they’ve an obligation to consistently do that forever. the idea that if you are very available one summer, i expect you to always be available or at least tell me why you aren’t so i don’t take it out on myself.

i’ve had this thought pattern too. i once thought that calling out the obvious—feeling pushed out of someone’s life would help me get back in.

now i know different.

not only does it never work but i think the idea that we are owed a consistent and long term place in someone’s life for solely existing—is faulty.

i’d also blame pop psychology’s social media takeover. because it has lead us to believe that if we are perfect communicators we can get everything we want from people. but what these carefully crafted discussions don’t do is honor that change is inevitable and it’s ok to grow apart.

it’s tempting to say it isn’t personal but you know what—it is personal and we have to be at peace with that.

think about someone you find annoying. imagine if someone felt that way about you.

now would you prefer they disengage or attempt to maintain relations with you by telling you all the ways you irritate them?

for the love of god—let me go if i annoy you. i’ll do the same.

noone is for everyone.

many of us have forgotten that every moment is a gift and to expect any moment to last forever is a lie—a set up for disappointment.

i think we drag ourselves through these muddy conversations and confrontations because we’re uncomfortable sitting in grief alone. we want it to be witnessed—validated and transformed.

but we’re seeking solace in the wrong place.

the person we’re disappointed in cannot also validate our disappointment.

if you want to feel seen and supported—ask the people who are already inviting you in. don’t seek support from someone who’s already shown you they are unavailable to show up in the way you need.

if there is no one in your life right now—then it’s time to befriend your feelings and be honest about what they are telling you.

justice is found within. turmoil is found within.

today i’m composting muck and the feeling that everything sucks. i’m witnessing the coping mechanism that is reaching for solidity in unreal places.

when today sucks—i think about the people and places of my past.

i reject the present and reflect on where i’ve been.

a therapist would likely tell me this pattern mimics my childhood coping mecanisms. my dad was both the cause of uncertain times and my mental comfort.

but here, now, today—these people i think about are not the cause for my discomfort—they are symbols, archetypes and time-stamps on my journey to now.

these people and places were wholly enjoyed and appreciated.

but what i know now, that i didn’t then—was they were built on too high expectations and unwritten agreements (that neither of us signed up for.)

maybe it’s getting older.

maybe it’s a cultural shift.

or maybe i’m finally just realizing that love and a genuine sense of belonging isn’t found in the weight of responsibility—but in the balancing of truth and desire.

in the radical acceptance that your truth and desires are welcome here—even when they don’t align with mine.

my only expectation of the people i commune with is truth—honesty. that’s the only committment i’ll accept—the only act i see as love.

but how can we trust those who show up when we’re all starving?

we can’t, but we try—until they show us otherwise.

my heart is bruised but hopeful and come to think of it—i’ve written those words before.

on july 4th i soft launched my first (grant-funded) book.

well, actually i soft launched pre-orders for the physical copy and digital downloads. it’s been almost a week and it’s been interesting.

at the same time as launching, i also had this overwhelming urge to get off social media.

i know this sounds counter intuitive but i knew it would be a distraction and i needed to focus. i also didn’t want to get into the procrastination cycle of equating effective marketing with posting.

i was reminded of this a few days before launching when i posted my link to “sign up” for the book launch newsletter. multiple people copy and pasted their email into my dm instead of clicking the link.

this was a perfect example of how social media tends to enable lazy forms of engagement so i said fuck it…lemme go as far as i can without it.

you can read about this experiment below (where i’ll be continuing to document the process)

between ( ) worlds

How far can a book go without social media?

