there is nothing to write about

I’ll be damned if I start another one of these with, “I’m so tired.”

BUT Y’ALL. I AM.

I have 39 drafts sitting here, asking me to do something with them. Post them, delete them, offer them as a sacrifice to the People In Charge Who Refuse To Hire Me — something. I spend most of my time thinking about writing and then not writing, because after five years of putting all of my pre-pubescent/teenage/other-stage-of-life thoughts on the internet, there is nothing to write about.

There is a lot going on in the world. There is waking up at 11 a.m.– reading about another innocent person being gunned down by police, another twelve girls in DC that are missing, another instance of Tomato Laryngitis saying something that should have gotten her fired years ago, another day of the Trump administration setting another piece of America on fire — and then there is going back to bed at 4 a.m.. Nothing to write about.

I am living on the weirdest fringe right now. I committed to a university, am preparing to leave the country and my family and everything I know, have become fast friends with my roommate and remain in awe at how she and all of her friends do such !!! makeup every morning even though they’re in school, am reading and editing the beginning of my friend’s book, cut all my hair off in a ridiculous decision and now feel even more awful about my face, planned for six vaccinations, messed up my sleep schedule further, and have semi-planned my friend’s July holiday. Mania is exhausting. Coming down is worse. Nothing to write about.

Me and my brain have been fighting constantly and consistently since That Day – I don’t know if I wrote about the day I found out I was fat? It was yikesy. – and it’s been hell since. I keep seeing so many of those new year resolutions slip past me, and I think I’m starting to understand why I don’t write them down. The betrayal I feel is unbelievable. Mostly, I want to unzip my skin and remain out of it for a while until I figure out how on earth do deal with my allocated flesh bag. Still, there is nothing to write about.

There is nothing to write about except what I always write about, and I have grown tired of my brain. It is a good brain. It is always full of conversations between me and myself, files of What Not To Do, love for others and a hyper-aware knowledge of what’s happening around me. It is exhausting. It’s exhausting because even on days (most days) when I do nothing but move from my bed to my computer to my bed, I have to deal with the noise of neurotransmitters not doing their damn thing. It’s too much because I am too much and I want to write about too much and the too much that I am, and the trade-off for too much is nothing.

There is nothing to write about, and I wish there was.

(all I’ve done today is listen to this on repeat and write this. It’s 7:13 p.m., and I’ve been up since 11. So sad, so sad.)

love and light,
shalom xo


featured image from death to stock

BOPS BOPS BOPS

hello hello gang! today i fell headfirst into a 2008 shaped music black hole. so, in the spirit of tunesday, here are some songs that shaped my early adolescent years. i am slightly embarrassed that i didn’t look up any lyrics for these and instead spent two hours screaming in my room, but i’m glad i didn’t include vanessa hudgens’ sneakernight. i am of the firm opinion that that song will never ever warrant its hype. ever. having said that, let’s take a trip back to the early obama days, when things were good:

leavin by jesse mccartney  – everyone remembers beautiful soul but this one was my ULTIMATE. it’s also a lot dirtier than i remember oh my gosh. BABY GIRL I BEEN WATCHIN YOU ALL DAY (all day all day all day)


crush by david archuleta – omg none of my crushes ever went away i had so many feelings as a ten year old and NOTHING HAS CHANGED. man. i also had a massive crush on david archuleta? so there.


california by phantom planet – OH MY GOD okay the OC is a big jam. idk why i was so mad about that show when i was eleven, but i was also obsessed with high school and university. seth and summer were so geeky and all i wanted to be, and ryan was like this insane older brother that looked 30 but he was like 19? anyway, the OC is where the gunshot and mmm watcha say comes from. marissa shot trey because trey was going to kill ryan with a telephone? because ryan beat trey up because trey tried to rape marissa. healthy fifth grader viewing. ANYWAY


