words&whatnot

stayed up long enough tonight to see the pink crawl up through the sky. it's faded into something now. not sure what, not blue quite yet but i am (ha, was that cheesy? do i yearn for sixteen year old moody and disturbed by simple emotion? yes, i was quite an affective little soul back then, and still am now, forcing some sense of solitude, at five a.m.,) wishing i could do what others do. be it go to bed at normal times or graduate by now or have a few friends, not a couple, or sing, or dance, go wander, find some nonsense (or some sense) to get myself caught up in the sky is slightly yellow but it's shy to let it out... it won't quite reach it. i'm not working through my lost, i somewhat have a plan, even if it's held together by the glue of silly promises, in my suspicious hand that's always pained for no reason at all i guess i'll come back to this someday and think it's silly i really hope for that enough so that i'll try and let that dumb thought save me (back to my old dramatics, i see)

what's my deal? and do i even want one? what's the time, and do i care? do i stay awake all these hours? do i mind my unwashed hair? does it suck that i'm broke and lousy, or does that add some flair? i'm counting, i'm always counting to calculate some depressingly endless fare

for so long i didn't ask myself, do you fucking dare? do you want to chase a dream or just gasp for noxious air?

does the world know that i'm twenty-three? what's the time, and do they care? do they know that i'm chasing after them, do they feel my boundless stare? do they know my soul's so bare?

12/9/24 8:52pm. listening to dirty work by steely dan.

in the time i spent trying to think of what to write, the song changed to showdown by electric light orchestra.

my old clarinet from high school is all sorts of unusable. i'm searching for a cheap one on facebook marketplace, so i can fulfill the tiny part of me that wonders if i could have been a master clarinetist in a different path of my life.

i'll learn to play a couple solos and probably not touch it for a year.

i was at costco earlier and while waiting for food at the food court, this guy says “i accidentally bought too many drinks, anyone want one?” (they're like 70 cents so not a huge loss), and it made me all emotional about how this is what humanity is, this is kindness, connection, community, this is the love we were meant to share with one another on this sweet earth.

in the costco food court i had all these thoughts.

this is the type of thing that lets me know that my period is approaching.

i have just a few more days of school before the official end of the semester. the gallery opening is this friday, and for some reason it's the most exciting thing ever to me. not just this one, but school shows in general.

i won't lie, i love praise. i take whatever hit to my ego that i can, since there's just so much other stuff i beat myself down for. sometimes it's the same, though, and it makes for a complicated relationship with myself.

i am realizing this entry is way more of a journal than usual.

i love to see all the work that comes out of the little shared environment that is the art wing. i love being a part of this huge mosaic. and as a lover of people and commotion, i am a big fan of gallery openings.

right now, i am procrastinating, of course. computer work doesn't feel as real, or perhaps it feels more like work.

song now is never my love by the association.

15 October 2024- 11:11pm on a Tuesday ................................................................................................................................

Well. Those glasses broke and so did my sanity at this point.

I can’t even bring myself to care that much about the glasses because I’m just drowning in work. I didn’t expect there to be so much that I didn’t know how to do.

It’s okay, I’ll get there. I have to.

Autumn is still lovely but it’s getting colder and I need new tights.

Lots of packages on the way, including some knee high boots, a style of boot which I haven’t owned in years.

The stress of things right now is showing me which art disciplines I can still lose myself in despite the pressure. It’s really just painting, I think. Some photography.

I like ceramics, but not wheel.

Yes, I am overwhelmed. No, I will not take less than five classes next semester.

25 September 2024- 8 in the evening on a Wednesday ................................................................................................................................

I’m back there, bubbling, and it came so fast and I haven’t gotten tired of it, yet. I hope that I don’t, but burnout is inevitable and the cycle will keep going. That’s okay, I think.

My new glasses are on the way and they’re cute, and smart-looking, and not clear. They have adjustable nose pads which is something that I missed.

