Problematic

Thursday Night It's weird to look out a window at night notice that the darkness is not much different from the day. It's not the historical blackness one remembers when they think of the night. A world lit only by moonlight and stars that I have never in my life experienced. I am used to an artificial glow brightening my life. I have been feeling really fat lately. For a while I was drinking Yakult every day and I stopped because I didn't think it was doing anything, but maybe it was because I have been feeling very bloated. I move my belly around with disdain and am convinced I must be gaining weight. Last time I felt like this I was so convinced I could not believe the scale when I weighed myself, so I had to buy another one. I am still unconvinced. I have largely maintained the same weight over the last year (or whenever I actually gained the weight I had lost after Scott, gained back after moving to Houston, lost after becoming bulimic, and regained during quarantine.)

Monday, February 15th I once again find myself completely unprepared for how bad things could get. I thought "oh, we won't be able to get sushi for Valentine's day because it will be snowing all day, we'll just have to settle in earlier and cook something special." I imagined, as I mentioned, cocoa and cookie baking. Maybe the pipes would get fucked up. Maybe (more likely) the pipes would get fucked up in the rickety house in Houston I was living in on my own. My parents had gone over to turn on the heat and drip the faucets, but the house is sort of in disrepair to begin with. Mostly I thought people's pipes would get fucked up and no one should drive. Because I am a rube and believe it when people in charge say things are going to be (mostly) okay. Of course, things are a lot worse. Again.  My friends and I were half-heartedly joking that the winter storm might at least keep people inside and reduce COVID cases. Instead millions of people in Texas lost power

 I've developed a probably unhealthy fixation with my cat in isolation. To be honest, my preoccupation with her before was probably not at healthy levels. The obsession has only grown. This is probably not novel. I don't think anything I do is. I think I prescribe to the cynical notion that originality is impossible. There are too many people and too many thoughts for anything to be unique. We're all built up on history. Then again, it is scientifically proven that is is virtually impossible for two snowflakes to be the same. And someone thought up the Babadook. And then someone thought up the Babadook as a queer icon. So, I'm probably wrong. I think it's clear I have a lot of insecurity that is not exactly underlying. It's a very forward facing insecurity. An insecurity so self-aware it probably circles back around to a complete lack of understanding. I think, like with a lot of people, my insecurities shape my most aggressive distastes and negative beliefs. Li

 I need to write more often. I feel like this is one of those things I say all the time. And think of a lot. Like I gained back all the weight I lost from having an eating disorder over quarantine and it was like "ugh, what was even the point?" I know that's a bad joke. It's like- only half a joke. But it's another thing I think about all the time. I should start to do yoga. I should eat better. I just weigh myself constantly and pray "please don't be fat" which is pretty fucked up. I also think about school a lot. Reading books. Cleaning. A billion things that are pretty easily within my grasp but I tend to brush off in favor of following random articles online (as I mentioned in my last post.) And then I need to spend time being silently (or not so silently) outraged by the articles I read. So much time can be wasted being scandalized. I have been eating better. When I was worried that democracy was going to collapse and there would be violent mobs

 I think sometimes I mourn things that haven't happened. I often get anxious about the things that might happen. And I cry at the losses that will eventually occur. My head is filled with disaster. I read a lot now. I spend a lot of time reading about things that are just generally fucked up with no where to put this information. To list a few things this week I read about American war crimes, male rape during war conflicts, deadly FBI shoot-outs, cults, musicians who committed statutory rape, and Marjorie Taylor Greene. No one really wants to talk about the military coup in Myanmar and the historical precedent for it. Who would want to delve into genocide and the ramifications of embracing someone that later goes on to argue in favor of atrocities? It's not like it's the first time the United States supported a leader who ended up being disastrous for the country they held office in... I talk a lot, but I think I end up sitting on a lot of information that just dies in me.