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In an attempt to reconsider how I use my blog, because I love to write: I’m going to follow a photo and no-more-than-a-mini-paragraph to accompany it structure. I don’t think people read my blog. I’m not in pursuit of a vast audience either.

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My university life, the nature of the stuff i got upto removed from my studies was important. I developed what appeared to be a “drug habit”. When I no longer had that drug habit I realised I had spent my life in physical agony. Not the poetic kind that literary artists use to describe depression (although I had that) but I was in pain all the time. And I only realised as much when I had no access to drugs.

I think it’s of tremendous importance to clarify the nature of addiction, and I can do so, I grew up in the company of addicts. I was – at three years old – surrounded by drug addicts. Here’s a good way of identifying if a person has an addiction of sorts: they will break the law to access the drug they want.

I don’t care if a person abuses narcotics, unless it affects me. If I have £20 to my name and a person I’m close to steals it, knowing thats all-I-had-to-live-on for example, then that “affects me”. An annoying drunk on the streets isn’t an addict, a person who consumes their own vomit in an attempt to consume alcohol is an addict. If they’re doing it in the privacy of their own home, it’s none of my business. It’s none of yours, either. Unless that person says “I WANT your help”, it’s none of your business.

Not even angels interfere without direct invitation. And the universal-you do not compare to angels. As I understand it from my meditations, being an angel is a very tortured form of life. A “hungry” angel occupying a starving humans body would not permit that human to steal bread to feed itself with, without feeling very tortured for having done so, and for a very long time.

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I looked at this photograph and had quiet concerns my hair made me look ‘crazy’. I spent my teens being very repulsed by the idea or notion that a person should perform an appearance for others, especially if the accompanying motivation could be to ‘fit in’. Einstein is/was team #crazyhair and I’m sad that I’m validated by that – “I need someone else to join me in my looking crazy”

The internet used to be a not-place-place that necessitated people aspired to curating their individuality, because in not-doing-so, you were believed to be very boring.
It later became a place that employers would use to learn things about you, out of the understanding that people use their CVs to lie. Boring people started using the internet and I resent that, quietly.

I preferred the internet when it was exclusively a place for weird people.

If you think that the mind can be reduced to any kind of science you are so wrong and that’s why your Planet feels like a simulation.

This film clip sums up how I feel about society. I don’t believe you can empathise with this archetype unless you have lived her life experiences and I hope for your sakes that each and every one of you experience being persecuted for attempting to be an individual, if only so that society learns to value individuality.

Recently a woman working for a holiday/travel/tourism company was sitting in a job meeting behind a blacked out window. I changed from a sweaty mens shirt into a poncho and that involved being seen in a bra. Literally beside the seaside. I wonder if she screams at women in bikinis by the seaside. I don’t know that-that sensibly her lane of work.

She started banging on the blacked-out window. She exited the holiday company and told me she was ‘protecting’ me by and I have never heard someone so naive. When I tell people what my family have done in terms of service to humanity, and how they have been portrayed for doing so (For example, as a nineteen year old, my series of letters resulted in a girl being released from slavery. I got no credit for it.) – makes people feel threatened.

To explain: my university experience, as a result of Jews who considered me male – meant that many people learned what they are too lazy to read in religious scriptures. I have never been influenced by religious scripture, I think you’d struggle to find a person who had been ass-raped at three years old, who was inclined to be religious.

Wait: there’s more here – do you know what it takes to emancipate a gender? Do you have any idea how women became so comfortable with their bodies? It was because of people like me who allowed themselves to be documented naked, with pubic hair and belly rolls, looking terrible, in states of undress. I wanted to appear in erotica but it’s underpaid. I should direct but it’s probably also underpaid work.

The other side of it is, I could walk around naked in public and no one could suggest I was “slutty” or “promiscuous”, neither of those are insults in Karina-land but the reality is I don’t even often masturbate and I don’t even have sex unless I am trying to have kids. Once every few months perhaps. Throughout my life I might’ve had a single one night stand. There were potential relationships I ruined with premature sex, but really, I had one-one-night-stand. I had a sex blog that was entirely motivated by making an ex boyfriend I’d had for four years jealous. I deleted it when I started a new relationship and the guy then left me.