sos by the jonas brothers – holy HECK ooooh this is an SOS. tbh what kind of dates were they going on.  they were like twelve. miscommuniCATION.how did they….anyway. BETTER BELIEVE I BLED IT’S A CALL I’LL NEVER GET. also, if you watch the video you see kevin get a text from a girl that doesn’t like him. so, he doesn’t delete her number…he deletes the whole phone. throws it in the trash. wow. hugs are overrated just fyi


good girls go bad by cobra starship and leighton meester   – WHAT WAS I DOING IN GRADE SIX THAT I THOUGHT THIS SONG RELATED TO ME SO HARD. WHY. good girls go baaaaaaaad i also remember the lyric about hanging with your five best friends and really wishing i had one best friend omg SHALOM


starstrukk by 30h!3 and katy perry – oh my godddd. cheer routine. but also i just thought that i embodied this song. all eleven or twelve years of age. catch me choreographing and whistling and channeling 2009 katy perry any day


untouched by the veronicas – gotta finish strong with grade seven shalom believing in her violin skills and a weird ass drawing i did on ms paint for this song. the lyrics are just…i go oooh ooh you go ah ah lalalala lalalala and i don’t know why that spoke to me in 2010. in any case, i was channeling all of my samantha brady attitude at the ripe age of twelve and i guess my unrequited crushes, all fifty of them, made this song #relatable. GOING CRAZY FROM THE MOMENT I MET YOU


bonus: call it off by tegan and sara  – i listened to this song almost every day between grade 8 and grade nine after the blackberry craze of 2011. and also in 2013. actually, this song kept coming back to me. “maybe i would have been something you’d be good at; maybe you would have been something i’d be good at” because you can trust me to be an emosh wreck about a love i’d never experienced. oh, shalom. girl. girl.

happy tunesday, folks.
thanks disney channel and also premature teen angst.

love and light,
shalom xo

l.i.f.e.g.o.e.s.o.n

as of march fifth, i am twenty for twenty applications and rejections. life goes on.

i committed to a camp and a week-long kid’s ministry  holiday club thing on sunday. life goes on.

the logistics of my moving continents in less than six months are terrifying and fuzzy. life goes on.


i spend silly amount of time thinking about songs and when i want them to play in my life. for example, i have a very specific vision of me moving into my shared apartment in new york city after i graduate from college, and playing “this is the beginning” by boy. i make little music videos about my life and about what i want my life to be in my head, and very near lose my mind when the song matches up perfectly. i’ve thought about the song i want playing if i’m a runaway bride, about the song i want playing when i figure out i can do what i love for a living, and about what i want to be listening to when i get on a plane to visit my mom.

despite my extravagant time-wasting song thoughts, finding a song that describes the present is hard because i spend most of my time in my head and not in the moment. i heard this song for the first time in 2012 but i’ve had it on repeat for the last four days. it makes for a lil shake up in my brain that i need.

as a person, i’m used to having high expectations and being disappointed, then trying to avoid that disappointment by having no expectations and somehow still being disappointed. i’m used to feeling like death and wanting to desperately step out of my skin for a day or two. i’m used to wondering how on earth i’m still here, and i guess it’s because life goes on.

life goes on.

i have really little money and just a little more sense, but i know i have heart. i have an awfully massive amount of heart, and if that’s what has kept me going my own way the same way life goes on in its own way, then that’s what it is. i have heart and a bunch of tired, and life goes on. right now, that’s all i know to be true. everything else is a big hazy mess of real & not real dissociation games and feeling like trash and not being physically able to fix it and feeling all of the anxiety in the world in agonising three minute bursts.

life goes on, i guess.


the other day, i talked to my future roommate about where we’re going to live this fall. life goes on.

every day, donald trump does something to incriminate his entire administration and inches closer and closer to impeachment. life goes on.

i’m not as sad as i used to be. these days, i can notice rapid cycling. l.i.f.e.g.o.e.s.o.n.

love and light
shalom xo

monthly me | february ’17

February is done (what?) and the last two posts have been incredibly depressing (expected?) and this is about to be a recap of the month in which I managed to get the least amount of stuff done. Ever.

