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.

 

if he made me in his image then he’s a failure too

i wouldn’t read this one.

i don’t like talking about this with people.. i have a hard enough time making friends, without a divergent worldview.

i used to be religious, but then i realized i didn’t have to be. lol, peer pressure. i used to describe myself as an atheist, as a secular humanist, and now i found a great new word: an apatheist

see, all my friends were religious, and went to an after-school program called release. i don’t really remember what we did there, just normal activities, like games and coloring and such, but with religious overtones.

one day i thought to ask one of my friends, phoebe, why she didn’t go to release. she was younger than all of us, because she was put ahead a grade. even back then i could tell she was very “with-it”. like, very self-aware. i didn’t possess that trait much yet, but could recognize it in others. so i asked her why she didn’t go, and she answered that her family wasn’t religious and that she didn’t really believe in God. and that freaking blew my mind. i was such a follower, so indoctrinated, that it didn’t even cross my mind that it was an option not to believe in God. and so the seed of doubt was planted by a little sinner named phoebe, lmao. my friends back in elementary school were little jerks, as was i. phoebe was kind of apart from all of us, though. i still wonder how she’s doing, but this was forever ago, so i don’t really wanna reach out like a weirdo.

by age 14 i was on my last religious leg. i got sick of the bigotry, the hypocrisy. even now when i encounter it, i feel sick. like this guy in my religion class, who said aloud that he hoped gays knew that they were evil. ugh. i almost lied and said that i was gay, as i wanted to mess with him. but, alas, i didn’t.

sometimes i miss being religious. no questions, no thinking about all the what-ifs in the world. just simple, blind, dumb (not as in stupid, but as in silent) acceptance of fate. but i can’t seem to go back to that headspace. it’s gone, which is okay with me. i was an emotional wreck when i was religious, too, so i don’t think the bible or the torah or the quran could help me now. i don’t think they say anything about mental illness.

i know that religion can be a powerful tool for good, but i just can’t shake the fact that it can be a powerful tool for evil, too. i don’t wanna end up on the bad side of history. though honestly, i enjoy meeting and learning from people of different faiths, as long as it isn’t the toxic sort of faith that makes you think of gay people as evil.

i think i’ve said this before, but i am so mean-spirited and vengeful that the only time i wish i believed in a definitive afterlife, heaven-and-hell type scenario for the universe is when i meet a particularly ugly-on-the-inside person. then i wish with all my heart that there was a special hell for them. and it’s funny, all the bad sorts are so convinced in their own religious or moral superiority, so convinced the good afterlife is waiting for them. i’d probs go to hell. i don’t believe in any deity (and if i did, i still wouldn’t worship any of the current ones ’cause frankly they all seem like narcissistic dicks in the sky). so if there is an afterlife, i’m screwed. which is okay. i’m having such fun here.

i just want everyone, whatever their faith, to not be an ass to me or anyone else. is that too much to ask?

looks around

apparently, yes.

 

i take the thought of you and burn it to the ground

got 100% on one of my tests today, the one in world religion. it was about buddhism and sikhism. i was shocked to see my score when it was handed back to me. the one i graded had minus 16. i totally made hardly-educated guesses on a couple of answers. plus there’s a curve, so i got 4 extra points because apparently everyone sucks but me. then after class, i threw up in the bathroom. i guess my stomach decided it wasn’t as overjoyed as me. lol, karma.

i went home not long after that. now i’m beating myself up over leaving, as i totally could have stayed.

i don’t know what’s wrong with me. i’m going to call on friday and try to get in to see the doctor early.

trying to tend to the dead parts of my mind. where nothing good grows. sometimes the truth is so ugly that there is no way to live with it intact and be happy. so we have to twist the truth, distort it, look at it thru rose tinted glasses. pretend we learned deep lessons from it about how life is. that we are stronger, better for it. but it isn’t always the case.

it’s just easier to tell a lie than face the truth in its unadulterated form sometimes. i’ve said it before: i obsess over my perception of the truth and the perception of others. it’s crazy how it never quite matches up, even among people with similar characteristics and values. it’s like we all have the same inkblot of a life, but we all arrive at a different idea of what it all means.

i feel bad about the bridges i’ve burned with the sheer force of my ugly personality. friends who got sick of my pessimist outlook. some people would say, oh, if they were really friends they would have stuck around. but i’m not stupid. i know love like that ain’t unconditional, nor should it be. i know sometimes it’s small things, but they add up, and it’s like the voice that took down the mountain of snow. and i’m left smothered in the cold, all by myself. lol.

all i know is, deep down i’m a contrarian who likes to cause trouble for myself. my first-grade report card literally said ‘sarah does not work well by herself or with others’. mrs. johnson really didn’t like me. i almost tell that story with pride now. like, yeah, i’m a real baddie. anybody with eyes can see that i don’t care.

