You know? I wasted a decade of my life. I give up. I’m letting this go. I, looking at this guru in my mind, this screenwriter, “wow,” as a single white female, one who didn’t need help, that person took advantage of my vulnerability. And apparently, that was the trait you weren’t supposed to take advantage of. Ruined my life, that guy, his “channeling” and “reality creation” obsessions. I became a joke, psychic.
Be careful who you get involved with. Especially if you come from what we call “a background.” There are predators and there are prey—Zootopia. I did a scene. I was the bunny. The dumb bunny. But now, I get to let this go, let go of “being famous” because of this story, or “making it” as a writer. I got entangled in all this stuff that I didn’t understand at all. I am not interested in channeling. That was not me…it is not me. If I was a good person, that didn’t bring me real love, so I’m not getting attached. She’s dead. The old Maria is dead.
I was blown to bits, I have no idea if I was abused, and now I don’t know what to do. But I’m here now. I’m going to work on peace of mind, finding purpose, getting “channeling” out of my body. I hate these brothers. I’m telling you. I need to work out my mind, man. I get to let go of this awful story. I got nowhere, and now I have to figure out what I’m doing with the rest of my life. I’m telling you David Weisberg, that guy was a weirdo. A real weirdo. I need to get this logic totally out of me. No future. No nothing. I think those two brothers would have been ogres in another century, take your pick. If I was the one who could talk to animals in the 15th century? In all seriousness.
I’d like to let go of the image that I’m in a limo, playing the field, over this story? I couldn’t believe this person. Over being a writer? “YOU CAN MAKE IT,” yeah, I knew that, theoretically. I hadn’t done anything yet. I wasn’t battling with whether or not I could? I just didn’t understand. I would have rather fallen in love, simply. Who wants to get a card, “be amazing if you chose to be…” I would have rather an engagement ring.
I’m going to take some time. My time with the guru makes me want to run as far away as possible from any kind of profession that comes with fame. No Fletchers, no BIG MEN in the ARTS. Please. I would rather pursue a path that doesn’t have anything to do with it. I wanted to make it, sure, but I didn’t have a problem with it. Nope, right? Me? No interest in making it, nope. I’m good. I’m just buying a house, over here. I’m chill.
I have too much going on internally when I write, like “future audience members,” that channeler tape in particular. I can’t deal with their obsession with FEELING driving reality, I didn’t want to live inside a movie, sorry. I don’t get manifestation, because I don’t have a problem with it. I don’t get the obsession.
I’m amazed at these people who produce books, you know? In the time I can’t figure out one story, I know a person who’s written five books. It’s nothing against me, and you’re not supposed to give up, I understand, it’s just, “cool,” good job, “so you published a book…” now what? My closest friend thought I would be seen, simply, and I would become an actor…who needed a manager? Hollywood would halt all production schedules with Academy Award winners, attached, like Academy Award winning screenwriters, story writers, for my story that he was going to be in?
I couldn’t even finish a book. I couldn’t STEP back in the USA, without these hotshot men wanting to “help me.” Think about that. Because I had curly hair. Because I was a “good person.” Because I came from “a background.” I had resources back then. But I get to this point, which is, I got that family story out of the way. I can’t deal with my last adopted family right now, because, how did I end up here? So, I don’t know, for the moment, I have to let this go.
What I thought, through this, I’m not a power person, I’m not personal, either, I only want you to succeed. It’s just, a rare type of person, and sometimes I wonder if I should go work with people. I did not need help. I did not need these men. I had to make peace with some real world shit.
All I had to do was get a job, just like anyone else, think HOUSE, read, play around with notecards, not meditate on a future point. It wasn’t that complicated. And that sort of killed it, being told that a fictional character in my, simply speaking, BAD DRAFT, was a “really good psychological device…” I’m going to need a minute. Like, now, I re-read this so-called first chapter of the book that this screenwriter read and thought, “if only the whole thing could be like that…” it’s not a good chapter. I just have to sit down with myself, “I’m so sorry honey, you really had no idea who you were involved with, you just got disturbed and confused.” Looking at this apartment I was living in, in the Chelsea Hotel. “I’m so sorry.” That was a fucking mess.
