I want us to paint birds on each other's foreheads. I want us to sink into mountains, drink the sky below. I want us to wipe our mouths on the skin of our shoulders. I want us to shape the way the clouds move through our fingers, through our bones.
Sunday, February 24, 2013
what i have learned since living in salt lake
Harmons has really good coffee.
I do not know how to be social. At all. And it makes me oh-so-lonely.
There are so many goddang 7-Elevens here.
The LDS Church is far more powerful and in your face than I previously thought.
Brigham Young has a strange grave.
I have a huge love/hate relationship with urban living.
Earplugs are a must if you live downtown.
Earplugs are also a must if you have a partner who snores, which is not something I learned while living in Salt Lake, but just one of those things that I have learned while living life, you know? You know, man? Know what I'm sayin'? Do you get what I am talking about? About is not a word that should end a sentence, you hear me? Hear what I am preachin'?
Any magical place will eventually lose it's luster and rapidly become normal. Normal is okay, though.
Haunted bookstores that sell giant Big Bird puppets and are open at 4am are the only kind of bookstores for me.
City Creek can suck my lady balls.
There is a surprisingly large Asian population here. Or at least in my apartment complex.
i am in love with
rocks bones sand
ice cream and it is becoming a very expensive habit heeeeeelp
tapping my clavicle
i am way too
caffeinated right now to finish this
I am doing better. Or at least I'm telling myself that -- and I think that's okay, for now. Fake it until I make it, right? (I was about to make an orgasm joke, but I won't for a few different reasons. So here's the thing: I am drinking coffee because I thought it would be a brilliant idea in terms of helping me to write. Sure, it helps me to write, but nothing insightful. Coffee = orgasm jokes. Not that orgasm jokes can't be insightful. In fact, they may be the most insightful non-joke joke out there. Anyway, don't mind me! I just write here!)
Okay. Starting over. Ahem. I am doing better. I feel more like "me" and less like the Meg that everyone wants me to be. I do not believe that I purposely put on a persona that in no way matches up with the genuine me, but I do try to please all. This give give give without any inward reflection and self-care eventually leads to complete annihilation of whatever relationship I had with person A (or B or C). Simply put, if I can't take care of myself, I will never be able to take care of you.
So I may have broken a heart last week, as you may have skimmed past in my previous post. Hearts are resilient, though, and they mend. Within a week's time? Perhaps. Going into almost no detail, I will just say that he and I are realizing that holy moly/shit, Buddha-was-correct-desire-and-attachment-DO-lead-to-suffering... And that maybe Berlin will have to wait. I don't want to sit around waiting for my own authentic life to begin, though. Where do I go from here? Well, wherever I want. The sky is alive above and below; all it takes is a dive.
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Does depression cause grumpiness? Is that a symptom? "Irritability," right? I am currently grumpy for most of my day and it has gotten to the point where it is now disturbing aside from simply annoying. I am frustrated with myself and my bad attitude. The frustration just leads to more negativity, though. What's to be done? This is a serious question and if you have any insights, please do not hesitate to leave a comment. I promise to not have a bad attitude towards any comments, by the way... I mean, as long as your comment doesn't say something along the lines of, "You suck, mothersucker! Go suck on some rocks! Go fly a kite!" The last exclamation is actually kind of a good idea. I would love nothing more than to fly a kite, but where's the wind? Plus, Grumpy Meg would be sure to be struck by lightning. So much for my kite.
Did you know that the definition for "lightning" is "a massive electrostatic discharge"? I am sure you already knew that because you are intelligent and you are also a weather forecaster by night and you are also a fan of any definition that so appropriately uses the word "discharge." Good for you! So what I am trying to say is that I just wasted my time typing up a definition you already knew. No backspace key on this keyboard, folks! What has been typed has been typed and there is no turning back.
Let's talk more about the idea of turning back. I have already made a couple of huge "mistakes" this weekend. Would I turn back the hands of Grandfather Time and do anything differently? In some ways no, in other ways yes. No because I ain't messing with time because we all know what happens when we mess with time: We end up with three tongues and five more Holocausts or something. Yes because I think I unintentionally broke a heart this weekend and I could have prevented it from happening. Well, the broken heart would have still happened, but it could have been swept up gently and recycled rather than left there on the ground in shards. No turning back now, though. No backspace key. And please, no more Holocausts.
