What up? Still here. Hope you guys are too. It’s fucking bitter Stone hard to deal with this right now. That’s true. And how the fuck am I supposed to care about writing a paper about fucking Shakespeare? *some snotty academic person’s voice* “Well, when Shakespeare was in quarantine for the black plague he wrote King Lear, so you should stop complaining and get stuff done.” Okay bitch, first of all? King Lear fucking sucks. Have you read that shit? It’s about a stupid old dude who doesn’t understand the subtleties of language, so he disowns his daughter and fucks up his whole kingdom. It’s boring. It feels like something someone who was really fucking bored wrote, because they wanted to spread their boredom around like rats spread the black plague. Second of all, who the fuck are you to presume to tell anyone else how to deal with a traumatic and unprecedented situation? No one. That’s who.

And at the same time I feel sort of weirdly connected to all of humanity in a way I never have before. The closest thing I can compare it to is how I feel about the Olympics. The whole world is looking toward this one thing, at the same time, together. We are all seeing ourselves and each other and we’re all just bopping around trying our fucking best, even though most people’s best is an idiot. It’s like that except not at all like that. It’s scary. It opens a pit in my stomach. It opens up pits in our stomachs. We’re all alone in our little houses, but we’re all here together. I watch my family’s little faces on my little screen. I force myself to feel grounded. I weave and try to do everything I can. I make a scarf, I work on my stupid paint with diamonds. I try to make an old story actually good. I record myself telling stories. I build forts and pet my dog and pet my significant other. I stress the fuck out over grocery lists, and trying and trying and trying to make sure everything gets on there. To make sure everyone gets what they need and they don’t need to go out. Don’t go out. Please don’t go out.


my left ear is congested and has been for a few days and it’s driving me insane. Like earlier I almost had a panic attack about it. Like… that feeling of (relatively slight) pressure just started freaking me the fuck out and my brain was like “you can’t breathe! you’re drowning or something! You’re gunna die!” And I was like … what?? I’m definitely not?? And my brain was like YES. YOU. ARE. So that’s cool. *thumbs up emoji* Seems like my kindle is basically dead forever. That’s honestly fine, because I haven’t used it in like a year, at least, but I’m currently reading a library e-book, and my loan is about to expire, and I was hoping to trap it on the kindle and shut the wifi off so they couldn’t suck it back until I was done with it. Buuuut that’s okay. Somehow I’m on episode 18 of the magnus archives podcast, I haven’t really been listening to it tho. It’s just on in the background of my headphones when I’m alone here at night, in the office. Well, I’m not really alone. There’s a dog laying on a dog bed about four feet away from me. I like that, a lot. She’s snoring. I’m glad she’s here. I have another quiz tomorrow and I’m trying to actually study for it, because the last one didn’t go that well. But it’s hard and I’m annoyed. I think ima take a melatonin and try to actually fucking sleep a reasonable style amount. It’s gunna be okay. I’m gonna finish all of my work, no worries, and I’ll figure everything else out, I promise. I’ll make sure everything gets taken care of in a timely and easy as possible manner (i promise). It’s gunna be okay. It’s a leap year, which I think is good luck. An extra day in the shortest month. More bang for my buck on my February mortgage. Time for me to sleep. peace.


Just took a linguistics quiz, and that shit was haaarrrrrrd lol. I thought I would be able to just breeze through it but I, in fact, could not. Maybe I *can’t* just breeze the fuck through my doctoral program like I’ve breezed through basically all the classes I’ve ever taken in my life* (*except for math). Maybe I’ll actually have to *gasps* study.  Still, it’s honestly really nice to be taking a class that has quizzes and exams and that don’t require me to write thousand-page papers. (oh wait, I just remembered that I actually had to write a 6 page paper for this class like a week ago lollll) Anyway, I’m going to see The Used on Friday night. One of my all time emo faves, and I’ve never gotten to see them live before* (*I’m pretty sure. Like … 96% sure) And I’m actually pretty stoked about it, now that I’m in a space where I can let myself feel emotions about myself as an individual. Right now I’m going through and listening to some of their newer stuff, that I’m not as familiar with, so I can be ready. Anyway, it’s making me feel a little like my teenage self, except in a sort of pleasantly nostalgic way, and not a scary / depressing way. So yeah, hopefully it’ll be fun. I haven’t been to this type of a show in a long time, and it’s good for me, catharsis styles. *morphs into that one 60 year old dude in the mosh pit with a backbrace* I have a bunch of shit I have to do tomorrow, and instead of trying to stay up and do it all right now, and then ending up getting another Terrible, Broken Night’s Sleep(tm), I’m going to try and actually let myself sleep. Peace.

