i built your walls around me

well i was accepted to iowa state. lol i figured i would be. they would probably accept a corpse if it was able to get student loans. i guess i’m happy. i had to decide to be though.

we are going to board lucy at the vet we usually go to instead of the resort thing. we know them and know for sure we can trust them.

tomorrow at 7am we’re flying to NYC. i like planes. well, they’re not the most glamorous things. ugh and anywhere sucks if you spend more than a few hours just sitting there. i think we have a connecting flight through either minneapolis or chicago. lol i should probably figure that out. i didn’t get the tickets, this wasn’t my idea.

we’re going to a baseball game of course. yankees against the giants perhaps? i should probably figure that out too. my first live baseball game, ever. i prefer teeball. i find the frequency in which the children miss the ball sitting stationary in front of them hilarious. i think baseball would be hilarious if the players were much less athletically gifted. more relatable.

i’m not as psyched as i should be about this trip. i’ve been there before, and it was neat, but i’m just not in an excitable mood. it’ll probably hit me when we get there, hopefully like a train. i want something exciting. lately, i’ve just been feeling really off-kilter. i think it’s just anxiety. something feels wrong and i’ve been especially agitated.

i’m proud though, that i’m actually slowly reading a book. i wanna gain back that part of myself. the sarah who had to have her books taken away from her at night so she wouldn’t stay up and read. the sarah who used to read three books at once. the cool sarah, haha. sarah, the insufferable nerd. yeah. imma stop talking about myself in the third person now.

i am pushing off vacuuming the house again. i just vacuumed last week. i don’t want to. but i said i would, so here we go.

 

 

i keep my pretty heart safe from my ugly brain

 

i’ve been avoiding the news lately. the world is so vast and beautiful and awe-inspiring, and tiny and cramped and suffocating. i love it and hate it, wanna see it thrive. but if everything came to a whimpering end tomorrow, i doubt i would be too upset.

take note: i wanna get a fish one day, and take stupid good care of it. i’ve been watching videos about low-tech fishtank setups, set to soothing piano music, and i am inspired. i used to have a betta fish, years ago. i barely knew anything about fish though then, and so i doubt i took that great care of it. i tried, but since then i’ve learned that betta fish often build little “nests” out of bubbles (adorable) to house their eggs.. it’s seen as a sign of contentment for a fish to do that when they have no real reason to, like no eggs. and my betta fish never did that. lol but i’d probably obsess over a damn fish ’til i drove myself crazy..

i feel like i’m in limbo right now.

i’m reading a book tho. it’s great. i’ve read like all of the author’s other books, and they are consistently great. i love his style of writing. it’s dark and gritty, but poetic and makes me think. it’s the kind of writing i like to read aloud. it’s the kind of writing style i wish i could have. i wish i could actually ask him questions about his writing, like if his style comes naturally or if he’s cultivated it over time. the thing is though, all of his books are great (according to me). so i think he is just naturally a good writer. i don’t know. i guess writing seriously is a recursive process. it can always be improved. that’s what i like about it. with painting or drawing, often if you go back in and add more, it can just get worse and worse. writing is more readily made better, i think. the more you add and subtract, the clearer it can become, whereas whenever i try and paint more and more, it all just becomes muddier. lol, i might just be a bad artist tho. totally possible/probable.

my sister messaged me, saying she loves/misses me. she still lives in sioux falls. i really miss her. i told her so, and also that it’s like the people you wanna see in life often seem to be the people you never see. i wish she didn’t live in south dakota, ’cause if i went to see her i would have to see my grandparents too. ugh i wish i could just let go of the anger and grudge i have for them. every time i go there, though, they just seem to give me more reasons to hold on to my resentment. i’m probably going to regret my avoidance of them one day. i already do when i think about the future.

i wish i were nicer. i swear at some point in life i was nicer. one day at a time.

