Extra family members are throwing off my groove. I have to tiptoe around my room after eight due to small child. Umm but I think I am good with kids because my idea of fun can be very simplistic. Maybe that is not the word I'm looking for. A less-conscious-effort-needed sort of fun, like just settling into repetitive roles that everyone's familiar with? God this shit only makes sense in my head. Perhaps I do mean simple and I am just overthinking this all.
Still have not unpacked all my stuff from moving out of Erickson. Tomorrow I vow to make progress however. I need to take my fridge and microwave out 'cause I ain't using them. My closet really needs to be cleaned out, but honestly I don't know if I'm up to that. The pile of crap in there is basically as tall as I am, and probably almost as old. Think I need a new bookshelf too, so I can clean off my dresser and work on my paint/comic/thing more.
Speaking of which, I was brainstorming more stuff for that painty-comic (combining lines of poetry with crappy acrylics) and came across the poet Gerard Manley Hopkins. His work is quite interesting. I don't quite know what it means when I can relate so well to deeply religious poetry. I love how he messes with rhythm, and the imagery used is shockingly modern for the time it was written in (mid-late-1800s). Like, there's something so powerful about a well-placed parenthetical exclamation.
I made a delicious dinner! I have this staple now, where I cook some rice, saute some veggies in soy sauce/honey/ginger and heat up one of those pre-cooked chicken patties. I usually season the patty with soy sauce, but today at Wal-Mart I bought some teriyaki glaze and delicious fruit. So I sauted some green beans and mushrooms, and they were chilling while I waited for the rice. The chicken was in the oven getting delicious and I decided "hey dammit I bought canned pineapple and I'mma exploit that ish*" so I dumped about half of them in the pan and got everything heating through. Most of the time I add a quickie-egg on top but I wasn't in the mood. No matter! It turned out so wellllll (well except for the undercooked green beans). The mushrooms were melt-in-your-mouth soft and the pineapple and teriyaki were ridiculous partners of culinary crime. I also bought some peppers, so I might throw them in next time. (Guys yellow peppers are the greatest.)
*verbatim
My bad wrist has been giving me such problems lately. Wednesday, during billiards (an actual course at UMBC!), I (literally) just pressed down on my hand and something seized up and completely sucked that entire day. Not even ibuprofen could help. It was something tendon-y, but it thankfully went away with sleep. Except it's still a little sore. I am sad. This follows the terrible shift-and-I-can't-breathe muscle sprain in my back on Tuesday, and the teeth-edging burning ache of pulled muscles in my shoulders/neck from Thursday. Blargh. I didn't want this kind of grown-up.
Positive note!
Friday, July 10, 2009
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
PANDORA HOLD MY TONGUE
I work too fast. It leads to free time, which is paid free time!
LOCAL BOY HIT BY TRAIN A FUCKING IDIOT
HAGERSTOWN - Shawn Lonsey, 14, was playing by the tracks last Saturday night when he was struck and killed by a passing CSX train, leading neighbors and friends to label him a "fucking idiot."
"We used to play together by the tracks, yeah," said friend Michael Billinger. "But we grew up a bit and realized the dangers. Shawn was always the stupidest of our bunch."
"It's tragic, losing a son at that age, but, man, can you imagine what he'd grow up to be?" Shawn's father, Andre, works as a logistical engineer at Lockheed Martin. "I mean, natural selection exists for a reason."
A funeral is in the works for the young boy. Signs have been seen around town with the following: "He was stupid but we maybe loved him -- Say goodbye to Shawn -- July 1, 2009 -- Markson Bauer Funeral Services"
--
I had this headline pop into my head while riding the shuttle over to campus (thank god for shuttles even if they are late and almost pass me) so I decided to write a little diddle on it. Sort of inspired by those short little articles on The Onion. Reminds me of journalism class in high school. Now I think I miss writing fake news articles. It is so much fun!
I wrote something else while at work but I do not know what it is exactly about? Also it uses silly little poetic devices. But um here it is anyway...?
There was something moist, wet and heavy inside her. Moist like a towel after the thunder, wet like the spurt of saliva at a sour candy. She considered these differences. Sometimes it grew wetter, and sloshed through her insides as a sieve. When it lost physical moisture it hung in her frame like a stormcloud that wasn't ready for you yet. She hated this second moisture. It bundled up like wet cotton through her body and she felt ready to rain from her pores. This kind of relief never came. For it was only moist just long enough to become wet again, it just bid its time until the water grew too much, and unflowed. Times like these she wished for steady fingers.
