Listening to Let's Have A Kiki by Scissor Sisters

Sophia said I should name this 'thinking about releasing the log' but it felt too graphic when I thought about it sober. Although, spiritually, she was on the money.

We’re in a heatwave here. It’s currently 39 degrees outside. Tensions are high. I’m spitballing here. Your honour I have 33 subscribers. This is exciting to me. I feel guilty I didn’t share anything last Monday. Please forgive me and my irregular practise. Especially my 7 paid angels, for whom I’m indebted to. I owe you big time. I’m sharing more tea today to make up for it. I’m feeling nervited about it. I hope you all will love me anyway. Let me know if not in the comment section. But actually don’t. Positive affirmations only. Focus on the good and I promise you the good will get better.

It was Labour Day last Monday here in America. According to my good friend Google, it’s “a federal holiday that honors the American labor movement and the contributions of workers to the country's development”. I took the holiday personally (classic me) and felt guilty that I should have been labouring instead. Alas, I was in the Sequoia National Forest all weekend. Guilty! I went for a 3 hour hike though so I still laboured. I didn’t feel like I deserved to rest without it. Bella said she understood how I was feeling but she also wished I didn’t feel that way. That was a kind thing to say. I love her. She sure makes a fabulous camp Mother.

We had zero reception from Friday through to Monday and it was heaven. We all got dirtier than I can ever remember in the entirety of my camping history, which began when I was 3 months old. My fondest memories camping are from later on in my childhood in New Zealand, when we used to spend two weeks every summer holiday in Waimarama Beach. When I was 15 I came third in the Miss Waimarama competition. My friends from the campsite signed me up, no matter how much I protested against the idea. I had to stand on the back of a truck in a bikini in the scorching hot sun and ended up doing the running man to break the ice with the crowd. Then I stepped off stage and stood on a wasp. Not sure what the lesson was there. That night the owner of the campsite gifted me a handmade trophy and told me I would always be number 1 in her eyes. Love her.

Last weekend the forest floor was so sooty, we were absolutely covered in grime, there was no beach in sight and the wild fires meant the air was thicker than the tension I felt for giving myself time off from working. Fortunately, we bathed in fresh river rock pools and came out feeling smooth as butter. We were christened. We shared silence. We napped. I feel new again. In the psychedelic community they would call this a rebirth. Now I’m home, I’m capitalising on it (there I go again) and trying something new.

I’m writing when I’m down, instead of when I’m up. Or should I say, I’m choosing to share a different side. You see, optimism is my super power. It’s my coping mechanism. It’s how I survive. My mum even noticed when I was hungover on Saturday, I said" “oh no I’m not hungover at all”, and she said that my little sister does the same thing when she’s hungover. We both like to downplay our feelings it seems.

Reminds me of this story my Mum shares, about the time I cracked my head open as a 2 year old, after falling head first into a concrete flight of stairs at full speed. Turbo as. We’re sat in the hospital, blood running down my face as the nurse comes closer and closer with her injection of anaesthetic so she can stich me up, to which I say “I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m so fine everyone, I can go home now, truly”. Just a 2 year old legend. Moral of the story is A) I’m brave. Or B) I need to slow down more so I don’t get hurt.

On the subject of slowing down and being brave, as it’s my third post, and 3 is my lucky number, I’d like to share that I’ve just spent an hour on a Sunday afternoon, sitting and crying on my bed. Sigh. Breaking news. I’m not perfect. Did I fool anyone? I feel like I’m trying to protect the part of myself that feels weak for admitting that “it aint easy being Weazy”, as my friends in Berlin once said. Today I’m coming as I am. I’m going to let you have it. Let’s have a kiki. I wanna have a kiki! A korero! A d&m.