Tuesday, May 12, 2015

Dirty Laundry 50

My ribs have been killing me all day. Spasms, which if I didn't know better, I'd say it was as if someone punched me. But, I do know better. Chalk it up to those ghost pains again.

Who needs the television when your neighbours who share a kitchen wall spend the whole day straight screaming at each other. In something that's not English.  And why is it, whenever I'm trying to read/write/do a ritual when I need quiet, the neighbours decide to gather in the hallway right in front of my door and party?  I think it might be time to make a batch of hot foot powder or something. Toss hot oil and cauldron drippings at them...if I had a cauldron. Never really fell into that trapping. But my level of witchdom is another story for another time.

I had this interesting conversation the other day with an acquaintance, about fitting in. I'd like to say friend, but I haven't gotten that close to anyone in the last few years to be honest...anyways, we were talking about how fitting in can be tough. Finding your place, your tribe so to speak. It's something too that's been on my mind for weeks. Though she...this new semi-friend I've met in the last few weeks since doing tarot readings, she's the one who brought the topic up. And here's me, running with it.
All I know is that I'm exhausted by the whole thing. There was a time in my life, none of that mattered to me. Didn't give a flying rat's abdomen what anyone thought of me. Now, it's all I think about.
Fitting in. Finding that group of whomever that is on the same wavelength as me. Wavelength. That used to be a drink like 20 years ago. Iced tea if I remember correctly...anyways, at my grand old age of 41, I should not still be feeling out of place or disjointed. I should firmly be where I'm suppose to be with the people I'm suppose to be with. Only I'm not. I am still feeling like some lost puppy wandering in the woods during first snow. You know what I mean?
My plan had been high school-college-meet the man of my dreams get married-move to Edmonton-become a publishing powerhouse-open an art gallery-and be the couple that everyone around us dreamed of being.  So much for plans. The universe totally had other ideas for me. Got the high school then college part done super easy. Fast forward 20 years and well, you know the score.
Sitting here, with nothing but my blog for company.

But back to the emotional exhaustion. The video project was a failure. I'm tired of trying to meet people in the pagan/witch community. I've mentioned on here how clique-y it is. All I've accomplished on there is to feel fake and like I'm pandering to douchebags. That's not me, and I hate myself for it. I keep asking myself why it matters that those people accept me? Don't have a good reason, so time to move on from them.
The tarot readings...great idea, bad location. I've pretty much decided that if I am going to continue doing them, I need to not do them at the cafe anymore. Makes me feel like I'm whoring myself out. There's a scary thought. But I don't have a better way to describe it. Sorry.  Actually, not sorry. That's another thing, I'm sick of making myself sound like I'm less than.  Tired of bowing down because I don't look like some supermodel.  I've embraced my bride of Frankenstein-ness, but you know what, even the bride of Frankenstein was desired by both the creature and the creator...so...yeah! 

There's a whole other topic for like an essay length post for another time. The bride of Frankenstein.

No comments:

Post a Comment