This also follows the Formula (*dundundun*) and it is not supposed to be about the babymaker. The front line popped into my head and then the image/phrase about the saliva and the candy, so I just went from there.
I had to go to the dentist like a bazillion times in the past few weeks because I'm an idiot. I have noticed that, after those goddamn needles are jabbed into my gums, the entire procedure consists of me just slightly... quivering. It was bizarre. My own little primitive reaction to stress and threats of bodily harm. But then I wrangle back control of my brain chemicals and am all calmed-the-fuck-down and just crusin'. I like the angle of looking up at faces that are inches from your own. Though I thought it would be weird if I looked in their eyes. So that was that. Now I will stop being an idiot and hopefully never have any more cavities. (Twenty years strong goddammit!!)
Whelpers there goes my time for leaving work. I get to return to dogs that need to pee! So exciting.
LOCAL BOY HIT BY TRAIN A FUCKING IDIOT
HAGERSTOWN - Shawn Lonsey, 14, was playing by the tracks last Saturday night when he was struck and killed by a passing CSX train, leading neighbors and friends to label him a "fucking idiot."
"We used to play together by the tracks, yeah," said friend Michael Billinger. "But we grew up a bit and realized the dangers. Shawn was always the stupidest of our bunch."
"It's tragic, losing a son at that age, but, man, can you imagine what he'd grow up to be?" Shawn's father, Andre, works as a logistical engineer at Lockheed Martin. "I mean, natural selection exists for a reason."
A funeral is in the works for the young boy. Signs have been seen around town with the following: "He was stupid but we maybe loved him -- Say goodbye to Shawn -- July 1, 2009 -- Markson Bauer Funeral Services"
--
I had this headline pop into my head while riding the shuttle over to campus (thank god for shuttles even if they are late and almost pass me) so I decided to write a little diddle on it. Sort of inspired by those short little articles on The Onion. Reminds me of journalism class in high school. Now I think I miss writing fake news articles. It is so much fun!
I wrote something else while at work but I do not know what it is exactly about? Also it uses silly little poetic devices. But um here it is anyway...?
There was something moist, wet and heavy inside her. Moist like a towel after the thunder, wet like the spurt of saliva at a sour candy. She considered these differences. Sometimes it grew wetter, and sloshed through her insides as a sieve. When it lost physical moisture it hung in her frame like a stormcloud that wasn't ready for you yet. She hated this second moisture. It bundled up like wet cotton through her body and she felt ready to rain from her pores. This kind of relief never came. For it was only moist just long enough to become wet again, it just bid its time until the water grew too much, and unflowed. Times like these she wished for steady fingers.
This also follows the Formula (*dundundun*) and it is not supposed to be about the babymaker. The front line popped into my head and then the image/phrase about the saliva and the candy, so I just went from there.
I had to go to the dentist like a bazillion times in the past few weeks because I'm an idiot. I have noticed that, after those goddamn needles are jabbed into my gums, the entire procedure consists of me just slightly... quivering. It was bizarre. My own little primitive reaction to stress and threats of bodily harm. But then I wrangle back control of my brain chemicals and am all calmed-the-fuck-down and just crusin'. I like the angle of looking up at faces that are inches from your own. Though I thought it would be weird if I looked in their eyes. So that was that. Now I will stop being an idiot and hopefully never have any more cavities. (Twenty years strong goddammit!!)
Whelpers there goes my time for leaving work. I get to return to dogs that need to pee! So exciting.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
LIMITED TIME OFFER!
News flash: I have many coupons scattered about my desk.
So man, I'm for real going to Germany in the fall. Today my program sent me a handbook, sports bag, luggage tags (d'awww) and my International SOS card. I am so done with being nervous; one benefit of overthinking things is a lack of surprise (that is not the word I'm looking for) at new stuff. I suppose I'm confident enough to forge ahead, or, as I think is more likely the case, I'm not emotionally involved.
I've been pondering this to myself for a while now, because pondering is something I'm good at. There are two sides to me, the emotional and the rational, and I am a rational girl. Emotions are nice, but they aren't the driving force in my life. This would be why I appear to have no desires, I suppose. I tend to lean toward the action that gets me direct results. I picked German as my major because it leads to direct results of employment, i.e. translation, etc.