february was…

quick. Too quick. I sent out 19 job applications and got 19 rejections (I’m fairly certain I’m setting up some sort of rejection record here), went thrift shopping and bought a jacket that will change my life when I wear it (I’m certain), and started a workout routine that I stopped soon after. I went to a Pretoria party and will not be doing so again. No sir. No thank you kind fellows. I had a lot of pancake breakfasts at 3pm and turned my sleep schedule so far inside out that I’m on the time schedule of someone who lives in California. I live in GMT+2. I sleep in GMT-8. I need to fix that.

edit: i also had my first breakout in my life. ever. it was a LOT. it’s still ongoing and for the first time in ever, there are pimples that should be paying rent on my forehead. dammit. just when i thought i had one thing going for me.

music

i have no fave lyrics from this. i just really love this song and chance the rapper. ASHENEEDEWASUM

this guy wants you but ONLY WITH YOUR CONSENT (please play this everywhere omg)

when you’re broken on the ground, you will be found

obsessions

  • Chance the Rapper’s verse in The Way by Kehlani
  • MOOCs from EdX & Coursera – I did a bunch of these in Psychology and Sociology before going to uni & they helped me out a bunch. So here I am, once again, learning something else for free. I love the internet.
  • This post from Mich – she’s a phenomenal writer and has a blog that’s just as wonderous. “Good night, Dr. John; you are good, you are beautiful; but you are not mine.

snippets of internal monologue

  • What if Trump destroys the world and then steals taxpayers money like he always does and then travels to one of the new planets?
  • Que in French and que in spanish Spanish sound very different and very obnoxious to be spelled the same.
  • If I cut my hair — no, I won’t cut my hair. But I want to cut my — no, mom wants me to cut my hair. But if (continue for three hours.)

The rest of this month was mostly memes and botched French practice. I got into college though! Yes, that’s fairly massive. I got into Rutgers University and it’s all kinds of exciting. I mean, I hope it will be.

The first week of March is almost through. The rest of 2017 awaits.  (thank goodness.)

love & light,
shalom xo

don’t worry baby

hi friends! today’s the last day of teen suicide prevention week in south africa. i’ve already written about this but i was going through some of my stuff the other day  and found something weirdly specific that i’d like to share with you. is it a bit personal? yes. is it overly personal? yes. am i a chronic oversharer? also yes.

today i’d like to share a suicide note that ended up not being a suicide note from 2015. yikes. it’s a weird thing to share & put on the internet, but this week is important and this is important and i’m doing this. in june 2015 i wrote a note in my journal (named janine). this is it:


i am so tired. i’m just so tired of being tired and then not being allowed to be tired. i can’t do this. i wish it was different but i can’t do this every day. i can’t do this. i’m not even seventeen and i feel like i have forty lifetimes lived out inside me, each with a dreadfully unhappy ending. i can’t do this. i can’t just go to school and exist and come home and exist and get up and exist if existing is the problem. i can’t do this anymore.

i want to be sorry and i want to feel and i want hope that it’ll be better but i can’t do this. i can’t cry for help because nobody is out there and i can’t even cry these days because it takes too much to cry. i can’t do this. i wish i could tell you to show this to people after but you can’t because you’re a journal and nobody even i can’t fucking do this. i can’t do this.

okay, if someone finds this, and i half hope nobody does, i want you to know some things. i’m sixteen and i’m in my final year of high school and i want to stand in front of a fast moving vehicle twice and make sure there’s nothing after. i know it’s pretty disturbing because sixteen year olds are supposed to be living out the hype of grade ten and being a senior and kissing boys and drinking alcohol you shouldn’t but i…i am not them. i am sixteen and tired and the more i sleep the more tired i get. i have some friends at school but they’re not really my friends. they like doing stuff and leaving me out of them and then telling me that i’m not part of that part of the group. and i have some friends from my old high school but most of them are too busy living out their final year of high school to be bothered and…i can’t be bothered anymore. i’m too tired to do this.

