(no subject)
I've not allowed myself to write anything for the past two weeks, not anywhere, not in a notebook, not here, not on slips of paper. I convinced myself that it was because I was too tired or too lazy to use a pen or pencil, but driving home today, after being gone for what seems such a long time, but in reality was only a week and change - I didn't let myself write anything down because I didnt want to think. I was so happy to be out, and somewhere new, and places old that If I thought about it I would marr my content.
This isn't wholly true. I wrote letters, I wrote facsimiles of letters that I never sent, that said nothing of substance, that tiptoed over bigger issues with a layer of sugary politeness and mentioned inane occourances with hopes that the reciever would be able to read between the lines and dig out the bigger picture. Knowing this would not be the outcome I wrote and discarded them, and decided to deal with these things by myself with time and silence.
I just finished We the Living by Ayn Rand and whenever I read books I get so absorbed in the mindset that I start to see things from that perspective. Instead of being trapped in Communist Russia, This past week I've felt trapped in my body. Like it is something that hinders me, It makes me spend the small money I have to feed it, it gets sunburnt, it needs washing, it gets tired, and it gets drunk too fast and it coughs and itches and causes discomfort when I use it the wrong way to sleep.
I hadn't drunk anything since having burritos and a beer with my mom 2 weeks ago until I got to Baltimore. I always just get there and end up drinking within a short amount of time, then get drunk fast, and then fall asleep. This happened again this weekend. I missed ocdj and juiceboxx last night because I thought I could drink at the same pace as grey and be alright. In Baltimore I also forget to eat because it is such a hassle when so many more exciting things are going on and you have no food and no money.
I've recognized these habits and look to change them in the future.
I think I love people in the manner that Kira loved Lev Kovelensky, and that they end in the same manner, with less grace on my part. I need a new book with a brighter outlook.
Because we didn't have tickets for this weekend I hardly got to see any of my friends. I feel like the hype around wham city is a monster that is hooking people in and soon they will lose their souls and what makes them interesting. Everyone will just be sniveling and snarling to be in the scene and forget who they are and where they came from just to grab at this intangible thing to gain glory. It makes my stomach sick, and made me realized I want to be as far from that as possible. I don't yearn for any greatness, but moreso love, and appreciation in a humbling way. Going home I just wanted to be back at my grandparent's, and to feel sane and grounded surrounded by sky and delapidation and proof that things can work out in a manner that recieves no greatness but attains it at the same time. Neal is right I do over idealize that place, but in a way that I think for the moment I need to.
This isn't wholly true. I wrote letters, I wrote facsimiles of letters that I never sent, that said nothing of substance, that tiptoed over bigger issues with a layer of sugary politeness and mentioned inane occourances with hopes that the reciever would be able to read between the lines and dig out the bigger picture. Knowing this would not be the outcome I wrote and discarded them, and decided to deal with these things by myself with time and silence.
I just finished We the Living by Ayn Rand and whenever I read books I get so absorbed in the mindset that I start to see things from that perspective. Instead of being trapped in Communist Russia, This past week I've felt trapped in my body. Like it is something that hinders me, It makes me spend the small money I have to feed it, it gets sunburnt, it needs washing, it gets tired, and it gets drunk too fast and it coughs and itches and causes discomfort when I use it the wrong way to sleep.
I hadn't drunk anything since having burritos and a beer with my mom 2 weeks ago until I got to Baltimore. I always just get there and end up drinking within a short amount of time, then get drunk fast, and then fall asleep. This happened again this weekend. I missed ocdj and juiceboxx last night because I thought I could drink at the same pace as grey and be alright. In Baltimore I also forget to eat because it is such a hassle when so many more exciting things are going on and you have no food and no money.
I've recognized these habits and look to change them in the future.
I think I love people in the manner that Kira loved Lev Kovelensky, and that they end in the same manner, with less grace on my part. I need a new book with a brighter outlook.
Because we didn't have tickets for this weekend I hardly got to see any of my friends. I feel like the hype around wham city is a monster that is hooking people in and soon they will lose their souls and what makes them interesting. Everyone will just be sniveling and snarling to be in the scene and forget who they are and where they came from just to grab at this intangible thing to gain glory. It makes my stomach sick, and made me realized I want to be as far from that as possible. I don't yearn for any greatness, but moreso love, and appreciation in a humbling way. Going home I just wanted to be back at my grandparent's, and to feel sane and grounded surrounded by sky and delapidation and proof that things can work out in a manner that recieves no greatness but attains it at the same time. Neal is right I do over idealize that place, but in a way that I think for the moment I need to.