Being so rational makes it really hard to come home, because I've grown to believe that the people there are ruled by emotions. My dad is stubborn and quick to anger, my mom flies into tantrums, and my little sister is a teenager. I just don't really see the point of being angry, though I often am compelled to ire myself. I won't spout out crap reasons like "we have too little time on this earth" because that's not the reason I think that way. I'm really good at distancing myself from a situation and getting a smidgeon of perspective (sometimes that's all you need). I am most often angry when other people can't do this because to me it is so easy.
Blah. In conclusion, I am glad I know myself. I'm pretty happy with what I ken.
Friday is the library picnic! I am currently torn between two recipes, one for pink lemonade cupcakes and the other for blueberry mint lemonade. I had originally wanted to make something with matcha or Earl Grey tea, but then I didn't. I am sorta leaning toward the lemonade because I don't think many other people will be bringing specialty drinks, and I want to stand out. No salad from this enterprisingholy shit I'm not a teen I can't use teenager chef.
Slowly starting to write and draw more often. There was a period of time after moving back when everything was still packed up and I was lazy. The latter still holds true, but my itch had to be scratched. I'm considering adding something else to my bookshelf comic, for as of now it consists only of the top half. I've been scouring through random poetry books I have, and I think I have enough stuff to slapdash a continuation together. And I saved all that acrylic paint from the dump-drive, so the materials and inspiration are there. Need the motivation and the lack of clutter. Maybe I'll be completely unpacked by the 4th of July. That is my completely sensible deadline.
Here, some word vomit that has a direct inspiration. It doesn't exactly express what I wanted, and it got away from me a bit at the end there.
When he played with the children, he was always the monster. It awoke something primeval in him, a rush of secretions and hormones that flashed through his brain in wave after wave. The children tried the usual tactics, the valiant sword fights, the yelling and screaming, but just when it appeared the monster had succumbed to their might, he rose again from the blanket-castle. They would learn eventually that not all monsters can be defeated.
So man, I'm for real going to Germany in the fall. Today my program sent me a handbook, sports bag, luggage tags (d'awww) and my International SOS card. I am so done with being nervous; one benefit of overthinking things is a lack of surprise (that is not the word I'm looking for) at new stuff. I suppose I'm confident enough to forge ahead, or, as I think is more likely the case, I'm not emotionally involved.
I've been pondering this to myself for a while now, because pondering is something I'm good at. There are two sides to me, the emotional and the rational, and I am a rational girl. Emotions are nice, but they aren't the driving force in my life. This would be why I appear to have no desires, I suppose. I tend to lean toward the action that gets me direct results. I picked German as my major because it leads to direct results of employment, i.e. translation, etc.
Being so rational makes it really hard to come home, because I've grown to believe that the people there are ruled by emotions. My dad is stubborn and quick to anger, my mom flies into tantrums, and my little sister is a teenager. I just don't really see the point of being angry, though I often am compelled to ire myself. I won't spout out crap reasons like "we have too little time on this earth" because that's not the reason I think that way. I'm really good at distancing myself from a situation and getting a smidgeon of perspective (sometimes that's all you need). I am most often angry when other people can't do this because to me it is so easy.
Blah. In conclusion, I am glad I know myself. I'm pretty happy with what I ken.
Friday is the library picnic! I am currently torn between two recipes, one for pink lemonade cupcakes and the other for blueberry mint lemonade. I had originally wanted to make something with matcha or Earl Grey tea, but then I didn't. I am sorta leaning toward the lemonade because I don't think many other people will be bringing specialty drinks, and I want to stand out. No salad from this enterprising
Slowly starting to write and draw more often. There was a period of time after moving back when everything was still packed up and I was lazy. The latter still holds true, but my itch had to be scratched. I'm considering adding something else to my bookshelf comic, for as of now it consists only of the top half. I've been scouring through random poetry books I have, and I think I have enough stuff to slapdash a continuation together. And I saved all that acrylic paint from the dump-drive, so the materials and inspiration are there. Need the motivation and the lack of clutter. Maybe I'll be completely unpacked by the 4th of July. That is my completely sensible deadline.
Here, some word vomit that has a direct inspiration. It doesn't exactly express what I wanted, and it got away from me a bit at the end there.