I was the victim of the exact opposite to slut shaming, I was told that I was frigid because I didn’t want to have the kind of sex women have in adult films. People loathe to admit that we know women can orgasm because-of-me. That is how big an affect I had on the internet actually.

ANYWAY. For now I don’t spend any of my money on anything I really want, mostly on art materials.

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Here is a fabric I found awhile ago in The Vintage Workshoppe. It is not a fabric that many people would like and I don’t believe for one moment it would have appeared in that shoppe if anyone really thought I could use it for an idea that could make a blonde’s life difficult.

It’s difficult to steal someone’s ideas when you do-the-work in a sketchbook, when you document the process of how you arrived at an idea step-by-step.

FYI, the insects died, introducing oxygen and water into their ecosystem killed them. If you see something flourishing and alive after spending two years in darkness, responding to light is probably enough of a shock to them. Mice are thought to die from PTSD because they are in tremendous shock – it takes afew years to recover from PTSD and thats if you got PTSD as a child, and if you’ve been triggered non-stop since you were a child and even thinking of taking a shit gave me PTSD. Now I have to cope with every person I make eyecontact with choosing to watch me get raped as a child and that they empathically experience the sexual energy of the pedophiles who were also watching. If you are not the kind of person who looks at these disgusting things and thinks about all the exciting sexual things you can do with them, you’re probably not a pedophile. I’m personally quite repulsed by children and I find the criers especially annoying. I know child psychologists say that children don’t cry for no reason, I’m sure that’s true – but the attention that doting mothers and fathers give their kids in public so that people don’t think that they’re terrible parents is very addictive for the infants. Also sometimes they are in physical pain and you can help them as a parent by – non sexually – holding them from their bottom. My teacher Lisa did it for me once – she stroked my bottom non-sexually. She once used the toilet infront of me non-sexually too, when I was in the bath. All I could think about was that she looked like she was in pain. One time a man dressed as Santa Claus gave me a cuddle and he put his hand on my bottom in a very non-sexual way and I felt really safe actually (the birds are laughing) and he was wearing Disney gloves which meant the energy didn’t transfer.

You can read about energy transference in this book. It’s written for children so you might actually be able to appreciate it more than the bitchy matter-of-fact tone I keep using in my blog because I write to sublimate anger, at the moment.

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I bought the flowering tea thinking about this scene from Marie Antoinette, in which Marie serves her brother a tea and asks him to watch it open up when you pour the water in.

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The above is an homage to a character from Claymore, called Ofelia.

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[image ref] No, she’s not you

All of the claymores are silver haired, white haired or blonde and I think it’s amusing. What if ALL women were blondes for you to defend – or who had learned to – dundundun – defend themselves? Do nothing motivated by popularity. It’ll be done to you later.

Actually, I’ve a good character reference for people who compulsively need to be liked, for people that crave popularity. There’s a character in a Johanna Louise Spyri book (Heidi) called Alm uncle, a man who lives in the mountain with goats and who rather resents societal life preferring the truth and accepting isolation. So – while people might idealise the company of many, they are wise enough to prefer their own company. Fortunately you can manifest friends that are other-versions-of-you, it’s only ideal if you’re at complimentary phases of personal growth.

The archetype appears in tarot too, the Hermit. The light represents the truth-that-is-known (the darkness represents truth that is hidden) (the moon serves as a reminder of the fact – the opposite of truth known is truth hidden.)

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[ref image accessed 18:22 pm on the eleventh of November, 2019]

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Before I can explain the paint on my leg, Meet Jenova, my Blythe doll.

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Initially I thought ted (the emoji) was a Paris archetype, but I think he’s Hector.

Jenova’s incomplete. I painted her body and I didn’t like it, so I started filing at it to create what would appear as markings that I’ll later airbrush over with indigo and purple. I’ve designed her in a sketchbook so this is really a project that I imagine will take many years. I wiped some of the paint on my leg, and I filed some of the paint off so we’d be matchy.

