I’m going to apply to grad school and I’m going to grow my hair back out and I’m going to get back into going to the gym regularly
Honestly, I feel so relieved and humbled by everything that happened today. I am so loved. Unconditionally and deeply, profoundly. The same way I give my love. I’ve been so secret low, so low key dark recently and I just feel like today is a light spear, it can pierce me if I drop my shield.
Hey, hey, you know what’s fun? You know what’s super fucking fun? I’ll tell you what’s fun! I’ll tell you what’s just super fucking fun! You just sit back and relax and I’ll tell you what’s great great fun! What’s suuuper wicked fun is making only $8,964 for a full year doing freelance work, and having to pay $1,261 in self employment tax!!! That’s just fucking great!!! So fun! Hell yeah! So freaking awesome!! I love it!!! Being an adult is suuuuper fun!! The most fun ever!!! 10/10 highly recommend!!ii!!ii!!ii!!ii!! But seriously, I feel incredibly relieved to have it done, and incredibly fortunate to have a family that will help me stay out of tax jail. Even so, this was fucking brutal and seems like a hugely unfair amount of my meager income. it serves to further illustrate the point that I really fucking need to do something more/different with my life, and I think grad school is the right decision for me.
I’m having a quiet, gentle, huge mental breakdown. I feel truly awful. I just want to sleep. I’ve been neglecting and abusing my physical body in lots of ways. My hair is a giant dirty tangle and I just feel incredibly overwhelmed by the weight of my being. I don’t even know how to approach it. The personal tragedy of someone I’ve known since middle school has left me feeling bowled over, and I can’t even imagine how he must be feeling. He lost his dad and grandma within three days. Just… fuck. We aren’t even that close any more but we were best friends for a time. I don’t even know what to say to him. there’s no words. life is so cruel and frightening. I just messaged him anyway, because I had to say something. It puts things in perspective for me, in a way. I’m going to my parents’ house tomorrow to get my dad’s help with something I’ve been dreading / putting off for six months. I feel guilty and scared, but fortunate. Unbelievably fucking fortunate. Anyway, now that I’ve sat here crying for like an hour I’m guna go take a shower for the first time in ?? Days. Yeah. That’s good. Yeah.
Awake. Mad stressed about life and taxes and money and having a physical body. Application due date for grad school is January first, so I have until then to get all that shit together. As of now I’m 95% sure that it’s what I wanna do. I’m sick of financial instability and I need an actual plan for the future. Freelance shit isn’t guna get me into a house. Plus it just sounds good to me. Good for me.
This evening I went over to my parents’ house by myself and hung out with them and it was pretty fun and chill and awesome. My mom and I put a weird cabinet together. It was like an off-brand Ikea POS she got at a garage sale and the directions were fucking terrible. Just basically incomprehensible. We noticed that everywhere in the directions where the word “bolt” appeared, it seemed to be printed on a tiny sticker stuck to the page. When we peeled them off we discovered the word “Blot” was under each one. A hilarious gift from the god of typos. So we went through the entire construction calling the bolts blots. My little brother is really good at putting things together, and he always curses a lot while he does it, claiming the constant stream of profanities makes the work go smoother. I joked with my mom that I was guna channel him to get the job done, and proceeded to curse profusely at every piece of fucking shit part that didn’t seem to fit quite right in its goddamn place. My mom even joined in occasionally. After like an hour we finally got it done. We sent a pic to my brother to tell him how he inspired our eventual triumph. Take that you son of a birch garage sale cabinet.
I really want to go back to school and get my MFA. I could probably be a TA and teach low level English classes to help with some of the cost. I meet all the qualifications and I could write the letter of intent thing no problem. The only thing I’m concerned about is the three fucking letters of recommendation I would need. I graduated four fucking years ago. I highly doubt any of the (like… two?) Professors I formed any sort of tenuous relationship with would even remember me. So… fuck. Way to screw yourself over by being a wicked huge introvert. I honestly have no idea what I would do about that shit. Where I would even start. But I really want to go. Now that I’ve been reading more about the program I really want to go. I miss school and learning and actually improving my writing instead of just writing meaningless bullshit for money. I dunno. I want it.