Modern Mystic Mother is a domain, however it is also a blog because it’s on WordPress. I made this place because I just wanted to write and I couldn’t speak to J about all my crap all the time, I really was just using up all the air in the room to just talk.. and talk.. and talk… after 5 hours he’s like “Ok, I don’t want to listen anymore. You’re not talking to me, you’re talking at me.” HOW DARE HE.
So I took that cut with grace, got hurt but got over it. So then I’d make sure I would allow him chance to talk about stuff he wanted to. Like cars, and mechanisms, and electronic advancements in gadgets, and cars, and machines, and technical technics of stuff. I thought I was a great listener. I liked to listen and learn, I also like to get involved because I love to participate.
Apparently (his words) I’d let him talk for maybe 10 minutes because I’d interrupt and make it about me again. PFFT. What would he know? I was the master communicator, he barely does anything.
But that isn’t exactly true. I’m a great bagpipe. I just go on and on and on, I could talk for hours really because THERE IS NO FILTER between my brain and my mouth when I’m in the company of those I love. That’s why people think I’m so extroverted, because I am able to just “blah” on in perpetuity.
But like any musical instrument, I’m pretty useless at making myself work in a way that is practical and beautiful. I’m just so narcissistic and self-inflated that I could go on forever ABOUT ME, but I need to not talk about me… I want to talk about other people.
BUT!!!! They can relate to me through my stories. That’s how they can trust me. But they don’t have to trust me. But! They probably should, I know what the fuck I’m talking about. BUTT….. There are a lot of butts. and I cannot lie, baby’s got back.
The internet is difficult to navigate because people listen to me because they can relate to me, however without my face on here, they have no “face to the voice”. Which is pretty much why god is dead but people love jesus. Jesus had a face, or a physical form that people can attribute his teachings to. Like Buddha. Or the moon.
People need a fucking common noun to which they can envision the abstract noun. SEMIOTICS and SEMANTICS
Without a face to go with these blog posts and teachings and whatever, I may as well be a potato. A special magic potato that has the ability to write and type and stuff without arms, legs, fingers or toes. Or a green and budding pot plant.
You want me to be that girl? I could be any girl for all you know. I could be totally banging and hot stuff in your imagination. Just another sexy clone who relies on her hot body and her pretty face to sell some bullshit whatever diet magic formula. Or a different model… perhaps the funny fat friend, or the shy art geek, or the fake AF gamer girl, or the goth-not-goth, or the crazy nut job… Or not even a girl. I could be a dude.
Okay oh K, I really should take Shang’s advice and get the fridge down to business if I’m going to be in any shape to defeat the huuuuuugnnnnnns…. (imagine sound of stress and futile exertion of trying to move and immovable object. Like a really hard poop)
This is why I really wish I still had Sara in my life… She’d be all up on this shit. She’d know EXACTLY what do to, because she could pretty much read my mind. We were like super powered psionic twins, man. Just… *hmm* I never had to explain my crazy, she just got it.
Instead, I will just pretend a whole bunch of different people are her. And I’ll bring them here! And you can even pretend to just maybe have a glimpse of her friggen genius ability at….. stuff! ALL OF THE STUFFS!
CALLING YOU TO ACTION.
In order to make my pseudo-science-meta-physics-METAPHORICAL Frankenstein’s monster (Frankenstein was the mad scientist, the monster was the creation ICYDK), I’m putting a call out for expressions of interest for/from….
- Graphic designers
- Web master person or some shit.
I’m relying on the help of friends and the generosity of strangers. I have no money to give you. But also, don’t think you’re “doing me a favour” by volunteering. I may be loving and caring and friendly or whatever, but I am brutal. I am… ugh, I don’t even know. I am just honest and brutal and I am not about pussyfooting or beating around any bush. I will chainsaw that bush if I felt that it was necessary and then burn it in fire because I like to burn things… with .. fire.
If you want to work with me, you’re going to need to have some thick skin. I have destroyed people’s lives and minds with my … bullshit just whatever the hell it is that’s me. There are 3 people who could name and shame me for the wreckage I’ve left in their lives. There are a bunch of others who have NO IDEA what I did or orchestrated because of whatever thingy I had planned in my brain, but if they did oh boy. I deserve that shit.
There’s only 1 person who could call me out for my shit, but loved me enough to not leave. He helped me learn to love myself. That’s my husband. That’s J.
