Problematic

Continuing back through the archives of incomplete and unposted musings: December 2018 - ft some add-ons from 2022 So, Ryan informed me when this song dropped, and initially I was very skeptical. We have very different relationships with our exes. I am on the Cardi B-Beyonce-Rihanna end of the spectrum where I'm taking money, tossing out clothes, and thinking "let me catch you unaware, I will burn your shit down." She's a better person than I am. There's like 4 places you can go with a break-up song: " Irreplaceable "- in which you're pushing someone out of your life and cataloging how they got you twisted. I feel like "Take a Bow" kind of fits with it, and " Be Careful " takes it to the Kill-Bill-vengeance level of rage. I've done Irreplaceable, but have since sunk into the thinly veiled threats of someone who has been getting gas-lit for years. " IDGAF / Sorry Not Sorry "- is the level that I want to get to.

February 2020: Sometimes we fall asleep holding hands. Like otters. It's disgusting. Like otters. I hear they smell kind of gross. There's no worry that we would drift away from each other. There's no worry of that at all now that my medications have kicked in properly. This is the playlist I have made because I am a sad sad person living in the past: 1. Glasgow   2. Between the Bars    3. Sea of Love    4. Mystery of Love    5. Maps    6. Let's Dance to Joy Division    7. I Won't Let You Down    8. With My Whole Heart  9. Garden Grays   10. Everything Reminds Me of Her The order feels important. I have been listening to Garden Grays on repeat for a week or so. I found it on my second run through of, and Collin's first encounter with, You're The Worst. I couldn't recommend the show enough. I couldn't recommend this relationship enough. The order matters. But the individual parts are lovely and fun.

I have a lot. I have none. I have traded in Hannibal for Housewives. I don't know how I should feel about this. The tone of my mindless comfort has taken a drastic change. Instead of simmering drama and darkly lit scenes, my vision is overwhelmed with tacky prints, glasses thrown and broken, and near constant screaming. I don't think I've heard so many women called prostitutes since I stopped watching Law and Order SVU. I can't say I don't appreciate what would normally be an intolerable and socially unacceptable amount of sequins that are worn at all the parties. And there are SO. MANY. PARTIES. I read this article once about the appeal of Housewives being that Americans worship wealth and excess as signals that someone is successful and, obviously, superior to those with less. Housewives shows us that those people are often as terrible and annoying as the people we know, hopefully more annoying than most people you know, and money just means the weaves getting pul

I'm making myself do this. I make myself do a lot of things now. It feels like more than before, but maybe it's not. It feels like a lot of people are making themselves do more these days while other people adamantly avoid doing the bare minimum. I do way too much laundry for someone that no longer regularly leaves the house. ****************************** The road to Houston from Austin is a bumpy one. It has texture. It winds. It's more familiar to me than my own face. It has that familiarity of something you encounter frequently, but not enough to intensely scrutinize (as I have begun to with my unfamiliar face). As with much of my life, it's a path I take less recklessly now. There was a time I had less control over it. The bus days. Those were periods when my heart ached to be going on a trip that is now often one of resignation and dread. When I gained agency I weaved through cars as fast and effortlessly as I could, so somewhere around 85-90, sure I would be awar