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I realised that Grimes must’ve used me to timetravel and that I inspired her calf tattoo. A lifetime of issues with women called Claire or Clare etc. That inspired this meme.

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Truth: both the ophiuchus and their evil childhood bestfriend (probably a cancerian) are evil.

Segueway: Ophiuchus are just as feeling as cancerians but they hide it. Even from themselves. Actually it takes us about four months to a year to know how we really feel about anything. We’re already-feeling about millions of things at once (it’s how we interact with the world: how do I FEEL about this) so there’s a feeling queue.
It’s a sagittarian influence thing. you know, Chiron the wounded centaur? He could not have taught AKillis (the archetype of the greatest warrior that has ever existed) if he spent the entire time of their knowing one another complaining about how difficult his life is. Keep it to yourself, you’re at a war party. Unless it is a war party of who has had the hardest time. In which case step aside, akillis

The “evil-when-pissed-off-but-you-wouldn’t-realise-until-it-was-too-late” one is the one thats actually very nice – she’s the one that everyone hates (because she’s cute or gifted or something) but the really evil one is the one sitting by herself.

I am not one for social engineering but stories repeat themselves. One of them has been abused all of her life, and learns from the abuse and through choosing to be responsible for the abuse, she evolves.

The other is an abuser that finds friends to defend her and racks up a lot of terrible karmic debt in doing so, racks up a lot of terrible karmic debt for any friends she meets throughout her life too

Later in life they send the cute-evil one ‘hot’ replacements – often blondes. You will be inclined to pity the blonde and rise to her defence but the only person that can defend the blonde is the person that she fucked over. Who often only wants a sincere apology of some kind.

They also create instances whereby people meet versions of themselves at different phases of personal evolution and pit them against each other, because thats what you do when people keep ‘winning’, so imagine if Regina George (oh god) had been abused all of her life (people assumed she ‘liked it’ rather than that she was numb to it and knew that people pay for abusing others, because she’d learned early on in life – you do have to learn very early on in life because if you learn LATER in life it’s so much worse.) and they had to send another Regina George to go be mean to her because no one else could do it.

Imagine if you could suspend disbelief.

TL;DR the reason I can do weird stuff is because one time – I wrote this in my University application to study fashion actually – was that my brother and I once sat in a flat and I saw Michelle Yeoh leaping across a building and it didn’t look real, and because it’s impossible and I said to my brother “IT’S UNREALISTIC” and he told me to CHUT UP and taught me to remove myself from my notions of reality, or else film becomes boring.

I learned martial arts from watching Phoebe’s brother Frank practising on the balcony, pretending that he didn’t know his sister and her friends were watching and taking the piss of him for doing so. His sister works in the service equivalent of retail (massage) and hasn’t managed to hold down a long term relationship, and the only relationships that work for her seem to be ones that involved very invasive stalking. She is a survivor and did so perhaps through being a social climber of sorts (it’s difficult to climb socially when you’ve no idea of who you are socially) who maintains a friendship with someone (also insane) she used to rent-a-room from and if it were not for their friendgroup they would not be able to be friends.
Phoebe’s friends are all comfortably very mediocre and come from families that were quite well off, except for Ross, who is a palaeontologist. I imagine David Schwimmer was the least paid of all of the cast.

Her brother Frank ends up dating a teacher and being a very loving husband, a very comfortably inept father figure to triplets (I’d kill myself) and is brilliant at pretending not to know that his sister Phoebe is a bitch. People confuse that performance for ‘unconditional love’ and to an extent, it might begin that way – it’s a habit that begins in childhood – but you don’t see much of his character in that series and it’s quite true to life.

I learned martial arts from watching this film. Twice.

I maintain that the real challenge would be doing it in heels.

I owned Jackie Chan in college when I realised he covered a Mulan song

And that’s probably why I lost Bruce Lee for a dad, but I might yet get him as a brother and I mean it the way that black people do. Much more meaningful.

By KARINITA

www.kariii.co

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