 

i gazed to the stars and this view can’t be shared

i’m feeling a bit better now that i’ve studied some and emailed one of my profs. less scattered, out of sorts. i have a mission. i have my goal. i just have to get through tomorrow.

i think i miss the days of inspiration, of words. perhaps i should read more. i have a long list of books, they seem like a chore tho. so heavy on my mind when i think of them waiting on me. i feel sometimes like there is so much waiting on me. like if i would only find the door, i could open it and be in a whole other plane of existence. if i would only look at something the right way, i could see the whole freaking aleph.

i used to think i could draw inspiration from my depression, that i could make something beautiful to hold in the darkness. but i don’t know anymore. and i’m so full of self-recrimination, blaming myself for my fickle mind. my mom told me that once, and it has echoed in my mind when i’m feeling especially low: you just don’t want to be happy.

as if i only wanted it more, it would arrive, arms wide, for a sweet embrace, and stay with me always. as if happiness is like some kind of stupid love that if you want it badly enough, you can find a way, simple as that. fuck that noise. if it were only that easy.

but that’s just the way my brain likes to work: sick, and i have to just keep forcing myself out of my oft-run tracks of thought.

i gotta say tho, one thing that annoys me right now is my meds. like, i practically have one to wake me up, one to help me sleep. and i know it’s not a weakness to need medicine, i tell myself that every freaking day. but the sly fox of a thought always sneaks up and grabs the first thought by the throat, gives it a little shake. a twig-like neck-snap later, the positivity is dead and useless to me. ’cause meds are a weakness, the fox-thought whispers. you should feel ashamed, the fox laughs.

so i do feel ashamed. i doubt i would ever name off the medications i am on to anyone other than a doctor irl, ever. ’cause that’s how much that stupid idea has gotten to me.

and around and around i go in my oft-run tracks of thought.

tonight though, i’m only half sad girl, promise.

peace, patted-shoulder fondness, and sleep. sleep, most of all.

can you extract me from my plastic fantasy? i didn’t think so but i’m still convinceable

my mom is making chex mix. i can smell it throughout the whole house. the only downside of it is that it has worcestershire sauce in it, and that stuff is basically liquid anchovies, lulz. grosses me out. but i’ll eat that stuff anyway..

my cousin nichole was in a car accident the other day. i don’t know if she was drinking or what, but she had a head injury and some broken bones. i don’t really know the specifics. it just all makes me really sad. i wish i could keep everyone safe, especially from themselves.

me and nichole were best buds growing up, wreaking havoc on the small town she lived in. then as the years went on we grew apart, until we barely knew each other. sometimes family isn’t forever. relationships change.

was looking through pictures of my grandma’s on facebook, she loves taking pictures with her fancy canon camera. this one is of aidan, robbie’s (nichole’s brother) son, and olivia, nichole’s daughter, when they were younger, at the park, where there is a train car parked in the middle. so freaking cute. i miss them. lol, the last time i saw aidan, he babbled on about airplanes to me in a completely unintelligible way.

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i can’t wait to get to dell rapids, see everyone, and take pictures of all the important landmarks of my childhood. i’m seriously going to try to get some good ones, or at least some tolerable ones. like of the library, the old opera house, the movie theater, the bandstand in the park, the old bath house on the bank of the river, the cliff where me and nichole used to hang out at. everything.

who knows when i will get back there again after this trip.

the cats love the tree, which is a bad thing. we’re pretty sure one of them climbed it during the night, as there was water from the base on the floor. i bet it was either rome or javi, they’re the troublemakers.

i’m kind of jealous, my dad and liz and thomas are going to the new star wars movie tonight, at one of those fancy theaters where you sit at a table and eat dinner while watching. fuuuun. nah, i haven’t even seen the last star wars movie completely.

oooh, in 2018 there is going to be an adaptation of the book mortal engines! i love that book because the dedication is for sarah. i’m such a narcissist, lol. no, i actually love the story, all the books, and his other series, railhead. if i had to choose which reality i had to live in, i would totally choose railhead.  in railhead, the internet houses godlike entities, and it’s awesome. if the internet were a god, i would worship. BLASPHEMY.

mortal engines contains a concept called municipal darwinism, in which the best city, aka biggest, wins out. i love it.

