violetsvisions77

[violetsvisions77]

I’m moving. From a house that at once gave me everything- a safe haven during the pandemic, from my stalker, for my business so that it wasn’t a Covid causality… this safe haven being such a nice big space for my cat and I to watch hummingbirds, cardinals and squirrels from the comfort of a screen-in porch, in fact as I type this, the sun is setting and its beams are radiating though the tree branches and casting this beautiful warm glow on us right now.

However… this safe haven has also cost us so much. In this safe haven I have seen myself dive headfirst into poverty, additionally I’ve developed agoraphobia, intense anxiety and experienced paranormal activity here. This house killed my business. And it killed a lot of things about me, too. So much so, I have to leave both this house and my business behind.

Life is full of contrasts and opening and closing of doors. You sometimes don’t see the other side until it’s pushing you out the door.

This post spoke to me. “The structure rots and the plants reclaim”. As the soil around me has lost its nutrients and the nourishing waters are no more, I too, must be replanted or else I will be the next thing to rot.

something genuinely insane about going somewhere and getting to feel “i had some of the worst years of my life here” and “i was loved here, once” simultaneously.

[violetsvisions77]

The Return

What has it been, like 15 years since I’ve last posted on Tumblr AND painted!?

Whack…

I can’t say I know this platform that much anymore, and I’m due for a refresh (or crash course, all them veteran Tumblrers share your wisdom to fill me in if I’ve missed much).

Ngl. Writing this makes me feel old, I’m 34 by the way (since we’re doing introductions now?). I guess that is old in internet years. I know the zoomers think I’m a living relic, anyway.

Hey I survived Y2K, Ebola and really traumatically cruel 90’s Christian school teachers (IYKYK)

Anywho.

Where have I been these last 15 years?

Other than opening and then closing a business during the pandemic and nursing that wound, I think my last profile/posts (that no longer exist, hopefully) involved my broken engagement, that then turned into a bro-code breaking wet dream dating the best friend for 5 more years, that I’m still getting therapy for today. Love

Yeah. Love the whimsy of betrayal, lies and dudes manipulating naive hopeless romantic girls, who desperately needed confidence way more dick.

Oh… welcome to my tumblr 🥴😉

You’ll see a lot of rage-induced, ADHD fueled ramblings here with lots of other colorful sprinklings catapulted into the mix (y’know, kinda how the name Technicolor Ramblings implies). Not colorful how you think tho. Literally I’m an indigenous hairdresser and artist: Tater-baters and red hat brigaders leave wake (in fact take that lil Mayflower ass back on that sailing the ocean blue bullshit outta here and hope the killer whales getchu along the way too)

Anyway. Where were we?

Oh yeah, my hummingbird painting. Because like, that’s here so let’s talk about that instead of your daily dose of post-pandemic rantings and landback diatribes…

Right, so, this painting that’s not finished yet. It’s a Walela (Hummingbird in Cherokee. Yes I’m Tsalagi). The flowers all have meaning I’ll speak of later, but in short my life, more or less, has been saved by birds. My body has tried to kill me so many times, but picking up the simple hobby (should be something we all do, btw) of feeding birds and nectar-feeders has honestly saved my life and refocused my depresso messo of a fucked up mind.

My ancestors reminded me that I was here to be a steward. I have gifts. Feeding the birds and punishing the squirrels with spicy bird feed when they knock my cardinals off the feeder was my path in life (fr can we talk about what antagonistic little bitches squirrels can be?) Just joking… I’m indigenous, I love all animals and those lil fuckers do make me chuckle from time to time…

Lmao, okay okay, back to my sad sap story-turned influencer Tedtalk blog:

(Fr tho) I almost forgot myself, but the birds reminded me. I’m compassionate, I’m vibrant, I’m a work of art. I’m also crazy- like legit can’t keep my train of thought worth of shit, whatever the hell that means… (for laymen’s terms; I’m a bird brain)… but I’m me. An air sign, and an observer of nature, an indigenous woman who hails from descendants of Anitsiskwa (bird clan). Birds show me who I am. Weird little shits, but beautiful and so very valuable to our ecosystem. Each have their unique call(ing), colors, and purpose in this world.

And to be real, we waste so much of our own air chasing ideas of ourselves that’s based off others. We spoil so much of our own magic when we don’t love ourselves enough to foster the gifts we were given, that is MEANT to be shared

Magic. Yeah, Harry ain’t the only wizard here.

We each have our own rizz, y’all.

Mine is to feel, create and share, like many artists. That’s why it’s a blessing I can paint this Walela after a 15 year art hiatus. It’s my gift to share from the magic I contain.

Our experiences are meant to be the wisdom we learn from.

Our experiences were meant to heal.

And the experiences we foster into gifts of wisdom and art, are how we heal ourselves and others. It’s all tied together.

I feel like I haven’t always been good at that, using my experiences and turning into gifts to share. But with enough conviction, life is about second and third chances. So… with limited resources from our broken bird brain, we’re off into the races, my friends. I’m here to find, foster and share my colorful, weird and flighty magic again.

So without further ado as the Tumblr curtains open once again: I hope, if you done did the stumbler upon my Tumblr, you enjoy my own personal magic ✨

(It’s batshit crazy)

🥴😘