Mage & the Tantrums

Colorful with shades of black.

[mage-and-the-tantrums]

It was so hard to live without writing. This is who I am. This is my safe haven, my little corner of the internet, where I could run to be myself, and speak to people like me, effortlessly, beautifully; this is who we are. Writers, poets, artists. These words mean something here.

[mage-and-the-tantrums]

Sandwoman

I thought I won the lottery when you came along It was almost too easy to be true For a wretch like me But I was tired beyond tiredness, until it stopped making sense I was ready to follow a heretic if it took that Me, the believer who prayed for this so long I kept throwing roses at your portrait Embellishing your rough edges and torn wings Convincing you to wear all the necklaces I had made for you, ironically, long before you knew about me To the irony of fate, or the strength of my make-belief All the signs fell in the right places And the show was off to a good start To the old adage, of seeing the holes in your boat, And being foolish enough to set sail, I say : Did any of us had an option ? Did we ever really have a choice ? Or did anyone make it ashore safe, ever? I thought I could fix her, and help her climb the walls So high in her head, made of sand I was neither let in, nor given the demolition order But I held in, just as the water was rising alarmingly In the little boat, I believed it wasn't supposed to be easy As if anything is at this stage I held in until I could not stand

I beg for forgiveness from the poems I had to delete Just because I was naive enough to think I have found the one For the couple of texts I wrote about her Of the threads of a future that was never meant to be Crafted carefully, painfully

The funny thing about a distant relationship, with an even more distant partner, when it truly mattered Of someone with so many self-made obstacles Is that after parting ways, it feels as if they never existed As if they were a little pause, completely imagined Sometimes voided of any sense And so castles made of sand, just like her high walls, slip into the sea eventually

[mage-and-the-tantrums]

I know I should write

Dear stranger, It has been so long. Sorry for the long wait. There is so much I want to tell you; my drafts are about to explode, but I promise I will do better, and tell you all about it. Expect to see me more on your wall, but also in your posts! Yours, truly Mage

[weltenwellen]

Chelsea Dingman, from "Psychogeography"

[mage-and-the-tantrums]

What is mage and the tantrums ?

"Mage and the Tantrums" is a creative and playful name, blending the mystical and magical ("Mage") with a sense of emotional expression and energy ("Tantrums"). It has a whimsical and intriguing quality to it, suggesting a combination of magic and vibrant emotions in writings.

It aims to be a mix of enchanting thoughts and passionate reflections, making it quite engaging and relatable.

[mage-and-the-tantrums]

Relinquish

I am concerned. I am weary. I think and I don't wanna lose all this time eventually. I took so many L's. I want to identify the fault, isolate and fix it. Like a piece of software, deterministic, finite, predictable, and fixable. The exact opposite end of the spectrum from life. I have go on about life with this rationale for so long. I am familiar with this perspective, the one where the human is the architect, the sole actor of his own demise or triumph. I have been fool enough to claim absolute responsibility for the outcomes in my life. I mean how much bad luck one could have? it's so easy to claim so when life is good. It is soul-breaking to claim so otherwise. In the new approach, it is only normal to be weary. It is only normal to plan, and eventually take action. It is required to try. But the outcome is not mine to think of, or worry about. The human ego wants to claim absolute ownership of the world it dwells in. The human desire to be always in control and able to predict, pushes us to adopt ownership of our futures, as perfectly able architects to design our universes. And that is how we omit so many factors, so many other designs interfering with ours. Omitting the frailty of the human condition. I stopped claiming ownership over my future. It goes without saying that I can never give up on planning, trying and executing. The rest is beyond my control, and left to a far greater force.

"Sometimes my greatest move wasn't the plan I just let the pieces fall wherever they land 'Cause I talk to God and he know where I stand So it's crazy to see how my life really pan"

[mage-and-the-tantrums]

Pressure

This is the longest I wanted to write and went on without it for months. I wanted to write because of a lot of things that happened lately. My life has changed. Well, given that we assume that life is the sum of what we do daily and our objectives, short or long term. I do not know if I should carry on with writing and turn it into a serious piece, or just postpone it, like the 250 saved tabs in my browser that I save to silence my giant FOMO (fear of missing out), actually never go back to. Sitting on my parents couch, in the air-conditioned living room during a +40 Celsius degree day, listening to "Pressure" by Billy Joel, that's all I have felt for quite some time now. Pressure. Peer pressure, age pressure, still-living-with-my-parents pressure, pressure that I turn out to be a failure, pressure that I will never be financially independent, pressure of being broke, pressure of witnessing everyone around me leaving for expatriation while I did the reverse trip 3 years ago. I think my thoughts are all over the place for a proper writing. I think I have said enough.

You've only had to run so far so good But you will come to a place Where the only thing you feel Are loaded guns in your face And you'll have to deal with Pressure



[naagy-deactivated20231218]

[mage-and-the-tantrums]

Round n

Every time I think I beat my monsters, they come back, stronger than ever. There is no escaping them. I have to fight, every time. There is no breaking the cycle, there is no hope except in victory, until the next war. I accept my fate. “You're Not Defeated as Long as You're Resisting”

[mage-and-the-tantrums]

Summer Anxious

I am literally aching to write. Before every summer, the absurdity of life manifests itself, shaking the ground below my feet. It always hurts to open my arms for the summer. The solstice begins to choke me even before it is here. I almost feel the hands around my neck. It hurts in my Joey's apple, it hurts from within. Yet, there is much to be celebrated. Much to be confessed. Much to cast a light on. The castles made of sand slip into the sea, eventually. Everything else is complete destruction, silent or accelerated, followed by assured construction, yet to be destructed. That is the motion of this life.

