Moving is usually so stressful and full of dumb fights and frustrations. Then looking at all the unpacking thinking, “God it’s not even over yet.”
I can safely say this isn’t anything like that. Everything went so smoothly. My family, as always, made things so much easier with their physical help and their great attitudes. I am forever thankful to them. The cat is running around happy as hell and the boyfriend hasn’t stopped smiling. Besides sleeping for four hours, we’ve been going nonstop for two days and it’s been amazing.
It finally hit me that I was in my first home with the love of my life. And it’s a new town, and it’s going to be new people, but absolutely none of me is afraid of it.
I don’t think I’ve ever been able to say I am confident in my life, my existence, in staying alive, but I’ve been pretty fucking confident as of late.
This will be my seventh apartment since turning eighteen years old.
My seventh time doing this moving thing in four and a half years and I still am packing until 3am the night before and totally unable to sleep.
Nervous and very excited. It’ll also be the first time in any of my apartments that I’ll be sleeping in a real bed. Unless I count the apartment where I slept on a twin mattress on the floor, which I guess I kind of do. And my first real apartment with a significant other! Unless you count my brief time living with my ex. Which I do not.
All this stability lately is making me feel weird!
Hugh and I watched Don Hertzfeldt’s It’s Such a Beautiful Day and it has to do with disease and death, so when it ended I went to hold him from behind and looked at the back of his head and said, “OH MY GOD WHAT HAPPENED.” Which was not a calm reaction to a perfect quarter sized patch of exposed scalp, completely missing any hair at all. Just in that circle.
This obviously terrified him, though it is probably random and fine. But now I keep kissing it and it drives him crazy. But I mean hey, I never get to kiss that patch of skin ever and it may have never been kissed, so I’m making up for lost time and giving it love while it’s there.
Sorry for all you people who follow me for weird shit and political stuff, because this is important.
many of you already know that earlier this week, my past collaborator, friend, and peer in the writing community, Stephen Tully Dierks, has been outted as a sexual predator/rapist: multiple women (sophia katz and tiffany wines, primarily) have bravely spoken up, and shared their experiences of his…
I used to get along with people like that and even be one, but wow it is boring. That’s all I keep thinking about lately. Or liking stuff because it’s cool to like it, or doing your art or music or clothes in “cool” new styles because that’s what’s in. Or your political opinions because that’s what’s being accepted right now. Or fuck even when your jokes are just the kind of jokes everyone is laughing at lately.
So boringgggg. Gotta get excited about stuff because you like it, fuck every body else. Tired of meeting people with no interests except what’s trendy right now.
if you want to read a camille paglia Time Magazine op-ed titled “The Modern Campus Cannot Comprehend Evil” and headed “Young women today do not understand the fragility of civilization and the constant nearness of savage nature” and in which each paragraph is progressively more the worst thing you’ve ever read, well, here
This makes me want to throw up. Looking up related articles citing this one, they say it discusses “wildly overblown claims about an epidemic of sexual assaults” and that “college females [are] clueless about ‘sexy clothes and males savage nature.”
One in four women are assaulted in their lifetime, how is this “wildly over blown,” how can we continue to downplay this.
I can rant for hours but the more I learn about people, the less I want to go outside.