 

 

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

 

once i thought being lost was only a part of being young, but the old man in the bed next to your cot was screaming louder than anyone

i hate when i get to know someone and then wish i hadn’t. people can be so ugly on the inside.

why is it when literal nazis march, people just shrug and spout the tired old “freedom of speech”, but when someone kneels during some stupid dinosaur of a song, people get almost apoplectic with rage. a song at a football game has nothing to do with veterans. the whole act has nothing to do with veterans. i know many americans have such a hard-on for the military that they just have to relate everything under the sun back to glorious War™ and its various members, but come on, be real. i come from a long line of military folks, and i’m not so vain that i equate a simple, unobtrusive form of protest against the institutional racism faced by people of color, with an attack against my family. i’m not as selfish, self-centered or self-involved as that, at least.

i think its because the white right-wingers secretly (or not-so-secretly) relate more to the struggles (lol struggle: kampf, get it?) of nazis than they do african-americans.

also, have you noticed that when you say something simple like “black lives matter”, and don’t say anything about white people, right-wingers are up in arms, angry that people have the audacity to disclude them in that, so they quickly retort, in a nasally, irritating voice, i presume, that,  “ahem, all lives matter.” 

i, too, am uncomfortable when we are not about me.

even when segregation was abolished in the dear old hospitable south, it was basically a forced enterprise. our dear nether-neighbors equated mixing of the races to communism. basically, tho, anything that they didn’t like was communism. lol, like walt disney, with the writer’s strike. he said there was a communist conspiracy out to get him. he wasn’t unfair, communism was unfair. not that i’m a fan of communism, don’t get me wrong. i’m not for any sort of hard-line political ideology.

i remember hearing about a catholic school that desegregated in the south, and basically they threatened the people with excommunication if they did not integrate. hilarious. people care more about the afterlife than they do life.

oh yeah, and i’m not going to be a dictator for life anymore, i’m going to be a theological dictator. basically, if i don’t like you, you can no longer reside in paradise, i.e. my presence, so you are deported to hell, also called europe. lolololol. no. i think it’s the other way around.

i am the satan in this whole setup, anyway.

my mom said that one of her patients at the VA had some kind of weird flashback, and he told her to “take the clothes of the dead and redistribute them among the living.” like what kind of war was he fighting in? it was at the same time sad, funny, and disturbing. so, life as usual.

 

an evolution, the only way i can explain anything

it’s around 8am. i’ve been awake since 5. i was going to sleep in but really couldn’t, thanks to lucy. so i woke up, fed her, and then brent walked her. when she came back in, i said bye to brent (he went to work). i brought luce upstairs, intending to go back to sleep for a couple of hours.

i was just settling in when i heard a crash of something glass outside my door. it was the light above the stairs. the covering fell off rather weird and randomly, hit the banister, and shattered all over the stairs. so of course i shooed the stupid cats away from the shards and picked up the larger pieces and vacuumed the stairs and the room below of the smaller pieces. and now i’m still awake, down on the couch. the cats are reappearing after the terror of the vacuum.

if i was the type to say it was eerie, tho, it was eerie. why did the light covering fall? i think i have just discovered the power gravity has over us, hahaha. one minute we’re drifting asleep, the next we’re staring at the sharp, shattered remains of our peaceful slumber.

ugh the las vegas shooting has me annoyed by people’s (american people’s) weird fetish-level sentimentality about guns. brent compared the banning of the sale of a device that increases rate of fire (the bump stock thing), to the banning of cars because of drunk drivers. lol wat????? how is that all similar. last time i checked, BRENTON, automatic weapons didn’t have much use outside of spraying bullets into crowds. cars are a necessary evil in today’s everyday, civvie world. they, you know, help us get from point A to point B. automatic weapons, not so much.

he isn’t even interested in guns, so i don’t fucking get it.. he’s just dumb, i tell myself. not bad or evil or whatever. not his fault. he was in a car accident when he was younger. traumatic brain injury and the whole shebang. people can’t help being stupid. then of course i feel bad. just because he has a differing opinion does not mean he is stupid. there are tons of other, better reasons he is stupid beyond simple negative versus positive liberty opinions.

 


people say that they aren’t religious, they’re spiritual. i’m not even spiritual. well, i don’t think i am. does it count as spiritual if one wishes fantasy/sci-fi novels were real? ’cause if that’s the case, i’m spiritual like to infinity. yeah, turn life into a freaking fantasy world. then i’ll be happy with it all.

 

i would kill to make you feel. i’d kill to move your face an inch.

the whole god flooding the world because they are bad thing reminds me of a mother psychotically drowning her children in a bathtub. people generally agree that’s a bad move, am i right? yet in a deity, it’s understandable? lulz, just something i thought about in class today. i’m not serious in the least, of course. about religion or anything, at the moment. i’m on a cloud, or rather, in one.

i wish i were good. i do good things and i do bad things and i am just an average being, i think. i wanna be a saint, tho. not a real saint. just a head-in-the-clouds, larger-than-life, indescribably ill-defined, saint. saint sarah, the vaguely benign.

the whole daca thing has me fuming.. i know a couple of people who are/were protected by it. they’re good. they work hard. they hold the same general values as any other decent human being, and they call this place home.

the world is an uncaring wasteland and people are cruel, petty, selfish things. they are ugly and misshapen at the core of their very self, and i sometimes get sad at night because i don’t believe there is a hell that the truly bad and unforgivable will ever call home. there is only justice in this world if the vaguely benign saints fight for it.

i laughed the other day, at the idea of someone so pious yet so selfish and uncaring that they would deny asylum to another. i imagined this hideous, pious creature, encountering hell at the end of their road. the bewilderment on their face, the confusion. perfection. then of course i felt bad for being so uncharitable myself. saint sarah, the spiteful misanthrope. womp, womp.

i shouldn’t aim for sainthood when i would truly make a great, classically hypocritical, vengeful god. SARAH THE SUPREME. the god-queen of des moines. lmao

ok, back to earthly matters. i am thinking about applying for a study abroad for spring semester, in london. mere thinking. i am not giving myself any unnecessary worry or hope by considering it as anything more than an unlikely hypothetical. i’ll talk to an advisor, dip my toes in the possibility, and go from there.