monthly me | september ’17

when your heart was open wide,
and you loved things just because
like the sick and the dying

– rilo kiley

Hey gang. No exclamation points here but I am here and I have returned for the only thing in my life that is consistent. Are you well?

from the camera roll

september

September, in truth, was my first full month in America. It’s been a lot.

This month, I (officially) started uni. Again. It’s been a strange time, because despite my having done this “wow so new!” thing before, I’m doing it on a different continent. It makes for interesting character development to say the least. I’m living in a dorm for the first time, because I definitely did not do that last year. Several of my two-days-straight-without-moving-from-bed days would have been made infinitely less possible with a roommate like 50 other people on the floor.

I’ve done a lot of watching, to tell you the truth. After my trip to New York and the UN (a really, really good time) I moved in and started class. I’m a little upset at how juvenile things are. The uni classes have been like a slap in the face – that is, they slapped me back to high school. Like, homework and attendance and participation points? Where am I? Is 2013 Shalom okay? Not to negate the upstanding nature of the university or anything, it’s just that it’s a little bit of a backwards shock after last year’s uh. Year.

Teenagers are in love and it’s both revolting and heartwarming to watch. Really, by the second week of class, there were about five or six couplings that happened within the dorm. I’ve grown tired of people meaning well and telling me, “you’ll find someone”. How many times can I flick a recent high school graduate on the nose and yell, “DID I ASK?” in my head? Every day, the number rises. Stay tuned for updates.

I’m not a sour Sally about people being happy. I could never be – I thrive on happiness, especially that of others. It’s part of my “give too much of myself and try to fill the space with positive reactions from others” complex. I’m worried about how it’ll mess up our dynamic as a family (because our hall is a family – I’m the mom. It’s fitting.) if things go south.

That said, the community I live with is lovely. The RAs are lovely, my roommate is lovely, the boys who live next door and ask me to use a bowl when they’ve run out are lovely. There are a lot of Cancerians on the floor – something like 9? Maybe that’s responsible for the vibe.

My brain, she’s trying. I had a follow up appointment with psychiatric services on Friday that I did not go to, but we all know I should have – myself included. I don’t know. I’m currently manic, and I’m a bit worried about myself. I wish I could stop thinking that everyone actually just puts up with me. I wish my hair didn’t make me so dysphoric. I also wish I had money and didn’t get fired, but here we are. Thanks, September.

tunes & vids

but the lows are so extreme that the good seems fucking cheap
and it teases you for weeks in its absence

when you outgrow a lover / the whole world knows but you

put on your makeup, i laid out your favourite sweater
it’s just a number darling, dry your eyes

doilooklikeimleftoffbadandboujee?

other loves

  • “Bet you rue the day you kissed a writer in the dark.” – I bet you do.
  • I read some very good fics this month. I should text Chyanne about them.
  • Beanby! We have a beanbag chair. He’s called beanby, and he’s been home to many a cry time. A good boy, a kind boy.
  • My drama teacher sent me a message saying she’s proud of me, and I haven’t opened the message because I look at it every day. (Thank you, Meghan.)

 

snippets of internal monologue

  • how much can i actually twist until i pretzel?
  • i can feel the blood moving in my veins. what is this? am i becoming something else?
  • narrator: manic. she was becoming manic.
  • i just want to not be uncomfortable with the things that everyone is happy about and that i am happy about but can’t process because brain oh BRAIN
  • i’d be a good thanksgiving sacrifice. not a lot of meat though, all the gross fatty bits.

It’s almost after one. I haven’t eaten or gotten any of the very pressing work I should have gotten done, done. I’d appreciate an injection of clarity and non-impulse filled motivation, because that gets my shit rocked. Really.

love and light,
shalom xo

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