An unconventional story…

The Puritans were so insufferable that the English—the people who turned emotional repression into a national sport—told them to leave. They did. They came to America, banned Christmas, outlawed dancing, named their children things like Obedience and Humiliation, and installed a psychic operating system that turned the interior life into a permanent criminal trial. Then we secularized, killed God, and kept all the guilt. This is the story of how Calvinism rewired the American soul, amputated Eros and carnival and noble leisure, and left us with a civilization that can't sit still, can't rest without justification, and thinks productivity is proof of personhood. Spoiler: the Puritans won, and we're still running their code.

Intelligence is the universe's most boring trick — atoms have been doing it since the beginning of time. We just got weirdly precious about our version of it, built an entire meritocracy around people who were good at taking tests, and then acted shocked when a calculator with delusions of grandeur could do their jobs faster. Turns out the Ph.Ds and consultants who spent decades sneering at poets as "impractical" were measuring the wrong thing the whole time. Whoops. What actually makes us irreplaceable? The stuff they defunded: Eros, imagination, compassion, the ability to be ruined by beauty. You know, the soft skills. The civilization bet on the wrong horse, the bill just arrived, and the punchline is exquisite: the people everyone told to get real jobs are the only ones who already had them.

Something has gone quietly, expensively wrong. The system that replaced aristocracy promised to open the gates to talent and excellence — and it did, briefly, before figuring out how to replicate every vice of the old order while eliminating its one redeeming quality: the obligation to be great. This is a love letter to magnificent failure, illegible genius, and the patrons who funded cathedrals they'd never live to see finished — and a long-overdue middle finger to the committee that approved the beige rectangle.

Ever catch yourself thinking a thought and wondering who installed it? Was that you—or some leftover beta version from 2009 running in the background like Windows Vista of the soul? “How to Consciously Reprogram Your Brain” is not about chanting affirmations into a Himalayan salt lamp (unless you’re into that aesthetic). It’s about opening the hood, spotting the buggy scripts—doomscroll.exe, people-pleasing.dll, catastrophic_imagination_v4—and rewriting them like the benevolent overlord of your own gray matter. No tinfoil hat required. Just curiosity, a little audacity, and the willingness to stop letting your subconscious auto-play the same tired playlist. Click in. Let’s debug the thing.

Title sufficiently explains this post.

Ever wonder if you’re using the internet responsibly? Of course you are. You clicked “accept all cookies” with confidence and let fourteen tabs whisper directly into your limbic system. But while you’re busy “just scrolling,” someone—or something—is redecorating the foyer of your subconscious in beige algorithmic chic. If you’ve ever suspected your thoughts arrive pre-packaged, shrink-wrapped, and suspiciously on-trend, this post is your friendly public service announcement. Step right up and find out who’s colonizing your brain—and whether you’d like to start charging them rent.

Some poems and a “redacted field report” from my first book, SPIRAL OMNIBUS.

A memorial to my best friend, Maceo the Dogbear, who recently passed on at 12 years old.

Ever wonder what’s rattling around in Majeye’s head when she’s not summoning gods, dissecting mimic scripts, or chiseling flame onto stone tablets? Tête-à-Tête is where the filter loosens and the mind wanders—no podium, no prophecy, no perfectly polished stanza. Just sharp turns, sly asides, dangerous thoughts in silk gloves, and the occasional intellectual wink. It’s less sermon, more side-eye. Come eavesdrop. You might leave with a new idea… or at least a raised eyebrow.

Not All That Glitters Is Divergence.
In a world obsessed with style as substance, Decorative Rebellion Is Not Enough cuts through the illusion. This post exposes how customization replaces true rupture, how systems profit from aesthetic difference while punishing structural deviation, and what it actually means to live off-script. For those tired of being sorted, labeled, or mistaken for something legible—this one’s a blade to the veneer.

Poem that came through on my Valentine’s day ritual.

I don't usually review spirits—my relationship with alcohol is far too intimate for star ratings and tasting notes. But The Botanist Islay Dry Gin earned an exception. Hand-foraged botanicals from a Scottish island, precision pours with Limoncello La Croix, and two poems written on different nights under different spirits (gin versus wine, never mixed). Consider this less a review and more a field report from the astral plane. Drink accordingly.

This post is a scalpel through consensus. In Anti-Evolutionary Systems Eat Their Future, Majeye dismantles the quiet mechanics of institutional stagnation—revealing how systems designed to detect brilliance instead reward mimicry, suppress autonomy, and punish emergent traits before they can take root. With sly precision and first-hand fire, the piece exposes the failure of median evaluators, the rise of performative sameness, and the civilizational cost of mistaking conformity for competence. It ends not with lament, but with a question sharp enough to diagnose any system still pretending to be alive.

The Owl Empress’ tale of her journey with the Glass Vault Men.

This post isn’t about beauty, age, or belonging to the “right” kind of womanhood. It’s about what happens when systems abandon standards and reward conformity instead of brilliance. I care about women’s rights—all women’s rights—not just those who play safe, police others, or weaponize moral language to secure their place. True liberation should have protected the radiant, the strange, the noncompliant. Instead, it handed the crown to the median. This is my diagnosis of how that happened—and what we lost when sovereignty was traded for sisterhood scripts.

She doesn’t live in this world—and never asked to.
This latest post is a glimpse into Cat’s Little Utopia, a ritual-fairytale spun in velvet and wildfire. She lounges—crowned in flame, draped in ink-dark silk, surrounded by feathers, books, wine, and the purring loyalty of Maceo the Dogbear. Here, you’ll find no confessions and no apologies. Just the sovereign curl of a woman who has made refusal into art, and art into sanctuary. Come see why—and bring some wine.

Proof Over Pedigree is a manifesto for anyone who’s ever learned in the shadows and wondered if it counted. This post lays out a parallel system of legitimacy—one that honors mastery over membership, rigor over ritual, and brilliance wherever it arises. It’s long, yes—but it dismantles credentialism one crutch at a time. If you’ve ever questioned why degrees matter more than outcomes, this one’s for you.

My second book is finally here! Ars Architektonic Anomalia is the mouthful you’ve been waiting to savor. Jump inside this post for a quick peek. :)

This post is a whispered invitation to remember what we once knew instinctively: that brilliance doesn’t wear a name tag, and truth doesn’t beg for a podium. Salons vs. Credentialism is a meditation on the return of the unsanctioned sacred space—where wit, eros, and presence triumph over degrees and dull bureaucracy. It’s about how real minds find each other without algorithms or approval, and how salons—those candlelit crucibles of conversation—have always been the birthplace of what lasts. As degrees lose their meaning in an era of bought prestige, I make the case for something older, stranger, and infinitely more alive: the salon, reborn.