When you feel like you became a bad M Night Shyamalan film in real life, that sort of kills it. I have the rest of my life to write a book. I was not looking for advice, help, to be the ONE, NEO, type deal. I didn’t need attachments. I had to go through a lot loss to get here, but I am here, I feel that way. What people believe in, it always astounded me. I think, the job, is figuring out how life works for you. I’m a nature person, there are many beings out there, they have their way. Some feed off others, which was never my way.
That person, the guru, really triggered me, and I wasn’t able to understand that. Now, I am available. I can meet a man. I can build a stable, meaningful life. And I can just set aside the unnecessary “making it” over… I don’t know. I lost everything, you know? It was a touch too sentimental. Like, other people got weirdly struck by that story. I couldn’t be okay, not okay, I wasn’t a piece of clay. You know? Go to foster care… there are plenty of…stories there.
I’d like to find my voice, what I DO, forget KNOW, that feels like singing…I mean that, purely. I’m going to have to find the will to really live now, now that I’m on the other side, and all these unconscious gears aren’t turning, I found my mother an utter nightmare to work out, whatever that was, and my father too. They were ill, you guys, at least!
I need to keep shaking off my age, the psychic crap, the —future that wants me to get there, like it’s a terrible aspect of my experience now, and it gets better, but it wasn’t necessary to think like that. I did not need controversial logic that sounds like a joke to me. There are plenty of successful people who are not into life as sci-fi. THEY are fine.
I don’t think that I had to go through such a harsh end, I don’t know, but I have no idea WHO that was, back there, and I don’t who I am. Honestly, I go, “okay,” you know? I made those decisions… And people’s responses to me not knowing if I was abused — heartbreaking. But the thing is, if I were to end my life, which I don’t want to, that’s not a thought in my mind, but people’s responses were heartbreaking, and I don’t know if this story will MAKE THE NEWS and everyone will apologize…
I don’t get why the guru was so obsessed with me, I’m sorry. I really don’t know. Why is he looking at my Facebook page? Making comments? “Your suitors came to me during a meditation.” I mean, what the fuck was the point? I mean, I look at Barbara Harris, and I go, “did you have to deal with this type of shit because you were touching?” It’s like, Lerner, right? This journalist had a thought event… while watching her. “Um, you care about her?” It was pretty simple to him. I’m telling you, people “caring about me,” that wasn’t positive. Whatever that was.
I’d like to meet a man that I love, who loves me, who doesn’t give a shit about this stupid story.
It’s like, if the guru was in love with me, David, “you cannot disappoint me you have my love…” dramatically? That’s not love, you see, not psychoanalyzing someone who can’t simply ask on a date. I don’t know why I was there to begin with, but I was struck somewhere, and I’m embarrassed. It wasn’t even my role. I wasn’t the person who wanted to be a star, you see, that wasn’t my desire. “I believe in you as an artist,” when I didn’t DO anything. I was so confused, why is he doing that? Because he finds me attractive? I get that I was “special,” like cue the music, but HOW? What made me special exactly?
It wasn’t benign.
I could sing and dance a little? I mean, truly. I was entertaining? I really don’t know what to say, but for the moment, I need to let this go, because this isn’t working. I’m going to go figure out my life. I’m letting this go. Not until there isn’t a single thought form that’s left, and there isn’t all this stuff attached to my story… that wasn’t THERE ten years ago! If I could eternal sunshine these people, I would do it immediately. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. And everyone in that movie WANTS me to be able to get that procedure done. It’s not even erasing a lover. It’s erasing a GURU. Picture me, getting NICE and COZY in this seat, “let’s do this,” clap. And I feel lifted, staring across the beach, like a million bucks. And I’m never seeing that person again… so it wouldn’t even matter.
So that’s it, I’m letting this go until there’s nothing PULLING anything out of me…