This is 10 minutes of the Moesha diary music on a loop and you should play it while you read to add to the vibes and also pay some homage to Black pop culture!
Late Tuesday night, I went to pick up my computer to write something—anything—and it wouldn’t turn on. It was fully charged when I closed it after work, so I just stood there, wildly fucking confused.
And then I went over to the couch, kinda spiraled, and broke down in tears for like 20 minutes.
Not just because the computer wouldn’t start, but because it added to the defeat I’d already been feeling when it came to writing.
Lately, I’ve felt so far away from the writer I used to be.
My day gig gets pretty much all of my creative energy. And while yes, I’m hella good at it, it brings me very little joy. Even the big wins don’t hit as hard anymore. The worst part is when it’s finally time to write for me, there’s very little left. It could be my fault. I allowed myself to get so focused on performing well there to maintain my steady paycheck that I lost focus on the thing that used to bring me steady money and steady joy.
But I feel like blaming myself is just a habit that has become harder and harder to break, but this time—it can’t all be my fault…right?
I’ve been terrified that I’ve lost everything when it comes to writing—my voice, my spark, my way with words—and it’s so sad because all I want is to curl up in my chair, legs tucked underneath me, and just type away at my rose gold laptop in the cozy corners and rooms of my home.
I used to be so thrilled to escape into film and television—to watch it, to feel my way through it, or just to simply enjoy it. It’s how I’ve consumed pop culture since I could hold a remote.
And as time went on, when I realized I could share my thoughts on it with the world—and the bonus being that people actually cared to hear them AND I get paid for it—I fucking flourished.
But the thing that pays the bills now forces me to consume it in the exact opposite way. I’m asked daily to pump out as many ideas as I can in 9 hours, and I’m left creatively and mentally drained, and most importantly, unable to enjoy the thing I’ve loved that made me light up for a huge chunk of my life.
It truly started to feel that that particular joy in my life was going on a very, very extended Jet2 ass holiday.
I’d even talked myself into pivoting, hard, into something I don’t actually want, just because I’m good at that and scared I’ve lost too much of the thing I do want. Even though there’s a voice in my head trying to scream that it’s not true.
There’s been a change that went into effect this week, where I’ve taken some time back. Even through late-night Mercury Retrograde tech fuckery tears—I’m proud of myself.
I’m hopeful, no, I know (because words have molding power) that getting this time back—blended with the fresh energy of a new home, my favorite season on the horizon (kinda), and soon getting the computer of my dreams—will wake up the part of me I kinda though I’d lost forever.
There’s a new moon on Thursday and it’s in Leo (the sign I hate the most right after Libras btw)
A Leo moon is just as dramatic as the sign itself, and this one is a reminder to “pursue whatever makes you feel bold and alive”
It may sound woo woo, but I believe in the divine timing of it all.
I didn’t plan for my new schedule to be approved, let alone go into effect this week.
I didn’t know we’d be settled in our new home by now
I didn’t expect it to land in the middle of a retrograde
I didn’t expect it to be the same week my TIFF acceptance letter is due.
And I damn sure didn’t plan for it to land on the only day I could get a nail appointment, something else that makes me feel whole, after waiting over a month to get in.
But HERETH WE ARETH BABES!
And I’m choosing to believe in the alignment of it all.
I miss the movies.
I miss the tippytap of my nails on the keyboard at night, writing about some scene I can’t shake
I miss being excited over a new episode or film, when the whole day felt like nothing could go wrong because that was at the end of it.
I miss a big piece of me—not necessarily the films themselves, but the feeling they gave me, and the feeling that writing about them on top of that. I felt a tinge of it last week when I wrote about the immaculate film that is Sorry, Baby and you wouldn’t believe how unbelievably good it felt to press publish.
Anyway. Nicole Kidman—the creator of the “white woman with a secret” film genre—wasn’t lying when she said “We come to this place for magic”
I come to films and writing for magic and joy.
So here’s to this new moon, this new chapter, and this alignment welcoming me back with open arms.
From the HiShelli Archives:
Running Thoughts: Do You Pray Anymore?
As a kid, I was taught to pray a certain way, soft and respectful, the same way I was taught to be with the adults in my life. I was also taught to fear God. I was raised in a Christian household by a father who had more respect for God then he did for anyone in our home, so that then trickled into how I was taught to approach God when I wanted to come to him.
Thank you so much for reading Hi Shelli!
I can relate to so much of this, thank you for sharing your thoughts <3 ALSO thank you for the Moesha diary music, I will be listening all week long....
Everytime you hate on Libras, just picture me yelling “But not me betch!!” Into the ether 😘 Cant wait to own this Leo moo with yoooouuu