Theme: UNFINISHED SYMPHONY

30.04.2021

In principle we don’t really say anything.

To others.

Tell anything to anyone.

On a daily basis we only ever talk to ourselves.

Via other persons.

We actually live monologue.

Which is funny.

We believe that people who talk to themselves are crazy.

But they just cut out the middleman.

Have you noticed when you ask someone for advice, you already know the answer? And if for some reason they give you a different answer, you ignore their advice?

We only ask ‘others’ for advice, because we want to be given another option.

A choice.

And when it inspires us, we do it.

Otherwise we don’t.

But the choice has always been there. And we know it, because when it is given, we recognise it.

We cannot recognise anything if we don’t know it.

That’s what inspiration is.

Recognising ourselves.

In a mirror.

We are in love with someone in order to be loved back.

Unconditional love is bullshit.

Because one sided love is torturous.

We are kind to others because we want to experience kindness.

We trust because we want to feel trusted.

It is so engrained to ‘Do unto others as we want others to do unto us’ that we do it.

We want to be mirrored.

In everything.

Love.

Acknowledgement.

To feel accepted and safe.

Have you noticed that if you wear something that you’re not quite sure of and then someone else says something, you get insecure?

And pissed off at, guess who, THEM?

For pointing out your doubts.

To you.

It’s easier to be angry at others than at yourself.

Oooh, so much easier.

To build a victim and insecurity construct.

Based on other people’s actions.

Which are really only reactions.

Pointing out a belief you hold against yourself.

So we walk around in life, constantly blaming others.

Perpetuating our own insecurities.

Pathetic really.

Nobody is a victim unless the want to be.

There must be some sort of sick joy in wallowing in one’s insecurities.

It feels awful.

Yet we happily do it.

Why?

Why do we give away our power?

And since we are mirroring, that power is pushed right back into our face.

That’s why it feels awful.

For us to wake up, to take charge!

But we don’t acknowledge.

Instead we push it away again to and ‘imaginary’ other.

A demon ping pong.

That’s what I’m experiencing with my nightmare tenant who is not paying rent, blaming Covid and basically having a laugh. And he is refusing to move out.

When I read through his angry messages (yeah, he basically been living last year rent free, brought in a large dog against the contract and he’s black mailing and insulting me for wanting him out while owing me £6k, but he is angry) he is completely constructing the victim scenario.

While taking the piss.

And I am so done with this.

He blames the global pandemic for HIS troubles, completely ignoring that it effects everyone.

He blames the death of his dad, completely ignoring that my mom died too.

He blames loss of a job for not paying rent, ignoring the fact that I lost my job too but people still pay their rent.

He blames potential homelessness, ignoring the fact that I chose to only rent a room to keep my overheads low.

It is mind boggling that he still believes he is completely in the right!

And I believe that I am!

So who is right?

I don’t get into explanations with him, because he is completely delusional.

Although the situation is getting so tight, I don’t feel like throwing more money at it.

He’s been sponsored enough.

It’s time to get his victim ass out of my property.

He is intimidating, and I’ve been wrecking my brain on how to get him out.

Been feeling a sickness in my stomach for months.

I feel helpless, not knowing where to turn and what to do.

And there is a procrastination part in me.

I don’t want to think about him anymore.

I want him far far away out of my reality.

I want someone to mention him and I go ‘Who?’ and they will have to remind me.

I want that when I finally remember, I will have a big triumphant smile on my face.

The smile of a winner.

I fought and destroyed a demon.

My demon tenant.

Effortlessly.

With magic.

This is what I want.

This is what I’m telling myself.

Through writing a diary.

Other things I’m telling myself are …

“Everything that’s is happening this moment is to your advantage!”

“Everything I am doing this moment I’m exactly supposed to be doing, in exactly the way I’m doing it, in order to be perfect!”

So, to take my tenant to court or not is obvious choice.

It doesn’t look like a choice because

1. I don’t want to spend money to sue his ugly ass
2. If I don’t, he could theoretically stay there forever. For free.

This has been my predicament.

Accompanied by a constant horrible feeling.

(I mentioned the whole fucked up scenario in my earlier post called ‘FUCK BULLIES’.)

Basically I seem powerless.

But I don’t want to think about is at all.

Not feeling guilty about procrastinating.

Is my procrastination only because I feel I don’t have a choice?

I want him gone for good.

Without having to do anything.

Gone like a puff of smoke.

Disappear.

As if he has never happened.

He is one of my biggest challenges.

A relationship which is hard to shake.

An abusive relationship I cannot seem to leave.

Usually, if I feel someone taking the piss in a relationship, I get out.

I just walk away.

This is different.

He has to be the one walking away.

Because it’s my flat.

OMG, he is basically a pathetic whiny boyfriend who doesn’t want to leave.

So if I want out of this relationship, I will have to walk away?

Leave him my lifetime investment?

No fucking way!

Not this time!!!

I have done it before.

Not this time!!!

So what to do with a bully ‘boyfriend’ who makes my life miserable and doesn’t leave?

