Already? Can I breathe?
Merry New Year, and Happy Easter.
We all know Easter is basically tomorrow. Everything is so aggressive.
PSA.
Friends, if you have thoughts about something you read on the journal. Please, share it on the journal (if appropriate). I could also have texted this back to anyone who's replied to a post on here via text, but I am leading by example. It's very sweet to read your hilarious messages, but unsweet to not see any of them in the comment section. 🙃
My Sleep Revolution is Underway.
In the month of November, I became—well, attempted—back-sleeping and was continuously punished for it. I was conducting some personal research and apparently, this is the way, along with sleeping on your right side. Great for your spine and keeping your skin supple. As usual, I am only attracted to what ruins me.
The pain my muscles are still in. Lord help me.
Due Diligence.
I did, in fact, cry over Zoe Saldaña. See, I follow up.
I found out that the Father of Many Nations and I have a lot more than comfortable in common. The clues are all in the sentence.
I found a perfect transition in Drake's, "Falling Back" into Beyonce's, "Energy". The albums oft pit against each other finally have their middle ground. Peace on Earth.
If you were still experiencing aggravation whenever you witnessed a person in a mask in November 2022, seek god.
In the same vein: If you were still using your mask as a chin guard in November 2022, also seek god.
Manifest.
No, not the act of manifestation. The lockdown TV—well, Netflix—phenomenon, Manifest. Only boredom and severe quarantine brain disengagement were responsible for as much traction as this show garnered. It was definitely not the same as Schitt's Creek, because my brain had absolutely recovered at that point.
Tell me why I was actually knee-deep in articles discussing a potential revival of this show—especially considering I was also hate watching the show at that point. I was there for officer homeboy's revenge only. I didn't want him with Michaela(?—I think that was her name). I wanted him to thrive in a new relationship and rub it all over Michaela's mopey existence.
I disliked every character from that show—especially Cal; the most annoying—even the guest characters. Also, if I had to hear "828" one more time?!! Guillotine.
"aRe yoU aN 828eR?" "I think she was on 828." "There's so much you don't understand, you weren't on 828". Choke.
That ran that and whatever they called their 'intuitions' into the ground. I'm not looking up what those were called.
Sorry, November was the month of remembering random things; including my childhood clothing bedazzler.
A Foreseeing Genius. Always.
Apparently, when I manifest—or loosely mention—anything I desire on this blog, it actually happens. We all know I predicted COVID-19, amongst other things.
Once again—all in one post—I did it twice:
I asked that we rid ourselves of Balenciaga-inspired fashion. They went ahead and did that themselves.
I asked you all to support "White Noise", so I could enjoy movie awards season. Guess who's nominated for Best Actor at the Golden Globes?
I would also like the other associations to follow suit and nominate A*** D*****. Again, I really want to enjoy this awards season.
Powerful, genius behavior. It doesn't get more Joseph and Nostradamus than this.
I leave you today with a reminder that we—humans—cause all our issues. All of them.
Also, I'll be back soon with the promised long overdue Part II for this post before 2022 is behind us—which at this rate of time, is tomorrow.