May. 24th, 2016

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Originally published at Curse & Quanta. Please leave any comments there.

Badlands Duchess

The Badlands Duchess Herself, Dianna Condon, leader of the Wasteland Badlands Tribe and Circus. Yes. Circus. LOVED her look. Also turns out we know a lot of the same people, as she is a sister bellydancer! Color me not at all surprised to have found this out.

This is from the Wasteland Weekend Car Show this past Saturday. It was so much damn fun.

* * *

Have unfortunately read a few depressing author blogs talking about how they’re not going to bother with trying to have a writing career anymore, because they didn’t/don’t sell. They’ll write for themselves. But no one will see it. Something about that really bothers me and makes me feel so fucking sad.

And then there was a comment I saw on a photographer who I admire, on his Facebook, from a fan who chastised him for using smoke in a shot because it was “pollution” and why didn’t he have more respect for the Earth? The photographer in question is a huge environmental activist and supporter. I just can’t even.

Color me crazy, but one photographer’s use of smoke in a shot is not the reason the world is dying. Talk about aiming the ire in the wrong direction. But that’s just it. People don’t feel they can be heard by those in actual power, so they turn on each other like rats in a too small cage.


I see posts from my peers that mean in varying degrees that things are shit today. Which is okay. Some days are shit. Pretending they aren’t doesn’t make them go away. Bad days exist. Refusing to acknowledge them, again, doesn’t make them go away. It just dismisses lived experience, which I’m finding is a super bad idea for mental health.

I feel beaten today. I have to get an additional gig as fast as possible. There’s the bare bones of it. I don’t like being desperate, and I’m not? Because it’s not desperation so much as urgency and I don’t handle stress and pressure very well right now. Depression is telling me I’m alone and no one wants to be my friend or even wants to know I exist, and really no wants me, period, which I *know* is bullshit, but there it is.

I turn 46 this year. I’m not rich and famous. I’m in process. They don’t tell you that all of life is being permanently In Process, or maybe that’s just me.

This is scattered and all over the place and that’s okay too. So I tell myself what I would tell my friends. Hang in there. This too shall pass. Get present. Breathe.

Just breathe.

* * *

The Magician cruises along at 37% with 12 days to go. I know we’ll get there. Please spread the word!


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