- Last week I invested in a pair of acrylic talons to keep myself from picking at my skin while I’m trying to write this second book which is hard and wonderful and sometimes like biting into an apple only to find a jelly fish
- It’s getting cold in New Hampshire
- Sometimes I think the world is ending and I should go drink wine in my closet while petting my Birkenstocks. Other times I remember I’m not my thoughts and instead go to yoga and write a poem and feel like I’m a small part of the universe’s machine, but a part all the same
- Therapy is a paid friendship with a higher probability of getting good advice. Must. Go. Every. Week.
- I had a venti coffee at 5:45 a.m. because I can’t seem to sleep in the morning which is cool because I like leaving the house when there are still stars but uncool cause, like, it’s only 7:15 and I’ve already been up for two hours
- I’m wearing my high school letterman jacket which makes me feel lame but also like a model
- I’m having an eczema flair up on my face so I straightened my hair to distract my audience from my red scaly situation (by “audience” I mean the six to nine people I interact with on a daily basis, hi)
- This isn’t ten facts, it’s eight, but that’s okay. Math is a construct.
On Twitter this morning I discovered #MeToo and at first I was all, I shouldn’t contribute. I’ve “only” been: verbally assaulted while eating a sausage on the street, pressured into sex by people I was in relationships with, cat called times a million, texted inappropriately in high school by a married man hitting on pictures of me and my friends on Facebook…and then I was like, oh duh. That’s the fucking point. These are not tiny, insignificant, isolated incidents. This is sexual assault and it’s happening all the time.
One of the more uncomfortable incidents I already tweeted about, but it involved a man I frequently saw while out to breakfast with my parents. I started calling him Creepy Paul because even at nine years old I could tell he gave me too much unwanted attention, then one day he kissed me on the cheek when I was going to the bathroom. It made me feel disgusting and ashamed. I don’t remember if I told my parents or if I gave them an excuse for not wanting to go back to one of our favorite breakfast spots, but I’ve been avoiding that diner for years. I don’t know for certain, but I probably wasn’t the only little girl Creepy Paul assaulted– how frightening and angering and fucked up and disgusting of him.
Besides sharing this information, I don’t really know what to “do” about this and I’m frustrated that I don’t have a solution. I do know that it’s been helpful to hear about other women’s encounters with sexual harassment, particularly on blogs I love, like this one.
And so we keep going.
- On-sale kombucha
- When I snag a parking space that has another parking space ahead of it, allowing me to pull up and avoid the dreaded hassle of backing out of Starbucks
- Dreams in which I cast a patronus
- Pooping in a public bathroom only to realize there’s only one sheet of toilet paper left only to realize that I only need one sheet of toilet paper
- Justin Bieber
- Rye bread
- Popping a pimple and it hits the mirror
- Popping someone else’s pimple and it hits me. lawl, sry
- Girls in Levis
- Guys in Birkenstocks
- How the laundry smells when my mom brings it in from the clothes line (I regret that the word “mom” is on this list)
- A new episode of Broad City
- When someone orders a glass of milk at the bar
- (I’m the only one I know who does that ^ …guess I have the potential to turn myself on)
- Writing the fucking dopest sentence and/or reading one
- Group-crying in the movie theater (the time I saw The Fault In Our Stars comes to mind)
- When my boyfriend wears my t-shirts
- Jk I want my shit back.
- Eye balling million dollar apartments that I also have a moral quandary with
- Sun burns (not the blistering kind)
- Stealing brazil nuts from the bulk bins at Whole Foods
- Who came up with the saying “turned on?” Frankly it turns me off
(^ not an actual category but I couldn’t name this post because I’ve only had one venti coffee so far this morning)
This past weekend I was walking my
boyfriend’s dog in the woods and I found a hawk feather so brown and majestic and thrilling I took a picture of it. Then I found another and another and soon I was holding like six hawk feathers, just waiting to find a hawk carcass and thinking my good omen was going to turn into a very bad omen. When that didn’t happen, I thought maybe I’d make a trinket out of the feathers as a symbol of bad ass birding to put in my room and remind me to kill things like mice with my good vision and sharp talons. Then I passed someone on the trail and he was all “I see you found some turkey feathers!” They lost their splendor so fast it was like I picked them out of a crafts bin at Michaels.
Life lesson: existence is arbitrary. What we assign weight and meaning to, probably has very little intrinsic weight and meaning, which is a little depressing but mostly fucking awesome. We are free agent creatives with ears and language and opposable thumbs. We get to experience shit then make shit up. How incredible is that?
I didn’t take any turkey feathers home.
I wish the spiders in my shower were fish
That I was attracted to you
Had a pocket made of skin
The plumbing to handle my shit
Imagine thinking eyelash extensions would help this situation
And everything lived until it didn’t want to and didn’t die loveless in a shopping plaza
I want to know if I want too much
How to keep goodness on my windowsill like a wasp
An inappropriate friendship with my therapist
Non sexual sleepovers
I want to live in the off season of obsession
Christmas three times a year
My milk teeth back
Maybe the only way to draw Mt. Beautiful is to start at the top with a pencil
I want a sushi grade body
A cheap but quality abortion
Permission not to need any
So what if I’m insatiable?
You think that wasp is gonna live forever?