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I get wanting to be a witch, what if you want to be a familiar and serve a witch
like yeah my witch is my master but only because i chose to devote myself to you. because you, my witch have earned my devotion, and that itself is a privilege for you, and only you
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Your brain doesn’t just need structure — it needs recess. 🎨🧠Here’s why unstructured, unsupervised creative play is essential for writers (and especially for neurodivergent minds). #WritingLife #CreativeRecess
September (Earth, Wind and Fire?)
All of a sudden the year has turned and my brain is full of energy and questions. 1) Is it weird that I want a mini fridge in my study cubbyhole here so I can have wee drinks and nice snacks? 2) Why is my brain full of cleaning energy? 3) Why does the autumn make me want to sort stuff out?
I've told myself in the past that it's because I am the child of teachers, and became habituated to starting the year in September. As I've grown older I think it's just because it cools down and I can get things done. Lots is still going on and my brain needs to sort things out when it's like that. Specifically my personal spaces like my desk. There's not enough sockets or I would seriously have that fridge. I love September. It's my favourite. This September is going to be hard though.
My brain is very scattered. I might add to this.
The thing you don't remember between each grief is just how heavy it is. And each one is a different weight as well, because of how you did or didn't know the person. Some skip past like a butterfly - briefly landing before they fly away. I'm writing this the week that Olivia Newton John died, and when I heard I thanked the universe/God/Out There for all the times I watched Grease with my friends growing up, and the fun that we had mucking about doing that. And the butterfly flew on. Some you aren't sure what to do with, some come and go, like someone on a galloping horses ride. A dear friend of mine passed in early 2020 in very quick unexpected time. She's with me daily, but comes to me in a laugh or someone else's phrase. Some come only in certain seasons; of the year or of your life. Some griefs stack up like horrible building blocks, waiting to fall on you when you do something wrong. Some fill you with rocks, others at last with gratitude: that you had them, that you loved them, that you got to have the privilege of them in your life. That they loved you. One grandmother comes to me in my mothers embrace, the other in the call of geese.
Even the ones you can see coming bring with them a nauseous inevitability. You can't escape, it WILL get you. One way or another you'll be leaning on a wall under a streetlamp heaving up whatever is inside.
And some will be all of these and none of them. Frequently at the same time. But there is always the heaviness. The exhaustion. Some of it comes from the waiting you've had to do. And then the wall of admin that hits when someone actually does die. It feels disproportionately painful that you are faced with all of this when you have the least available mental resources to do anything about it. So here I am, in the middle of one, trying to get ready for the next one. Because it's coming. And it's already heavy. Everything is rocks. And I am so very, very tired.
BRAIN WANDERING
Do you practice enough “Brain Wandering”?
When was the last time you let your brains out to wander ... and wonder?
Can you recall the last time you took your brain out for a walk, as it were, unleashed?
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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I have nothing to say
Except that I’m sorry for waiting, Waiting so fucking long To tell you how you make me feel. When I’m with you, I’m flying through the space-time continuum, Bright lights whizzing and blurring past my eyes, And I look to you, And you’re already looking at me In that deep way you do, Seeing my very soul bleeding in front of you. I love that about you. I love that you know what to say to make me smile on the worst day. I love that you know what movie to take me to. I love that you know how to turn me on with the music in your car. And I love how you love me. I love you.
It just occurred to me how many people I follow that do not share common interests with me. The pointlessness of their posts are astounding.. But the same can be said for myself.
[On brain-wandering] I can be stuck in my car in traffic and not go absolutely crazy because I'm not stuck in the here and now. I can think about what happened last night. And that's great.
Paying Attention to Not Paying Attention ; Malia Mason