i’ve written notes like this before but they used to be dedicated to whole people and how i wished i could have done more for them because any semblance of sanity or functionality disappeared once i let them down. i hope i haven’t made any promises to you. i’m sorry that i can’t live them out. i can’t live anything out anymore. i’m so tired, reader. i’m so tired and i can’t do this and i can’t feel so much and nothing at the same time anymore and i can’t long for life and love and normalcy when i look the way i do and am the way i am and i am so sorry.

i love you so much. i wish i was okay, i wish i could show you how much i love you. i love you, and i know you might not know me but i love you. i want you to know that you’re so strong and brilliant and i’m so proud of you for having made it so far. your story is so far from over and i am so excited for what you will become and what you are. i’m sorry i won’t be around to see it but it doesn’t matter because you will be and it will be brilliant. i know it’s a lot of pressure because this strange girl with nothing to show for herself is leaving you a message to continue when she’s quitting, but it’s all true. i believe in you. now and later and always.

if you meet someone who feels like me one day and you don’t know what to say to them, tell them…tell them that they’re enough. tell them that even though they are done, the world isn’t done with them and that there is so much left for them to do, see, live, love and be before they go. tell them that they aren’t cowardly or craven for wanting things to stop hurting. tell them that you care for them and mean it. tell them that one day they’ll find people who care about them as much as they care for everyone else. tell them that their capacity for love is endless and that everything that hurts sucks but that they can make things with it. tell them to talk to someone and if that person won’t listen, tell them to talk to someone else. to a billion other people who will. tell them that even though the world acts as though there is no room for them, that your world has room for them. tell them that they are brave and honest and raw and valued and important. tell them that they are important and that the world needs them. call them friend, and mean it.

i feel so at odds with myself. i wish someone would have told me the things i would have said. i’m so sorry. i’m so tired. i can’t do this.

tell them that it’s gonna be okay if they keep moving. tell them to get out of bed at least once a day. tell them that loving everyone is enough and that while nobody tells them that they are in love with them, that they are loved. tell them that their love is strong and bigger than their tired. tell them that the biggest thing they can do is try their best not to get lost in the nothingness that comes with tired and lonely and i want to die. take them outside. tell them to breathe and to touch and to do their best to feel. tell them to keep on. learn to live with them. learn from them and with them. live.

don’t tell them a sixteen year old told you this.they probably won’t take you seriously. (take them seriously.)

i love you, dear reader. i love you and my mom and my siblings and my friends and my “friends” and the kid who stole my shoes in first grade and the teacher who humiliated me in grade five and everyone else. i love you and it’s so not your fault and i’m sorry and i love you. you are so loved. i want this to be different. i want…i want to live too. i want to love too. i want to keep loving. i’m just so tired.


i didn’t kill myself that night. i read the letter again and again and again and felt too much like a fake to give all of that advice and then disappear. i’m still around, and every day is a struggle. i have a bunch of these letters and most of them don’t end with a realisation that i wanted to live. this one did, though. i’m grateful to my past self. i called SADAG and went to school, told my teacher i needed to be in therapy because i wanted to die, and walked out of class when she told me i was being dramatic. suicide is dramatic. it’s a matter of life and death. take it seriously.

do what you need to do to stay alive. the sun will rise and we will try again. don’t worry, baby.

love and light,
shalom xo

it’s kind of a funny story

hi friends! it’s national teen suicide prevention week! a lil warning: there are a good bunch of triggering mentions of death n suicide ahead. so, if you’re not up for this, visit the lovely dora @ for the goldfinches or this post from matt @ the lil engine that couldn’t that always makes me cringe laugh in support.

In 2014, I did the best school project I ever have done – I got to create an anthology on whatever I wanted for English. I could talk about anything. I had to write a really big essay as the preface and talk about all of the pieces I’d be using, and I could write about anything. It’s still the most I’ve ever enjoyed an academic project.

