wow what a random string of musings on this monday evening
18.11.19 | 7:50 pm

i wonder if writing each day will make it easier and easier, make it easier to see the beautiful things that happen each day, make it easier to think, remember this, write it down, remember this.

today was not so good. i slept poorly because i don't understand the radiator -- i was cold, so i turned it up one notch. an hour later i woke up, sweating. i turned it down one notch, and an hour later, i woke up cold. repeat.

i hit my head on the pointed part of the low ceiling of my bedroom, the one right next to the stairs, right next to my clothes. it's still tender now, so many hours later.

i keep wanting to write about my body, these things i've been noticing in this nearly thirty year old body, but today, i despise it. i want to... one moment, i look in the mirror, the little bathroom mirror, and i hate myself, i think i look swollen, "an overgrown baby" i used to say. moments later, standing in my underwear, my bralette, i appreciate the way my body curves, the way my clothes hug me, the silhouette they create. moments later, i detest the bumpy texture of the skin on my face, the ever-so-slight line that could be a wrinkle forming on my forehead.

tonight, i am tired.

i am sipping my second glass of wine.

i've subscribed to the youtube channel ours poetica where authors or other people read poems every monday, wednesday, and friday, and it's a lovely way to have poetry in my life again. something i don't normally read (unless it was assigned in a class, recommended by a friend). i'm not a poetry person.

i want to read more again. i want to share my thoughts, my theories. i want to talk about the cultural context. i want to apply literary criticism. i want to enjoy reading again, and not just feel like i should, to be the person i want to be, the person i think i should be.

in an annoying way, i miss farid, who has essentially stopped talking to me. i miss how he called me "ma pauvre," "ma biche," "ma cherie." but none of it was real. how could it be?

it's my parents' anniversary today. they've been married thirty-one years. 31 years. thirty-one. can you imagine?

truly -- i think perhaps i'm more meant for platonic love. the only people i can imagine being with for thirty-one years are my friends. i can excel in this kind of love because i never feel held back, i never feel trapped. i feel uplifted and supported. and i don't know if i'm able to accept something similar from romantic love.

did i ever state here that i saw one of the actors from the hookup plan (on netflix) out in place pie in avignon? because that happened. did i even mention it here?

so much happens in so little time. at lunch today, angela said, it is already the 18th of november.

it is already the 18th of november.

where am i?

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