💀 weirdgirl zine 💜

sometimes people drown in negativity.  i did - i knew i needed to process healing past hurts through spiritual practices. finding inner guidance through silence and meditation is a time-honored tradition. the success i had drove me deeper into emotional processing techniques for spiritual awakening so i could learn to transform pain into something more constructive.  i've learned that while negativity itself never serves me, acknowledging and processing it does. feeling the pain, letting it out, working through it. it hurts like fuck, but it's a pain that’s necessary for healing and emotional processing techniques. the trap is letting it consume you… letting past hurts stain our future, repeating old patterns. that's when negativity becomes a choice, a conscious choice that only diminishes our light and hinders our spiritual growth journey. the answer for me was asking myself more on silence. i wondered “what’s the role of silence in spiritual growth?' the answers, i di...

omg, i slept for like a million hours after cuz i went surfing on sunday. still suck at it, but who cares? also, my swimsuit is mia. seriously, my swimsuit disappeared! also get this: i went surfing last week too and the sand was barely stuck in my mouth for more than three days! felt totally cheated. where's the gritty realness?!

okay listen: tantric meditation isn't always just about wild sex.  while some tantric practices incorporate sexual energy, the core of tantric meditation is about harnessing your prana, your life energy, to achieve a heightened state of awareness and bliss.  think of it less as a sex manual and more as a sophisticated self-improvement program. the goal isn't necessarily orgasms (though those can be a byproduct), but rather cultivating a deep connection with yourself and the universe. it's about mastering your energy, not just releasing it.  this involves techniques like breathwork, visualization, and mindful awareness of bodily sensations.  it's about feeling fully alive in every moment, not just during peak experiences.

after the jazzlynn debacle, i kept turdy at arm's length — or, at least the length of my middle finger, the almighty fingy of gorrrd. our interactions became a fascinating anthropological study of male audacious bullshittery in its natural habitat. i would receive these epic romantic declarations that read like he'd plagiarized them from a 14-year-old's wattpad werewolf erotica. i'd respond with vague compliments like "that's sweet" or "you have such a way with words," which he interpreted as encouragement rather than the perfunctory acknowledgments they were. i should mention that a quick peruse of facebook on the part of jizzle proved he was happily married with 2 lovely lil kiddos. jizzle shat herself and peppered me with screenies. i never wanted more than friendship, & even that was stretching it. i'd ask about his day, & he'd somehow turn "i watched football" into some creep shit like "i was thinking about how...

inspiration is a fickle mistress, and i want her to be my bestie sooo fuckin bad! kinda like phyllis, who has lots of a-muse-ing qualities. sometimes she strikes like a lightning bolt, other times she's more like a sluggish sloth.  my muse seems to thrive on midnight potions (my holy trinity of caffeine, cannabis, sugar) and chaotic energy.  so, when the creative well runs dry, i embrace the leftover weirds.  i indulge in some freaky shit. maybe i’ll find myself rearranging a crystal grid at 4am, grazing on leftover soosh/pizza while listening to cruelty-free organic whale/narwhal rap duels with caffeinated beats.  😂 i might cover myself in glitter and dance under the moonlight, channeling my boobs’ inner disco balls, and my whole self’s inner disco stu on radioactive coke while drinking andy warhol’s gangrenous (but rarified and lovely) blood on the dick slide at studio 54. the point is to break the rut: either go wild-ass, or create a new routine. embrace randomne...