IT WAS A DARK BLUSTERY AFTERNOON IN SPRING, lol. i’ve read that first sentence so many times, i memorized it. i hope the film is good. hester was supposed to be a total hideous antihero badass, and i doubt they’ll make her so cruel/ugly in the movie. oh well, can’t have it all.

with a circus mind that’s running ’round

went to the winter farmers market downtown des moines yesterday, walked around a bit looking up at buildings.

downtown

 

and did pretty much nothing today.

well, tonight we went out to eat. there was a football game going on, couldn’t tell you who won or even who was playing, and it was soo loud.

tomorrow we are decorating the xmas tree probs. the cats love it. they lay under it, they reach up and bat at the branches, they crawl under the skirt and hide.

here’s ari, being a little gift:

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i think back to the winter we first brought him inside, in 2014, then last year, when we brought in ava and the kittens, and i’m so thankful. they are safe and happy and will stay that for years to come. hell, they really are gifts and they know it.

also, i finished the book tool of war a few days ago, read it all in one go like i used to. it was pretty brutal, like the first two. but i actually think i enjoyed the first two more. they gave me things to think about. this one gave me things too, and i spent quite a while after reading it, thinking back on things. i guess it’s just because it’s probably the last book, so the author had to wrap things up, and felt he had to tie up a lot of loose ends, but i would almost prefer not knowing what happened than knowing and have the ending fall flat. idk. i still gave it five stars, lol, right after i read it, so i guess in the moment i loved it. but after thinking it over again and again, it wasn’t perfect. but hey, writing is a recursive process.

i’m just glad i read a book for once. i looked around for another after that one, but i’m so damn picky, i let reviews turn me off books entirely. i should be more open-minded.

nobody knows what to do with the heat. under sunshine pylons we’ll meet, while rain is falling like rhinestones from the sky

ha, i have 98 books on my “want to read” shelf on goodreads. i know that isn’t really a lot, as i’ve seen people who review books as a hobby who have hundreds of books they want to read. but i find my situation especially funny because despite having plenty of spare time to read, i have no plan to read any of the books on my “want to read” shelf. i recently bought a book for my kindle, realized it was the wrong book (screw series with books with similar/synonymous names), then bought the right book, then spent several months twiddling my thumbs as i ignored both books. i no longer identify as a reader, but i want to sooooooooo bad. 

my mom used to take my books away from me because i would stay up all night reading. we have this stupid anecdote of me slinking through the house looking for where she’d hidden my books, and finding one in the microwave. i love books, i love many of the books that i’ve read and truly always wanna love books, but i just find it hard to read new books. i think this is what it feels like to have a marriage built on love and trust and all that garbage people harp on about, fall apart for no apparent reason.

honestly, tho, i blame the internet/tech in general. it’s made me stupid. i’m in love with someone else, and it’s my laptop. i’m always joking that it’s my best friend and confidante, but there are no jokes.

it’s like video games, tho, too. i feel like if i tried harder to get into gaming, all up on the know-how, i would amass a stack of games of all kinds that i played once and gave up on. the last time i really played a game where it has a nostalgic quality to it because i became so familiar with it was freaking oblivion. that was a million years ago. haha i played oblivion on xbox, and i remember having this room filled with duplicates of armor and crap to sell, that i made using an exploitable glitch in the game. there were so many items stacked in the center of the room that the game lagged horrendously (occasionally freezing completely) whenever i accidentally went into said room. i played that game so much that eventually it was just me trying out all known ways to cheat. ah, and the days of halo 2, going through old mombasa on outskirts with my brother. ghosts, sniper alley, good times. we played that stupid level over and over, he was obsessed with it. naw, it was fun.

i just spent 15 minutes trying to take a stupid picture with rome. she doesn’t like being close to anyone but her mom and siblings. plus she wouldn’t look at the phone. she just glared at me or looked down. how did we get to have such shy cats?

 

 

i have this habit of calling all our cats stupid names. ari is ‘arison, or ari, my son. rome is romey dome-dome. ava is ava baby. georgie is always fuzz in my mind. javier is always javi, in a brooklyn accent. i give them these sweet little names, and this is how they repay me? with insolence/indifference? lol.

when i was younger we had cats that were super friendly, that loved to be held. and now, we have rome, glaring suspiciously.

lonely, as a satellite

i feel terrible, i am terrible. my personal slogan. so healthy. yeah.

be strong.  it will be a false strength.

be a fighter. im so tired of fighting this.

be a survivor. but i don’t want to survive this.

suicidal ideation is the worst.

naw really tho, today is an okay day. i don’t feel as bad as i could. my mom decided to stay in minnesota overnight, which only makes sense i suppose. i’m almost done with the god of small things, reading at the pace the professor assigns, so, slowly.

