Afallenvenusian - A Fallen Venusian

"I can't cry anymore, that you're not around..."

April 8, 2025

It was all fine and well introducing my mother to Formula 1 last year. I bought the F1 subscription. She binged the entire Lewis Hamilton Mercedes era over the break. Our bi-weekly phone calls turned into F1 podcasts. We're bonding! Planning a trip to the Vegas Grand Prix later this year. Little did I know, three races into 2025, I'd have to deal with a drunk 70-year-old on a two-hour phone rant about why was Suzuka so fucking boring and wtf is Ferrari doing to her baby, Lewis Hamilton and calling Max the GOAT is racism.*

Stay tuned, friends. I may have made a grave mistake.

On my 4,287th viewing of Ayesha Faines' Sage Masterclass (RIP, Queen), it's finally hit me that I am not the uber corporate, always level-headed Sage but the "owns and speaks her truth" Sage. Combined with being a dominant Lover who seeks connection, my nature is more "yapper" than mysterious Sophisticate. This is fine. I can turn on the mystery when needed. Otherwise, I need to give it up, turn it loose. I am who I am.

It's weird when your 52-year-old cousin looks at you, 41 with the graying temples to show for it, and waxes nostalgic about your appearance and mannerisms being the same as when you were three? Right? Ma'am? 25% of my hair is gray. What in the actual fuck are you talking about?

Last year, a friend (who doesn't watch the news) gave me shit because I didn't like how the geopolitical climate looked for a group trip to Paris in 2026. And well...

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[*] My mother is an American Black woman who lived through the assassinations of Martin Luther King, Jr. and Malcolm X. She's allowed to think everything is racism.

The path forward is power—not through proximity, but through possession. Not by begging men to be better captors, but by becoming better architects. Women have to start designing their lives with intention, rejecting every dependency that leaves them voiceless, and refusing to perform weakness just to feel safe. Because safety bought through submission is a scam. It’s a temporary peace built on the condition that you never grow.

From: What's the holdup on getting rid of patriarchy? | ensainte

(Finally. A young lady who writes like she goes outside.)

May 6, 2025

The last two days? Much better.

Figured out how to start a private Substack that requires subscription approvals (score one for utilizing the benefits of that platform without its non-sense). Made sure I got in my requisite movement yesterday (a 30 minute walk). Politely told the friend who flaked on hanging out over the weekend not to ask me anywhere else unless she plans to actually show up.

Re: the Substack. I popped open a blank page and the words showed up. Liked I turned on a fucking faucet. It was incredible. Shout out to Neptune in Aries opposite my Mercury. I told a friend it feels like my mind is drowning in fire.

And so's my body. Spent an extra few minutes in bed this morning for some self-care, because shit. I felt good. Took longer than usual to put on my clothes because I couldn't stop looking at myself. I graduated college 19 years ago today. This is the finest I've ever felt.

Apparently, I just needed some movement.

"Everyone is a Ferrari fan."

"Do me a favor and check your mailbox."