Memories: 12 March 2023

12 March 2023

Today has not been a good day. I managed to accidentally melt holes in my Smith Little torch hoses. The silver I was casting melted perfectly. I was so proud of the fact that it melted fairly quickly and well this time.

I raised up the crucible to get ready to pour into my sand casting but the tongs I had for it slipped, pouring silver, which splattered at my feet and burned tiny holes in my hoses.

I immediately turned off the oxygen and fuel at the tanks. It was a brand new oxygen cylinder exchange too so I probably lost a lot of that oxygen.

New smith little hoses cost $400 plus gst ($440!) which I will have to think hard about as I am still paying off the Torch.

So it was an expensive mistake and I feel quite rattled.

I was excited about a ring I had cast with stones in place that I bought recently. I guess it’s back to the drawing board I go!

On top of my weird day, there is now a massive rain storm so I was lucky to get everything back inside in time before that hit.

Note to self: I also need to buy the expensive but hopefully more reliable or stable crucible holder. As this was just an awful waste of my time and resources!

Oh well at least I achieved Yoda…the Force is with me? Lol

12 March 2021

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1:11 am. Angels....my goodness...I am exhausted. But thank you to all that love me, uplift me, inspire me and hold me precious in safety in perpetuity, in sanctity and in sanity.

Laila Tov. See you on the Flipside!

12 March 2020

My midwives sent my former husband home. He was abusive and useless anyway. I should never have had another child with him after that, but Jasmine was a “surprise” and I fought both my mother and husband to keep her.

Would I do that again after decades of horror and grief and trauma? Nup!

Just as well I was completely oblivious at the time. Cognitive dissonance can be such a “gift” :-/

12 March 2019

I had a lovely visit with Lyn and Danni today. We talked a long time about my past exploits and old traumas. It was good to look back with hindsight and being able to tell my truths without breaking into tears. A sign of healing after several decades.

Life truly is miraculous but most amazing of all are my bright beautiful soulful friends. Love you!

12 March 2018

12 March 2017

I stayed home last night and variously passed out with exhaustion during the evening. I went to bed at 10.30 pm.

My spirit wanted to dance but the excruciating pain down my left leg from the pinched sciatic nerve, (still not healed and not surprising given I dosed myself up with panadeine and passionately super-charged my body into the fray to thrash and mosh in a spectacle of middle-aged time-fighting insanity on Friday night) simply would not allow it.

I ran out of panadeine so tried Ice gel instead. Nup. Leg still is contorted in rivers of pain. No respite.

I will have to buy more panadeine forte, or rest more. Or wait this agony out. But by the gods I have proven I have the stamina of ten horses even if my body rebels.

I am fabulous! I am frustratingly putting my life together in a battle to the end stage as I missed out on so very much, in decades of zombified pharmaceutical haze and psychological trauma after many many attacks on my life, on my safety, on my reputation.

In the end, we are but dust, albeit stardust and as I once wrote to a former lover cum bitter enemy who really should have known better, my star is rising.

Now waiting for the gods of Light Love and Truth to pluck my shining star from the obsidian sky and move me to another template. (Like at primary school those felt cutout pictures on a felt background, capriciously placed there in scenes of explication and contemplation to appease a five year old).

How long must I wait? At least until I receive harmonic resonance and balance out the trauma of my current existence with a big love that more than compensates for the utter mindless degradation of the fake loves of the past 52 years. Family, foes and former lovers. Fickled pickled schtickled fucktards of Fate.

I have seen true and enduring loves. My beautiful generous respectful friends, my animals and my invisible guiding gods and goddesses that gently spun me around and brought me back up on my feet again and again until I healed enough to manifest this safe place inside of me.

This government home I call Sacred Space: a condescending gift and a nod to the acrimonious damage this government did to me in their systemic abuse as I was a mere woman, a mother and an unloved/unprotected/devalued daughter/wife/sister.

My safe place is built on illusion, delusion, hope and gratitude. It can be taken away as whimsically as it arrived.

So we wait, my inner gods and I. We wait and we yearn in childlike projection for the confection of comfort and true abiding love partnership, always waiting for our lives to manifest and unfold like a pop-up book in delightful 5D splendour what I could not achieve in 3D veracity.

It is all illusion, people. Donald Trump is president. My true love is hiding elusively from me and the sea monkeys have my money.

How do we reframe this absolute debacle in a positive way! (Lessons will be repeated until they are learned). Yeah right, fuck that shit. Kill me, Billy! (Shhh, don't be silly, you have to ride this storm to a new conclusion. It is the journey not the destination. It is the punctuation not the psychobabble. It is...what it is)

I have performed miracles in my own life before. I will sit with myself and my amazement. Chasing dragons and psychedelic dreams is hard work.

Let us eat cake and pull back the curtain on the fakes. My first words shall be my last..."Cup of tea???!"

12 March 2015

Boiling hot night. I have changed my sheets. Now lathered in sweat from the effort.

I have an urge to go out and run wild. Must be the heat. So I am making melted cheese on toast and trying to be good instead :-)

12 March 2014

Today I had my 3 weekly debrief. My lovely doctor informed me that he had been thinking about my pub dancing for some time and he has decided that it has been great therapy for me, to deal with my traumas each weekend.

He said that I am a Powerful Woman and had a very high intellect. I was able to express myself via dancing and interacting with and being protective of the other women in such a way while maintaining my own "avoidance" as he recognises I am determined to wait forever if I have to, for a kind sweet decent bloke who can be my equal partner and not need to be either dominated or expect roleplay as that is just a mask and distancing. I need and require a genuine partner with intimacy as well as passion.

I almost fell off my chair when he told me that men would find my innate Power very exciting and it's only natural that I protect myself in the way I do, while I wait for the right man to step up to the mark and show up. Interesting.

I informed him that I am a degenerate 49 year old (in one month's time) who has nothing and is going nowhere. He said, “Not at all, you are smart, you have wit, and you are exciting.”

I told him about the dreadlocked English man asking me to roleplay with him or dominate him and I said I had decided he was unsuitable as I am not kinky in my private life at all, and need someone who is real and loving. (I joked that for Domination or Role play the guy would have to pay me handsomely!)

My doctor agreed, saying that I would not be able to cope with a lover who was into roleplaying and masking his true nature as it would just irritate me and cause distancing.

He is completely right. Dreadlock Horror movie was weak, inadequate, avoidant, not particularly affectionate and certainly not in my calibre of intelligence. He also made the very poor tactical error of proving me right, when I informed him I abhor gameplayers and superficial men by trawling after my beautiful friend in an attempt to prove what??? Only that he looked sort of desperate. Hahah. My doctor said, "See, you knew he would do that. You are so smart".

Well that is true, but meanwhile, the quest for the best continues, and being smart, avoidant and powerful, beautiful and weird, broke, and older, and overweight is not doing much for my Mojo! LMAO.

My doctor was rather amused when I told him about my homeless friend Brian who looks forward to hanging out with me when the pub closes at 3 am, when I often go and dance for George The Busker and Brian and anyone else outside the casino.

I told him Brian came to the pub Saturday night as I'd told him earlier that I was with my beautiful friend so wouldn't come up to the casino until 3 am, so we still got to hang out, he gave me some pizza and I shared my lemonade and we were happy as two naughty little kids while the other men who were hanging around as they had been trawling after me and my women friends in the pub, practically were banging their heads on the poles outside with confusion and frustration as I had rejected them all, in favour of Brian who might be homeless and a drunk and psychotic most of the time, but STILL has more skills in how to treat a woman than they do. Weird but true!

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12 March 2011

Copyright Tanya Désirée Arons