the reason i have trust issues is because tv shows try to make me think everything is finally alright by the 4th episode, but there’s 7 episodes left in the season
This is the kind of shit people did back in the Depression. When mortgage holds would try to sell a farm, everyone in the community showed up and strong armed any serious bidders away. They had the ‘penny auction’ tactic, where farmers would bid absurdly small amounts on farm equipment and land (while glaring intensely) until the auctioneer realized they needed to take what they were getting, or get their legs broken. This kind of stuff saved so many farms, they’d buy off 500+ dollar mortgages (which were huge amounts back then) for less than 100 dollars and give it back to the farm owners.
The lesson to take away is that only direct action and community organizing can help in such dire times.
push yourself to get up before the rest of the world – start with 7am, then 6am, then 5:30am. go to the nearest hill with a big coat and a scarf and watch the sun rise.
push yourself to fall asleep earlier – start with 11pm, then 10pm, then 9pm. wake up in the morning feeling re-energized and comfortable.
get into the habit of cooking yourself a beautiful breakfast. fry tomatoes and mushrooms in real butter and garlic, fry an egg, slice up a fresh avocado and squirt way too much lemon on it. sit and eat it and do nothing else.
stretch. start by reaching for the sky as hard as you can, then trying to touch your toes. roll your head. stretch your fingers. stretch everything.
buy a 1L water bottle. start with pushing yourself to drink the whole thing in a day, then try drinking it twice.
buy a beautiful diary and a beautiful black pen. write down everything you do, including dinner dates, appointments, assignments, coffees, what you need to do that day. no detail is too small.
strip your bed of your sheets and empty your underwear draw into the washing machine. put a massive scoop of scented fabric softener in there and wash. make your bed in full.
organise your room. fold all your clothes (and bag what you don’t want), clean your mirror, your laptop, vacuum the floor. light a beautiful candle.
have a luxurious shower with your favourite music playing. wash your hair, scrub your body, brush your teeth. lather your whole body in moisturiser, get familiar with the part between your toes, your inner thighs, the back of your neck.
push yourself to go for a walk. take your headphones, go to the beach and walk. smile at strangers walking the other way and be surprised how many smile back. bring your dog and observe the dog’s behaviour. realise you can learn from your dog.
message old friends with personal jokes. reminisce. suggest a catch up soon, even if you don’t follow through. push yourself to follow through.
think long and hard about what interests you. crime? sex? boarding school? long-forgotten romance etiquette? find a book about it and read it. there is a book about literally everything.
become the person you would ideally fall in love with. let cars merge into your lane when driving. pay double for parking tickets and leave a second one in the machine. stick your tongue out at babies. compliment people on their cute clothes. challenge yourself to not ridicule anyone for a whole day. then two. then a week. walk with a straight posture. look people in the eye. ask people about their story. talk to acquaintances so they become friends.
lie in the sunshine. daydream about the life you would lead if failure wasn’t a thing. open your eyes. take small steps to make it happen for you.
white person: *eats chicken tikka masala once* i just…. i feel so connected… to indian culture …. I’m learning to speak islam…. check out my third eye….. chakra
Every time I see this. Every damn time. I’m immediately sucked back into my fuckin. Fuckin English lit class with Mr. Fuckass McShit. Mr. “Hit the gong to begin class”, “Namaste, Children”, “I wanna go backpacking in India to find my spiritual awakening and also my left burkinstock that I lost during a cedar sauna drum circle” ass bastard.
“Do you want to share your poetry with the class to get in touch with your emotions” ass fucker. Mr. “Here’s a photograph of a tribal shaman, describe him using nature words” asshole. Pretentious-ass, condescending motherfucker.
“Do you want to tell us about your saddest memory?”
“I dunno, sir. Are you giving me an option?”
“No.”
“Then why are you asking”
Every goddamn day. Fuck. “You seem tense.” Oh, I seem tense? I seem tense. Well fuck, Professor Pillsbury, maybe I ‘seem tense’ because I walk into a room on five hours of sleep to the sound of a goddamn brass gong drilling through my brain and your seven-foot-nine, socks-and-sandals-wearing, patchouli-smelling ass immediately gravitates in my direction with some shit like “a tree……… Is a Poem” and I gotta sit here and politely tell you that No I’m Not Comfortable Telling The Class About A Time I Was Emotionally Vulnerable With A Loved One using words that sound like the way the color yellow smells. Maybe I don’t wanna sit in a circle and hold hands with Brittney from Computer Sciences to “align our auras” or some shit. Fuck. Fuuuuuuck.
I swear to God, if I wanted to sing ‘kumbaya’ with a smelly old guy with gross facial hair who writes bad porn on the side, I’d go out to the parking lot and share a Hookah with Crazy Dan, the disgraced electrician.
What, I don’t wanna do an interpretive dance to represent the spiritual experience of eating Quinoa in a room full of ambivalent preteens and suddenly I’m the ‘troubled youth’ you need to Robin Williams “O Captain My Captain” your way into having a Paternal Bonding Moment powerful enough to Expand My Impressionable Young Mind and Turn My Life Around, you goddamn saint, you? Jesus Fucking Christ. You insufferable jackass. You’re not “Enlightened”, you rolled out of bed and ate half a pot brownie, wrote a sad song about a leaf, and strolled into class to ramble about your Spirit Animal for six hours straight before calling it a day. Holy Jesus goddamned Christ. Fucking Balls, sir. Holy Fucking Balls
Okay but I wanna know what Crazy Dan did to become a disgraced electrician
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