Maybe It's In The Gutter
The streets are well traveled. They are uneven, cracked and breaking. I wonder if I can claim to be well traveled in a sense, at least to explain the cracks in my personality. The streets have tried to withstand the weight of cars and heavy trucks that they were never intended to hold. Great semi-trailers have to weave into neighborhoods. The streets were only ever intended for the weight of residential vehicles. The cars, the bikes, the children playing, the strays. The wearing is filled with inadequate material. Something dark and less substantial than the original asphalt, even though it's similar. Like a shattered teacup, the streets can never come back together. It can only hope to be repaved completely some day, but then it will not be itself.
My nails are still dyed purple. The sink and shower match. My hair does, to an extent. I'm curious about whether it will fade in a way that I enjoy. It's a practice in patience. I am not prone to practicing patience, or planning. I chastise myself for treading on the grass. Impatience and disregard. I know I'm slowly killing it, but neither of us was meant to live forever.
I'm taking a break from statistics. I seem to have taken more breaks than continuances. It's not a pleasant field of study. It's meticulous and planning. I resent being made to learn it, even halfheartedly. I know this is not information I will practice or retain. I don't know what information I will, to be honest. I just know I can't fail and I am dangerously close to it. I have to pass so I can graduate on time. I have to graduate on time so I can leave. I don't belong in Texas. It's where all my exes are...and despite my loosening hold on paranoia I don't think I'll relax where they are concerned. All I want from you now is to pretend you never saw me if we're in a small radius of each other. And I mean never. I would like to be strangers. I am afraid of beige Kias. I worry one of you will be at school with me now. One of you might already have a degree. I don't want to ever know how you are. I've grown out of that urge and into a more desperate urge to craft a different reality. You never brought out the best in me and I could never do so for you. I don't think I'll mind moving from city to city, state to state, country to country to avoid ever meeting a long-term boyfriend again. I'm quite adept at running from my problems. Although, honestly, I don't like running into people at all. There should be a word for the sense of dread that one experiences in a surprise encounter. If I see you first, I will backtrack into another aisle. I'll definitely try to hide behind other people. It's almost rude of you to interrupt to say hello. Like dropping by a friend's house without prior notice. I'm much more of a mess when I haven't planned on having you over. I hide a lot of strangeness in the anonymity of daily life. Mild, uninteresting strangeness, but still something under the mask of casual friendship.
Lately I have been astonished at the pettiness of strangers. NPR is unfortunately a good vehicle for the worst public opinions. People whining about having to rescue others from the destruction of natural disasters. People wondering out loud why anyone should feel entitled to a hand out. Hosts calling these "interesting observations" when pushing the topic on their visiting experts instead of acknowledging the dark and unconscionable selfishness in this point of view. Antagonistic to the idea of polite society. It might be one of the reasons I am so captivated by Hannibal. It might be nice to extract this lack of concern or self awareness. I imagine that these people would hold themselves to a different standard in the same situation. Maybe in resenting them I am drawing myself closer to them. Should I be empathetic to a lack of empathy?
I watch animal videos to take the edge off. And consider the new wave of politicians who want to lift all boats. The small acts of civility like saying thank you to service people. Casual conversations with custodians. Making coffee for the office. I try to bury myself in the little expressions of trust in society. It feels nice when someone asks that I watch their things so they can go to the bathroom. It's not a form of vulnerability I offer, but I am grateful that I can protect that vulnerability for someone else. Surrounded by these moments feels less lonely and I can tell myself the disregard and vitriolic denouncements are just booming outliers. There are more people giving to people to cover their vulnerabilities than trying to create and exploit them. Maybe that's a case for studying statistics. It might be nice to check the data. To try to create something factual to hold onto instead of the wavering faith in something I can't confirm.
In other news: I started watching Hanna. It is like the spiritual child of Hannibal and Killing Eve, so I like it very much.
Also, you should be watching On My Block. I'm not going to stop pushing it. I really want a third season to follow-up on the second season cliff-hanger. There may always be a next cliff-hanger, but my only concern is the most immediate gratification...additional cliff-hangers are a future me problem.
A song from Hanna:
My nails are still dyed purple. The sink and shower match. My hair does, to an extent. I'm curious about whether it will fade in a way that I enjoy. It's a practice in patience. I am not prone to practicing patience, or planning. I chastise myself for treading on the grass. Impatience and disregard. I know I'm slowly killing it, but neither of us was meant to live forever.
I'm taking a break from statistics. I seem to have taken more breaks than continuances. It's not a pleasant field of study. It's meticulous and planning. I resent being made to learn it, even halfheartedly. I know this is not information I will practice or retain. I don't know what information I will, to be honest. I just know I can't fail and I am dangerously close to it. I have to pass so I can graduate on time. I have to graduate on time so I can leave. I don't belong in Texas. It's where all my exes are...and despite my loosening hold on paranoia I don't think I'll relax where they are concerned. All I want from you now is to pretend you never saw me if we're in a small radius of each other. And I mean never. I would like to be strangers. I am afraid of beige Kias. I worry one of you will be at school with me now. One of you might already have a degree. I don't want to ever know how you are. I've grown out of that urge and into a more desperate urge to craft a different reality. You never brought out the best in me and I could never do so for you. I don't think I'll mind moving from city to city, state to state, country to country to avoid ever meeting a long-term boyfriend again. I'm quite adept at running from my problems. Although, honestly, I don't like running into people at all. There should be a word for the sense of dread that one experiences in a surprise encounter. If I see you first, I will backtrack into another aisle. I'll definitely try to hide behind other people. It's almost rude of you to interrupt to say hello. Like dropping by a friend's house without prior notice. I'm much more of a mess when I haven't planned on having you over. I hide a lot of strangeness in the anonymity of daily life. Mild, uninteresting strangeness, but still something under the mask of casual friendship.
Lately I have been astonished at the pettiness of strangers. NPR is unfortunately a good vehicle for the worst public opinions. People whining about having to rescue others from the destruction of natural disasters. People wondering out loud why anyone should feel entitled to a hand out. Hosts calling these "interesting observations" when pushing the topic on their visiting experts instead of acknowledging the dark and unconscionable selfishness in this point of view. Antagonistic to the idea of polite society. It might be one of the reasons I am so captivated by Hannibal. It might be nice to extract this lack of concern or self awareness. I imagine that these people would hold themselves to a different standard in the same situation. Maybe in resenting them I am drawing myself closer to them. Should I be empathetic to a lack of empathy?
I watch animal videos to take the edge off. And consider the new wave of politicians who want to lift all boats. The small acts of civility like saying thank you to service people. Casual conversations with custodians. Making coffee for the office. I try to bury myself in the little expressions of trust in society. It feels nice when someone asks that I watch their things so they can go to the bathroom. It's not a form of vulnerability I offer, but I am grateful that I can protect that vulnerability for someone else. Surrounded by these moments feels less lonely and I can tell myself the disregard and vitriolic denouncements are just booming outliers. There are more people giving to people to cover their vulnerabilities than trying to create and exploit them. Maybe that's a case for studying statistics. It might be nice to check the data. To try to create something factual to hold onto instead of the wavering faith in something I can't confirm.
In other news: I started watching Hanna. It is like the spiritual child of Hannibal and Killing Eve, so I like it very much.
Also, you should be watching On My Block. I'm not going to stop pushing it. I really want a third season to follow-up on the second season cliff-hanger. There may always be a next cliff-hanger, but my only concern is the most immediate gratification...additional cliff-hangers are a future me problem.
A song from Hanna:
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