Somewhere between this productive work day and my early bedtime—I’m hanging in my hammock at the local park (typing this article…

Read more

4 months ago · 4 likes · (Alexandra) Apple

now for the reviews!!

what i love most about these reviews is how alive they feel.

i wanted this book to be a conversation starter and i wanted it to evoke feelings of aliveness and wonder!

sounds like it did.

which is what makes this week feel successful.

and because i’m not posting about it daily, i can feel good about how it’s landing. instead of focusing on why no one is clicking the damn link in my story :P

if you want to know more about the day to day breakdown of a slow and steady launch, with stats and all…follow my between ( ) worlds substack, as i’ll be laying it all out there. there’s some juicy stuff coming.

between ( ) worlds

𝑎 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑟𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔...

By (Alexandra) Apple

i had this thought yesterday while walking through the park with my daughter.

imagine if i lose weight after deleting instagram?

imagine if the next pr campaign for quitting short form tech involved telling people they’d lose weight or glow up?

somehow i feel like that would work better than the current grasps to call out evil.

study finds that every trump filled headline causes 5lbs of weight gain

turns out discourse on discourse leads to 20lbs of muffin top

the thought made me laugh—because there’s truth to it.

if you aren’t physically bloated, you’re mentally bloated.

if you’re me; it’s both.

we could all benefit from knowing and saying less—maybe we’d actually do more if we weren’t feeling so much pressure to prove our holiness.

instagram, tiktok and even my blessed youtube are starting to feel like a cursed church hosting a black friday sale (and someone spiked the water with speed.)

i know that sounds dramatic but the righteous energy, sense of urgency, and lack of intention truly mirrors the worst of america, or shall i say the worst of capitalism.

many of us have been tethered to the scroll for business, for events, for reels, for the off chance that maybe something i say in a post will resonate with enough people that it offers me some capital.

but what i’m finally seeing clearly is that the quality of it’s offer is null.

temu level at best.

a follower doesn’t mean shit anymore, a like or a comment either.

this is likely what the Enshittification book is about but i’m not going to bother reading it because i already agree. i already know.

and that’s exactly what it feels like on the internet right now.

it’s just a bunch of shit i already know.

a bunch of shit.

that’s it.

and i realize that i’m saying the internet, but what i really mean is the places we go for content on the internet. because who is surfing the web like it’s 1995 right now?

not enough of us.

do you remember what it feels like to surf your own wave?

to answer your own questions?

to guide your own path?

i’m currently testing how far my book can go without social media, because that’s the data i actually want.

i be sippin’ that haterade lately—and i doubt i’m alone. so here’s what i’m bitching about these days:

online discourse is so redundant that it’s irrelevant and obsolete the moment it’s published

i barely need to elaborate, just look at any feed. i quite literally do not need to read beyond the title as i either already disagree, agree or don’t care.

ketamine killed the dancefloor

no one knows how to have fun anymore. i was at the club yesterday—to dance as a 38 year old does from time to time. and i’ve come to the conclusion that ketamine killed the dance floor.

i understand why less people are drinking, the price is ridiculous and the hangovers are annoying but it’s lead many to rely on drugs. and over the past while it seems to be ketamine. i’ve never done it because anytime i see someone on it they look tweaky and disassociated which genuinely isn’t a feeling i’m after.

i much prefer more immersive experiences that keep you present, sensitive and feeling very alive. (molly?)

i don’t go out often but when i do, it’s to dance and escape the monotony of the day to day. but every time i’ve been out for the last year or two i notice very weird patterns on the dance floor.

not only do people not shut the fuck up but the tweaky energy of people shifting locations every ten minutes is distracting. it goes dance floor → smoke break → bathroom → repeat. the avoidance of the present moment is STARK. the avoidance of the point is GLARING.

for fun i googled “does ketamine make you want to dance?” and i got this answer

looks like i am right. slow rhythmic dancing or trance-like dancing is entirely my problem with the dance floor right now.

the only time i go out dancing is when i can sleep from 8pm til 11, so i arrive at midnight, when things are supposed to get interesting.

but here the thing—they haven’t been getting interesting at all. because everyone is either in a trance like disassociated state or the DJ isn’t picking it the fuck up. i play better jams on my spotify. i’m having more fun on my bike ride home with an airpod in.

