Kinda Ouchy

The ache is terrible, makes the head real hazy. It's easy to feel foolish in moments like this, but without it life would be too quiet to bear. 

I try to push it out, far from any realized thought - reality. But thoughts drift to that cozy all too familiar place we all need, like oxygen. I just try not to suffocate in it. Exhale. Busy myself. Watch something willfully distracting. 

It ain't easy.

The mystery gives it life, the unknown... sometimes the truth ruins it. And right now, in this time and place of existence, I'll keep the truth on the shelf. Like I said, it ain't easy. I'm not ready to turn on the vacant light. Sooo bad, I know, but that's okay, for now.

One day, soon, the light will turn on. I've been praying, trying to make new what's been dead. What can I say? What's out there has been laughably sad, and it makes the wait all the more quiet. The last thing I want is to fix, re-dress, re-make. I don't believe in that kind of control. Just as-is. But my as-is doesn't seem to exist at this moment. 

I've never believed in justifying enough of anything, prove anything, validate anything. The truth should be obvious. Less is more, always, less is more. Too many pretty words blur what's true. So just shhh.

And step out of the kiddie aisle.  

Casper Isn't Friendly

When the pavement suddenly turns cold, the chilled breeze sweeping past your cheek, and the leaves drop dead fast on the ground, you know one thing for sure - Halloween is just around the corner. 

I did the trick-or-treat thing as a kid, came home with pillow cases filled with candy bars and full packs of Bubblicious. In my neck of the woods people dished it all out. I even dished it out, passing candy out to friends, ordering pizza, and topping it off with a ghoulish flick like CHUD. It was fun to feel scared, to see something inhuman and evil confined in a television. You're safe on the other side. 

Ignorance truly is Bliss.

You see, Casper was and is a complete con. For those too young, Casper was a "cute" little ghost who was friendly and seeking someone to play with, and he would win many over. He was a sweet innocent con-job, setting many up for the ultimate lie. Call for Casper to come and play, and indeed a lifetime of "play" "IT" will provide. And one of the most assured ways to open the door to let him/IT in is though a talking board. And this time of year is when talking board sales spike.

Caveat Emptor: Buyer Beware

I contacted Hasbro, a toy company, asking them to put a disclaimer on this particular game, for it is anything but an innocent game. Talking boards/Ouija boards are actually a gateway to something many are unfamiliar with. You may WANT to believe you're contacting Elvis, your dead grandmother/dad or Benji, but you are not. Demons/spirits will and do disguise themselves very well. And they know details about your life because they don't work alone. It's like that song by Rockwell "Somebody's Watching Me". You are being watched, and when the time is just right, when you're straddling the line of spiritism, they will come together to reveal themselves, gain your trust with a few truths, and start to slowly reel the hook. Emphasis on "hook". 

Will you take the bait?

The word Occult in its original Latin text means "hidden" or in secret. And there are many branches to this tree, when a person makes a willful choice to communicate with something not of this realm. Don't be surprised when reaching out into the unknown, no matter what anyone says or assures of safety. When dabbling in the Occult or spirits/demons, there is no such thing as safe. Only God/Jesus and his Warring Angels are safe, except to a demon. 

I've known people who dabbled with talking boards, I even "played" as a teen, and their stories as well as mine are not one to share flippantly. All I can do is try to advise people to play something else, to look and seek elsewhere for excitement. But if curiosity does manage to snare the cat, and you do mess with it, and something does reach out and doesn't go away, never allow it to hangout. Contact a Christian church in your area, google "deliverance ministry" explain your situation and they will clear it out. 

My advice: Don't do it.       

Say What?

The caffeine is buzzing in my chest, or is it just massive amounts of inhaled dense smoke? 

I spent the evening in someone's backyard. There was a fire pit/instrument. The ashes flaked into the breeze like a delicate snowfall. It looked pretty, but it's hard on the lungs. My lungs.  

I left early: A group of writers and actors going through two scripts. They seemed real nice. Too soon to make any hard-line thoughts. 

But the snowflakes killed it for me. My chest feels like it's on fire.

I hope this fire burns elsewhere. To refresh a parched land. To strengthen a new crop. To start anew. 