When he played with the children, he was always the monster. It awoke something primeval in him, a rush of secretions and hormones that flashed through his brain in wave after wave. The children tried the usual tactics, the valiant sword fights, the yelling and screaming, but just when it appeared the monster had succumbed to their might, he rose again from the blanket-castle. They would learn eventually that not all monsters can be defeated.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Outages
If you tell people mistruths for years it starts to be the truth in their minds. I didn't mean to lie to them, or mislead them, or misrepresent myself. I came up with excuses to hide some fundamental confidence issue and now I'm afraid there's no undoing this. The one thing I'll never know is what other people think of me, and I tend to forget everything except who I know I am at the moment. Other people's opinions of me don't grow as mine does, because I am the one who lives with myself. Sometimes other people are too complicated to deal with. I'm enough complication, thanks. How do I reconcile this with a larger, airbrush love of humanity? I ignored that woman asking for help across the street, damn it, and how can I tell myself I love all people? Why can I never look at people as I walk past them? Why do I fib to get out of social situations quicker? I don't want to be this disconnected, but I've brought it upon myself with the damn fantasies I escape to. I am so naive, guys, and it hurts so much because I can see how naive I am. But if I lose this naivety, I might lose my optimism. My optimism is all I have.
It totally and completely bothers me when, say, I'm walking down a hallway behind someone, or their back is to me (say they're sitting at a table) and they turn to look at me, see who's there. I, uh, have other senses? If the person behind me knows me, they also know my name? And you know, footsteps. SO I've taken to just staring at him/her like a creeper until they turn around. It's only a second or two, but god damn does it bother me.
I haven't written in a while. I just can't get a drive going, or find good time, or a good reason. I pass through important parts of my life and just pass them by. I still have all these ideas, but I don't use them as writing fodder. If I do, they're never finished, because there's always been a distinction between ideas for me and ideas for the page. One of them I like better? It's all a bit muddly, because I'm so removed from a world where people write all the time. This is a science college.
But! I have been working on my drawing style, and guys now I draw necks! My legs are getting more realistic, and I am kinda half-assing proportions and etc. I think I'm pretty good at working from a stock image, at least when it comes to proper arm bends and hand-stops. I can totally fluke a pretty collarbone. I still need to deal with overlarge heads, but I've been using guide lines to keep them roughly in scale.
And I have recently been obsessed with The Office and am now in the middle of season 3. It is kinda ridiculous. I sorta can't stand Michael sometimes, god damn.
I feel like my real friends have graduated already, and I uh, don't have much more than my roomie and some conveniences? This becomes clearer and clearer as the semester continues. It really makes me sad/terrified/pissed. Surprise, even I am a social creature!
It totally and completely bothers me when, say, I'm walking down a hallway behind someone, or their back is to me (say they're sitting at a table) and they turn to look at me, see who's there. I, uh, have other senses? If the person behind me knows me, they also know my name? And you know, footsteps. SO I've taken to just staring at him/her like a creeper until they turn around. It's only a second or two, but god damn does it bother me.
I haven't written in a while. I just can't get a drive going, or find good time, or a good reason. I pass through important parts of my life and just pass them by. I still have all these ideas, but I don't use them as writing fodder. If I do, they're never finished, because there's always been a distinction between ideas for me and ideas for the page. One of them I like better? It's all a bit muddly, because I'm so removed from a world where people write all the time. This is a science college.
But! I have been working on my drawing style, and guys now I draw necks! My legs are getting more realistic, and I am kinda half-assing proportions and etc. I think I'm pretty good at working from a stock image, at least when it comes to proper arm bends and hand-stops. I can totally fluke a pretty collarbone. I still need to deal with overlarge heads, but I've been using guide lines to keep them roughly in scale.
And I have recently been obsessed with The Office and am now in the middle of season 3. It is kinda ridiculous. I sorta can't stand Michael sometimes, god damn.
I feel like my real friends have graduated already, and I uh, don't have much more than my roomie and some conveniences? This becomes clearer and clearer as the semester continues. It really makes me sad/terrified/pissed. Surprise, even I am a social creature!
Friday, April 3, 2009
WE WERE HAVING SOME FUN
I am at work! I recently skimmed through some old livejournal entries and I was struck by my monetary struggles. I used to stress out over a $10 monthly payment? This is what it must mean to be an adult. I have "financial documents" now (really just one) and my tolerance for money has increased. What do I mean by that. Um, that now I pay nearly $60/month on my phone bill and it doesn't flip me out? Also, I am rolling in the money this semester. Twenty hours a week at $7.75 equals, minus some taxes, $300 paychecks. Like the one I got today. It's weird to consider that, if I saved two paychecks, so many things would be in my grasp. A car. A new computer. A plane ticket. Also, due to my "financial documents," I am not wasting money on as much junk. Except groceries. oh god groceries. My one weakness.
