Since your name was a jumble of letters and then you deleted that blog: I get that you felt the need to Askbox me that rant, chastising me for “telling people to be witches when all [I] do is sit on tumblr.” And you know what? I’m right there with you, and I think it’s time for me to clear the air a little more because some people might have the same concern (either about me “telling people what to do” or that they themselves aren’t hitting a bar they feel pressured to).
I work on a computer. For about an entire year I’ve been balls-to-the-wall with projects, working sometimes eighteen hours a day to get shit done in time for a deadline, or to cover someone’s ass because I’m actually a pretty nice guy like that.
Because I work in that area where things have to go off to a committee for approvals that means I am occasionally (constantly) waiting on people to decide the meaning of the word “beige”. Lack of surprise: I go on Tumblr while I’m waiting. Waits usually aren’t long enough for me to do anything constructive except work ahead of the anticipated feedback, or help one of my people-I-am-technically-in-charge-of.
I haven’t had a lot of time to do my woo, but I find time because it’s important to me. I scratch it out where I can and often multitask things like eating while reading, or making notes. Sometimes if the wait is going to be long enough I’ll work on a project and make a little headway.
You’re coming from a place that’s saying “Why is this fucko trying to tell me how to do my woo?!” - I am not. I am not your guru, you don’t want me to be. I don’t want me to be. I ain’t tryin’ to be. I get your rant, I accept it, and I want to try to extend a non-defensive, non-aggressive, response because I get it.
I’m trying, like I generally always have (save for some misguided points in my youth), to get people to realize they’re made of fuckin’ stardust, cosmic fire, and the same materia which spat forth from the utterance of the word. I’m trying to get people to realize they can do their thing, and revel in it.
Ironically, it sometimes takes a random fucko on the internet to spark you to give yourself permission. Each person is worthy of ecstasy.
Sometimes, though… you’ve gotta pay your goddamned bills or bail out a new hire that’s drowning in stress and there ain’t a thing wrong with that.