The title of my anthology was “life, interrupted” and IT focused on mental illness in young people. It was a crazy experience because most all of the works I included came down to choices rather than first time reading. There’re only so many books, in my experience, that captured what I felt to a point where I could rest in the fact that I wasn’t alone if someone could write about it. I chose Susanna Kaysen’s Girl, Interrupted and Ned Vizzini’s It’s Kind of a Funny Story. Today, I’d like to talk about the latter, and it’s author.

IKOAFS is the kind of book that I had to stop reading after the first three chapters because it was too personal. It was too real, and too accurate, and Ned Vizzini was looking into my head and would tell people how messed up I was because they would know exactly what and how I was thinking. Because I was Craig, and I was Craig right down to the standing on the bridge and feeling free and wanting to jump a year later.

It’s Kind of a Funny Story is about Craig, a smart kid with some douchey friends (some (one) of which are okay) who finds himself depressed, and then suicidal. He checks himself into a psychiatric hospital because he wants to get better. He learns a lot & works through a lot. He realises he’s not into the girl he thought he was into. He meets people who help him to work it out. He starts taking his medication again. He chooses to live.

Ski. Sled. Play basketball. Jog. Run. Run. Run. Run home. Run home and enjoy. Enjoy. Take these verbs and enjoy them. They’re yours, Craig. You deserve them because you chose them. You could have left them all behind but you chose to stay here. So now live for real, Craig. Live. Live. Live. Live.
Live.

It’s Kind of a Funny Story, Ned Vizzini

This story is hard. It’s hard because it fits, because it’s mine, because it’s Ned Vizzini’s, and because Ned Vizzini didn’t live.

I’ve always hated the phrase, “commit suicide”. Since I was nine, I’ve hated it. If you commit something, it’s a sin. If you end your life, if you commit suicide, are you a sinner? Are you a sinner for feeling too much? Are you a sinner because it is unbearable to hold up a universe of suffering on a daily basis?  Are you a sinner for wanting it to stop? Am I a sinner because I wanted to?

(The answer is no. This is a topic for another day.)

Ned Vizzini died by suicide on December 19th, 2013. He lived, he inspired, he loved, he wrote, he tried,  he won, he became a beacon for depressed teenagers, he pulled me from the edge, and he died. It was said best here: “the great, unspeakable tragedy of The Bell Jar is now the tragedy of Funny Story.”

Everybody dies. The personalities of Ned Vizzini & Craig, the protagonist, line up really nicely. He captured Craig’s spirit because it was his own and showed Craig’s victory because it was his own. The whole book is based on wanting to kill yourself, and then not. Craig & Ned didn’t line up there.

It’s not as though it’s as simple as stating that Craig lived on and Ned didn’t. Ned could have ended things when he was 23, before he admitted himself to that psychiatric hospital. He didn’t. He could have not written IKOAFS. He did. He could have been so brilliant by doing so much less, but he did more and more and more than enough people will ever be able to thank him to. Ned was strong, and brave, and honest. He was talented. He was – he is – life changing and influential.

Life can be a lot sometimes.

This is Ned’s legacy: he tossed a bright, orange-and-white ring to us drowning kids and pleaded with us to stay afloat. And we read his words, and we understood, and we eventually made our way to shore.

If there’s something to take from this, from Funny Story, it’s what’s kept me around. It’s what keeps me around.  If you feel like you’re going to kill yourself, or if you feel like you want to, it’s a medical emergency. Call a hotline. Walk into a hospital. Call a friend who can look after you, if you have one. Don’t wait until you think you’re bad enough to be hospitalised. Suicidal ideation is a medical emergency.

Nothing would be better off if you weren’t around. I say that to myself every day. I have to do my best to believe it. I think you should, too.

South African National Teen Suicide Prevention Week runs from the 18th of Feb til the 24th. Take care of yourselves, and of your friends.