So! BUYER BEWARE! VOLUNTEER WITH VOLITION! To survive an ongoing relationship with me, you have to know yourself. Trust yourself. I need someone to help call me out on my bullshit, or to say “yeah, nah, that’s not going to work” or whatever whatever. Because even if I get hurt, it’s okay. I’ll get over it, but I’ll need you to also get over any perceived hurt too. I’m still the big mmmama here. It’s a little complicated though… much like a sexy switch. You never know what’s going to flip it.
More proposing propositional proposals Part 2ude
I am very, very picky. I am a control freak. A bizarrely laid-back, doesn’t-give-a-fuck CONTROL FREAK. Another one of my beautifully complex, contradictory oxymoronic quirks. Yup (it’s exhausting just existing).
ModernMysticMother.com is essentially a massive self wankfest. You come here and watch me get all up on my personal personality super sick wisdom and whatever. I’m just “yeah, I’m a performance artiste! The extraneous E on the end of artistE makes me fancy!” Because I’m all about giving it that bit extra…
I like people because I can relate to them. But this whole thingy right here? MODERN MYSTIC MOTHER? (I’m just going to call it mmmother in short for now) This is my own personal golden calf idol, that we all come to and worship, and it’s engraved in my own image! BUT It’s only a representation of me. It’s not the real me. I’m the real me, the person behind the computer who is furiously typing away and rambling about random (not random to me?) topics, soaring on the wings of imaginary winds and tirades.
You only see part of me, the part I want you to see. Because I dunno, that’s the image I have constructed for myself in this dominion of the digitalized. For the people who may or may not be part of my hip little elite squadron of stuff…
I’m sure I will come up with a better name to call ourselves, at some point… so far, it’s just me but I am using collective pronouns as I’m garbage when I’m by myself… I’m a team player so long as the team revolves around me…
You’re going to need to meet some specific criteria depending on your contribution or collaborative efforts…
- Don’t take yourself too seriously. Have a sense of humour, even if you’re the only one who thinks you’re funny.
- Have a passion for MY OWN art of arts (ideally all, but it doesn’t have to be)
- Mysticism, fine art, performance art, music.
- Metaphysics, philosophy, spirituality, sexuality.
- Language, love, experiences, psychoanalysis.
- Open communication, honest education, killing (figurative) stuff.
- sharing, smiting, smiling.
- Actually collaborate and talk to me. I’m all about giving credit. I’m just being honest and open from the start here.
- mmmother is going to be huge one day, and I’m going to effing rock it like a rocket.
- I want to bask in your reflected glory. And you bask in my reflected glory. MUTUAL SELF-WANKERY!
- Happy to link when it’s something I 100% stand by. Sometimes it might take a while before I get around to it, as it depends on a bunch of other influencing or extenuating factors.
- Be strong enough to withstand my sometimes shit storm craziness. Once it’s out of my system and I’ve had enough time to lick my wounds and sulk about my shittiness, I’ll be back. Don’t sweat it. But don’t push it either. IT’S JUST PART OF MY PROCESS OF … COPING.
I want my principles to never be questioned. Anything that I shove up on here is an entirely factual representation of me. But facts can be distorted when they are taken out of context.
I have stated before the things I absolutely hate. And have also acknowledged I can be utterly hypocritical. Thus the necessity for you to be firm enough to stand your ground, but soft enough to not be a stubborn prick.
I’m a teacher, not a great content producer. Although I am good at coming up with ideas! I think that’s why Sara and I were such a fucking brilliant team. I was always in “the middle” somewhere. And so was she. But we had different ideas of what that was. How we complimented each other was different…
I am clearly a HALFIE – my ethnicity isn’t obvious, as it’s a mix of 2 distinct racial groups. Everything on my “outside” shows that I’m a mix of stuff (height, skin colour, accent, interests.. even clothes and shoes I’m in between sizes.) I was so used to “being different” I was forced to know exactly who I was and stuff like that from a very young age.
Sara looked like everyone else on the outside, but on the inside she didn’t feel like that. She was too extreme in general: 100% one way or 100% the other. She couldn’t help being herself, seriously. How can any person from day dot know how to not be themselves? There are just some things you can’t change, especially when you’re just a kid. Like her skin was sooooo white, or that she had Scottish ancestry which just defined her hair and her sense of humour, or her amazing fucking skills with literacy, English, language… ANYTHING ARTISTIC.
NO ONE STANDS A CHANCE OF LIVING UP TO EXPECTATIONS OF A MEMORY OF SOMEONE… sorry peeps…
I am all for consent. No one-sided conversations.
