currently #4

currently, i am sat in a barnes and noble in new jersey, typing away on candice,(pronounced kan-dees) my new computer. i’m sipping on a starbucks iced vanilla latte that i got along with a fancy cheese and pesto panini sandwich (??) and a packet of chips for $8 ($8.55 after tax, because nobody told americans that a good idea would be to include the full price including tax on the shelves) and i’m confused about why they’d give me a venti for the same price as a tall. also, everything is air conditioned and it throws me off, man. america.

currently, i’m sat looking at a building that, much like the university, predates the independence of the united states. the trains from new york and further north come past every so often; right now one’s going in the other direction but i don’t know my bearings well enough to tell you where it’s headed. people get off and walk with purpose, and others breeze through the wind before summer rain. a man with a briefcase and sunglasses on his head looks up at the cloudy sky, and shakes his head at himself.

currently, i’m listening to come on eileen and thinking of 2014 and grade 11. i’m thinking of jessica craven and a joke about a red dress. i’m thinking of a history teacher that made me realise i never want to act less intelligent than i am for anyone’s comfort, ever again. i’m wondering about the time at home (it’s 10:34 pm) while it’s 4:34 in the afternoon here. i’m thinking of yasmin and her cat, and her line jumping sister. bless, wits comedy jam.

currently, i am regretting the aforementioned iced vanilla latte. i forgot that i don’t do caffeine very well anymore. it probably has something to do with my medication, which sets my resting heart rate at 122 bpm. my doctor was a liiiiiiitle terrified, but i’m always terrified, so it’s okay. i’m okay. i’m berating myself for not taking my meds on time because time zones messed up my schedule, and while i never suffered from jetlag, all the lil shortages of neurotransmitters in my head did.

currently, i’m wondering how real all of this is. i made the big mistake of re-reading jean paul sartre’s nausea on the plane, and the big existential think that is my daily disposition flew into overdrive. i’ve been stuck in that overdrive for the week that i’ve been here. so far, all that really helps bring me back is the reality of how broke i am, and the tunes of walk the moon and the arctic monkeys. ~argumentative, and you’ve got the face on.~

currently, i’m exploding with adoration and ultimate affection towards everyone, per usual, but especially towards everyone who’s made my settling in that much easier. to sophia, my darling, and all of her friends (jenna, cris, jonathan, john, sophie, tara, kate) have all been such dears. soph carts me around in her silver four wheeled carriage, and i almost cry every time i see her. to my mama, who came with me and grounded me every time my brain flew me off too far away, and to everyone – especially my ex drama teacher – who sent a kind message after i updated my number. you’re all so important to me.

currently, i am in america. i don’t know. currently, i am in america and i don’t know.

(i think i’m okay with it.)

love and light,
shalom xo

 

 

monthly me | july ’17

bloody hell.

My life, I realize suddenly, is July. Childhood is June, and old age is August, but here it is, July, and my life, this year, is July inside of July.

– Rick Bass

July is over. I am 19, my room is mostly in three suitcases bulging at the seams, and I have a plane to catch in five days. July was my last full month in South Africa, and here we are at the end of it, as we would be at the end of any other month. July inside of July; here we go.

I’m taking out my twists as I’m writing this, so to say my hands are a bit full as an understatement. This July, I grappled. While I mostly grappled with grasping the reality of leaving a home (this only hit midway through my speech at my farewell), I spent the month under Kylie’s curse, constantly realising things.

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things like, you’ll turn 19. regardless. (birthday, 2017)

I grappled with having no internet at my house for most of the month for a reason I still haven’t been able to find out. This was…how you say…awful. Most of my life is working on the internet or not working on the internet, and having the common factor of the two removed entirely set me up for a month of laziness, and behind deadlines-ness, and all the other nesses that come with no internet.

I grappled with not being able to be the person I knew myself to be because of my brain. Oh man, that brain – she’s a handful. In short, I got very (read: did not move from bed for three days at one point), very depressed. I couldn’t get up because I didn’t take my meds because I couldn’t get up, and lemme tell you guys: that shit is awful. I had a hell night where I was more dangerously suicidal that I’d been in probably two or three years, but I got through that too with the help of some pals over the ocean and one lovely one here at home. I’m still here though.