Creating is more like discovery, and I am just so curious about everything that it feels like an answer every time I make something new.

Nothing ever feels all that new though, and I’m learning that I love that.

I’ve been taking photos in black and white, and that feels especially old, but in a way where that can never be a bad thing. There’s something in black and white; I’m looking at things how I don’t see them normally yet it’s so reductive that this process is almost an illusion.

The sun has been a little shy lately. I’m enjoying the chilliness from this, but looking forward to when she can be out and it will still be cold. I need to buy a new jacket. For some reason, none of the ones I’ve had lately have felt right.

While I’m at it, it’s coming to be sweater season.

I’m enjoying autumn greatly so far.

20 August 2024- four in the morning, coming into a Wednesday ................................................................................................................................

I dislike my clear glasses. Could be that I don’t clean them well enough, or maybe it’s because they’re cheap, but they get all gunky where the lenses meet the frame and it makes me feel unkempt.

I’m starting to get real tired of feeling, being, unkempt. But I’m slowly digging my way out.

I’ve got contacts now which slightly give me a headache but ultimately, that’s worth it.

I hate to rush summer. But fall feels like a love that I haven’t seen in so long and I just want to run into its arms and stay there.

School is in just a week from what is technically today.

The katydids have gone and all I hear is crickets now. If I think hard enough, I can convince myself that I hear the humming of the highway.

Soon, birds will replace both and welcome the day, and everything will get so starkly blue for a little while before the color sets into the sky and is lightened by the sun.

I miss creating all the time, and while I tell myself I’m just dormant at the moment and things will pick up again in a week, I’ve been creating so little this summer that it’s hard to imagine myself back there, bubbling, unable to contain all that’s inside me.

But it was hard to imagine that before, too.

if only you could feel your words encase me, head to toe and see your face, bold and bright beaming even in the night, you too would be in love, i know

thoughts at noon on monday 9/11/2023 ................................................................................................................................

I sit alone in a corner of the school courtyard, headphones on, pretending to work.

The chickadees are playing in a nearby willow tree (I didn't know they even stuck around through the heat, since I've only ever seen them in the winter),

and every so often, the sudden flapping of pigeon wings catches my attention through the music.

I complimented someone's sweater today, secretly hoping that they would burst into an exclamation about how we should be friends and go thrifting together and sit together in the cafeteria. But that's not how it works.

I'm doing this for myself, always.

I just need to get good grades and get out of here.

The sun is beaming on my laptop and I'm worried it will get too hot and blow up.

As it blankets my arms too, I pray it gives them some color.

I spent too long today studying my skin like a map and noticing all the little red dots and stretch marks, not enjoying the character they give.

A bee came near me and I did not react.

A roly-poly that was running in circles a minute ago has now snapped out of it.

I'm starting to feel better about my DIY haircut from last month.

i always had a feeling something was there— not like a tumor, more like a devilish little bird, who refrains from my reach— something so invisible yet so nauseatingly glaring red, strobing at times like that annoying light on those fire alarms that alert, “fire! fire!” and you run.

sometimes i think we're friends. yet when i, in and out of sleep, turn to embrace this Thing, i am reminded of how sinister it can be, and perhaps my shame comes from the people instead, but how could i not want to catch it, and gnaw at its bones the way it has mine?

when i ask them if it's there, they scurry off like a scolded dog. this shame, it's contagious. and this Fucking Bird is like a pair of shoes that somehow gets less broken in over time. when i address it, it echoes back. it mocks me, asks me if i would even know who i am without it. what a cruel thing, and no matter how hard i've tried, i can never change my answer.

— “alone, alone in a crowded room”

in the pellucid shallows i consider calm but make many so uneasy, since the tiny fish are just so there, and threaten to bite your toes, i find: a small amount of clay, a bottle cap, melodies from a long past fourth of july, fragments of old zebra mussel shells, sunshine, all the way down

— “one of the little lakes”