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.

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.

drifting away from my family, towards my foes

quiet judgment, judgment reserved.

reading a book called the god of small things by arundhati roy, for class. i don’t read for pleasure nearly at all anymore. probs ’cause the effect isn’t the same, the connect isn’t the same, in my mind.

yet this is a good book. it reminds me of poetry. it has a lot to do with the caste system and gender norms in india. it’s a rather dark book, but hey, i’m into it.

there’s this aching feeling in my mind of so many things forgotten. i lay awake at night and try to memorize the good thoughts i have. but by morning they’re gone. and i’m too lazy to write them down at the time, so it’s just a sad situation.

handed in my stupid paper. i hate every word of it. lol, ever get that way when you get too entrenched in a topic? every damn day, for me.

 

 

if you’re looking for something easy, you might as well give it up.

spinning in circles. i am connected to nothing. my thoughts are birds of a different feather, all going in their own direction. each to their own. there’s a chaotic wind a blowing, nothing you can reason with. 

i worked this morning, and don’t really know what i wanna do from here on out. i work tomorrow and work the rest of next week except for friday.

we read the story “there will come soft rains” by ray bradbury in class. it reminds me of some horror movie, i don’t know which one in particular. it’s sinister, and dark, but serene in its absence of any real human action or dialogue. i liked it, but didn’t enjoy it. if that makes sense. it is a very depressing story, really. we tore it apart, to find the meaning, until it had no meaning. i remember getting my first taste of literary analysis in elementary school, and hating it. now i like it. what happened? who hurt me?

we also read the story “sonny’s blues”, by james baldwin. i liked this story too, and enjoyed it. it reminded me of ralph ellison’s work. or maybe it’s just the harlem connection that makes them synonymous in my mind.

“sonny’s blues” was melancholy, but there was a moment of resolution for the narrator at the end, that i liked. it had themes of family, race, music, drug use, and so on. fun stuff. 

now to abruptly change the subject to something even more fun. our cat rome is so funny. a black shorthair, she is the smallest cat we have, though she is the same age as her siblings (obviously, lol). she is so petite. but she is the one we have to watch out for, as she keeps chasing bootsie, growling and hissing at him, and batting at him. bootsie, in turn, thinks she is just playing, so will try and play too, and then gets surprised when rome attacks him with full gusto. she’s a cute little panther. a miniature murder machine.

rome

it’s cute, the kittens (well, ava’s kittens; they’re grown up, full-fledged cats now) follow ava everywhere still. they all adore her. just now, she went upstairs, and javi and rome followed quickly. javi and rome are best friends, always cuddling up for warmth. rome and georgie (the black longhair), her sister, occasionally lay by each other, but georgie hates javi. javi chases her, corners her, and bats at her. i don’t know what his problem is.  they all have their different personalities. really the only cat who gets along with everyone is ari, ava’s brother, and her near twin. cats are strange.

 

 

lol,  i captured this great picture of ari, with ava lurking behind him as usual. ari looks irritated, ava is wide-eyed and adorable. classic:

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ari ignores the other cats mostly, in favor of lucy, and lucy in turn ignores him. the circle of love. FullSizeRender-5

 

see our world is slowly dying, i’m not wasting no more time

The dreams are superimposed upon reality until i cannot tell the difference. I swim in the visions of better, brighter days that could have happened but probably did not. Intermittent days and nights, sporadic moments of clarity. Focus on the present. and then the sea of the otherworld carries me away, pulling me under. But rather than drown in it, it is the thing that i breathe, the thing that sustains me.

like a child of the gray, aspiring toward the stark simplicity of black and white.

the future hangs ominous above like a corpse in a tree, rope creaking in the wind.

sometimes fear brings the world together in a way love cannot.


i’m doing alright. i have contemporary literature and comp 2 to keep me writing and reading, and i’ve been reading a lot of fantasy/scifi books for fun. ever since starting on a stimulant, i’ve been able to focus on the reading again.

i work this weekend in the CO, which i am resigned to. i have accepted my fate.

my family is doing well. my mom has several days off of work to look forward to. brent had an interview in DC, it went okay as far as i know. tyler and adam are still in ames, working hard. i haven’t talked to my dad in a while but assume he’s prospering.

 

the world is crazy. that i know for sure. beautiful and bright and crazy,  and ugly and dark and crazy. i hate it and love it like family.