I EAT THE CUCUMBER MY WAY
Everything has been exhausting lately, and I've felt most of the time as if I have to explain myself to everybody for everything. Schoolwork is always insane, and moreso when you add a four-day trip to a writing conference and all of the debauchery that goes along with it. I feel a little panicky in general, as if there are so many loose ends in my daily life that one day everything will just fall the fuck apart. I say this knowing, of course, that the moment anything settles down I'll be too bored to appreciate anything. So there's something not to think too hard about.
It's a good thing that writing is going well at the moment (and it is). I feel productive and excited about what I'm reading and writing. I also feel hopeful. Accordingly, I will hang onto this. I guess it's only my personal life that feels like a train station; but here's the thing: I am not going to try to explain my choices or occupations to anybody. I am sometimes really moody, and I'm not the loudest person in the group, and everybody can just shut up and fucking love me for it. I don't know why I feel so defensive while I'm writing this, but it's really interesting, isn't it? Of course, we spent the weekend in the country at my house, and now I feel a lot better about everything, pretty much. Some things remind me of what I "am" under the attitude and glittery sunglasses, the lipstick and the defiant lack of good grooming, and they're all at home. When I'm at home, I feel so good about washing my hands, drinking water, sleeping at night, and all those other normal things. Whereas in the city I feel best when I'm walking way too fast in the cold, from one place to another, at night, watching the lights' haloes jump, or getting on the bus after talking all night to get diner food, and watching the cloud machine in Panther Hollow churn out the first clouds in the sky.
Everything has been exhausting lately, and I've felt most of the time as if I have to explain myself to everybody for everything. Schoolwork is always insane, and moreso when you add a four-day trip to a writing conference and all of the debauchery that goes along with it. I feel a little panicky in general, as if there are so many loose ends in my daily life that one day everything will just fall the fuck apart. I say this knowing, of course, that the moment anything settles down I'll be too bored to appreciate anything. So there's something not to think too hard about.
It's a good thing that writing is going well at the moment (and it is). I feel productive and excited about what I'm reading and writing. I also feel hopeful. Accordingly, I will hang onto this. I guess it's only my personal life that feels like a train station; but here's the thing: I am not going to try to explain my choices or occupations to anybody. I am sometimes really moody, and I'm not the loudest person in the group, and everybody can just shut up and fucking love me for it. I don't know why I feel so defensive while I'm writing this, but it's really interesting, isn't it? Of course, we spent the weekend in the country at my house, and now I feel a lot better about everything, pretty much. Some things remind me of what I "am" under the attitude and glittery sunglasses, the lipstick and the defiant lack of good grooming, and they're all at home. When I'm at home, I feel so good about washing my hands, drinking water, sleeping at night, and all those other normal things. Whereas in the city I feel best when I'm walking way too fast in the cold, from one place to another, at night, watching the lights' haloes jump, or getting on the bus after talking all night to get diner food, and watching the cloud machine in Panther Hollow churn out the first clouds in the sky.
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