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.

 

 

have you ever had the feeling when you just don’t wanna breathe


IMB_DsInOV

don’t try to be anything basically. skill or creativity. just cuz you’re unique doesn’t mean you’re useful. just because something requires skill doesn’t mean it’s worth doing. that’s like everything. let’s all just lie in the grass and die. oh wait the grass is dead too? dry cold and scratchy? well might as well do whatever, live however, ’cause we’re all just kind of stuck on this marble, whether we know it or not.

an unknown bass jolts around me. i’m listening to an unrelated song through earbuds. im on my way to dell rapids. another hour? another hour. i’m runnin on coffee still. it’s ’bout 10:45pm.

whenever i’m confronted with a new instance of waiting i realize i could wait forever, that in fact I’ve been waiting all along.

a night landscape pair of eyes, all darkness and stupid stumbling in them. a feeling of fear, wanting to hide in some light.

dressed in noncommittal shades of grey, under a blush pink parka. A shirt with a feline grim reaper: ‘meow you must die’ swirling around it.

staring into the abyss of the sky. a spotlight glances dimly off the clouds. looking for a god? none to be found.

the way to meet in avoca was nice. once there, me and brent ate at a diner. i had a veggie omelette, no mushrooms. he had a slice of pie. then like forever later my dad, liz and thomas showed up. and the rest is basically just as mundane. greetings, farewells, and shivering in the cold. then leaving, and more stupid road.

molly finally settled down. their dog, a puggle. she spent an hour looking up at me, whining. she loves seeing people she hasn’t seen in a while.  dumb adoration, returned. i was actually a little worried about her she was so beside herself.

so my cousin’s car accident was apparently pretty bad. she swerved to miss a deer. they always say to just hit it if you have to, that it won’t be as bad for you. how do you judge if you have to tho? i’d probs swerve, in the moment, every time. im dumb like that. nichole was too this time. the truck rolled three times. she’s lucky to be alive. she will probably be in the hospital another several weeks. life is weird in the way it’s a complete bitch sometimes. the deer has not been heard from.

lol molly is back to whining at me.

and we are suddenly there.

grandma’s dogs patty and bella greet us with their barks. patty is a sleek grey weimaraner, bella is a black lab, pitbull mix. they’re both strays that wandered into my grandma’s life, so i’m basically guessing on bella’s heritage. though patty has the typical nervous, taut disposition of a weimeraner, because she is one. she’s so attached to my grandma, it’s eerie.

my grandma seems as ever-moving, busy as always. my grandpa looks like he is fading, bleeding color, seemingly unnoticed by everyone around him. i’m not being callously poetic, looking at him makes me feel deeply sad. his oxygen can be heard hissing, “breathing”, throughout the house.

okay.

it’s about 1:20 in the morn’. i’m done, i’m going to bed. i will have the designated “front bedroom”, called so because it is at the front of the house. it’s just like being a child again except my nerves are buzzing and i have heartburn.

all i’ve forgotten to take from home are face wipes, which is a pain but liveable. i’m brushing my teeth, washing my face the old fashioned way, and going to bed. well actually i’ll probs wait til everyone else is in bed, then sneak around. i feel weirdly shy and kind of uneasy. so it’s a typical 1:30 in the morning for me, really.

 

as the quiet becomes suddenly verbose

my hair was meant to be neon yellow at the ends, but it’s magenta instead. the neon orange i had in it wouldn’t lift off or bleach much, and so i had to go a darker route. alejandra tried her best, but it wasn’t meant to be. i’ll just have to grow out my hair, chop off the ends, and try for neon, highlighter yellow another day.

my hair slipped out of its tie last night and i slept with it plastered against my neck, and so now my neck is pink, and yeah. also my hand has thin lines of pink on the back of it. i blame the fact i put like a vat of lotion on before i sleep, because i’m obsessed with moisture like the last human on doctor who, so the dye in my hair can really come off onto my sticky skin.

it’s around 5:30 in the morning now, i woke up at 3 and decided not to go back to sleep.

last night we went to living history farms, to a dinner in a home from the 1870’s, called the tangen house. it was cool and weird. it was dark, all by candlelight, and the people serving us were dressed in the appropriate attire for a house in the 1870’s. the whole meal was adapted from recipes from the time period. all the food was made from a wood-burning stove/oven. it was really great, nice that it was just family there. i actually enjoyed myself. not my picture (found it on the living history site), but this is the tangen house:

tangen

plus i learned that the saying “pull out all the stops” is actually referring to the stops on an organ, which is neat, haha. blew my mind.

later today i’m headed to dell rapids. leaving avoca around 8:30, and should make it to dells by midnight.

walking back to the car last night under a light snow and a cloud-filled, orange night sky, i felt nice. peaceful. i’m excited to see my family and childhood home away from home.

the only blip on my radar is the idea that i don’t really have gifts for anyone, as i’m totally broke, because i’m a total slob with money. i can only shrug when i ask myself what the hell i spent it all on. like, idk. clothes? perfume? it’s like i’m half diva. as our illustrious leader would say, sad.

ew tho i actually hate him.

lying on the floor, i’ve come undone

EEK. i’ve done it again. i’ve waited ’til the last moment to write a final essay. lulz, it’s gonna be terrible. but actually, i enjoy the pressure a bit. it’s not right, to wait ’til the last minute, i know. and it’s never my best writing, but dammit if the pressure isn’t a little fun.