Don't

It did creep upon us, didn't it? So sly and slithery, well intended for all of mankind. But who still hides behind the gated curtain? Pulling the strings, creating chaos, inciting the drumbeats of war.

War is on us. It's been pumping through the airwaves, crash landing in living rooms, spurred around water coolers, and plaguing the already over-headed streets.

Look! Up in the sky. The plane. The plane. 

What great angles you have dear brother. How timely your gaze. Just like your father, aren't you? It's always about you and no one else. Instruct everyone else to obey your still heart. Reverse every truth into a lie. 

I see your game.

All great mountains will self-destruct in time. The watcher watches all, and armies can be summoned in a single beat. The invisible is not invisible to all. A handful can see beyond the naked eye. But you already know that. You know who YOU are. 

It began with a lie, and the branches of such repercussions have reached us all. Every single one of us. None can escape such a fate. 

side note: We all need a good friend to tell us "don't". She needed a friend in that moment. I wish I was there for her. 

The world now requires an endless lens. It has endless ears too. And Pinocchio is dead. Dumbo is dead too. The strip search has whittled us to the bone, actually slivers of us remain. But I'm not dead, yet.

The lens will take everything we hold dear. Take a deep breath, right now. How precious is that?  

The transition will feel just as free, to start. The burden of baggage, gone. What a relief. But the King wants more, his invisible numbers will replace all that is real. Empty pockets will burn, just like an empty stomach. But don't worry about it. It won't hurt a bit. It's so small. You won't even now it's there. I just need your hand of consent. 

No hand? Fine. Nothing for you.   

btw. There's more of us. 

Freedom Refine

There's a massive break happening right in the middle of where life begins. The crack feels so deep it devastates me to think of how much deeper it can go. So many have slipped through it already... is it possible for them to see the hand that's reaching out to them, begging them "grab on". 

You see, many will instead watch hours of television, like Dancing with the Stars, cheering on a complete stranger, feeling better for a split second when their choice gets the highest mark. It means something to them, which is fine, but to be brutally honest with those in teleDOOM, life truly beings beyond the box.

The lies are getting strong and many are too lazy, or just have no idea anymore how to discern fact from fiction. The script is too good, or perhaps people are more stupid... I truly have no idea. Or maybe it's a dulling of the senses. A suppressing of instinct that has collapsed due to the mind-numbing avalanche deemed political correctness. 

Why not choose to be a pineapple? Or a coconut. Why are sooo many choosing to be strawberries? Bruised so easily. Emotionally stunted, which impairs discernment. 

Why?

Are we all just unhappy because deep down inside, in the inner part of our being, we know, truthfully, there in the stillness of the night when everything is turned off that something in this world is terribly wrong? Terribly. 

Can we even feel that? Or has the mindset of option and having choice as a living, breathing, human being changed so much that we're just happy the way it is? 

What with the lying box and lying print media constantly convincing you that everything is a-okay, more than okay. It must be okay. In fact, if you see something wrong, there must be something terribly wrong with you. You're ignorant. You're not like us. Scram. 

We're not allowed to think for ourselves anymore. Like, truly have independent thought, that makes us individuals. No, no. We must be a collective. Unite. Be as one. We represent love in doing so. It sounds so right, doesn't it? It does. I'd buy into in, if I was 13 years old, never having known free speech, never having lived my formative years encouraged to think for myself and strive to be myself, as was cheered on by awesome teachers and friends alike. 

It's different now. 

It's easy for my generation to see this, though many see it and are still fine with losing their speech, because life is still easy for them. Their inner world has not changed just yet. But it will very soon.

Which pill did Neo take again... Red pill?  

Sorry, I don't mean to generalize by using such a cultural image, but in taking the red pill (going down the rabbit hole) one does truly wake up. And truthfully, as awakening as it is, it's also heartbreaking. More heartbreaking cause so many choose to remain asleep. Waking up takes effort, research, weeding out disinformation and coming to grips that the system has been in place for so long and you (me) in this system can feel very helpless.

I'll leave with this: martial law, biometrics, Ai technology, elimination of physical money.

It's what is almost never spoken about with clarity or in fullness for the layman to comprehend. Truths that the lying box will never speak of.