Let me google.

I’m in a domestic abuse case basically.

And it’s happening in my flat.

Hmmm … what is the lesson?

Finding ways to make him realise that this relationship is over.

That there is no going back.

I have made up my mind.

It is in his best interest to get the fuck out.

To take his pathetic ass as far away as possible.

How?

In need inspiration.

As it will only happen if I clear my mind of him.

So I am.

Walk away mentally.

Walk away emotionally.

Not communicating.

At all.

He is smoke.

Not my mirror anymore.

I’m smashing it.

Inspiration hit …

Lauren and I had a good idea…

Let’s see.

Hm… interesting.

In Ghana I’ve been moving when other’s move.

Or otherwise waiting for other’s to move.

And it’s getting on my nerves.

Being dependent on others’ movement.

And then slotting in.

I feel like people are wasting my time.

By making me wait.

I don’t like to wait.

I hate it when people are flaky and late.

But waiting is my choice I guess.

And I have relaxed into it.

Things here happen when they happen.

And I’m on holiday.

So I have time.

It’s a good learning curve for me, a person who is always timely.

What does it even mean, on time?

Time is man made.

Artificial.

So I am basically creating a plan, a timeline, a structure of time within which I am observing it.

Time.

A time lab.

But what is time if I don’t have all that, a timeline, a plan, a time lab?

What is there to observe then?

We have experienced how fickle time is ..

Not fixed.

It runs fast when we enjoy ourselves.

And slow when we do a chore.

It’s transient.

So how would I live knowing I have all the time in the world?

I can be very generous with my time then, right? .

And I would not feel that others are wasting it.

Or me for that matter, wasting my own time by waiting for others.

Because if I fill my waiting time with a fun activity, it will go quickly and not feel wasted.

That is a fun challenge.

To chill the fuck out.

But this morning I’m peeved.

My mate Valency 1 has got a radio interview this morning and he wants me to be there.

Pick up confirmed 6am.

I can feel he is nervous.

I met up with him yesterday and he tried to coach me of how to be, what to say, what to wear etc.

And for a moment I got nervous too.

I will be introduced as his manager, what shall I say?

He promised me initially that in the function as his manager I will not have to say fuck all.

Just go with the flow.

He will do all the talking.

That’s his strength.

He is a skanker.

I am his advisor, his oracle.

All cool.

So this morning I was ready at 6am.

At 7.45 he messaged me that he is leaving the house.

Been waiting all this time.

Knew he would be late.

The time slot for the interview apparently is 7.30–10.30am

Wtf.

He wants me to take a cab to meet him there.

No way.

Wasting my time and also my money?

No.

Pick me up if you want me to be there …

I’ve been up for three hours for him.

Ready.

For this interview.

Which I guess I didn’t have to do.

Sure, he is convinced that by me being there, it will help him being recognised.

People will wonder.

That’s his new single we’re promoting.

Wonder.

But making me wait…?

Actually, I’m pissed off that I made myself wait.

But why?

Has my time been wasted?

No.

I’ve been writing this.

I’ve had a quick inspiration with my daughter.

I sent a message to my tenant that this relationship is over.

I had coffee.

I had a shower.

I look good and feel confident in what I’m wearing.

I thought the interview will be fun.

Was looking forward to it.

Because I’m bored.

And that’s why I got up at 5:30am.

Because I thought it would be epic to be there.

Recognised as his #prettybossmanager.

Especially, because I believe he will be big.

Selfish reasons.

Like making people wait.

Same thing.

So this is a new relationship and in its growing pains.

My demon tenant and my relationship with him is also in pain.

Death pain.

I shall not pain myself.

I want him to be in pain.

And he is, in pain, looking at the crazy messages he sends me.

A wounded animal.

Wallowing in his victim construct.

I’m not taking on his insecurities.

I’m not taking on his pain.

I’m not taking on his anger.

(Although he desperately tries to get it out of me by bullying tactics and insults)

I will not be moved to do so.

Because I don’t like it.

And there is no point.

He won’t listen.

He wants a mirror.

But I won’t have it.

It’s a waste of my time.

And not fun.

Giving his rage a brother.

But as I said this relationship is over.

He can suck his own dick for all I care.

I am not making the move.

To be precise: I will make a move or not according to my own time.

Move on inspiration.

And then everybody else will move.

In accordance.

I just have to be conscious of myself and my need for feeling good.

Of having a good time.

Then time goes in my favour.

Always.

Time is also not a ‘thing’ to fill with something else.

Do you think God filled the expanding universe with planets and stars and supernovae and galaxies and black holes and then gets pissed off at the space surrounding them?

Labelling it ‘waste of time_space’ because it is not filled with anything?

And also …

Space is not ‘nothing’.

It is still something.

So no need to get upset.

But marvel at it all.

Equally.

My space.

My fucking time.

My planets.

Can people ever take the piss in my space?

Waste my time_space?

Only if I believe they can.

Does it make me feel like they are?

Only if I let it.

I can let it go.

