bowl of thoughts

I’m not depressed. I think I’m just… waiting.  To be there again, where I know I’m in the right place.

Fargo just isn’t it.  Maybe the salsa festival in Croatia.  Or maybe I have to wait until India.  I wish I could believe in inhabiting the present moment, instead of waiting for the future to bring me a better one.

I want to be completely comfortable and happy.  Few places give that to me.  Some people do, but they have mostly left Fargo.  hm hm hm.  Need a change.  Leaving to Europe in two-ish weeks.  Well first comes New York City which is sort of scary.  I believe that most people are decent people.  So why would I be scared of getting assaulted or whatever?  I’m not really.

I don’t really worry about anything.  Unlike my parents (but maybe that just happens when you have children.)

hm. hm hm.  Wish I could  be a more fun friend and roommate.  Getting so boring and home-bodyish.

I need the ocean to go stare at, 4 AM, no fear.  I need dancing, barefoot and rained on.  I need people who get me.

I should just be happy.  My job lets me travel.  Even if I have to clean up feces to get the money to do so.

No.

“The first time a man slapped me on the ass, I was fourteen years old, bussing tables at a family restaurant.
Catcalls make me jump out of my skin. I have never figured out how to take them as a compliment.

When I learned that “no” did not always stop slipping lips and wandering hands, I was sixteen. I was told that it was my fault for being tempting. I haven’t left the house with shorts on for years. It makes me nervous to be alone somewhere with another person when I have a dress on.

I always get uncomfortable when men make jokes about why women go to the bathroom in groups. Nobody likes to hear that we are taught from the youngest age that we should never go anywhere alone.

The second time that “no” did not stop someone, my date pulled up in front of my house and hit the door lock, wrapped his hand around my throat because I told him I just thought we should be friends.

The third time, I was sprawled out on a hammock in the front lawn with a man I’d been out with a handful of times. When I first said “no”, I thought maybe he didn’t hear me. “Please no, please don’t”. “Please no, please don’t.” “Please no, please don’t.”

Once I was told by a man that it was my fault if he ever went too far because his brain was wired like an animal. I didn’t argue. Can you believe that I didn’t argue? I wanted to say that even my dogs recognize the word “no”, but I was afraid of how he would react. I had to sit through the rest of the date with a smile on my face.

I carry my keys just to walk to the mailbox at night. I’m too paranoid to jog down my street alone.

I have been groped on the sidewalk. I have been groped at the bar. I have been groped on the bus.

The time I was followed all the way to my friend’s car by a group of men who stood around laughing and jeering and banging on the windows, not letting us pull out of the parking garage, was the last time I ever let a man buy me a drink at a bar.

I have men in my life who would call themselves my friends who have put their hands on my hips and my thighs without my permission. There is no question. They do not think they have to ask. They laugh when I bristle.

It took twenty-two years to realize only I had a right to my body.

I used to bite my tongue, but I do not say “no” quietly anymore. I bark my discomfort like an old dog, weary and uncomfortable even in its sleep.”

“this is not a fucking poem; it is an outrage (I Spent Twenty-Two Years Trying To Be Nice About It)” Trista Mateer

real life

my best friend is the best dude in the whole world.  And the only dude (except family) that I can honestly say I love platonically.  

I’d pay for everything again, you know. College.  I can’t imagine anything more valuable than the friends I have made here in the past four years.

HBTM

if you’ve ever heard me begin a sentence with “When I went crazy…”

we’re pretty damn close, friends-wise.

It’s my birthday today.  Thank you to everyone who got me through the past four.

this song is so good to slowjam to.

que lo que pasa aqui?

So my dance instructor tried to get it today.  We were dancing and he’s getting closer and closer… the wall is behind me… I had to physically shove him away.  He later apologized for behaving “unprofessionally”.    I know he has a girlfriend.  He doesn’t know that I know that apparently.

What.

I guess I need to have our lessons somewhere more public.  My mom is all “YOU NEED TO STOP LESSONS NOW.  but I don’t know. I’m leaving anyways soon.  And I’m really good at rejecting people (thanks to the OB).

Maybe I should just bring up his girlfriend in casual conversation.  I’ve  been the other woman before, unknowingly, and it freaking sucked.  I would never ever do that in cold blood.   At least he didn’t push it.

But South Americans you know?  I wanna say they all cheat, because that’s all I freaking see.  I’m sure there’s gotta be some that don’t  but where the heck are they?  I guess you don’t come to America to be chaste and faithful.  ugh.

shut up and breathe.

I just have ONE eight page paper to hack out and then on to graduation  !!!! real life.  I wish I could pay someone else to do it for me.

I guess I’m actually an adult now.  Won’t be in college anymore. But then again, “career” is still a dirty word to me. I cough loudly to avoid it. I wish people would stop asking me what my plans are.

Europe will be an adventure no doubt… but I do slightly wish I was just chilling in Fargo and reading all summer. Slightly, very slightly.  I’m only bringing one backpack… hope that won’t prove to be a problem. As long as I have my passport and money I should be good right? Right?

dance upon the architecture


Man this breakup is not going so smoothly as I thought it would.  I can’t acknowledge the fact that I may have made a mistake.  Like I gave away my winning lottery ticket..

and I sent all those letters to myself in the future about him, gahhh what a bad choice.

done.

on being single again:

I feel like I’m teetering on the edge of something high-up and beautiful.  Harsh cloud-studded sky-scraper of infinite possibilities.  I might fall or fly.  Safety is gone.  The only person I trusted more than myself was him, and now I’m back to being only one instead of half of both of us.  The sky is about to storm, but that’s the way it always looked best.  Even the rain reminds me I am whole.  Endings like this are graceless, I am messy with tears and apologies.  Truth:  I amputated something to jar myself loose.  Now there is only the open road of a question mark.  What comes next?




he was the most beautiful of beginnings. Bittersweet. Something gnaws at my heart and I try to ignore this thing that doesn’t exist anymore, still wreaking havoc in me. please be bright…. the past is finally better than my present, so I am forced to put all hope in the future.

Begin. Bring me something better.

I know what you’re thinking when the bass starts…

I always feel  like I’m missing out.  Have to spend the whole day in the library doing research for a final paper, and people are DOING THINGS.  I should be doing things too.  Research isn’t a real thing.  I’m here alone and I should be conversing with people.  I haven’t had a real conversation in a long time.  Every time anyone tries to talk to me I just… “I’m GRADUATING IN TWO WEEKS.”  That’s all I can say, like a zombie on autopilot, that is the only thought in my head. eesh.  So anyways, I felt like missing out so I bought tickets to Exit Festival in Serbia and I’m pretty pumped about that.

Also this song is catchy despite being one of those meaningless pop songs that nevertheless had us dancing on imaginary tabletops…