I.

I am working nights/swimming inside my skin.

I am more aware of the arches of my feet and my sodium intake than ever before.

I stroke my eyelids, feeling round little melons underneath.

II.

Four circles of colored paper on the angled wall of an attic bedroom: green blue blue orange.

Happy Birthday, Kathryn, Dear.

III.

Imagine telling yourself that you

Imagine that you knew 

Imagine that you knew

Imagine that you knew

IV.

A woman knows she will die soon.  She watches saline solution drip into her veins.

At her burial, I will take a eucalyptus leaf from the bouquet atop her coffin.

In the car, I will slice the leaf open with my thumbnail and rub the juices into her photograph.

I will believe that she smells eucalyptus then.

V.

My mother has a cloth advent calendar.  Each day has a metal indent, like on a raincoat, and we snap a little stuffed star into each day until Christmas comes.

On the black table is a eucalyptus wreath, white and purple candles.

VI.

She gave me a purple shirt, purple fleece I don't remember if I gave it away when I was packing shit, a watch that never worked, money for my graduation, a green 

I have a thank you card with her name on it.

options

1.  Continue with Physics 2.  Meet with my professor more often (start meeting with him in the first place).  Get a B, maybe an A-.


2.  Withdraw from Physics 2.  Take Physics 1 in the fall, Physics 2 next spring.


3.  Continue with Physics 2.  Struggle, never take physics again.


3.  Withdraw from Physics 2.  Never take physics again.


4.  Study music and philosophy.


5.  Study music and math and philosophy.


6.  Study music and computer science and philosophy.


7.  Study music and physics and philosophy.


8.  Study music.

so fucking meta

I write too much about writing, I write about writing more than I write.  I am not a writer.  Right now, I am soggy bread.  There is snot where there should be air in my head.

,?

First day of physics, something that I think I want to study, but how can I be sure I'm good enough?
Is there even any more to say?


Spring is coming.  I'm a sucker for transitions--packing moving fall spring.  Maybe instead of using too many commas like I used to I won't use enough.  I think it makes everything float in the air more like commas were sandbags anchors to the earth and the only thing left is the weight of the hot air balloon itself capitalization at the beginning a period at the end.  Alpha and omega sunrise sunset.

INTP

That's my personality, reduced to four little letters.


From what I can tell, it's pretty apt.


I think I want to replace my facebook statuses with crypticism, which the red squiggles tell me isn't a word, but I think it makes my point better than any other. The "T" stands for thinking.  The other option is "F", for feeling.


deep as a puddle, shallow as ocean
sharp as a feather, tender as ice
nobody can put these parts into motion
who else can shatter this darkness with light?


Riddles, nursery rhymes, parts of A Swiftly Tilting Planet. 

obsession confession

Sometimes I get really sad and need something someone to help me out, I am happy now but I know it is just part of that sine curve and that the sad will come back down, I just need to figure out the frequency and period so I can prepare, graph my instantaneous mood.  m sub i.


I'm not sure what I think about, but I think that if I try really hard I can be really good at everything, except maybe getting enough sleep when I have to wake up early the next day because sometimes things like that cause me to think more and I can't think the way I want to when I sleep.


I wonder about having "crazy" parents, what that does/did/willdo to me but I don't really mind it I guess, I'm just watching out for myself in this soupy world, subatomic particles here, there, and nowhere all at once just like my thoughts.  I'll allow myself run-on sentences and to not maybe write poetry in its true sense but in my mind floating through between wind tunnel ears stamping around leaving again not really prose how it feels.  I'm trying to write a play but what if none of it is good enough, why do I feel this way?  Maybe it's true, but I shouldn't really care.


All I want for christmas is straight As. 


I was looking through oldish papers cleaning out my desk before I moved out of my room in my house at school, not the house at school I'm in now, the real one, and I found a poem I wrote but my computer science teacher had said all the words, it was poetry reading in between the lines.  Because everyone speaks poetry if you take out some words, I'm no poet when I try hard, hardly trying I'm not much either, but everyone's got to make that dent in the world somehow.


Stream of consciousness is bullshit, that makes it sound like the way we think is some sort of line, stream, only one row with one thing after another.  I think it's more like an ocean, with everything, animals inside, waves crashing on the beaches, tides pulling in and out but that mass of water goes on far beyond what the eye can see and is colder and darker than you can imagine, that's where the strange fish live.


Sans serif is never as beautiful, even if it makes smaller text more clear.

flowers bloom until they rot and fall apart

It's bizarre being back at school with only around thirty other people.  I don't really know what to do.  I listen to Hadestown over and over again, and wish that Orpheus had never looked back.  I read Jitterbug Perfume.  I go through the motions of being.  Is this what it's like to grow up and not have homework?  

I've started to write a play.  Maybe I'll just make myself write one play per weekend.  I'll walk out to the graveyard.  I'll look at the stars.  Yes.  Homework.

We live together in a house, fourteen of us.  We eat dinner together and laugh.  I don't know why, but thinking about it makes me feel empty all of a sudden.  I miss something I've never had and can't really grasp, something vital and invisible, like space.  Something, someone?