Ideally, my blog would have identical vibes to my journal. I would act just as chaotically as my paper diary allows, making room for taped artifacts and mindless drawings. When I compose blog posts now, I love patterns and familiarity. It’s more of a newsletter than a journal, and it’s more for you than for me. Having an audience isn’t a bad thing, of course, but I wonder if I only value my work when it contributes to others. In the rare moments when I finally think of a way to make money, it’s usually me being someone’s therapist in a variety of natural locations. We would walk, sweat, drink water; I would smoke them up, read their tarot cards, and roll a set of astrology dice. I plan it all out until I realize it’s just friendship.

✯

The other half of friendship is the receiving. For most people, there is a lot of practice needed in receiving love and affection in intimate relationships. Especially because there are so many different ways to receive love. I remember when I was a chubby kid who loved eating chocolate, I had to learn to receive praise when I got taller and fuller. When more challenges&abundance entered my life, I had to learn to receive material gain and external validation. When I spent most of my adolescence manifesting the life I wanted, I had to learn to receive the life as it came. 

In friendships, one way of receiving is the act of listening. Anyone who is friends with me must be a great listener because I get a horrible case of the Aquarius monologues on a daily basis. I remember when my Virgo sun, Aquarius moon best friend and I started texting one another our thoughts constantly, how it was so clear to me then that she was part of me. She was an up close and personal audience for my thoughts, kind of like having a finsta before anyone had a finsta. I would text her any thought I found remotely interesting. She would do the same to me. When our interests in this non-stop brain flow overlapped, we would discuss. When they didn’t, we would simply allow the thought to disappear into the 5GB/mo of imessages. 

This naturally evolved into the audience given with social media. When Instagram updated the app to have the close friends list, I immediately deleted my finsta. RIP @freckledsades (2017-2018) < 3 The reason why I did this was because my finsta was full of really lovey-dovey posts about an ex-girlfriend I was having a hard time getting over. In addition, my Leo north node was enamoured by the idea of a private audience. I could say and do whatever I wanted. I would randomly remove and add certain people from my nearly 1000 followers depending on who I wanted to watch. My anxiety ate that phase of my life right up.

The gradual disappearance of Sadie Olivia from the lives of anyone I have met before the year 2020 has done nothing to the amount of content I have created. Luckily for me, I am addicted to the process. This means that even when I do not finish a project I will one day Frankenstein it with something else, thus creating something greater than either original intent. For example, this blog and my journal.

I’m pretty good at journaling with pen and paper, but that is a talent derived from thousands of brilliantly boring days given to me by the American Public Schools. The margins of every homework assignment I received looked like a millennial’s tattoo sleeve. So now I can journal and like the way it looks, or whatever. Here are a few pages from my newest journal.

My biggest form of affection when I was younger was to share my journals. I would let my friends and crushes take them home in their backpack, letting them read it in their own rooms and return some unknown day. They always gave them back, they always left me notes. It goes without saying that I have a Pisces venus and mercury. If I could let people pass my journals around the world infinitely, well of course that’d be way cooler. Unfortunately, I will have to train my new-age autistic brain to figure out how to make the computer codes share my fleshy thoughts and feelings. Fortunately, I like a challenge.

One thing I’ve noticed about myself every time I’ve written a blog post is how amazingly long I am capable of making my intros. That whole thing you just read? That was just the build up to expressing that this blog post will be framed like a journal page. The thoughts and feelings and visual experiences haven’t even begun yet. Without further ado…

✯

𝒮𝓊𝓃𝒹𝒶𝓎, 𝑀𝒶𝓎 𝟣𝟨𝓉𝒽, 𝟤☯𝟤𝟣 ☉ ♉︎ / ☽ ♋︎

Today I saw something on my Instagram explore page that I liked so much, I immediately wanted to paint it on canvas and hang it on my wall. This was the post:

Translation of 2nd to last line: Observation of true self focused over time is God.

Translation of last line: Observation of true self being Godly is freedom.

Ironically, I have been working tirelessly to create a false sense of self that I can use to make the horrible decisions I’m afraid of in my own reality. It’s a new story I’m writing, and here’s the first part of it:

