what up my b

Drop everything and pay attention to me listen to me. Okay good you already did that. Did you know that the last time I blogged here was in December? Yeah, that’s the longest drought my homies but why is today so special? Well I have an abundance of self confidence is one. It comes, it plateaus. I’m ambivalent. Cocky. I gave up. Nahh. I finally got my hair done, which helps a bunch then I got more sun on my skin, likin’ how I am looking but namely the Vitamin D for sure saves the day creatively speaking. If I am bummed then I do not feel like opening up, exposing myself, or being seen. Enough time has passed here. I wanted to only ever be a writer which is something that has quarreled with my alleged narcissism. Or self worth, my value. Yeah, yeah, I know my voice is strong and clever and I have a mania to my thoughts that seems to never end I can turn a phrase BUT some of me the past little while was like SO FUCKING WHAT.

Not really, let me explain. I did a lot of input and very little output. I have given myself a lot of time to think and think I do. Then the ideas pile up, stifle you so much so that you don’t know where to begin. You fall out of love with yourself and start to think like everyone else has too because you don’t throw your hat in the ring anymore. More than half the work is just showing up and not to say that a lot of people’s “work” at social media wind-baggery isn’t decent or anything just saying SOooooo much over-saturation, no fucking substance, nothing new, or clever. Or I have just been over-consuming out of boredom (yes) and there are just too many instagram-dominant ventures taking over I don’t even know what I am fucking doing anymore there.

When people say I could do that — but, you didn’t lmao. I get it, I get it.

All I ever wanted was to write books and be this dweeb inhabiting a charming world so I sought out to do a lot of fun things, pursue shit, be adventurous, so I’d have things to say and to write about. I did that, but things didn’t turn out the way I thought. I get gigs and I’m privileged. I have opportunities and I also am verrrrrrry much so an under-achiever like, I’ll get to it eventually because I know my talent is that good. Or that thing will happen then somewhere along the way things will fall into place. The lazy man’s route. Which is much encoded by fear. Fear of doing nothing, becoming nothing, and quitting on yourself. Wait. I meant that I don’t like to worry about things so then I distract myself therefore I cannot worry about things. I have been protecting myself my whole life and lately I have been selfish with, myself and my time. I have played the role of observer and it makes me feel like a hot fucking waste. Good job, you did nothing.

Do I want to be an influencer in this day and age? Yes. But it’s not my bag, baby. It’s not. All that crap got in the way of the magic here. I do understand that flogging for $ is hella part of it but I am so mentally exhausted that once I do THAT post I am SPENT for any of the extra superfluous crap that I excel at — selfies navel-gazing food I ate tv I watched in between the lines gossip and humour. It’s probably because I never evolved to update certain skills, platforms too, and from burning myself out after 18 years of blogging. I have adopted a fuck it these people can wait mentality. I still want to be bigger than I am and better but there is a huge turn off in over-achievers or their racket is too good and believable. Always self-promotion and selling. Like fuck off shut up!

I think part of the problem is I don’t know what I want and I don’t know what I don’t want and I think I have this abundance of time. I was told I don’t have enough anxiety. What??? Not no more, bud. Anxiety for me works personally like the fire is lit and I now see that I am the last one to figure out that I am a loser and the abundance of time was a lie. I am just opening myself up and being vulnerable now, for once. It feels good. It feels good to talk shit and deflect then sneak in the parts that scare you the most. I don’t think I know one person who has it all figured out, do you? Even the perfectionists are unhappy. Actually tbh, they’re the most unhappy of all because they can’t enjoy what they have they are always looking to the next thing and crap to control.

Wow I’ve said a mouthful. I uploaded all these pictures from the last few days, or began to and the download process did not jive with my attention span so I wrote all this instead. I have fallen out of love with this art form in that the painstaking focus I used to grant it is harder now. Everything changes. Everything.

Picture me taking a bow.

and scene.