Monday

Another day and another entry.

Too stupid hot outside.
And I dislike the heat.

I want to bake again. Have people over again. Provide and nourish.


Today I took the first step in taking a free MOOC class about historical fiction. I'm not a huge fan of the genre, but if I'm going to apply to a master program in English, well, I should disapline myself with taking some sort of class and actually doing the readings.


Although, I am behind on the reading for my book review blog. And the book that me and a couple friends picked out for our little book club. :/

But I can't let that stress stop me.


I can't. I have done that too much in the past. I'm tired of it

Back again.

I'm scared of life.
Of finishing things.
Hell, of *starting* things.

Where did this summer go? I lost time. I wanted to do so much.
Wanted to pay off bills, not go further into debt.
I wanted to read and relax, not somehow become more anxious. (Kelly, refill your meds. REFILL YOUR MEDS)

I need to get out of debt.
I need to read and write.
I need to apply to grad school.
I need need need to figure out my sister's baby shower.
I need to figure out a way to pay for that.

I need my month of June back. Before I had my seziure.
I need to call my doctors. For results. For my teeth. For my eyes. For my head.


I need. I need I need.

I said I want to create again. And I don't know how.
Grand ideas.
A quilt for my sister's baby.
A succussful blog.
A successful garden.
Successful marriage. I'm struggling in my head. I'm scared I'm scared I'm scared and I want everything to stop. I need more time. I'm freaking out. (KELLY REFILL YOUR MEDS)
But I don't want to.
I want to crash and burn again.
To then rebuild again.
Instead of trying to repair my brokeness. My broken house.


Sometimes we just need to give up to get anywhere.

But I'm scared to do anything.
I need to put one foot in front of the other.
But how?
A step yes. But if I ask anyone to hold me accountable, I freeze. I lie. I ignore and push away.

The things I promised myself. and others. just weigh down on me.
Weigh me down.
Why can't i follow through?
Why can't i live?

Why can't i give up?
Why can't i focus
or want anything.

Why can't i have time.
Why
why
why
why.


Why haven't i cried in months?
Why haven't I had sex in months?
What's wrong with me.
and no, therapy won't solve anything
I just feel anxious about me. about it. Everything lies.
I lie.

Broken I understand.
Whole I don't.

Life Rambles

I took benadryl last night for my allergies and to help me sleep and I'm still in that fog. I'm about to have my first cup of coffee and i should probably get ready for work.

Words words words words.

I need to stop worrying about them and just write. Who the fuck cares and reads this anyways. This is mostly for me.

I have been neglecting me.
I need more me time.

I need more time in general to do all the things I want to do.

I need to focus more.

I want help but I don't know what kind of help I want.

I think I just need to go to Starbucks or the library and "work" from there. Would help me get out of the facebook games.

I know where I want to be. I just don't know how to get there.

Sunday Morning

Muffins in the oven. 

Coffee in my cup.

Still in my pjs, of course. 

Church next door singing the same Hymn they did last week.

Breeze before a (possible) storm. 

Jack's still sleeping, of course. 

I love my quiet Sunday mornings. 

Sky Saw by Blake Butler

page 24:

I've spent enough years with my face arranged in books. I've read enough to crush my sternum. In each of the books are people talking, saying the same thing, their tongues slim and white and speckled with the words.


page 57:

Behind her eyes were also stairwells, which also led to something gone. 


page 106:

It replaced the definitions of certain words in dictionaries no one would ever open. 


page 176:

Milk all through the years in lather leather held out only by an idea.


page 183:

The man said I am sorry I could not remember but now I remember many things I think and as time progresses I will continue to remember more things and there will be more things to remember. 


ibid:

He turned around and found the world.


page 191:

[...] time catching time there where time had meant never to be.


page 219:

Curds of syntax mad in old names.



page 245:

I might look down and find my arms there typing language and believe the language and know it was or I would look down and find the words there in my body written always, I could hold my body as a book, [...]

Rabbit Rabbit (Where'd you put the keys, Girl?)

Holy Fuck.

It's July.

And I still have a bunch of 30 things to do because I'm 30 now to do.

Two years later.

Whatever.

Thursday I apply to grad school ($180 application fee? Really NYU? I'll be paying you enough as it is. I best be getting in)

All I need to do is get one last recommendation in. Then I'm good to go.


I have books to write up. Well Book reviews to write.

2 on the back burner.

Emails to write.
Respond to.

Books to get back.
Movies to give back.

Library fines I need to pay.
Brownies to bake.
(who bakes in the summer? apparently this bitch)

Things to be angry about.
FUCK YOU SCOTUS.

Define "family business." Because the company I work for is run by two brothers. And it's private. Who is to stop them from limiting my access? (I doubt they will mind you. But there's nothing to stop them now)

SCOTUS looks like Scrotum.
We need more ovaries.

Just some thoughts

"Facts are facts and fiction's fiction."


Been thinking about reality a lot. Blame the self help/creativity books I've been reading. (I'm such a sucker for them.) But not only that, but gender and how it's a construct (or is it?) and what it means to be one's self.

Is our fact the fiction we happen to create and believe in?