i’m only agreeing to fuck up my sleep schedule for a chance to FUCKING DANCE—not to sway side to side for 3 hours.

i’m open to other hot takes but this is where i’m settling for now.

we are in a customer service recession

another thing i noticed on arrival to the club was how checked the fuck out staff was. the coat check girl quite literally did not look up from her phone and the bar tenders were blasé at best. even the DJs were so focused it felt everyone was clocked into their 9-5.

at restaurants these days no one gives a fuck about if you actually liked the food. no one cares to even pretend they care. and most baristas are asking you to tip before you even got your drink.

a couple weeks ago i ventured to a new cafe near a meeting spot and was literally blown away because she asked

“what are you up to today?”

not how are you—have a good day—the sugar is over there.

just like i’m sick of servers asking “is everything good/to your taste?”

how about a little fucking curiosity? but no because everyone is being choked by the understaffed dgaf clock.

in terms of parties, i’d love to see a revival of party hosts/curators and social people who know how to gather people. you know people who give a fuck about how a crowd is behaving to a set.

i get it, rents are expensive. people aren’t drinking like before, clubs need to charge cover now or make up for lost alcohol sales in other ways but it’s costing us the point.

maybe house parties are the answer.

i dunno but something is off and i’m not the only one noticing. but what the point of gathering in public if it’s void of humanity?

hinge & dating was more fun during the pandemic

make it make sense. i guess the added fear of death made dating more fun but it’s turned into such a dry experience. things went from “if loving this is wrong, i don’t wanna be right: pizza” to “let’s make sure we are on the same page about: ACAB & free palestine.”

look i’m free palestine too but who the fuck isn’t at least here in montreal on the queer side of hinge.

there are people who wanna meet today, there are people who take 72 business hours to respond and there are people like me who aren’t going to give you a slot in my schedule if you can’t even summon a solid 15 minutes to chat.

i love impromptu spontaneous dates but what a 15 minutes does is most often reveal that everyones love of transparency is avoidance at best. why are you on here if you aren’t over your ex? why are you on here if you aren’t available? why did u match me if you don’t wanna flirt?

if i throw you a flirty bone why can’t you take it?

can everyone get a fucking grip cuz i can’t.

AI is winning because humans are behaving like robots anyway

people online bitch a lot about ai. but they are bitching even more about people using ai for therapy. they are also bitching about how sad it is that people are relying on it for friendship/advice etc.

but here’s the thing most people don’t want to admit. they aren’t good friends. they aren’t any more real than a fucking llm. they are curated, calculated and boring af.

if you aren’t making me laugh nor bringin any vibes to the table, what is the point? truly. and it’s not about being positive all the time. i can rant for 15 minutes straight and still make it funny. stop being so serious.

take a risk for god sakes.

we are at a point where we need more lore as humans anyway, we need stories to tell. there’s nothing to say if all you’ve done is scroll for 4 hours on youtube. nothing to report there is there?

so yeah like maybe we all need to be a little messy. text your ex—kiss a stranger, flash the neighbours i dunno. indulge in your humanity a bit—just for the thrill of it.

in real life—no one cares about online discourse—in fact no one is heated about anything

should you have the opportunity to actually socialize irl these days—notice how no one is talking about whatever to hot topic is online. at most they may mention a movie they went to see “that’s trending” but otherwise no one is talking about incel culture, celebrities, the fall of the patriarchy, politics and whatever else the algorithm is serving.

even better no one is trying to sell you a masterclass or mentioning beach bodies or stanley cups (sorry first dumb thing that came to mind) and trendy items.

in fact the most common denominator irl is that most people are losing their minds and feel a lil confused about the state of things.

which i don’t blame them because yesterday i bought a pack of 8 hot dogs, with a pack of 6 hot dog buns and nothing has ever made less sense.

but that’s just how life feels lately doesn’t it?