Monday, February 11, 2013
on my mind anything food related, numbers and what they equal and why and who decided, sexuality, my childhood home, the disappearance of childhood, origins, the denial of pleasure, ice cream, how slowly my bangs grow, moving away, disappearance, interiors.
never on my mind median entrapment neuropathy.
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Likes Bruce Springsteen, seaweed, physics, vaginas, dive diners, afros, '70s architecture, conspiracy theories, dreaming about a hybrid of Maggie Gyllenhaal and Tilda Swinton, deserts! oceans! space!, fungi, Adventures in Babysitting, the creepiness of Disneyland, Native American flute music, minerals, hiking boots for everything with everything for everyone forever, wrestling with my writing, resting with my drawings, longing for a home (it's the kind of pain that hurts so good), wood paneling, nervousness, old fashioned erotica, the term "cloward of cats," absurdist plays, interiors.
Dislikes razors hidden in candy apples.
Friday, February 8, 2013
I wish certain things didn't exist, like creationism, child labor, children (sometimes), Kolob, and ex-boyfriends.
I am really happy certain things exist, such as antimatter, penny arcades, pen pals, and the Oregon Trail.
I am looking forward to Presidents' Day because I am a huge fan of Garfield (the cat, not the prez) and Garfield (the prez, not the cat) would have been a huge fan of Garfield (the hockey team, not the cat), had he only made it through the storm of '97 alive (he died in a time warp).
No, but the truth of the (anti)matter is is that is is reminds me of "iris" and just once in my goddamn existence I would live someone to tell me that my nose reminds them of an iris.
Confession Friday: I had some "special tea" and am reading the Wikipedia page on antimatter and am listening to "Dark Ambient Space Music: Through The Ergosphere" and I have ice cream waiting for me in the freezer... But no pan of lasagna! Garfield's gonna be pissed.
Don't be pissed, Garfunkel. Just be the postal service. The band, not the president.
I need to escape and be a Parisian cliche.
Garfield (my ex, not the antihydrogen atom) just wants a fence. I want the bottom of the ocean.
Here's what introverts do on Friday nights: They listen to "Dark Ambient Space Music" alone in their room while reading about antimatter and wondering why they just stared at a blank ceiling for eleven straight minutes.
Does "blank ceiling" make sense? Sorta. Does particle physics make sense? No and TOTALLY.
Keep it up. And keep it down. And keep on trekking through that time warp... Don't end up pulling a Garfield.
Monday, February 4, 2013
I now present to you my most recent status update on Facebook. (This is terrifying! Facebook and Blogger are meeting for the first time! The world will explode and implode at the exact same time, which means the world will either remain exactly the same or be completely erased from history.)
Meg's most recent status update: Sappy hippie status update up ahead: I only want to put out positive vibes into this world. I'll begin by being nice to myself and I'll end with creating universes! Universes without end! Universes populated with groovy aliens and Larry David lookalikes. This update took a weird turn.
The reason why I get so so so sad is because I have seen how how how happy I can be. I suppose that's the effing universe balancing itself out, right? Or maybe that's just bipolar disorder. Yes, so I have a suspicion that I am some form of bipolar. ("I am bipolar"? Does it now define me?) Then again, I have thought I have had almost every psychiatric disorder at some point in my life. I do not care to dive into a discussion right now about mental health, though. So what do I want to discuss?
Nothing. I wish to discuss nothing. I shut down the computer and eat fried chicken. Okay, not fried chicken. But something. And no, I don't want to shut down my computer. I really desire to eat in front of it while watching YouTube clips of Beyonce. Also, I want to be gentle with myself tonight. Can I do it? Can I just experiment with self-love and see what happens?
Friday, February 1, 2013
I feel like I've strayed far from where I used to be. Maybe that's okay. Maybe the "previous me" was too hung up on being peaceful all of the time. Maybe I fell into that "spiritual materialism" trap? Still, I feel disconnected and cynical and not even remotely interested in anything other than maintaining my isolation.
I am just bummed out all of the time. Even while sleeping I am bummed out... Not that I sleep much. That could be the biggest "problem"... Lack of sleep. Or it could be substance abuse. Or my eating disorder. Or my inability to connect with most people I meet.
There is an allure to disappearance, more so now than ever before.