This month I had a farewell party! It’s mad – before this past weekend, I’d only ever had one party at my house because contrary to popular belief, I don’t like parties a ton. However, the spirit of my farewell was just…so good. Just pure, concentrated good, and love and enough niceness to wipe the suicidal ideation of the week before, the stress of the few hours before the party, and the disappointment at the 30 people who said they’d come, but didn’t. It’s a funny thing. I was extremely sad when I realised that all the people who said they wanted to see me and “make plans” and RSVP’d in the definite just didn’t show up, and I wondered why they would bother with the pretence. Now, I’m not talking about those who were ill, or who were away — just people who decided not to come. I wanted to cry about it, and then I thought about them all and realised that I’d rather they didn’t come. I’m grateful for intentions being made plain, and Saturday was a whole buncha that. In the end, I got to have an evening where nobody I didn’t want to see was there, where I loved on everyone who loved me through the nightmares of high schools and universities past so hard, and where I played The 1975 all night because I could. It was good.

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tunes n vidz

coming in at number one, no surprise to anybody…

i got back into the 1975’s first record this month really hard. it conjures memories of 14 year old shalom lying on the floor listening to head.cars.bending and wondering about being lorde. a good time.

fall down, write another song about your friends

danger in our consequence

this song is just cute as hell. also kermit singing? sign me the heck UP

other loves

  • this post by maxine, because i noticed and i love her and i love it
  • two fanfictions that i will not link but am having the time of my LIFE reading
  • these:IMG_20170709_001628[1]

snippets of internal monologue

July is over. Whooooosh. South Africa time is mostly over. Crying whoooooosh. Thanks for being home, you all.

love and light,
shalom xo

six weeks

I’ve been talking about it but it doesn’t seem real? Still?

In any case, I leave South Africa in six weeks. Six short weeks, and then my room is no longer my room and my street is no longer my street. I have issues with comprehending time, and have done since I was 10, so my reaction to this isn’t shocking news. Not to me, not to anyone who know me, and definitely not to anyone on my street that has either seen or heard me having a “time isn’t real!!!!” breakdown on my balcony.

It’s not as if six weeks is a crazy short time, but we’re somehow nearing the end of June. I’m ageing in two? two and a half? weeks, and I haven’t even had time to freak out about 19 because TIME ISN’T REAL. I remember six weeks before a big party we threw for my father in 2013, when I had to draw up a massive calendar and fill in all of the upcoming events before the day of the party. I remember looking at that calendar on the day of the party and wondering how I possibly could have lived through all of those events and still feel like no time had passed since I made the calendar. It’s the same way I felt when high school was ending, and the last five days were staring me down and I just…I didn’t believe they were there. Not that I wasn’t aware that I was leaving high school, or that I was astonished by how quickly the five years had passed, but rather because I couldn’t believe that the time was gone and I felt like it wasn’t. It’s a stupid thing that makes no sense when I try to write it out, but it’s where I’m at with time.

It’s like backwards nostalgia. I long for the time for no reason other than it’s time, long before it’s passed. And when the time comes, I’m near incapable of living in the moment because I’m too busy begging for the time to stay  rather than the moment. When I tell people that I freak out about time, they ask me what it was about being 15 that I miss…and it’s nothing. I don’t miss being fifteen. But I miss the time. I so, so miss the time.

The next six weeks will be me grappling with the days that go by and probably laughing hysterically about it because crying takes more effort. Last week, for example, I skipped two days. Obviously, I lived Monday through Friday, but I went to bed on Monday and went by Tuesday and Wednesday in such a time-confused haze that when I woke up on Thursday, I was sure it was the day after Monday. I lost 48 hours. I don’t know where they went, but I lost them. It messed with me pretty badly, so I spent 40 minutes on my balcony laughing hysterically and yelling about how time isn’t real. Issa lot.

Have I lost my mind? Well, yes, but that’s alright. It always has been. Where would I be if I was my brain?

love and light,
shalom xo