Freestyle Friday

I deleted my two audio posts. Recording them was fun—and I’ll play around with that medium going forward—but I’ve resolved the issues I whined about.(1)

I’m accepting my contradictions. Not doing the Libra thing of finding the ideal space between them. Resolution sponsored by several tidbits I’ve read over the last few days with this one at the center:

Losing center is an ironic twist on the Sun’s traditional meaning-which is apparent in the glyph itself. The Sun is depicted as a circle with a dot in the middle. A unity with a center as its focal point. There are possibly a trillion galaxies in the universe, each with a hundred billion Suns. Our universe is designed for many centers. Yet we lose this revelation when we worry over much about our personal identities. Our natural radiance dims when we solidify ourselves into conditioned objects, beginning our sentences with “I’m the kind of person who.” Pinned by the gravity of taking ourselves too seriously, like a star gone supernova and become a black hole, being at center yields to merely being self-centered.

Dana Gerhardt, “The Sun.” 

I take myself too seriously. I could stand to do less of that. And I’ve been asking the wrong question. “Who Am I?” can’t be answered. The whole of our selves is too big to shrink into elevator speeches, hashtags, vision boards, or even astrology. The better, more productive question: “How do I want to show up?”

That question can be asked of a moment, of an evening, of a day or of a month. I like that.


That said, I read through old blog posts yesterday and I figured out my frustration with my social media (specifically Instagram) see-saw. Over and over again, I learn from an experience, detail that lesson here

and proceed to ignore them.

In my professional life, I frequently scream about people not reading my emails or following directions. So it’s super disrespectful when I do this to myself. Contradictions, annoying as they may be, are one thing. Doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result despite literal evidence that said thing doesn’t feel good  is insanity.

So, I’ll keep interrogating how I use social media. What am I looking for when I pop open an app? How do I feel when I post? What is the ratio of cost (because we can all agree, this shit is bad for us) to benefit?

How can I make sure I’m the master of my relationship to social media; not the supplicant?


Thanks to an episode of The Big Picture Podcast, I’m on a 70s movie kick. I started with Three Days of  the Condor (a fun spy thriller featuring Robert Redford doing amazing things for pea coats), went through The Godfather duo + The Godfather Coda: The Death of Michael Corleone(2), and Dog Day Afternoon(3).

I get why film buffs call the 1970s a peak time for cinema, even if I can’t exactly explain why. What I can say is movies back then feel adult. They were more comfortable with ambiguous endings, because they were about real people and real life—not escapist fantasies with neat little resolutions. I really appreciated that.

But don’t get it twisted. I saw Thor: Love & Thunder last Friday. Any escapist fantasy that involves a stunningly attractive 6’4″ Aussie shirtless and beating people, gods, and creatures up?

I’m always on time.

Finally, on the movie front, me and my BFF watched House of Gucci last night. I need someone to explain what the entire fuck Jared Leto was doing.


One of the transits in the Barrage of Shenanigans happening in my chart is Saturn moving through my 7th House. Saturn, being the original Big Bad Wolf of the Solar System, indicates restriction, maturity, and times of maturation through loss.

Saturn may challenge us to consider the extent to which we, as individuals, are able to stand alone and ‘let go’ of relationships and material comforts that we have come to love and rely upon. Some of its transits will coincide with periods of loneliness and emotional isolation; some simply carry disappointment as a venture built upon false reality is shown in its true colours.

Deborah Houlding, “Saturn: The Great Teacher.”

The 7th House is where we find intimate, committed partnerships. Be it marriage, long-term relationships, business partnerships, and (if you do any sort of one-to-on professional counseling) patients and clients.

Thinking about what Saturn means, it’s no mistake that I’ve given up on dating this year.

An interesting observation about “Saturn in the 7th House” horoscopes? They usually point to one of three scenarios:

  • the ending of a frivolous relationship
  • the strengthening of a long-term relationship
  • settling down if “you’ve been holding yourself back” from serious commitment.

I’ve yet to read a horoscope that says “you may commit to being alone during this time,” despite that option being right there in the interpretation of a planet that frequently signifies endings and loss moving through the section of the chart that pertains to commitments and partnership.

As if an informed, interrogated choice to be (romantically) alone isn’t even a possibility.


What I’m Into…

  • I’m challenging myself to always be reading a (physical) book on writing craft. My current read is On Writing Well: A Memoir on Craft by Stephen King. I’m in no rush to finish; it’s my “This is on the nightstand for evenings I want to wind down with a book” book.
  • Additionally, I want to read one piece of short non-fiction and a piece of short fiction per week. I need to exercise my “read like a writer” muscles. As much as I love my audio smut, that genre doesn’t produce the best prose.
  • Doja Cat’s “Vegas.” I stumbled on it on YouTube because “What the fuck is Doja Cat doing on the Elvis Motion Picture Soundtrack?” She kills this. I don’t always love her stuff (because, you know…old), but she’s clearly a star. And I like this song quite a bit.

That’s all for now. Catch you for a post or two next week.

___

(1) For now.

(2) We do not acknowledge The Godfather 3.

(3) Michael Corleone may be Al Pacino’s magnum opus, but for me, his performance in Dog Day Afternoon is his best. He shattered me in that movie.

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a girl named rob

I used to be "skinny black girl." I'm now a slender woman on the other side of 35 with no new moniker who is not quite interested in writing under her given name. Still writing my life, a day (or some months) at a time. Also, still black.

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