	The truth is, I have no idea what is more important: writing a to-do list for my day off or finding somewhere to hide the weapon of my first murder. They say this is a symptom of ADHD, this inability to differ between the importance of tasks. I’ve already considered just writing hide the knife on my to-do list, but I’m afraid of it getting lost among the other tasks I’ll write down. This seems, as far as other people tend to believe, to be a time sensitive task. Against all natural urges, I decide the murder weapon takes priority. 
	I am walking, momentarily, through a dense brush behind my house. It’s only March, so I haven’t visited all my favorite trees and rocks since before winter. For around three months I have allowed a thick wall composed of drywall and glass to separate us. Every spring, I hope they are not upset with me when I return. However, it is March and still fairly bleak outside. The sunlight just barely brushes our arm hairs awake. When it is cloudy it feels like January again. At least it’s almost April. But here in March, the temperature lowers itself into the night as I wade through the forest, looking for a place to hide a knife.
	Thank you, pop culture, for allowing me to observe the pre-existing responses to life’s various experiences. If it weren’t for movies, books, or songs, I’d probably have already been diagnosed with numerous mental variants. Pop culture is definitely in the frenemy area of my emotions. It causes feelings as far apart as infatuation and disgust; the things I love and the things I hate are the ingredients to my personality. 
	I am not convinced that I am capable of being convicted of this crime, but this could be derived from my inability to process that it actually happened. Honestly, I haven’t quite processed how I felt during the whole thing because how I felt was so unexpected. The truth is, the whole thing really turned me on.
	I hate going on dates. The thought of hanging out with someone simply to decide whether or not you want to date them is insanity. I take the easier route, which is just doing that constantly with all my friends. We already go out to dinner, watch movies, talk about our shame. The only difference is that when it’s a date they consent to be observed, picked apart, and placed in a category in your mind. Meanwhile your friends live carelessly in the ambiguous cloud around your other, more structured relationships. That’s how you know, without even having to look anything up, that monogamy was created by men, for men.
	Maybe that’s why I’m feeling alarmingly indifferent after murdering someone; simply because it was a man. What I don’t know yet is that in the future I’ll have killed many, many men and just one woman. But I’m not even there yet; I’m just digging a hole beside the creek where I cleanse my crystals. Deep into my hole, the dirt crumbles to reveal a home. A tiny, little animal home. I do not know which kind of animal it is, but I still ask for it’s help anyways, leaving the knife right beside their hallway. I’m only assuming that anyone who might look for this knife would, like me, be unwilling to completely disturb the home of a small animal.
	I was on a date right before it happened, which is why I’m ranting about monogamy. I don’t do well on dates because pop culture can’t save me. On dates, you have to be a completely unique and yet entirely well-rounded person. This means you have to know everything and turn it all into something that’s never been made before. Or at least, that’s how I feel when I’m on a date. That’s how I felt last night.
	As I remember the details of last night, I find myself standing in front of my home again. Finally, I can write my to-do list for tomorrow.

Would you read the rest? Write me a strongly worded letter about how you feel about it 🙂

I’ve been manifesting through vision boards recently because of the visual aspects of it. I found that, when manifesting myself a stronger body, I couldn’t even imagine what I’d look like ripped. That led me down a path of saving far too many photos from my old, dusty, abandoned Tumblr for a vision board. It mostly looked like:

I know that none of these photos are of ripped people, but I began to manifest my entire life and found that the strength of my body was a lower priority. The sum of these photos is not the subject, but the peace of mind each one offers. The peace of mind brought on from a healthier body, mind, and soul. And of course, I framed a good-looking photo of me on the beach and place it on my self-love shrine.

Other ways of manifesting through the infinite data of the internet is tweets. These are some tweets I am currently manifesting:

Look, if I’m going to spend all this time on the internet I might as well use it to manifest. What I did before, like a fool, was simply observe the trends in order to one day manipulate the trends. Now I just cry at wholesome TikToks. Speak of that app, which may one day be our downfall, it is an equally successful manifestation tool. I have actually been saving TikToks recently because the information in them was so useful I wanted them to sit, never re-watched, in my archive. I count this process as manifesting as well.

Look, we started things out slow. If I’m going to practice this whole ‘I-don’t-need-to-be-the-astrology-and-tarot-reading-clown-to-be-valued’ thing, I’m going to need to work my way up to sharing my daily deeps with you (that’s when I let my anxiety pick one train of thought to venture endlessly down). For now, I share with you thoughts to the likeness of an early high school friendship, as we decide what we like and what we don’t like about life. Currently…

Likes:

• 6am Sunday morning walks to work
• drawing my alter-ego in comic format
• owning only pink glassware
• remembering to charge my airpods
• kombucha as a replacement for any other alcohol
• reminding old friends that i love them after not having the capacity to talk to them much recently
• when my coworkers gas up the signs i draw at work + when the customers thank me for them
• cutting patterns and receiving the abundance that comes with growth

Dislikes:

• the crumbled yellow post-it notes at the bottom of my backpack with songs that played at work that I wanted to add to one of my playlists
• my ego getting in the way of thinking of rude customers in loving lights
• when my iced dirty chai doesn’t mix evenly so some sips are hot and some are cold
• waiting for anything to happen (a call to come, a text to ding, a shift to start, bedtime, dinner, etc)

The most recent song I’ve taken from the Starbucks playlists is Feel by Brothertiger. This song encompasses all of my ideal vibes for a song. The way it makes me feel is unbearable and inescapable, and I mean that as a compliment to the fullest extent. I will have it on repeat this entire summer.

That’s all I’ve got for you. Love,

sα𝐝𝓲ᵉ 𝕆𝕝丨VιＡ

✯