my essay is gonna be 5-7 pages long, about james baldwin’s story “sonny’s blues.” i printed out the story, highlighted the hell out of it in multiple colors, with a cute little key in the corner, found an article to cite and help along my points, and now i’m going to tear it all up and call it a night. lollolol i wish. so far i’m on page 4 of my essay, and i’m hating it. i hate james baldwin, i hate the narrator, and most of all i hate sonny himself. lol no. i love the whole story, i just freaking hate my own writing, nothing is ever good. i remember using the phrase ‘disjointed and weird’ when describing another paper of mine, and i stand by it. i think that i’ve actually discovered my writing style in this: disjointed and weird. i always wanted a style.

lol, i have lines in this essay that are basically jokes right now, such as ‘light is introduced now to the narrator as an often absurdly cruel tool of, well, enlightenment.’ 

??? ???

yea, wat?

 


i needed a break, so i’m sitting here, obsessing. AND IT’S 9:40PM. usually, i’m diligently half-asleep or trying to be right now.

here are 13 pictures related to cats, dogs, and anxiety/depression that make me smile, for luck as i continue my journey to a probs b-, high-c grade on this great essay:

JNeu4XhzkavMfeRI3PwWq-FPds9SdeY5tN2EXfhrG08

 

 

4I8cQpcDtv4H8XLaGb2WfHki0EjCP4E-4IGnophayHo

 

 

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lEhQMDb

 

 

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vWaKvzk

 

IMG_2593

 

broedHI

 

38TfQkoinen6pIexTHyXx5akFN3eQhUwW9sd2JwP8zA

 

m0BVeCP0UHiprOfme4T5Ex3YEoRq5lDihFB0eLnubq4

 

g1jGLjID_2LERmNIPMTnPY9BYQyRAH6u21rWyRU6k_Q

k, also baby goats.

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just to letcha know, i STOLE all these pics from other people. i truly am the lady of stolen sappy memes. in fact, i wish to be addressed as such.

 

you never got to bloom, they cut you from the stem

i felt good for once the other day. worked and went to class, and felt good about it. i’m sort of saving money for once. me and my mom went out for dinner at a thai place, and it was great.

and yesterday i had an appointment with kim. we talked about london, and how i might go still, might not. shrug, nonchalant yawn

i’m starting my paper on hatshepsut. she was cool, possibly. how can you really tell, really? with anyone, not just historical figures. does it matter? in the depths of us, does it matter? or are we all just actions and words? in the end, aren’t we just that, the outside, the collectively remembered? what society says we are. honor’s shiny trappings. i love that quote. i don’t know anything for certain. and hatshepsut had many of her statues destroyed and her name gouged out. almost lost to time and memory. so was she cool? maybe. we may never know.

anywaay, i just have an outline and a few tentative sources, but it’s a start. it’s due at the end of the semester, so i’m proud to start it early. less stress in the long run.

woke up at around 3 this morning, decided to go sleep on the couch, and instead spent the next two hours upvoting pictures of cats and dogs. time well spent. then went to work, then came home, then went to the shipping service place to send tyler his cpu and a box of random garbage. they were closed. open tomorrow tho.

 

 

coldness seems so much warmer with you

i’m not so deep in suffering now. tomorrow, i tell myself, tomorrow. it will be a 12 hour day, but it will be worth it. it is the only reason i came here.

chichen itza. yeah, it’s pretty much a tourist trap, but i have to pay respects to history.we all try to wipe it clean and new and make it our own creature to profit from, but it is what it is and what it has always been. untouchable, soiled as it is by time and human interaction. history, tho, is so beautiful. i saw some photos online once. they were color photographs from around 1910, they made me cry, how sad it is all the people i will never know and will never tell me their stories. all those minds, snuffed out and forgotten.

though the idea of it happening to me, the snuffing out of my mind and experiences, gives me a small comfort and thrill.

p01_00021620

 

by the time the first bombs fell we were already bored

true story: i burned my lip on a burrito and it scabbed over and i picked at it like a compulsive idiot, and it bled, and now i look stupid. plus i keep touching it to see if it still hurts, and it totally does. that’s my life summed up in one story.

i’m having a hard time focusing on one thought or emotion right now. too many.

my mood keeps going up and down. i always picture it like a barn swallow. darting up,  barreling down.

oh and in new news, i’m sad again. or maybe just bored. yeah we’re going with bored.

on the bright side, i’m really good at glossing over unpleantness. like i can pretend like no other that i’m not mad at someone or deeply disappointed in their fundamental human nature. i do it practically every day, with mostly everyone. yeah. good trait.

looking back through history, i would make a really shit 1920’s flapper.. seems really try-hard and tiring. soo much pressure to be fun and novel. i feel like i would have to be really social and outgoing. or edgy, and i’m not really outwardly dynamic like that. i’m more repressfully, yours.

i’m not a character, a caricature. i’m complex, and deep. like wine. i swear tho, wine tastes exactly as i imagine finger nail polish remover does. in fact, i pretend it is when i drink it.

again, with history. i would make a spectacular plague victim, i think. i would die so well. i wonder, is it better to die fighting and feisty, or quietly, dignified, stoic? i just don’t know what is cool anymore. uncertain times..

i really am bored. and twitchy. i almost feel like going outside. pfft.