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In for Tea (unclaimed journal)


Mandy

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Ugh. What the fuck is going on? (Discordant thoughts, not setting your vibration, blah, blah) Oh fuck off. 

Cathartic  as fuck. 🙂 Learned that word recently. (dumb, so dumb) Cathartic, not fuck, I've used that one for a while now or so it seems.

My throat hurts and feels all choked up and I know this isn't going in the right direction.

 

(And which one is that?) 

 

Whichever one leads to clarity.

 

Clarity is the guidance dear, not the destination. 

 

STFU

 

😐

 

I want the goddamn credit. I'm right back here again. I want to get rid of this. I want to appreciated, I want to be thanked, I want to help. Oh God, no, I'm the 400 pound superman. I hated that 15 year old kid of his sick humor, but really that's me, isn't it? I'm a 15 year old boy. Or so it seems. 

 

("Imma, Imma, I'm a...")

 

TEAL KETTLE! TEA SWAN! POP TART BURNING IN THE TOASTER. BURN MOTHER FUCKERS!  (this is so inappropriate. Maybe I should listen to classical music and I'd write something sophisticated.) Or so it seams. 

 

Ok, I see what's going on here. I. Whatever. I am trying to take the credit, me Calvin, and you, are the... guru. Ugh. I HATE that word. I want to exclude it from my vocabulary. Or so it seams. 

 

And there aren't two. 

 

This is what's happening! I can't make it normal and italicize it at the same time, but I feel the harmony. 

 

Cut it apart, sewed it together, and sew it seams. 

 

Is this just gonna get forgotten again, like yeah, I wrote myself into clarity,

 

(direction? credit? I did it?)

 

and then. Yeah I see what they do. They ALL do this. I'm in the middle of the labyrinth, the top of the mountain, and NOW WHAT? Now... what? 

 

That's all she wrote. Or so it seems. 

 

 

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Alright, so the recurring theme/message is, you just can't give a crap about the manifestation, the seams, without sort of spewing inky black smoke all over it and ruining your own perception of it. I feel like there's a more clear way to express this, but I have to get groceries. Hats, dancing, seams, your party is always in perfect chaotic order, cause it's not. Then you try to take all the hors d'oeuvres home in your oversized purse, but it's your party, and you just take home cold linty food that you stole from yourself. 

 

Analogies. 🙂

 

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27 minutes ago, Mandy said:

Alright, so the recurring theme/message is, you just can't give a crap about the manifestation, the seams, without sort of spewing inky black smoke all over it and ruining your own perception of it.

Glad i came here. Just what i needed to hear. Trying to mold a good narrative about the manifestation seems to go in the opposite direction for me lately. Just not giving a damn is what ends up the most fun.

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8 minutes ago, Mandy said:

@WhiteOwl 😊Yeah, the vested interest/personal stake kinda gets in the way of everything. Kinda like when my kid wants me to read her a book and she puts herself right in front of desk lamp light I'm using to see the book. 

Lol my cat puts his head in the way of the food I'm pouring him because he can't wait to eat it.

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Pearl, it was Pearl, the only bright spot in the whole book! Alchemy, born out of irritation, benefits neither party, and yet both. 

 

Glass onion. It's all a glass onion. Who said stupid TV shows weren't insightful AF? 

 

Thank you. Thank you for not taking too much stock in what I think and say. The last thing I want is to be taken seriously.

 

 

 

I want to be taken seriously. 

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"I want to be taken seriously." It felt SO OFF but more off to leave it out. Then yesterday unfolded in a way that showed that it was the message I wanted to take seriously, like that's who I actually am. Oh man! But there really isn't one! 😂 So I really thought that it couldn't be taken seriously. Somehow. No I didn't.

 

When you're suffering, or doing less than you're inspired to do, or no where where you can "hear" it, and you're "tolerating" that, THAT'S not taking it seriously. It isn't earnest, it isn't sincere. I wanted to avoid becoming someone who tries to teach the message, trying to be the 400 pound superman, the idealism and conceptualization as oneself as the savior of the world. Superman, the flightless chicken. There's so many 400 pound supermen. Evangelizers. Social media stars. 

 

Cringe. Cringe! It comes back in on itself. Catch the boomerang. There's nothing for it to hit. You can't miss it. 

 

It's the razors edge, it's the only place to be, and yet seems easy to fall off it. You'll know when you do. Don't just dangle there hanging off the cliff, shed the weight that isn't really you or yours and fly. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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