A rambunctious writing spree that created the feeling of being trapped on a rollercoaster. Getting on board and buckling up. The anticipation built while waiting. The line felt like 24 years long. Ratcheting up the clanky hill. The first drop released some of the excitement. An aburpt stop began the feeling of confusion. The feeling of being harnessed and trapped created anxiety. Time turned that from frustration to rage. Ending up exhausted by hopelessness and despair. The news of this event was preempted by a viral video of a Hillary supporter's 3 year old grand daughter making fart noises in front of a picture of Trump. If that was your intention Bravo! It's like discovering that place where the vacuum crevice tool can't suck. Discovering a colony of life forms dwelling unchallenged.
The past few weeks have been like trying to determine the proper formula to solve a distance rate and time equation. At a job interview. I was told the position I applied for was filled. I was offered a different position. I informed the interviewer yesterday I received an email saying I didn't qualify for that position. It must have been a time saving/money saving auto response. She was unaware it was sent from her email address with her name on it. I informed her I was very qualified for that job, but it wasn't obvious when written in a sentence being read by a bot. I signed up for a workshop and haven't heard back from a specific person. This week my sister forwards an email from that specific person. He sent it to her so she could spread the word about the workshop. This job hunt is beginning to feel like I'm writing my name on bathroom walls and waiting for someone desperate enough to call. I got a fill in the blank invitation from a collaborative artsy group. I'm supposed to divine the time, date, and place from the ether. I thought maybe they wrote in milk and I was supposed to heat the paper over a candle. They didn't. It is very tragic what has become of the entertainment industry. It's been dead so long the cadaver doesn't stink anymore.
Being raised Catholic the idea of suffering was; if it can happen to me it happened to Him first. This is an easy place for a comic to go to find irreverent humor. However trying at this point, I'm remaining positive. For me I see a contemplative dimension that ancient humans accessed. What was possible through inspired thinking. The ability to gain access. A modern translation is isolating. So when what's his name asked Jesus "What is truth"? How would that man have known to question truth. How did a writer of that time know to write a story with the depth dialogue. If we've come from being that far into other dimensions why haven't we documented more autonomy in humankind?
It's not what you think it's what you believe. Patricia '96
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