This weekend, I think, will be glorious. It stopped raining here at some point (I am locked in a windowless basement) and the clouds are still puffed and rimmed with hints of the morning grey. I, sorta did not want to come back. Damn you social and monetary restraints!
Hmm. I really have no complaints about my life. I will show the world that not-conflict is not-boring.
Monday, March 30, 2009
I AM A SHADOW CAPTAIN
Guys, vague allusions to songs are awesome. Hello it is very early in the morning and a small fly just flew in front of my face. Typing in the dark is hard, a bit.
Well hello to everyone who reads this. God damn it took me a while to find that period. I sorta feel bad because my roommate is sleeping and my keyboard is not that quiet. If need be, I can justify it by remembering she dries her hair at 8 in the morning. Thank god her internship is over. I think such terrible thoughts when I'm awoken at 7 am.
Things here are swell. Just a few more weeks of class left (how the hell did that happen?) and then a lovely summer semester. A bitchin' professor is teaching a class about "War in the Modern World." I am ridiculously excited--this is the same guy who taught the American Intelligence class last semester. I was all !!!!! when I saw his name in the summer catalog. I wish his class was at a different time, because another awesome professor (my first college prof, actually) is teaching a class about the Crusades that isn't ungodly early. But there is a scheduling conflict, boo. Also, expensive (!!) like woah.
By the time this semester is over, I will know whether I'm going to Germany or not. It um, is weird to think about. I sort have been assuming I'll be going, like when talking about class registration and dorms and all, but in that way of "it's not really happening" and if I get in--well, then it's really happening. I will be all panicked out by the time I get there. I am confident in my ability to adapt, because I can look behind me and note situations in which this quality came to light. Also I tend to glaze over things once they've happened. I guess schooling myself to live in the moment worked? I am sorry if I forget something important you tell me.
I am still working out the kinks and details of my DNIR universe. It is difficult to make it more realistic, people-wise, because I think the general idea is that young, hip people are the awesome computer hackers, but these guys are older? And not so stereotypically cyberpunk? I keep adding layers to the story, and they are all fringe layers. I still don't have a resolution or arc for the main plot. It's so delicious to build outlying intrigue though, and I am not a girl to resist its temptations.
I cannot wait until it is thunderstorm season. Today the clouds were large and billowing and glorious and I just wanted to watch them for ever. It is like watching people walk. Absolutely hypnotic. I get such a rush of emotion from towering clouds--I can't even form the idea into words, but sometimes I just look up and bam. I'm in love. Do not inquire as to how many photos of clouds I have on my phone, because the answer is many. Thunderstorms are a different beast; the humidity fills the air and everything is moving and static at the same time. I like hearing the differences in rain, and the thick rumble of thunder in my chest. My future house will need to have a covered porch to accomodate my infatuation. Guys I like weather.
Well besides that there is not much going on in my life. I still like earrings and I still have all my fingers.
Well hello to everyone who reads this. God damn it took me a while to find that period. I sorta feel bad because my roommate is sleeping and my keyboard is not that quiet. If need be, I can justify it by remembering she dries her hair at 8 in the morning. Thank god her internship is over. I think such terrible thoughts when I'm awoken at 7 am.
Things here are swell. Just a few more weeks of class left (how the hell did that happen?) and then a lovely summer semester. A bitchin' professor is teaching a class about "War in the Modern World." I am ridiculously excited--this is the same guy who taught the American Intelligence class last semester. I was all !!!!! when I saw his name in the summer catalog. I wish his class was at a different time, because another awesome professor (my first college prof, actually) is teaching a class about the Crusades that isn't ungodly early. But there is a scheduling conflict, boo. Also, expensive (!!) like woah.
By the time this semester is over, I will know whether I'm going to Germany or not. It um, is weird to think about. I sort have been assuming I'll be going, like when talking about class registration and dorms and all, but in that way of "it's not really happening" and if I get in--well, then it's really happening. I will be all panicked out by the time I get there. I am confident in my ability to adapt, because I can look behind me and note situations in which this quality came to light. Also I tend to glaze over things once they've happened. I guess schooling myself to live in the moment worked? I am sorry if I forget something important you tell me.