The concept that someone can simply occupy my physical and mental space.

And time of day.

That someone has that power over me.

8.37am

Seems that the interview is not that important after all.

Or my presence.

No piss taken.

I had valuable insights in the meantime.

Now fuck off.

8.47am

I’m still watching the time.

Back in the time lab.

But I think it’s funny.

Watching it pass.

Wondering.

Only 1h40 interview time left.

But wait!

The time slot could also mean arrival time because the interviewers are on Ghana time too and know it we well.

In that case we still have 1h40mins to get there.

So we’re in time.

All good.

Remember:

“I am at the right time in the right place, doing exactly what I’m doing. Perfectly!”

I am in a movie.

As the main character.

The performance of a lifetime.

Literally.

And what a movie it is.

Because I’m also the scriptwriter.

And Directors.

And I’m playing my role to perfection.

And of course there are challenges and drama.

Demons and angels.

It’s funny.

I was talking to my lovely friend this morning about her grandmother torturing her parents who have to look after her.

Being the devil to them.

Ha, and she tells my friend’s parents to go to hell.

Ironic.

She also believes she is an angel and they are the devil.

Interesting.

How can people believe such a thing about themselves when they are clearly being the ones inflicting pain to others?

How can someone bully us?

My friend’s parents did not need to take her in.

But they believe they had to because of what others would think.

And for being held responsible if something happened.

Why are we taking on responsibility when it’s clearly not appreciated?

What if we think we are helpful but in fact we are the ones torturing them?

Am I the one torturing my tenant like he believes?

I don’t think I am.

But I would love to.

Put thumb screws on him.

Sink a hot iron on his forehead.

Cut off his dick and feed it to him.

Smash his toes with a large hammer.

Destroy him.

For making me feel helpless.

Channeling my occasional anger.

It would be fun.

If I could do all of this mentally.

I need inspiration.

I want my flat to become a torture chamber for him.

Him feeling so uncomfortable there, that he will be happy to move out.

The trouble with that is that he does not see a way out.

No point torturing someone who doesn’t see a way of escape.

I think that’s what he wants from me.

That’s why he tried to blackmail me.

“Pay me back my deposit BEFORE I move out, and then I move out. Or be stuck with me forever.”

Ha, I told him “in your dreams”.

That’s his way out.

In his dreams.

My dreams are more important.

So I want my dream to come true.

My escape out of my own torture chamber.

So I’m walking away.

Simple as that.

It’s not an obvious escape route but torture chambers usually don’t provide ‘Way Out’ signs.

My way out looks like the iron maiden in the corner, at the moment.

Torture tool shaped like a woman.

9h06am

The Iron Virgo.

There is clearly a door but the inside has sharp nails.

It’s a risk.

The back could open when I close that door.

Into freedom.

I think I saw that in a movie once.

A cool move.

And the guards were scratching their heads.

Wonder.

Valency 1.

Like the Count of Monte Christo.

Escaping to find wonder-full riches in order to take evil revenge in his adversaries who imprisoned him.

If I had unlimited money, what would I do?

I would definitely go for revenge.

It would be my pleasure to drag my evil tenant to court and destroy his life.

But there is a little doubt.

The nails in the Iron Virgin.

The shackles.

Because I didn’t pay his deposit into a tenancy scheme, and because he defaulted on rent straight away, I postponed it.

Little did I know that it will never ever recovered.

These are the nails I am afraid of.

Therefore not taking him to court because he could potentially counter sue me and potentially win.

Will what he owes me be counted against the money of my penalty?

Again, what if money wasn’t an issue?

What if the nails were fake?

The shackles made from licorice?

I would happily place my body into the Iron Maiden and walk out the other side.

Would it be fun?

Yessss.

Fuck you.

Ok, so which one of these actions means happily skipping into freedom?

Court or no court?

Confrontation or walking away?

Facing the bully head on or turning my back?

Is there a third option?

I need inspiration.

What keeps me is my perceived money shortage.

Again, what would bring me the most pleasure?

What if money was not an option?

My absolute pleasure would be to walk out of the torture chamber and still see him in pain in there.

That’s what I like.

On no money.

Winning everything.

Win win situation.

For me!!!!

What is my next move?

Another thing to tell myself:

“What is my next move?”

And then move it.

Only then.

On inspiration.

And recognise it as such.

Then ask again.

“What’s my next move?”

Jumping from planet to planet.

Not being bothered about the ‘space’ in between.

That’s how I want to live.

9h27mins.

I’m getting breakfast.

OMG, speaking of demons …

Fuck, I need an exorcism.

Sean is a demon, possessing my place.

He shall depart in the name of a higher power.

Which could be his conscience.

Which could be feeling discomfort.

Which could be a court order.

What would I want to be?

The goal: him leaving my space 3rd May.

How: on his own accord.

Fee: free of charge.

God, I just realise that I’m sounding like a broke record.

I want this song to finish.

ENOUGH.

I want a better song.

I want a symphony.

Or Disco.

Music to move by.

Inspired.