Do I dare to eat a peach?

It’s the last week of the semester. Two of my big final projects are done, and I have two to go. I’m a little worried about them both, in the way that I haven’t actually really started either, haven’t even settled on a topic for one. (and the other one, the focus of my topic is slightly shifting as I find sources I can theoretically use). By Friday, this time period will be done. This gut punch anxiety won’t feel quite like this anymore. I’m restless and it’s probably because I drank a whole pot of coffee. It’s fucking roasting in here too. It’s so goddamn hot. I sacrificed the bit of cool air that was seeping down the stairs in an attempt to help Ren sleep. They have work in the early early time of the day. I want to go to wal-mart and get some groceries. I’m sick of not having like… any type of food in the house and always picking up food and shit. I want to be one of those people who meal prep and have their shit together in a real way. I want to learn how to make more things that are healthy. I know right now that’s just my procrastination impulse kicking in, and really I need to fucking ignore it, because there is toooo goddamn much for me to do and it’s already like 10pm. Okay, I’m going to get started on everything. I might be back here in a bit or I might not. *45 seconds later* Okay, I decided, I’m doing my paper for my poetry class about T.S. Eliot. I wanted to do it about one of the lady poets really, but like… I don’t know as much about their work, and Prufrock is one of my all time faves and it’ll be easier, and three days before the paper’s due isn’t the time to like… Take A Stand And Write About Women For The Sake of Writing About Women. Three days before the paper’s due is time to Take The Easy Way Out And Get That Shit Done Son.

*a couple hours later*

I wrote about 2.5 pages of my bullshit 25 page paper, and  i’m starting on my poetry paper now. (I also killed the enormous cockroach that has been camping out in our bathroom, tormenting us, for fucking ever). If I alternate, writing two pages of the long one and one page of the poetry one, I’ll be able to get them both done at around the same time, and also maybe I won’t **completely** lose my mind in the process. Alternating between projects helps me sometimes. We’ll see. (Also, do you know how fucking annoying it is to have to write one paper in MLA format and another paper in APA format??! It’s annoying as hell. Also, APA is fucking stupid and way overly complicated and it can suck my whole dick)

*like another hour later or something*

Poetry paper is now underway as well. Everything is happening, but I *think* I’m going to let myself go lay down for a little while now?? Really not sure what’s happening, but I think that’s what I’m going to do for now. Mkay. Maybe I’ll write more later on here or something. Peace.

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Paging

Ache my head

Give me a trilogy

To float me into a new part

Give me misspent hours

With no regrets

Give me aromatic shells

That crack and split and yield

I believe in you

I believe in your power

Neg eg g 

I feel like I wasn’t as good a person to be around today as I could have been. I’m feeling really gross about my body. Super bad and gross and just… Soooo uncomfortable in my own skin. Horrified at how much of it there is, and here I am, inside it, piloting it, and fucking it up. Or if not actively fucking it up, then certainly not doing nearly enough to maintain it, and that’s still the work of a shitty pilot. What do I need to do to flip that control switch back? I need small solid goals and self controls. I need something. I hate feeling like this. Ugh. Sorry to be this negative. I’m worn out from everything too much to keep it in. And I don’t want to feel bad tho. I want to have a cool fun weekend and do a lot of stuff, and I’m gong to try my very best to make that happen. For this second, I’m going to try and sleep. Peace. 

down boy

I twist my guts up over what ifs  and could be-s and “god, I fucking hope not”-s. Make myself sick with thoughts that sicken me. Okay. Whatever. I try to shut it up and move on. Focus on the good and try to crush the worm of it. It turns out I want to be a handler. Makes sense in ways, but I still found myself a bit surprised, when it came upon me. I plan to plan a scene that focuses heavily in that direction. For soon. For Saturday even, possibly. I dunno. there really are so many things I want to do. How do I make them all fit? I need to be working. I have quite a bit of shit that I have to finish by tomorrow night, and I’m planning on heading in to see my parents for a bit tomorrow, so like…. that’s another thing I have to compensate for, time wise. I need more activity, more exercise. I did a little today but it’s not enough. it’s not enough. Okay, time to write some shit. I feel weird and trapped and gross. Maybe because I’ve hardly been out of the house in a few days, and I haven’t talked to like… hardly anyone. Maybe I’ll feel better after getting out tomorrow and seeing people. I dunno. ugh. I just feel weird and sort of bad in general I guess. I finished one of the *paid in a month* freelance articles I said I would do, only one more of those to go, due early tomorrow, and six more product description ones, due Saturday morning. Gross. I need to finish that one, and then two of the others, and then I can do four tomorrow and it should be fine. Okay, the one is done. It might not pass the editor stage because I really don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, but I’ll fix ’em if I have to.Two more to go, and I already started them a little. I’m hoping to be done by 2:45, so I can get a tiny bit of sleep.  Ugh. I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing … like… in life. Okay. I finished writing those things. I’m going to go the fuck to sleep now. It’s 5 minutes ’till 2:45. oh boy. Okay, yeah. I’m out. Peace.