Live. Live. Live. Live.
Live.

love & light,
shalom xo

 

could this be earth?

this was written for “white” by frank ocean (& odd future at the time). i’m not sure what this is other than prose for “white”. listen to “white” below.


if a gravity wave hits a rotating thunderstorm, the thunderstorm can spin up into a tornado. nothing around the thunderstorm receives a warning beforehand. what gets swept up, gets swept up. i looked at her. i was swept up.

when someone puts their hands on you, their lips on yours, their body on yours, there’s little that holds you down. little is more important than trying your best to stop your body from betraying your mind: do you focus on the feeling or the memory? which will be preserved first? which will stay longer? i don’t know where i was, or how i hadn’t been carried away into another world where i could balance the two. i slept, and gravity kept me around.

after the big bang, scientists thought that the universe would slow down in its expansion thanks to gravity pulling it together. it hasn’t, though, and the universe has only expanded faster than ever before. for this to make sense, the theory that the universe contains enough energy to overcome gravity must be true. i revelled in the dark energy, and expanded ever outward. she rested in gravity, and stayed.

in the dark, she pulled me together. i woke to touches lighter than the part of me that stayed in space, and to everything around me being more than i remember leaving it. i fought for my brain to remember rather than my body, but i lost. the silence that was once lonely held me down and i asked questions of love, light, and space. gravity doesn’t give answers.

the thing about a tornado is that the start is hard to remember. i know that there is damage and that new buildings are rising where old ones were levelled. i know what i hoped for before, i know what i  danced to during, i know how i slept after. i don’t remember the start. i don’t feel the same as i used to. my brain doesn’t betray me anymore. i forget things like tornadoes, first loves, and time-specific dreams.

we’ll all fade to grey soon on the tv station.

monthly me | januARI ’17

deep breath. big sip of water. hope, dismay, repeat.

this is january.

january

january has just been a lot. i don’t know how else to explain it. this month i lost a job i never had (but 100% had in my mind), found out that i am fat (and had it consistently reaffirmed by people who think my body is their business), ran so many errands for my mom (because i’m not in school and i don’t have a job and i am essentially a bum) and wrote. i wrote some pretty good pieces this month. i’m proud of them. the trump presidency is…a disgrace and disaster of biblical proportions.

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i don’t know what we can do to fix it. i mean, i guess i have to become president. boop. but for real, it’s been a mess and i’ve been cutting ties like i do fresh bread because i’m not here for nazi sympathisers. watch your wrist if you punch one, friends.

from the camera roll

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i had no sleep and was thinking too much. so i got a breakfast bowl.

on repeat

talk with your fingertips
don’t stop the car, let’s drive

suck on your amber lips
just give me one bad night

i think of this song in the context of my friend, dani, and also how i’m tom incarnate.

friends, sometimes when you’re on, you’re really fucking on. (i’m gonna write a whole post on this song because it’s fits too well.)

obsessions

ARI FITZ.

man. don’t even let me start. this month has been januARI.

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ari fitz invented jawlines, facial expressions, cheekbones, tomboyish style, and tiny geometric tattoos. facts only. i’m enamoured with her style, her boldness, her carefree black girl realness & her die hard attitude. ari is intelligent and talented beyond measure, inspiring in a way i didn’t think i could think someone could be, and extremely gorgeous. y’all. my knees are the weakest.

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she makes videos every single day, and is the curator of the tomboy-style instagram & channel, the tomboyish (@the.tomboyish). ari is a big voice on androgyny in style & accepting and channeling one’s masculinity and femininity together. (did you know that androgyne is literally greek for male-female? andro – male; gyne – female. lit.) 11/10 would recommend. y’all seeing that? eleven out of ten.

other obsessions include

  • the never ending job hunt
  • the college apps check (login, sigh, logout, repeat)
  • crackerbread
  • tea in the morning

snippets of internal monologue

  • SHALOM. you can’t just run a 5k. you can’t just do things like that! do you understand?
  • are you ever going to edit that portugal vlog? (i did. it’s here.)
  • where in the HELL am i going to university LORD

today someone told me to keep writing. i had my freelance pitches rejected SO HARD, so i really needed to hear that. keep doing what keeps you up. it’s 5:21 AM here. here’s to february and resistance and progress. please, lord. progress.

