Sarcatsic

Saturday.

Glorious Saturday.

Saturday represents the planet Saturn in astrology. Saturn is in the malefic 8^th house in my natal chart and is sitting in old age. I’ve had a shit of a life. Stronger language would be used, but I made a vow to God. I take my vows seriously.

Some of the shit was self-inflicted, but the reality is the drama has been brought to me non-stop by a bunch of evil assholes. I’m over it. I’ve moved on. I’ve remembered the lessons and I have forgiven them. Any thing begins to smell like the past I will change course and avoid collision.

Saturday.

Saturday is a day I spend in fasting. I’m doing this to remedy the energetic imbalances on my natal chart. It is actually really great for discipline, especially considering Saturn is the planet of discipline. Self-discipline and self-control. She has taught me many lessons in learning these basics. Wonderful Saturn.

Saturday is also a day where I donate part of my pension to Foodbank in Western Australia. I’ve starved. I nearly died of malnutrition last year (with these evil assholes watching and not saying a thing). I’ve learned the value of a nutritious diet and how important it is. Donating this money to that organisation on Saturday is also aimed at re-balancing my natal energy. I can’t claim any on tax (though I would if I could). It doesn’t really matter. It means I am helping to keep another from the suffering I’ve been through (which is weird because most likely the intended recipients of the money are on the same team as my oppressors, which make the gift that much more powerful. Feeding a friend is easy. Feeding an enemy is a true gift of kindness and I am sure karma sees this).

Saturday.

Let’s see. Can’t go outside to ground and recharge under the sun. Uncharacteristic weather is taking place. Climate change. Blab la. I say Australia is pissed about the suffering of the Traditional Custodians. There is a reason its named that. What about the rest of the world you say? Well, did the evil white assholes not do this shit elsewhere on the globe?

Saturday.

Check a university assignment and have a meltdown over the proper use of an apostrophe before it turns into an apostacy. I am a writer and in uni, I should know this, right? Wrong. It’s a fun little assignment with a lot of word play but there is the issue of an apostrophe. Is it needed? If so, where do I place it?

Saturday.

I haven’t checked slack for my volunteer work yet today. There is no mentions and none of the channels I’m in have said anything, so I am ignoring that until I have a block of time to get started writing there. Work is building up there as well and though I got the job I am finding out how much I don’t know and how inexperienced I am.

(The subject of my story just disappeared). (I’ll keep writing it and label it fiction then).

Saturday.

Check the news. Same bla bla as always. Is any of it real? I look at the words they use. It seems like NLP to me. I feel sorry for the people who will be triggered by it, making more news for the masses. I look at it now and none if it applies to me, if it ever did. If ever these were messages (seriously?) they are mixed at the best. The people trying to control me keep trying to run different narrative past me to see if I’ll believe them and bite the bait.

Nope. The fact that their needs to be so many narratives and conflicting at best tells me none of it actually applies. If something is true, it speaks for itself. If something is true it does not need a group of cons to convince you of its validity. It's standard sociopathic behaviour. What they do tells me more about them than it does about me. And once people have tolde you who they are and they continue with that behaviour, I guess you believe them. The reality is that it’s just narcopaths tossing word salad together. Sorry. God released me from NLP and programming. Enjoy your own lives.

Saturday.

It is like they say that confidence is silent and insecurities are loud. I'm a quiet person. I don't talk much, even when alone. That should have been a trigger to the bullies letting them know I've upleveled in confidence which means their ability to control me has downleveled. I've never seen people fail so consistently and still not understand that some very vital elements to getting what they want are missing.

Now, if insecurities are loud, all these noisey people trying to manipulate, well, would that mean they are insecure? It feels like they are, because they've stepped up thier BS to the point where I am knowing they are getting desperate. Good. Get desperate. Get angry. Get frustrated. My life belongs to me and according to my stars my karma is nearly paid. Where is that going to leave you people once I've paid my debt and that energy ain't there no longer? Good thing I forgive. Trust? Nope. Never. I like my life and I love where I am evolving to.

Saturday.

When I prayed to God to release me from the situation, he did. I guess it wasn't in his will to call Satan's dogs off of me. What was in his will was helping me to overcome and release the programming, giving me the strength to not only not act on the programming, but to even cease to be angry at all these creeples. At some point this year, things began to really unravel, allowing me this glorious freedom and I love it.

I’ve got some new things to do this evening. Things that I have never done before. I am mildly wondering how it is going to turn out. I should probably be more anxious, but its hard to have anxiety when you are balanced and content. It will turn out like it turns out and it seems that that useless Diploma in Counselling I earned a few years ago may finally be getting some real use, instead of just being the key into uni. On my way to volunteering for that organisation I’ll be doing a touch of market research, but the masses of asses probably already know this and fools will be their attempting to trigger programming that doesn’t exist. I would imagine it’s like calling a number that has been disconnected. It just ain’t going to happen, but your all welcome to try.

Saturday.

What else about Saturday can I say? Oh, I do my hated yoga routine. It involves me standing up and doing some squats. The way my back is at the moment, I am counting the days before I’m going to need something to help me get up, get down and move. Whatever Gods will is and whatever his purpose is I am down with that, even if I don’t understand it and even if it causes pain.

Saturday.

I’m supposed to wear black, as well, to help balance those energies, but I am not really worried about that. I have some black on and that will have to do.

(The subject of the story is back).

*scratch, scratch, scratch*. “Yowell”

Bloody cat. I’ve got to get up and answer the door. Her majesty, the Queen, has deigned to visit her poor, furless, purrless subject in the bowels of her castle.

Okay. I’ve sat back down and left the door open. One must not interfere in the workings of royalty, or perhaps she is a Goddess in disguise?

*Kathud*. “Oooff, you’re heavy.”

There is a weight, now, a huge one, on my little, inadequate lap. “Thank you! It’s just what I wanted.” I can’t move now, nor really concentrate any longer, as a furry presence requires my hand to stroke it and persuade purrs to erupt forth. What can I do on Saturday now?

Write a story.