I just did my homework, which was to take a passage from the book and take it apart to see what it actually means. I did well, talked forever about the roles of women in traditional indian society.  i chose this excerpt (I wanna keep it because I really like this passage and my own stupid, convoluted interpretation of it), about ammu (TL;DR, AMMU IS REALLY SHIVERING AT THE THOUGHT OF HER COMPLICIT IMPRISONMENT IN SOCIETY, LOL:

“Ammu shivered. With that cold feeling on a hot afternoon that Life had been Lived. That her cup was full of dust. That the air, the sky, the trees, the sun, the rain, the light and the darkness were all slowly turning to sand. That sand would fill her nostrils, her lungs, her mouth. Would pull her down, leaving on the surface a spinning swirl like crabs leave when they burrow downwards on a beach”(Roy 212).

Here Ammu had just imagined her reflection in the mirror as one of an old woman.

In Indian society at that time (and even today in many cases), women basically had only a couple of things to do in their lives to call them lived and done. Marry, and raise children (preferably boys, as girls need a dowry). Some more wealthy families, like Ammu’s, could afford to educate their daughters to make them more desirable/give them more opportunities for marriage. Or in the case of Baby Kochamma, because her life had run its course, and she was considered too old to marry, so she may as well be educated. Divorce, as we’ve seen in this book, is frowned upon. So Ammu, in a sense, had lived her life already, and more than that, in a way, she failed to live it to her society’s standard.

Roy uses the phrase “cold feeling on a hot afternoon”, I think, to show how this feeling surprised Ammu, the cold from the heat. Cold feelings are not often portrayed as pleasant ones, so I’m making an assumption here when I say that this one wasn’t pleasant for Ammu. When it continues with “that Life had been Lived”, the capitalized “Life” and “Lived” makes it seem like an established, unquestionable thing. Ammu’s “Life” as established by her society had been “Lived.” This is a sad, inescapable thought to me, and, again, I assume, to Ammu herself. In other portions of the book, it seems she tries to buck away from this thought, this label, these expectations that her family and greater culture have placed on her.

The next sentence, “That her cup was full of dust” reminds me of the Biblical “my cup runneth over”, which means that one has everything they could ever want, and then some. But for her to have the thought that her “cup was full of dust”,  is more depressing, as it suggests she has nothing that she wants, or that she doesn’t have a use for wants anymore (as, to me, dust represents something that hasn’t been thought about or touched for a long time).

Next, “the air, the sky, the trees, the sun, the rain, the light and the darkness were all slowly turning to sand.” Here Ammu imagines everything that makes the physical world what it is, turning to sand. But slowly. Perhaps over the course of her life? As if even as she gets closer to death, everything around her turns to sand and loses itself too?

The next part ties into that: “That sand would fill her nostrils, her lungs, her mouth. Would pull her down, leaving on the surface a spinning swirl like crabs leave when they burrow downwards on a beach.” Here the sand “fills her nostrils, her lungs, her mouth”, so she can’t breathe or speak freely. And then it swallows her, this quick-sand that I think reflects societal expectations when it comes to women, how they are supposed to live their lives, and what aging means to them. Is she suggesting dying? I don’t really know. The last part about the final “spinning swirl like crabs leave when they burrow downwards on a beach” makes me feel like Ammu feels as though she is a complicit and willing participant in this act of being swallowed by the sand, in a way. She is that crab, not even really being swallowed by sand, but burrowing into it, deeper and deeper as time goes on. “Slowly”, she thought about the sand transforming the earth.

Although there is a helplessness to her thoughts, I believe Ammu is shivering at the “cold feeling” idea of being complicit in her fetter to society, as is Roy, the author, through her.

THE END ←I didn’t write that on the actual assignment.

as you can see, I went kind of overboard with the five paragraphs, but I like writing about writing. I LOVE THE SOUND OF MY OWN LITERARY VOICE