Creepy Blogstalkings

How clever am I with that title? Shh. Don’t even try to disagree. Full on cerebral attack. When your language turns in to gabblity gook and peeps start understanding it, what does that say about them then? So I will just own my freak flag if people call me one anyway right? Anyway it’s a play on blogstalking deriving from Pippi Longstocking.

I am the most interesting person you will ever meet. I heard that said about me, from one normie to another, yes I met Raymi and she was, pause pause pause, really interesting. Then the other leapt to my defense and said BUT she has a huge following AND BUT (a cause for a double but now! How unique is this creature exactly?) THEY LISTEN TO HER.

I fluff up my feathers.

What day is this, September still? Everything changes in the fall. Not just the weather. Our clothing, temperaments. Happiness maybe turns to glum from acceptance of the fate of the upcoming months of coldness ahead. Canadians are patient people, I like them. Yes, I like us. We get the teeniest slice of tropical climate and then it goes away and we wait for it again. It is poetic in that it involves suffering. Yes, I suffer from the weather maybe because I allow myself to. I just know that sun is where it’s at and then it’s like middle earth grey sky covered in ash, bleak and cold icing on top, for the majority of the years of my life. Yes I want to live in LA. I hear hipsters and artists eventually become miserable there too, but how will I ever know if I never go? I’ve lived all kinds of places and I’ve sacrificed one lifestyle for another in pursuit of “my dream”.

I digress. No, ramble. Using both makes me look smart.

Speaking of that. I was thinking maybe I should write more and spend less time hiccuping burps and 140 character thoughts at a time on twitter, get better at my writer’s craft. Every time there are Raymi mob lynchings they all say the same thing, my writing. JUST WRITE DICKHEAD. OKAY FINE.

Put it all in one place. I will see how long I can go in one browser only. I bet a lot of you can relate. e-late. Yes you get it.

I was called a con-artist in the last great Raymi bashing war of 2012. No, it was a direct vomment hit. But anyway I never forgot it and I think of it as a treasure because 1. It made me look at myself and 2. what is the internet if not but one giant opportunity to convince everyone that you are wittier, smarter and cooler than everybody else and we are ALL in a race for it people. Then if I am a con-artist that means I am smart, right? Con-artists are smart. Yes? What is my con? Being a fucking idiot? Swish! Getting people to hate me? Done. But, I take that as another giant victory because at least I got people to look at me, anything-me, something-me. Getting on to radars alone is important. I am evidence of this.

I was going to tweet con-artism made easy. Or as fine art, call it a day (Ray) but then thought oh no, too cryptic, what does she mean? All my frenemies will be like FUCK YOU RAYMI. Dee sent me a post she wrote once about worrying about what other people think of you, read it. When people give you advice, take it.

Anyway, I am an advisor for She’s Connected again. I’ve been thinking about what that means exactly, am I talking again? Okay well here are my advisements anyway:

Be nice to people. Don’t talk shit about other women because you point a big fat red arrow over your bitchy unhappy fucking head. Be real. Don’t ring lead or bully. Give credit where it’s do. Passive aggression is pathetic so always always call it out when it’s happening. Don’t let people push you around. Be confident and learn how to wade through this cut-throat vicious idea-stealing, brand grass-cutting toxic arena. Swim away from the sharks and you be you.

It is part of my duty to make you think you can be me. Don’t be me, be better than me. What I mean is, you have to do everything to be everything to get everything, these days. Lots of talking, game playing. Playing the game, game play. Agency wooing. Reputation over-smoothing, schmoozing. Yes, it is a lot. But those are the rules. Break some of them. Break hearts. Take names. Come with adequate table stakes. You can change. You don’t have to do what everybody else does and you can do it by doing what they tell you not to do. Impress yourself first and don’t come in last.

Kay bye.

Time to flex my feminist misogynist muscles now. Wish me luck because I am writing crazy blog rants instead of finishing my draft.