3-28-16

This absolutely will not help my sudden insomnia.

starman.

I haven't been able to really check tumblr, because nothing will load. It's either my internet, computer, or both. Luckily, I'm solving both issues. Hopefully by the end of the week I can bother with internet life again.

It took me a very long time to be able to listen to David Bowie after his death. I had a long conversation with my mom about it today, and it was cathartic.

"There's a starman waiting in the sky
He'd like to come and meet us
But he thinks he'd blow our minds
There's a starman waiting in the sky
He's told us not to blow it
'Cause he knows it's all worthwhile"

3-1-16

Dearest porcelain tub, blue water, bath salts of chamomile and milk: I must leave him. He's moving to California, but my heart is here. There's too much sunshine and smog, though the license plate would look nice on my car. I'm in the dark with a lone candle flickering the outline of my cat perched on the sink. I think she's my guardian sent here from a place of pure love. I love listening to sad music because it pierces me in the chest and every inhale is like honey in my lungs. I'm going to try to speak to people telepathically. I want to sing through my eyes because my voice is too weak.

soup.

When I was a teenager I had a tumultuous relationship with my mother. I decided to live with my dad in an apartment, and when he wasn't home she would sometimes swing by. Some days it was to harass me and others it was just to visit. One time when we were on good terms, she stopped by and said she had some soup for me. She handed me a little generic clear packet with cardboard stapled on top. Inside were thin, short noodles, and a yellow seasoning powder. "I know it looks generic" she said, "but sometimes those are the best ones". When she left I stared at the packet. The directions on the back of the cardboard were minimal and the design on the front was modest. My heart began to hurt. I couldn't bear the burden of all that the little packet suddenly represented. The soup needed to be good, otherwise it was too emotionally painful. For one, I imagined the struggle of a tiny, family-owned company trying to market their little product on the shelves with the big name competitors. I am a sucker for handmade things, homely designs, cutely-named businesses. To me they are infallible by default, because I just can't accept that they would be corrupt. Second, because my mom saw the good in something unassuming, and I wanted to confirm her intuition. I cooked the soup the next day, and as I had unfortunately theorized, it was neither bad nor good. It was just bland. Looking back at it now, it was likely because it lacked all the addictive "bad" ingredients found in most commercial brands, like MSG and lots of sodium. I don't remember if I never mentioned it to her, or I lied and said it was good.

Years went by, and my relationship was still rocky with my mother. We had very wonderful times, and very bad times. Every once in a while I thought about the little clear soup packet and what she said, and my heart would ache. "Sometimes those are the best ones". The packet started to represent a lot of things to me. It was the way that my mother helped me stop and see the beauty in things that would be overlooked. It meant not to take things for granted, and to always give things a try. It meant to be unconventional. To not be afraid of what other people think. As my mother's mental health declines, these little memories haunt me in the best way. It's a page of warmth in a heartbreaking novel that I can always reflect on when the bad days seem overwhelming. They say that chicken noodle soup will heal you, and the memory of that little packet does. I will always have that in my heart, no matter what.

The soup was very good, mom. Thank you.

fog.

A thick cloud of uncertainty started swirling around me lately. It's this weird feeling of unexplained gloom and general anxiety. A bizarre transitional period. The doldrums. I love that word. I have a love/hate relationship with this feeling, because on one hand it's incredibly uncomfortable, and on the other hand it makes me feel creative.

glitter.

Guess what I got...

I found them on ebay brand new for $100, and I decided I had to treat myself. Thank you, Satan!! *highfives* Kidding, kidding.

Any extra money I have in April is going towards my boyfriend's b-day gift, which will be a watch he mentioned he wanted. After that I need to focus on some new clothes for myself. I can't express how excited I am for warmer weather... dresses, skirts, cuffed jeans, walking home from work, the smell of bonfires, that intense feeling that I should be making the most of every second, ice cream... the list goes on. I also feel like I need more glittery bobby pins in my life.

I started doing yoga almost every day, and I'm already noticing a positive change after only a week. Aside from yoga, I want to focus on strength training. I really wish I could take classes, but I just can't afford it, and I'm also afraid to go alone. It's silly because I'm pretty independent, I just sometimes feel uncomfortable doing new things by myself. I need a gym buddy.

dream land.

I wasted my afternoon napping, but my bed looked like a soothing honeypot and my dreams have been so inviting lately. It doesn't look like Spring outside just yet, but the sun hits me in a different way and the air smells like new beginnings.

I've fallen in love with these shoes, but of course they would be like ~$300. I've been scouring ebay to try to find some for much cheaper, but to no avail. Dear ...Satan, Swedish Hasbeens T-Strap Sky High Clogs, black and/or red please ♥

I've also decided to give sewing another try this weekend with friends. I had a sewing machine ages ago, but I had no idea how to use it properly. It's always been a dream of mine to be able to sew some pretty dresses, so we shall see.