[shaktirainfeather]

“Summer arrives in a strawberry, sweet, juicy. As long as you feel its flesh on your tongue you’re unaware how. One minute inches into the next. But how could you observe awareness anyway? Or, for that matter, a thought? It grows in you, not as a sensation. (Nor like a baby or tumor.) An experience that you can’t hold on to. Any more than to the smell of lilac. Though it soothes emptiness.”

— Rosmarie Waldrop, from “Asymmetry (2)”, The Nick of Time: Poems (via soracities)

[esuemmanuel]

Los poetas no somos la fuente de las palabras bonitas. Si escribimos es por nuestro afecto a la vida, a los sentimientos, a la luz y a la oscuridad que nos invade, al amor que nos somete, al placer que nos arde. No hemos sido hechos para satisfacer a las masas ni mucho menos para llenar afectos vacíos de gente sin gracia. Somos poetas por amor al arte no por amor a alguien.

— Esu Emmanuel©️, We poets are not the source of beautiful words. If we write, it is because of our affection for life, for feelings, for the light and darkness that invades us, for the love that subdues us, for the pleasure that burns us. We were not made to satisfy the masses, much less to fill the empty affections of graceless people. We are poets for the love of art, not for the love of someone.

[divyachamaria]

My therapist told me about cognitive diffusion - when you first notice yourself having a thought driven by your anxiety, you write it down on a piece of paper, and then practice saying it in a number of funny voices. It takes away the power from the thought and you realise that it is just a thought that you don't necessarily have to believe.

That’s when I realised it is what the spell Riddikulus would have worked like - to take your biggest fear and concentrate on thinking of something funny while casting the spell. I don’t know why I keep going back to Harry Potter at my lowest points but the more I do, I realise that it was written by a middle aged woman who was probably experiencing the same issues and learning to deal with them.

[mage-and-the-tantrums]

Note to my Istanbulite family

This is to the people I met in Istanbul throughout the years. It has been a pleasure to see (most of )you again. I was blown away by your kindness and generosity. I am also very proud of all of you, of the battles you fight each day for your pursuits. I know your victories were not celebrated properly, if not at all, in expatriation. Tonight I am celebrating all of you, your amazing stories of success in universities, jobs, and in finding a way in a challenging city. You're an inspiration to me, each in your own little yet important way. To all of you, especially those I did not meet, I hope someday we will meet again.

[mage-and-the-tantrums]

Back to Istanbul

Here we go again. Same drill as before. Same unrest prior to the trip, same unease, same agitation in my stomach. I lied to myself, same as before, whenever my flight was in early morning; I always commit mentally to at least 6 hours of sleep, and I end up sleeping one hour at the very best. The airport is perfectly the same as three years ago, the date of my last flight to Istanbul. One good thing about my country is familiarity; things are rarely changed, so the sense of familiarity they evoke is perfect and immaculate. Upon landing in Istanbul, I was surprised by the prices. Nothing makes sense anymore. I had heard of the inflation but the reality of things was beyond my imagination. For starters, the same amount of my monthly allowance 3 years ago can be spent very easily in 2 days now. I went outside to have a smoke, this filthy habit of mine that I decided to pick up again during my trip (yes, it was a decision, for purely nostalgic reasons). By that time I failed to have a SIM card (thus no communication possible), and the "free wifi" of the airport required authentication with a Turkish number (this is the perfect illustration of the Turkish logic). For a moment I felt stranded, and the urgency to find a solution, to be in control, resurged again. Much of the five years I had spent in Istanbul were about letting go, and not having to be in the driving seat. Everything flew normally eventually. Well, not everything, but mostly, one could find a solution here, always. Maybe the prayers of my mother hit home, and God made it easier to me in here. Or maybe the sophisticated transportation, or maybe a combination of both. The first interaction I had with a Turkish, was an angry bus driver who was cursing by the time he was fetching my luggage. I could not tell for sure the subject of his wrath, but he did not speak to me directly. Normally, I would curse back in Arabic, or I would spend the next few hours fuming at the expats' situation in Turkey. But I decided it is a trivial matter, and my energy not to be wasted. The first thing I had as food was a standard sandwich and çay. Oh, how I missed çay, and a cigarette. The first time I ever had Turkish tea, I did not understand how people drink such an abomination. But somewhere during my 2nd or 3rd year, I became an addict of that drink, especially during winter. They serve it very hot, and it warms the depths of a soul on a cold winter. Add a cigarette to the mix, and you're set to go. Just as my right foot was sore from the cold, Mey came. We went to her place, and I entered one of the places I could call home in Istanbul. She was the person who opened her arms for me when I was at my lowest, and shared her flat pretty much unconditionally. Her place has a very unique sense of warmth to it. It is very small, but very intimate. She did an amazing job with the furniture and the layout of every room (2 and a living-room). I feel like cramming my first week here, after 937 days, is too much. More of the same to come.

[heartofmuse]

We always live on the edge of despair or ecstasy.

e.v.e. ( Poets)

[mage-and-the-tantrums]

Would you rather live in ignorant bliss or discover a dark secret that forever damages you ?