Feral Ramblings and Learnings

I feel feral. I am no longer suitably socialized to exist functionally. I can no longer hide the pent up everything from the past year. In middle school, a popular girl invited me to a pep rally. She offered to do my make up, I was excited.  Instead she drew with black sharpie all over my face. I couldn’t wash off the marks. I feel a similar humiliation. My loneliness, silliness, goof/ jerk inner child energy is in charge. Responsibilities are leaking through the crack of my bedroom door, but I keep my vibrator on and the volume to House Hunters UP!

 Astrologically, I was sitting pretty the past few months during what was supposed to be deep wound shadow time. Mercury is out of retrograde now and it is supposedly a portal into a much deeper aligned reality. But I don’t effing know. The spring being here, and the one year anniversary of quar, brings this whole humanity emergency into a surreal, twisted fun house mirror version of itself and I seem to be matching the chaos, but with some intention to be purposely crazy, silly, stupid. 

In the beginning of quar, I looked at this as an opportunity to get ahead. The horrible “get ahead” productivity machine was still well oiled through March and April.  The “should lifestyle” was in full force. ‘I should be at a different career level.” “I should be having more fun.” “ I should be hotter.” I should finish my projects, and learn how to sew, and expand myself. But the rigidity of the world we are leaving behind, co-opted my yearnings for change and turned them into mental noise, and ways in which I judged myself. “You still don’t know how to make Shakshouka!?Are you...ok??” I had a need to prove something to myself, but it was just ego ramblings as I approached the age of thirty last summer and the fear of dying crept in more and more as the number of deaths raised and my awareness to the blind spots of  my own ignorance, and prejudices came forward. Instead of my March pandemic “goal” of turning into Super Woman Bridey, by the end of last year I was stinky goo. The kind one would find on the metal underpart of a movie theater arm rest.

Now that any wave of relentless self improvement clinging is over, I  see that mortality is what was behind it the whole time. Fear of not being enough, of course, is a big one for all of us, and hopefully the structures that encourage and motivate this belief are dismantling within us and externally. Or we’re all just jerking off, I have no idea. My only real desire is to do the stupidest crap I can think of that also could bring joy. Be crazy, but with intention to grow. 

So how does one be purposely crazy? Go to Universal City Walk if you are in LA. No place feels as gloriously stupid as the outdoor mall across from Universal Studios. It’s the only place that has a hint of amusement park energy, yet the only thing you can do there is buy Fossil sunglasses and fart while you eat pasta from Buca di Beppo. However, City Walk has a very warm place in my heart. In my youth, when my dad was working in LA, my sister and I would visit him and seemed to spend days by ourselves walking around City Walk waiting for him to be done with work. I knew the aisles of Billabong like the back of my hand. Afterwards, my sister and I would go back to the Sheraton Universal and try to make strangers in the jacuzzi uncomfortable by hitting on each other as though we were single tourists. “So, you come here often?” We were 10 and 13.

Yesterday, was the third day in a week that I went to City Walk with my friend Charles. We shot a video there as youtube personalities giving a walking, selfie stick tour. Although in full cosplay,  we were delighted by the non-reaction of the city walk population. No one thought twice about our costumes. We were real and there was something very psycho about it, the acceptance of our characters, led us to lose ourselves completely. Afterwards, we had a feeling of “what just happened/ who are we” Perhaps in this malleable reality time, we are all being blessed with powers to channel more directly. And what better energy to channel into the world than those of youtube personas obsessed with dated pop culture!

My friend Angela, is the other friend in my pod. On Sundays, we have developed a ritual of play time- a commitment to exploring our creativity, and nurture parts that seem to be stuck. Last week, a good portion was spent watching Farrow vs. Allen.  To energetically cleanse afterwards, we danced mostly in the buff to BareNaked Ladies. It was an empowering and stupid combination. I particularly am inspired by Jamie Lee Curtis’s crotch accentuated dancing style in True Lies, and wanted to channel that.  I put up a video of it, but too many men were claiming to have cum into their hands so I took it down. Sharing vulnerability is a double edged sword I suppose.

 Regardless, I am allowing light to shine on aspects of myself that are less accustomed to my willingness to indulge. I hope the same for you, that you are prioritizing the underfed parts of you.  And in this weird period of baby steps towards a new world, I hope we can find a deeper way to move forward.  To quote Yoko Ono “I think its better to dance rather than to march through life, don’t you?” Careful, this was a cheesy one. I hope you are not lactose intolerant and on the toilet barfing out your ass right now.