Oh.
Jesus I have re-used journal entry titles so much.
I have so much I want to write about that I don't know where to start. For the past few weeks (?) I keep wanting to write and then I get too tired and or run out of time.
The trip to upstate NY was amazing and I still have no clue where I want to end up or how to find a place that feels like home again.
On the whole Rochester was my favorite, and yet, and yet what I saw was too much city for me; I couldn't drive in the parts I saw, I couldn't afford the restaurants, I wouldn't have enough space from the neighbors, and bus routes from my potential neighborhood to places I would want to go (amazing queer library and meeting space! dog friendly bar! Jamaican restaurant that felt like chosen family!) were 3-4 hours round trip and not because of mileage....The best house I saw had clearly had the back doors pried open and repaired, and there may have been someone squatting in the garage (good for them!). the culture shock going from a neighborhood in TN where its considered weird to lock your doors, to a neighborhood in East San Jose with bars on windows, to a terrifyingly classist neighborhood in south SJ where people seem to think they earned everything in front of them....everything feels wrong and I dont know where I can fit.
I still cry over the abundance of food here. Did I grow up like this? was this disturbing excess my reality or is it new? It feels new. I cant make sense of it. I weep over the dirt we could be making by composting alone.
I wish it was legal to donate my foodstamps. Especially if I could donate them anonymously to other people on food stamps without jeopardizing my monthly balance. Their math makes...no sense. I get ten times more now since my net income went down by about 200. I'm getting twice as much as I need but the minute I move anywhere alone or anywhere people are less wasteful I'd be getting half what I need, it's the way it is. I am going to eat other people's leftovers, I am going to pull good food out of the trash in this house, before I spend new money on food. But again if I lose the rides-on-demand to get new food etc, my costs would shoot up like you wouldn't believe. Why is this so hard.
I am reeling painfully over some major memory problems I had today. I don't know how much I want to write about it, but I will say I was reminded that our brains are creative and will fabricate all sorts of details to fill in the gaps. It broke my heart today. This is something I would like to forget.
My dog has more expensive vet bills and I've spent more on her this year than myself, I think. It is worth it. She is why I get up in the morning, she gives me purpose, she makes everything feel worthwhile. she makes it easier to leave the house. But why does it have to be like this? why does it have to be so hard?
I don't know how to find home. I don't know how to build community anymore. I want to make a quilt of the best selves of the people I love and fold the fabric of space time so that I can touch all of them from the same rocking chair in front of a fire I built and say that the kettle's on, I can make whatever kind of tea you like...
I want space and honesty and time and dirty hands. I want to keep learning to be a better person.
I miss my house. I miss so many things and people and relationships that don't exist anymore, that never were. Where do I go from here?
I have so much I want to write about that I don't know where to start. For the past few weeks (?) I keep wanting to write and then I get too tired and or run out of time.
The trip to upstate NY was amazing and I still have no clue where I want to end up or how to find a place that feels like home again.
On the whole Rochester was my favorite, and yet, and yet what I saw was too much city for me; I couldn't drive in the parts I saw, I couldn't afford the restaurants, I wouldn't have enough space from the neighbors, and bus routes from my potential neighborhood to places I would want to go (amazing queer library and meeting space! dog friendly bar! Jamaican restaurant that felt like chosen family!) were 3-4 hours round trip and not because of mileage....The best house I saw had clearly had the back doors pried open and repaired, and there may have been someone squatting in the garage (good for them!). the culture shock going from a neighborhood in TN where its considered weird to lock your doors, to a neighborhood in East San Jose with bars on windows, to a terrifyingly classist neighborhood in south SJ where people seem to think they earned everything in front of them....everything feels wrong and I dont know where I can fit.
I still cry over the abundance of food here. Did I grow up like this? was this disturbing excess my reality or is it new? It feels new. I cant make sense of it. I weep over the dirt we could be making by composting alone.
I wish it was legal to donate my foodstamps. Especially if I could donate them anonymously to other people on food stamps without jeopardizing my monthly balance. Their math makes...no sense. I get ten times more now since my net income went down by about 200. I'm getting twice as much as I need but the minute I move anywhere alone or anywhere people are less wasteful I'd be getting half what I need, it's the way it is. I am going to eat other people's leftovers, I am going to pull good food out of the trash in this house, before I spend new money on food. But again if I lose the rides-on-demand to get new food etc, my costs would shoot up like you wouldn't believe. Why is this so hard.
I am reeling painfully over some major memory problems I had today. I don't know how much I want to write about it, but I will say I was reminded that our brains are creative and will fabricate all sorts of details to fill in the gaps. It broke my heart today. This is something I would like to forget.
My dog has more expensive vet bills and I've spent more on her this year than myself, I think. It is worth it. She is why I get up in the morning, she gives me purpose, she makes everything feel worthwhile. she makes it easier to leave the house. But why does it have to be like this? why does it have to be so hard?
I don't know how to find home. I don't know how to build community anymore. I want to make a quilt of the best selves of the people I love and fold the fabric of space time so that I can touch all of them from the same rocking chair in front of a fire I built and say that the kettle's on, I can make whatever kind of tea you like...
I want space and honesty and time and dirty hands. I want to keep learning to be a better person.
I miss my house. I miss so many things and people and relationships that don't exist anymore, that never were. Where do I go from here?