born to be down

the world is like a parody that went too far with the material and lost itself in absurdity. i don’t know whether to laugh or cry so i do nothing but wring my hands and wonder where the fuck we went wrong. i wanna leave but there is no distance far enough to escape the insanity, the inanity, the injustice.

times like these remind me why i’m all anti-theology. what sick, twisted mind would come up with a world like this? maybe me, but in an ironic way. but as much as i joke about being a glorious god-queen, i don’t reckon i would be egotistical or sadistic enough to make such a cold world that, as full as it is, often feels so devoid of meaning or i don’t know; resolution or something. like, where is the clarity? we’re all among the filth and muck and we will never be clean, we’ll just be dead. sometimes the best part of a story is the end, and the world contains many of these stories.

as much as some people aspire towards something bright and white-washed pure, they are such brutal, repugnant monsters that deserve nothing but their own miserable company. do they not see what a joke it is that they pretend moral righteousness while they lie, cheat, steal, rape, murder, covet, et cetera?

i look across at the multitudes and i see nothing good among them sometimes, just lesser evils. i don’t want to be the unforgiving type, but why forgive someone when they are not asking for anything like forgiveness? they are past feelings of conscience. and i’m not here to play jiminy cricket to their lying-ass peter pan bullshit. i get sick of having to be patient and kind and understanding while on the inside i seethe and boil over. or better yet, rant online.

sorry this was so dark. i swear i’m not even down or anything. i’m past feeling anything but a slow disdainful shake of the head made into a feeling.

the flags are all dead at the top of their poles

we say we’re not like them, but we love a good martyr too. we love a mindless, senseless patriot. someone willing to kill, die, or end up an empty shell for the interests of the governing body and its allies. oh, america. how you ache at the cognitive dissonance of it all. what the hell happened? you were never what you said you were.

there’re two ducks, a male and female, that hang around the house. they like to eat the dried mealworms my mom mixes into the birdseed she puts outside. ducks are cute. they come waddling up, and we make sure not to go outside and disturb them. it’s like a little wildlife refuge, despite being in the middle of town. we get deer that eat from the birdfeeder on our porch, a raccoon that eats the cat food we leave out for stray cats, two squirrels, a chipmunk, a big fat rabbit and one little, young rabbit. so many animals. i love watching them.

one of my fond memories from my childhood is from my grandma’s house, where i’d stay occasionally, especially after my grandfather died. i’d sit in her little sitting area, the windows crowded with flora like jade plants and cacti and geraniums, and at sunset i’d watch the deer through binoculars as they came out of the woods to eat corn my grandma left out for them.

she had two huge gardens. i’d wander through them and the woods, pretending i lived out there. i even built a fort out of tree branches. it was pretty neat.

this was in minnesota, and my grandma had a lady slipper flower, which is actually minnesota’s state flower and so illegal to pick or uproot, and i’m pretty sure she uprooted it at some point to have it. she gave my mother the habit of carrying a shovel in the trunk of the car in case there was something good growing on the side of the road, like wild asparagus or something “fun” like that, haha.

she moved to a smaller place and sold her house way back in 2015. seems like it was just a few months ago.

i remember her yelling at me and my brother for climbing trees on her property. lol she was afraid we would scuff up the branches, not afraid for our safety.

i miss minnesota. the land of 10,000 lakes. the star of the north. i say it a lot, but it’s a great place.



i love everyone that i have ever known

i never really talked about my dna results from xmas. apparently (lol this isn’t really a surprise) about 60% of my dna is of western european origin. boring. it’s all germany, netherlands, belgium, and luxembourg. the rest is ireland/scotland/wales, iberian peninsula, great britain, scandinavia, european jewish, northwest russian, and less than 2% polynesian. so i’m a european mutt. guess i gotta start colonizing the whole freaking universe now and building neoclassical architecture all over da place in my own honor. no, i’m american, so i’ve really gotta start liberating people of their lives and give the rest freedom and equality and fraternity…okay and we’re back to france.

so boring really, though. i wanted a surprise. like maybe i’m not actually human or something along those lines, or i was adopted and my real family is even cooler. i also hoped it would give me an idea of my grandma’s father’s heritage. i always wondered about him. my grandma was adopted by her stepfather, and only met her biological dad twice in her life. i was always super curious about that. so mysterious.

it is 4:30 PM and it is snowing. i hope it snows so much class is cancelled tomorrow morning. snow days are the best. it’s a shame i hate winter so much, otherwise i could enjoy it. i used to like it. snow angels, snow forts, getting a four-wheeler stuck in the snow. ah. simpler times apparently revolved around snow.

alas, class probably won’t be cancelled. the snow isn’t really even sticking, it melts as it arrives.

all we’re doing in world religion is listening to dumb presentations. i’m sorry jan, but i don’t care about how the anglican church moved away from the catholic church and the pentecostal church moved away from the anglican church. so. boring. ok so it is a little interesting, and by interesting i mean funny. like, there are so many denominations with only slight differences, it’s crazy. i went to a non-denominational church up until age 7, and i’m pretty sure that’s a sin. i wonder if there is a separate heaven for each denomination, or how they sorted that out. seems like an oversight on somebody’s part. get on that. shakes fist at sky

all the cats are sleeping except ari. he’s prowling around, from window to window, watching the snowflakes tumble down.

walking lucy earlier was nice. the snow rustled my coat softly as it landed. it was almost peaceful, except for the traffic ruining my nice usual iowa april moment of snowfall.


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