Doing something
I am trying
i am not doing a great job with this format. or with writing. or life. or relationships. or food. i am actually doing great with food, by great i mean i am consuming it. a lot. i love food. especially sushi and pasta.
this is a picture of pasta i had this week. enjoy. i did.
i know i am truly great at one thing: vulnerability.
this is the dictionary definition: the quality or state of being exposed to the possibility of being attacked or harmed, either physically or emotionally.
what i mean is that i am great about crying about things and explaining to people why im crying, even if they might be mean. or use it against me. actually i do not dislike mean people. i have this theory: everybody is mean, at least half-mean and at least the mean people aren’t faking it like us nice people. nice people are scared. or maybe, probably, i’m just mean on the inside. i get meaner from year to year. the more happy, sane and stable i become the more i say what comes to my mind. my mind isn’t kind. but if she’s a bitch to me i’m okay with her being a bitch to everyone. or maybe not. i should shut up. see: ✨vulnerability✨. the use of sparkles makes me cringe. i am gen z. i hate everything gen z about me. which is everything.
also, i am vulnerable because i am constantly in positions where i could easily be harmed. i do things like this on the internet. i walk home alone in the middle of the night. i don’t look left and right before crossing the road. i did as a child, then i became a teenager who thought dying was cool and now as an adult i’m not used to looking. besides, my boyfriend looks for me. i trust his eyes more than mine. i do wonder what this says about our relationship and the patriarchy. i am trying to speak about the patriarchy less. ive been told its annoying. anyway it probably does not say good things. though i only have good things to say about him. him being my boyfriend. not the patriarchy. though sometimes i also don’t hate the patriarchy. most days i do. but somedays, writing and reading and learning and existing is hard. on those days i find comfort in losing 30-6o pounds and becoming a trophy wife. sorry boyfriend.
a writer friend told me that joan didion’s work is very vulnerable this week. i agreed. i have never read joan didion. i know i should. i know i have to. in fact i have a pdf of goodbye to all that open on my computer. i tell myself ill read it tonight, i hope that’s true. i know it’s basic for a writer. i haven’t read most things writers should read.
heres a partial list of what i havent read:
catcher in the rye
how to kill a mockingbird
virginia wolf( who i’ll apparently love?)
russian dudes i cant even name
ive tried jane austen but always fall asleep(im the problem, im aware).
and many many many more but i swear im trying.
i’m working on grad school applications. im trying to read even more than usual to sound smart during interviews. i made a huge list of books ill read everyday. and short stories. and poems. what i actually do is keep coming back to slyvia plath everyday. i read the bell jar, a few poems from ariel and then half of someone else’s short story. i tell myself ill read the other half tomorrow. Tomorrow never comes.
i have been obsessed with slyvia for the past year and a half. yesterday i told my boyfriend i wanted to be her. he asked “even the sticking your head in an oven part?” i said if i’d also get the rest: talent, wit, influence and study at cambridge. then yes, yes id be her. thats probably a bad thing to say. because suicide is bad. i think it’s a shame she isn’t alive.
i would keep writing this(maybe ill edit and add more later) but i have to go practice driving. im almost twenty and tired or relying on my boyfriend for taking me everywhere. thank you boyfriend. also i have to write today. and do homework. and read. not just slyvia. maybe even didion.