What’s up doc

I started my doctoral program. I feel like I should be more excited but i can’t feel it. Some of it is going to be pretty hard, but i should be able to handle it, and then like… I’ll have a doctorate. Maybe I’ll feel better about the whole thing when my financial aid disburses and i can afford to be a person and pay my several late credit card bills. Right now i just feel stressed, and pretty sad, and I’m just trying to be a strong pillar of support. A rock and a walking stick and a soft lap to lay in. A good partner, a good daughter, a good caretaker for a street dog whose future i have to decide. And i guess a good student as well. I’m an adult with a mortgage and when i break an egg yolk i don’t cRy about it.

Playlist #???: Remember when I used to do playlists? Edition

Remember when I used to make playlists on here? Like a million years ago? I would do it because I was up late doing work, and it gave me a sort of nice little outlet, and it was nice to listen to them later. Maybe I’ll do one right now. Shit has been weird lately. A lot of stuff is happening. Right now I’m trying to finish up the supplemental items I need to submit now that I submitted my application for a doctoral program. It’s a lot and I’m stressed.

(Stealing Sheep – Shut Eye)

Yesterday I climbed up on my roof for the first time. It was Very Scary (lol). When I was a kid I loved climbing on the roof, I thought it was so amusing. But like… I was scared yo. It felt soooo steep, way steeper than my parents’ roof. But now that I’ve done it and survived, I could do it again if I have to.

(Tally Hall – Turn The Lights Off) 

Yesterday I put up xmas lights. For the first time ever in my life, I put xmas lights up outside of *my* house. It felt really good and sort of magical in a way. Just me, the cold, the shimmering lights. Also, they came out looking pretty dang good, if I do say so myself, especially since I was working with nothing but miss-matched strands, the majority of which only partially lit up. I used the long strands of broken dark bulbs as extension cords, and managed to set it up so there’s only one plug even though it goes across most of the yard.

(Lenka – Everything At Once)

I’m pretty stoked about the impeachment. Like… I know, I know, he’s probably not going to get kicked out of office because the senate is filled with fucking republican scumbags with no sense of morals, but it’s still good. It still happened. It’s a sliver of justice and I’ll take it.

(Lincoln – Saint Bernard) 

It’s cold. I should have brought my water bottle in here with me. My whole body is sore and it feels a little bit good. I’m shivering and it feels a little bit good. I’m kinda in the mood to bite and cut and tear and rend (and it feels a little bit good). Writing shit is stupid. I just want to learn a bunch of new rope ties. Too bad you can’t get a doctorate in tying people up. (unless…??)

(Mother Mother – Calm Me Down)

Ugh. It’s like 1am now. Maybe I should just let myself go to sleep and work on this more tomorrow. What else do I even have to do? (a lot of stuff dude) I should probably do a little more at least. Tomorrow is winter break (not really for me but sort of for me in a way) It’s nice, and sorta luxurious, and I’m not going to let myself lose track of myself and drink every fucking day. Need to schedule the logistics of holiday projects. I want a huge pile of firewood. I want to take a melatonin and try to get some fucking sleep.

(Mother Mother – Bit By Bit) 

Drink per chance to dream

From my observations, perhaps somewhat limited, but not that limited, I’ve seen that when dudes, (especially but not only cishet dudes) get Very Drunk, (like…Ratty as a jay bird, lit up like a Hanukkah bush, studying snakes drunk) they often get withdrawn and angry, antagonistic and aggressive, and even sometimes straight up violent. But when women (especially but not only queer women) get Very Drunk (like… Stewed to the eyebrows, absolutely Moulin Rouged, watching the ant races drunk) they shower each other with love and validation, and tell the secrets of the deepest pains they’ve known, and cry and hug and fucking laugh at how absurd it is to be a person. And maybe the next day you wake up sore. Sore in your body from giving piggy back rides and picking people up bridal style, to prove that you’re strong, and you’re strong. And maybe the next day you wake up sore. Sore in your heart because it’s all so fucking much, to witness and take in, to talk about and just fucking think about. It’s sick whiplashing joy and sorrow. It’s a coven and a cloak and a concern. Maybe by tomorrow I’ll be able to uncurl.

95 Black

Hello (love). I’m getting my life together this month. It’s the month and i fucking have to and I’m doing it. So fucking weak the last couple days tho it’s bullshit. Just want to sleep. Sleep and read and lose myself in silly little fantasies. Sometimes, not very often at all, but once in a rare while, reading will feel the way it felt for me as a kid, as a teen. A real escape, an obsession. It leaks colours and flavours and scents into my life. Cherry and something dark. I understand things about myself, but i also don’t. I simplify myself to myself because it’s easier, or at least i mostly think it is.  Yeah. I dunno. I don’t always know how to use my voice, or how to use it for good, or what good is. Every word is the string for a light and the spring for a trap.  Name things with caution, say “i love you” often.