Returning to a new me

I've been trying out new, subtle ways of expressing myself. I just painted my nails hot pink, a color I wouldn't be caught dead in for most of my life, save for a short six months in the 6th grade, after I met Taylor Butler. I was easily influenced at the time, and she somehow made the color cool. I bought a pencil case, folders, and a backpack—all pink. It can actually be a very pretty color. But I guess now you'd have to go into what constitutes pretty, and I'd rather not.

I wonder if there is a preoccupation with "cool" among the people I know, maybe people in general. Regurgitating a political thought circulating on Twitter because you need to let others know that you agree, something is very wrong here. Canceling someone online for clout, buying a fanny pack just like that one girl. It's all the same to me. I'm not an expert, just looking around. A woman I peripherally know posted on Instagram, urging people to eat local and in season, and I agreed, but what was she trying to prove? She may have been bored...

Netflix's current number one streamed tv show Manifest is poorly written and cast wrong. I'm watching, though, because I love that kind of smut. Every time someone has a "calling" I get goosebumps on my arms and legs. I look at my arms and then the tv, thinking, Wow, I'm so effected right now. How is that possible when the show is so bad?

I love feeling different after I watch or read a story. Like I've crossed some threshold and I'll never be the same again.

A full moon last Friday brought me to dinner with a friend. Out to eat and pushing each other through discussion. I loved the talking, good and bad. The food was ok, but the drinks were better. One of the ingredients in my cocktail was "blue" —we thought was funny. 

A few weeks ago, I bought a shirt from village discount with every intention of changing it. I dyed it terra cotta orange yesterday, and will hand wash it cold today. 

I wish people surprised and pranked me more. Not everything needs to be an experience, but right now it feels like it because of the pandemic. I hope that goes away soon. I'm returning to a new me.

Me, The Film Buff

I'd like to watch all six of Eric Rohmer's movies that explore the "other woman" trope. It's funny: when Jackson mentioned Claire's Knee I imagined something entirely different. At first, I even felt a touch of possessiveness within me, though I knew ultimately that I'm invested in freedom for those that I love, even strangers. And plus, this was just the subject of a movie... 

I cancelled all of my plans and spent the day stretched out, not bored of myself. I didn't do most of the things I said I'd do last week. I feel a sense of relief washing over me now. 

The girls are gossiping about trauma. I don't want to be on Girl Island anymore, comparing armpit hair. I want to shave everything and go swimming. 

I recommend watching Toni Erdmann because of the emotional journey it took me on. It was a gentle ride at the amusement park.

My college boyfriend made the best music, but that doesn't matter anymore. 

I want to make a movie now.

Week With Sun

Soon I'll watch the five-hour film Fin recommended.

I haven't been abominably bad, even though it's winter and no one has news anymore—

Emma asked if I was finding it difficult to kill time.

Right now, I'm drawn to movement and my artistic pursuit. I'm not in a mood to pretend. 

There was a line in a tv show I watched where one character was proud of another character solely for his decisiveness. I thought that was beautiful.

My sister and I unraveled an argument about risk-taking during the pandemic. Afterwards, we talked about finding a dress to wear to our other sister's wedding. It's in April.

I think I get more serious in the winter, like a stern caricature of myself. Please laugh.

I have a lot of sore spots right now.

My horoscopes are telling me that it's my turn to receive. I joked about the Annie Lenox song while driving.

I'm practicing vulnerability in hopes that I am loved and accepted in return.

Missing can be monumental.

As I was Moving Ahead, Occasionally I Saw Brief Glimpses of Beauty.

Current

The lady must have a bird feeding route. I saw her twice: once at the beach, another time beneath an overpass. At first, I thought she was crazy, but then Jackson told me about the man who drove up next to her—how he parked the car and waited for her as she finished throwing the last crumbs.

I wrote my first poem in months. It's called "We Should Be Together" and it's romantic.

Our heat didn't work for a day and a half; I started muttering in Polish whenever my dog annoyed me. My roommates laughed.

I hate my ego and think about it ruthlessly. My sister tells me I have a propensity to find The Negative. Talk about self-discovery.

As a child I felt special, like I understood something nameless, which most others couldn't. I took an IQ test on the toilet and scored one point above average. I win.

It's my blog but you can read it

In the last week I took note of the nuances in my friends' political views. We don't all feel the same way—

The days I didn't work felt harsh. I had one of those waves of despair that washed over me. I don't mean it in a big deal way, but it made me want to collect rocks and stack them all around the house.

I found myself watching Zadie Smith interviews. She talked in one about listening. She said conservative outrage stemmed at its core from a discomfort with language. Certain words, or arrangements of words, that ultimately provoked them. ex: "Black Lives Matter"...a statement excluding white existence...how disturbing.

It made me want to go back to grade school to see where people got messed up.

Thought about calling my mom.

Is it normal to know what you're going to say before you say it? Or does it all just kind of happen naturally? — you figure out what you're thinking as it comes out. 

I'm getting a little bored of myself. I'm reading Kafka for the first time.

Stick Sculpture

The pothos I've had for years are dying, it's too late to save them.

I'm in love with the tree outside my window, especially during mornings. I wake up at 7 to take the dog out, but I have a moment with the tree first. At 7, sun hits sharply at just half of it, illuminating the bright yellow leaves at the top that have weathered the fall season—the bottom half is still bright green. The first time I saw its color split was so beautiful that it shocked me awake. It was one of those things you look at in disbelief. 

Joey said something about immersive healing on his chart yesterday and now I'm adopting it. 

I want to explain to my friends how much they mean to me without using words. A performance could be funny and charming. But then again, it could go terribly wrong.

There will always be intensity in fighting. I wonder if there is intensity in an act of kindness.

Emma dreamt we were sitting together and I just kept looking at her. She was looking at me and I said, "It's ok." She was looking at me with a worried face and I said, "It's ok, Emmy." I woke up to that message.

I wanted to set up a projector outside and lay in the grass while we watched In the Mood for Love. 

If I go to a forest this weekend, I'd like to build a stick sculpture.

It Feels Like September

I’m thinking about buying a new couch. I’m thinking about buying a tea kettle. I’m thinking about buying a jumpsuit, maybe black denim overalls. A plane ticket to Poland?

Summer of mirrors. Something like me, maybe you, the world, trying to be honest with itself. No one really wants to turn the mirror—it’s too shocking. I think I felt embarrassed with my therapist today a few times. But I’m rationalizing that that’s part of the job, for both of us. Then I worked. Then I biked to Home Depot to get paint. I forgot Home Depot is canceled. Actually, that’s a lie. I remembered on my way there and still went. I needed paint for the living room wall. I thought it was called Sherwin Williams “Needle in the Hay,” but turns out it’s actually Sherwin Williams “Knitting Needles.” Not my first choice. It sucks everything is an advertisement. But I think maybe when people read stories even two hundred years ago they wanted to borrow people’s personalities, too. We’re complex beings—so much unraveling, exploring, creating, we’re all looking or not looking to do. After the errand I did my laundry, turned on the recommended jazz album, opened a bottle of wine. Now I’m cooking a steak dinner for one.