love & light,
shalom xo

currently

currently, i am trying to figure out how i want to look, what makes me feel good, why i don’t like my body & my face, and what i can do about it. i am trying to figure out if the way my body moves is alien to me because it has never moved like this, or because i’ve never noticed. i’m not sure how much of a difference it’ll make.

currently, i’m growing old trying to get into college and to make sure that neither of my sisters have to go through the long winded process that i am currently going through (to self: shalom, have you emailed mrs. hind for your sister?). i am trying to find work for the american summer, because…well, point five. i am unsure of what the future looks like from as early as june, and i don’t enjoy the uneasiness that comes with it.

currently, i am trying to make my way into freelance writing because i’m broke and because i really want to write. so far, a byline from women’s republic (a start up magazine that i am honoured to write for) looks possible. i’d like to write for the establishment, though. i need to get on that.

currently, i am dealing with the fact that i don’t have clothes outside of sleep shirts, a pair of jeans, and sweater dresses. i’m becoming more aware of how i think i want to present myself, and i think i need clothes for that. there’s a running joke in my family about me and becoming a nudist because of my lack of clothes, and it sounds like a joke, but oh, the possibilities….

currently, i am broke. as usual. i didn’t get the job at lush which sucks so hard. i am trying to scrape up R200 because i will not miss vodka party if you paid me. i mean, maybe if you paid me. seeing that i’m broke, and all.

currently, i am lonely. i’m not in school, so friends from school are (1) far and few between to begin with, and (2) in school. it’s a bit shit, the lack of platonic and romantic partners in my life. i need friends. and maybe someone to make out with. or maybe just some sleep.

currently, i’m putting on a pair of joggers i stole from a friend (she let me keep ’em tho, tell ’em ash) & going to run errands for my mom. am i going to lament over the price of tampons and yoghurt? probably.

there’s a lot going on right now, and i’m trying my best to ease into it. with my track record, i probably won’t. you’ll find out, though. chronic oversharer and all that.

love and light,
shalom


featured image from death to stock

music to watch boys to

hello! it’s tunesday! except it’s thursday. (edit from future shalom: this got published on a friday. yikes.) i come bearing music recommendations after a really hard twenty four hours and a need to write but my inability to write something that isn’t worrying. tunes ahoy!

the title is a reference to a lana del rey song of the same name off of honeymoon from 2015. while it’s not in this post, it’s lovely. bit dark if you listen long enough. lots like lana. on with it!

 

102 by the 1975

this song hurts a lot. matty explained it like this: “This song is about a girl [friend] that I had. She was beautiful, absolutely beautiful. I loved her but she didn’t feel the same way. I don’t even think she knew I loved her. This song is about the times I had with her. As she and I became close friends, we had traditions. It was kinda like our thing, y’know? We’d somehow always coincidentally be out at exactly 1:02AM, so that was our thing. Now whenever I’m awake at 1:02AM, I think of her and I let her go.”

on this shirt
i found your smell
and i just sat there for ages contemplating what to do with myself

 

still sane by lorde

the way this song, and lorde, presents its(her)elf is what leaves me connecting to her music the way i have since 2013. ‘still sane’ talks about anxiety and birthdays, and being so very out of it that it’s hard to be. however, at the end of the day, it has to be fine. you have to be fine. this is fine, right?

i’m little but i’m coming for the crown
i’m little but i’m coming for ya
i’m little but i’m coming for the title held by everyone who’s up

 

isabel by the wombats

this is a song of undoing. of realisation and confusion; of struggle and surrender. ‘isabel’ speaks to craving the experience and committing to the consequences: undoing. everyone has an isabel. you know one. they take up enormous heart space and have an irrevocable ever-expanding capacity to be loved. they are dangerously wonderful, like all good things. take care when it comes to them, friends.

i’m much better isabel
when you’re ripping my life apart
i think it’s you who’s the true rock star around here

right. that’s that. i’m tired & i think i’m indulging myself by listening to sad music when i’m already sad. issa bad idea.

love and light,
shalom xo