swedish fish: kathryn::hubris: oedipus

I love Swedish Fish.  The candies, I mean, not actual fish from Sweden.  I actually can't stop eating them at the moment.  I mean, I could if I wanted to, but I don't want to.  Thinking about it has actually brought up some worries about next year for me.


I might have forgotten to say, but I'm going to Bennington College next fall [insert super-excited dance here].  I visited and loved it, and it may sound stupid, but lately I've been thinking about the whole freshman 15 thing.  And I know that we're supposed to love our bodies or whatever, but I'm pretty sure that a step towards loving my body includes not gaining fifteen pounds.  Which brings me back to the Swedish Fish.  What if I can't control myself, and end up with cavities, and...and...obesity? I would not know what to do.  Colleges usually have gyms (Bennington included), but I really hate exercising, for the most part.  I love to walk (which doesn't count as exercise, because it's easy) and ride my bike, but that's about it, I think.  In any case, I really hate running. So much.  I don't run unless I'm trying to catch a bus.


I've already spent so much time hating the way that I look, and I'm kind of sick of it.  I'm just not sick of it enough to run.  Running actually makes me miserable.  But someday, I want to look in the mirror and like what I see for a change.  Which means no more Swedish Fish next year.      

i'm in love with judas

Not Priest.  The Lady Gaga song.  Have I mentioned my love of Gaga?  Do I really need to?  If you're reading this, you probably already know about it.  This is a Lady Gaga post.  

I want to go dancing. In a dark club, I mean.  The kind where everyone loses their self-consciousness and just moves, without worrying about whether their dancing looks funny.  I want to dance in the dark.  I want to go to the Monster Ball again, and feel the way I did while I was there, to feel like I was someone, or something, to feel like I was beautiful and powerful, because when I was there, I SCREAMED and wanted to cry with pure joy, because for a couple of hours, I truly loved myself.  I loved myself because I was commanded to, because someone roared at a stadium of 18,000 people and said they would love themselves for who they were, because they were born that way. I don't really care if it was bullshit, I don't care if Lady Gaga didn't really mean it. I don't care how far away she was, or that she couldn't see my face.  I don't care that she does the same thing almost every night.  She was speaking to all of us. She cried, and snarled, and bore her teeth, and sang to us, for us, about us. And it worked.

When I grow up, I want to be like Lady Gaga.  I want to be able to say that I love myself, or at least put on a good enough show of loving myself that I can convince everyone else to love themselves too. 

I gave up.

On the whole poetry thing, at least.  Right now, I'm in a hotel room in Bennington, Vermont, and I think that it will be required that I have Ben and Jerry's ice cream at some point.  I'm also listening to "Don't cry for me Argentina" on youtube, on repeat. I am not going through some sort of breakup. That's just what I feel like doing.

It's so beautiful here. I wish I could write a poem about it. You can actually see stars.

poetry month, according to ana

A poem a day? I don't think I can do it. I'm not really a poem kind of person, but I'll try.




closed eyes stare into darkness
listen to breathing
count
second by second, an imagined ticking clock
a mind races but never wins the peace
that it haphazardly
doggedly
naively
pursues