I am so tired and embarrassed of making a fool of myself… I gotta know for sure. So you have to email me, comment, or respond directly with me. I’m not going to read between the lines in terms of this stuff. Not if it’s going to be part of mmmother…
Props part 3: CURRENT goal thing
I’m essentially trying to develop my own brand markety thingy niche. A regular jabberwocky Renaissance woMan. I just have to smoosh the unsmooshable shit together and play god. So… My first task, although this is not the ideal way I’d like to go about it….
OMG MARKETING. FUCK AYE.
To get myself and my message out onto the “market” I’m going to have to do a bunch of stuff. That I don’t normally do. Stuff that I have stayed clear away from since I was a teenager.
I have done some pretty shitty things, I am a pretty shitty person, you have no reason to trust me. At all. You really shouldn’t trust me, I’m a very unreliable narrator because I’m inconsistent. Dude.
But I am a teacher. I went to university for this shit. I aimed low because I was pregnant and didn’t have a drivers licence or a car. I went with convenience. I applied for the degree that needed a 66 for entry. Even though I scored 87. Perfect example of me doing the bare minimum.
I chose teaching because I didn’t want to pay much money for my degree so I chose between teaching and nursing (lower course fees due to “national priority” in these fields). I had no intention of touching anyone gross or wiping butts, so I thought “fuck it. I’ll be a teacher.” Uni was a huge wank fest where no one gives a fuck about anything, and they don’t care if you pass or fail. You do you, and if you fail it’s your own fucking problem. I coasted by doing the bare minimum and would even challenge myself as to how LESS I could do…
- How long can I go without buying a textbook?
- How long can I go without reading a set text?
- How much can I contribute to discussion without actually having done any of the work?
- I wonder if I can write my essay in dot points?
“I wonder if anyone will notice I’m absolutely stoned off my face? I better talk more so that way they don’t suspect a thing….”
True story. I talk a lot. It’s sometimes weird for people when I don’t talk as that’s “out of character” for me.
It’s fucking hilarious the way drugs and alcohol seem to make me appear more normal? I can be completely sober and substance free, but my silliness and frivolity comes across as quite manic-pixie-dream-girl. FFS I am not a fictional trope. I am not fictional. Just ask any of my friends from real life – who you can’t see and whose existence you won’t ever be able to verify because I respect their privacy. (I totally do sound like a mental case… LOL… shiiiieet)
ANYWAY BACK ON TOPIC.
I blitzed through my undergraduate degree because I hated the majority of the self wanking. No, this was not a sex university, I’m just referring to everyone’s overinflated sense of self because “oooh, I’m so awesome, I’m at uni, I’m better than everyone who hasn’t gone to uni, blah blah I’m so special rah rah”. When I finally started my post-grad and actually went to do PRACTICAL WORK not just theoretical bullshit, I realise “Mother fucker, this is awesome..” And it wasn’t just another hilarious story about me being so rebellious and dismissive of the established means of doing things….
Teaching wasn’t just an occupation, I realised it’s my VOCATION. I love it. It’s the perfect combination of everything I do. It has helped me define my self as a person, and my experiences at uni actually opened me up to a whole range of knowledge and experiences.
Which brings me to where the fuck I am now…
MISSION 1: CAMPAIGN ANTICHRIST
I don’t know how long this “war” might last. So, I’m totally owning the fucking crown of the campaign. And whoever helps me, with their name and shit here, may get dragged into the fray. If you’re too lazy to go and read the thingys here, then the gist is: anti-christ is a title given by people, not by any divine power. Anti can be opposite, or also the new christ.
My war on god begins with his “son” christ. But if you’re smart enough to read between the lines, (or at least do some back-reading on this blog) it’s really a war on the way that language is used to control and manipulate people, our the understanding of language.
We are all gods, and capable of divinity. I’m not heaven or hell bound. I’m Earth bound. Heaven and Hell are here on earth. I’m about debunking myth with absolutely completely made up bullshit I read from anywhere, and making blind leaps of faith for my own entertainment, using my educational background and training, and my professional experience in the educational system….to legitimise mysticism and metaphysics.
After that.. I dunno. I want to just be me, and have the freedom to do that. And be able to live comfortably. I want to do what I’m good at, what I like to do, and what I want to do. But as a single finite human fucking being (who also just happens to be the new #mmmessiah because I think it’s funny to be facetious) I can’t take down an invisible fictional construct on my own. I need a team of somewhat-AVENGERS.
I’m like Tony Stark. We are going to start that shit right here.
My personal seal of approval. Stamped and signed.