I am still working out the kinks and details of my DNIR universe. It is difficult to make it more realistic, people-wise, because I think the general idea is that young, hip people are the awesome computer hackers, but these guys are older? And not so stereotypically cyberpunk? I keep adding layers to the story, and they are all fringe layers. I still don't have a resolution or arc for the main plot. It's so delicious to build outlying intrigue though, and I am not a girl to resist its temptations.
I cannot wait until it is thunderstorm season. Today the clouds were large and billowing and glorious and I just wanted to watch them for ever. It is like watching people walk. Absolutely hypnotic. I get such a rush of emotion from towering clouds--I can't even form the idea into words, but sometimes I just look up and bam. I'm in love. Do not inquire as to how many photos of clouds I have on my phone, because the answer is many. Thunderstorms are a different beast; the humidity fills the air and everything is moving and static at the same time. I like hearing the differences in rain, and the thick rumble of thunder in my chest. My future house will need to have a covered porch to accomodate my infatuation. Guys I like weather.
Well besides that there is not much going on in my life. I still like earrings and I still have all my fingers.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
THOSE KINDS OF WORDS
There was a welling of pressure at the base of her stem and her spine and she woke from the dream. There were sprinklings of dust underneath her fingerpinks, misty white and translucent. Too much sugar in the bones.
--
I feel like a lot of my free writing begins the same way. Past tense + vague female character + words not used as the proper form of speech + ending sentences that are on a slightly different track (wow that was eloquent). Oh well.
Yesterday I turned in my application to the study abroad office. Now all I'm waiting for are my recommendation letters, and y'know, if I get accepted or not. I really want to go. This is something I'll congratulate myself about when I'm older. My only fear is that it won't mean much, once it's over.
Tomorrow is my last day of classes before spring break! And of course they're the most work intensive. However, in my German history class we're interviewing an 98 yr old about stuff (the class is based in oral histories). But I still need to muster through Parzival (Parzival......!! *fist*) and ugh. Taking classes you don't have prerequisites for: not always the best. But then I'm free!
And then it is time to cook! I'm planning on making apple steak and (I can't find my list) stuffed onions and chili and bratwurst and maybe black bottom cupcakes. I love kitchens! And cooking supplies! I do not like buying groceries! I would protest if I didn't need them so hard. C'mon, seriously? Spending ~$50 a trip (or more) on shit that'll be gone in a week or two? It makes me angry.
Whelp here have another tiny freewrite (which, lo and behold, follows the Formula):
--
Being sick was a way to know her body. When she heaved she felt the hot line of esophagus reaching into her belly, and every pore of her lungs as she gagged on the bile retching. Broken bones to feel where her muscles began and sprains to feel the boundary of a bone. She could tell you how each allergy tasted and paint you a picture of nausea. Her body was a masterpiece under duress. She was not a fan of doctors.
--
I feel like a lot of my free writing begins the same way. Past tense + vague female character + words not used as the proper form of speech + ending sentences that are on a slightly different track (wow that was eloquent). Oh well.
Yesterday I turned in my application to the study abroad office. Now all I'm waiting for are my recommendation letters, and y'know, if I get accepted or not. I really want to go. This is something I'll congratulate myself about when I'm older. My only fear is that it won't mean much, once it's over.
Tomorrow is my last day of classes before spring break! And of course they're the most work intensive. However, in my German history class we're interviewing an 98 yr old about stuff (the class is based in oral histories). But I still need to muster through Parzival (Parzival......!! *fist*) and ugh. Taking classes you don't have prerequisites for: not always the best. But then I'm free!
And then it is time to cook! I'm planning on making apple steak and (I can't find my list) stuffed onions and chili and bratwurst and maybe black bottom cupcakes. I love kitchens! And cooking supplies! I do not like buying groceries! I would protest if I didn't need them so hard. C'mon, seriously? Spending ~$50 a trip (or more) on shit that'll be gone in a week or two? It makes me angry.
Whelp here have another tiny freewrite (which, lo and behold, follows the Formula):
--
Being sick was a way to know her body. When she heaved she felt the hot line of esophagus reaching into her belly, and every pore of her lungs as she gagged on the bile retching. Broken bones to feel where her muscles began and sprains to feel the boundary of a bone. She could tell you how each allergy tasted and paint you a picture of nausea. Her body was a masterpiece under duress. She was not a fan of doctors.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