Comfort breeds chaos. False fear strips true freedom. In essence, we're fucked.

But we're growing.  

Turn the page. Quick

I've been so freaking blah lately. It feels freaking awful. There's this certain percentage of blah running about my life right now. It feels like a crazy, sometimes useless feeling. Or more a dreadfully alone and at times blank and endless state.

I have no definition of what this blah pertains to... possibly extreme boredom of some kind. I've been in this non-existent routine of blah for what feels like far too long. 

Must I venture elsewhere to eradicate this perpetual feeling of blah?

Possibly.

Or possibly not.

But what can it be...

It's not writer's block.
Or the sudden death of a friendship.
Or the need to buy something pretty.
Or eat something yummy.
Or watch something funny.

But it's something. 

I think I need a nice day at the beach. To sit by the water. Under the sun. Read something funny. Maybe the Knocked Up script. Could I be vitamin D deficient...? 

I'm grasping.

Is this the slow start to a crisis or the slow beginning of new chapter? 

Though painful, with bleak visibility, I'm gonna will it to be a new chapter. 

Next is Blank

I finished my script. It feels awesome in this sad, lonely, exciting, totally freaked out way. The characters took some time to envision, what with working almost till the tail end of 2015, then the injury and surgery. But, nonetheless, they were chatting in my brain, and I was getting to know them.

Tiny side note: So far I have applied to one job, and that's it. I don't know what else to do? It's freaking upsetting, in this way, when you get to a point in your life when settling becomes a dire word. I refuse to settle in life, in every sense of the word. Beyond stubborn. Yeah, that's me.

I'm not gonna touch the script for a week, maybe two. Sit back for a while. Rest my eyes from the glaring screen. 

Regular side note: I recently met two men of a certain age and persuasion. From what I could surmise it was clear that they weren't very socialized around modern women, which sounds crazy "modern women", but everyone has come across this type of man. We met at a gathering, conversing about film, and when opinions started to clash I was called out - reprimanded. Like, "calm down," one said. 

Well, my voice never changed, I just wasn't swayed by their opinion. Like, for some reason, my observation was shut down. Why? Because I'm a woman? Because I appear much younger than I am? It's a strange truth that many women experience, especially when they look much younger. 

I don't know where this script will go? Complete mystery. I'll do the rounds, and leave it to God. I did my part, which is write. I really enjoyed seeing how these characters evolved. I feel close to them in this way. Like, they're my friends. Sounds crazy.

Only time will tell.

Selfish me VS the World

I was sharing with a friend early this month that I wanted to do something "unselfish". To give back, which I used to do when I younger - when time felt limitless. Unlike now. The cruel hand of the "life-clock" feels like it's on a mission to terminate. Termination date unknown.

side note: Did you see that scrolling yahoo article about being able to know how or when you will die... Yeah, like why would anyone want to upset the years they got left with that stressful suggestion? 

So, my friend was asking what kind of work I was looking for, having been out of work due to heal and repair time.

I'd like to. Hope to. Get out of this selfish mode, a way of being that comes much too naturally. To fulfill thy self. And I got this puppy down in spades: no kids, no companion, no dependents. Just me to fill the ticking days of this life-clock. My friends are all the same, which doesn't help this inner-focused mindset, where marriage is an out there fantasy, due to the lack of options, and the maternal clock also has yet to start ticking. Yes, birds of a feather. 

Find someone good enough to be the father of your child, and perhaps the ticking will spark. Than again, my friends and I are very aware of the world we're living in. We're afraid to bring children into this fucking mess.

But yeah, this job thing. Freak, it's utterly, freaking terrible. Do I even try getting back to the min 15hr day??? Though, it is where I most feel at home... Urrggg!!!

Like, I see it, on the street. I don't drive. I walk, take the bus, and I'm not hooked to a device that sucks away my attention. I see what's out there. So many lost, sad and lonely faces. There's a lot of need out there. Sure, it's out there globally, but start in the city you live in first.    

My hands are wringing, and I'm getting tired.

But I am writing. That's the highlight. Going good so far. Large ensemble, female driven (no whores, hookers, rape victims, super heroes). I hope to finish it (knock on forehead X 3).

haven't written in so long. if anyone read this - cool.