saturday, november 10 • • •

→    confusing thing number one: I don't understand what's happening to my country.

I say I'm not a patriot, but honestly that's not true. I criticize the united states, but I care about it too, because as much as america's power is terrifying and its is history ugly and bloody, it's also a pretty amazing place. and it's my home. I know that we do some awful things in other countries, and some awful things here as well, that our politics are often driven by capitalism instead of compassion, and that my idealism will never align with america's reality. I know that even though my mind says we are all human beings before we are anything else, america says well we are americans and they aren't. I know it and I hate it and I cry sometimes when I think about it, but at least in some abstract, heart-wrenching way I can understand it.

I can't understand what is happening inside america right now. sometimes we make stupid decisions -- hell, every day we make stupid decisions -- but I count on this country to wrestle with itself, to argue, to listen to the dissenting opinions, and to try and balance integrity with necessity. now, though, it seems that we've thrown both those things out the window in favor of hysteria and paranoia. now, I live in a country where my medical history, my personal property, my internet activity and whatever other dredges of privacy may have still existed are fair game for the government to investigate without even asking a judge (let alone me) about it first. I live in a country where industry is king, where we give away not only billions of dollars but also the rights to our public land. I live in a country that tells me, if you're not with us, you're with them, as if by thinking that it might not be such a good idea to let mining companies rip away unchecked at our beautiful mountains I'm thinking terrorism is no big deal.

terrorism is a big deal. america is a big deal. right now they both seem to be indiscriminate forces of destruction. it makes me scared, but because I have this charmed, insulated life, I'm not scared for myself so much as for the rest of the world. and I really don't understand.
10:56  ...

friday, november 9 • • •

→    (let's pick one thing at a time to cry about, shall we?)
17:24  ...

thursday, november 8 • • •

→    I thought it was just a nick, but I was wrong, and somehow between the warm water keeping me in constant flux and exhaustion keeping me on just the edge of cognizance I didn't notice that I was bleeding a red river down the back of my ankle until I was all the way back to my room. I left little half-heeled footprints on the wooden floor between my door and my desk, crimson-red crescents that betrayed every imperfection in my balance, every unsteadiness in my step. I know I have been a little off-kilter lately but it was still strange to see my instability suddenly made tangible, trailing me like a hunter after already-wounded prey.

while I sat at my desk looking for something to clean the cut with, the blood ran slippery down my ankle and pooled around my foot, wicking around the edges and sliding into the hollow under my arch, all the way up to the guarded crevices under my toes. when I picked up my foot to finally stanch the bleeding, it left behind a beautiful curving outline that glinted darkly in the half-light under my chair. I almost didn't want to wash it off the floorboards. I may bleed, but this is where I stand, and this is where I'll leave something behind. maybe even something beautiful.
20:30  ...

→    it's watching you!
19:55  ...

wednesday, november 7 • • •

→    I'm confused about silly things that I can no longer ascribe to teenage angst because I've gone and turned twenty, but the only perspective age has given me is the knowledge that tangling myself inside such minutiae is a privilege, and it shrouds the entire affair with half-obligatory guilt.

we've been bombing afghanistan for a whole month and no one has come back to life yet.

it's always a week for something at swarthmore. this week is, among other things, sexual assault awareness week. they are giving us whistles. whistles and pieces of green and purple folded paper telling us again and again that we're most likely to be raped by our friends. the legal definition of rape makes me shiver. I know felons. my whistle is already buried under a stack of physics assignments.

no whistles for afghanistan.

school makes me tired all the time. I always know that I want to be here, but I don't always know where I'm going to end up, today or next week or in two years or ten. thinking about it makes me more tired. in astronomy my words were too featherlight to measure; we talked about shockwaves and supernovae and I was mesmerized by the curling edges, tongue-tied by the physics. later I looked at a spectrum and laughed because I knew exactly where the lithium line was supposed to be; there's an unfinished exam sitting on the floor behind me right now. in twelve courses I will be not-a-swattie.

we ate a pomegranate and it was like swallowing rubies.

there are people who are less a part of my life than they should be. I miss people I don't even know, and the people I used to see every day. sometimes I miss the breathlessness between kisses; sometimes I miss being comforted by arms that fit all the way around me; sometimes I miss first-time confessions, discovering the details that had only been hinted at. mostly I miss my friends who have lost their third dimensions, trapped in only words, lines on paper without secrets or shadows.

my country bombed the red cross. twice. I think maybe I've bounced off my glass ceiling and now I'm growing down, less mature every time I wake up.
23:21  ...

tuesday, november 6 • • •

→    happy voting day.
03:16  ...

sunday, november 4 • • •

→    

I think about this sometimes.

it confuses me because I see everything from the opposite angle: brushed metal bars climbing up out of the periphery; folds of hospital-clean cotton across my chest and legs; that iv board wrapped in sweaty hot tape around my forearm; faces always above me rotating and swirling like some sort of perverse mobile.

I wish I could show you.
20:30  ...

→    cold air makes the sky feel deeper, like there's more of it to look through. you can stare at it until your feet are numb and you tremble like an aspen leaf before you realize you're looking at the past instead of finding your future. still, vigilance will bring you shooting stars, and sometimes beauty is its own reward. and sometimes wishes are just another way of making a plan.

what do you wish for?
05:06  ...