I feel very self-conscious about posting something I wrote right now. But I'm going to do it any way. I didn't get accepted into the U of M and all I want to do is write and this only reinforces my illogical believe in fate, which is not related to anything else I believe.

Yeah, so I wrote this when I woke up and I believe there is value in showing people raw things:

She had a dream that her stomach ached. When she woke she found that it was in fact aching and all the night before had meant was her dream-self telling other people in her dream, who were equally as much herself to wake up and take medication. People make jokes about how often teenagers sleep, as if exhaustion were funny. She no longer sleeps this much, but continues to tell everyone when she didn’t sleep well.

 She bought milk on her way back from work. As she put it in the refrigerator, she thought to herself, “I finally bought milk.” But it was gone by Sunday when she had to go out and buy milk again. She has a hard time remembering to clean out her car and do the laundry. She never thinks about socks until the morning.

Her father tells her that he’s found the cure for cancer, weight loss, and muscle tightness. She thinks it might be something revolutionary, but it’s only magnesium oil. When asked why people don’t use this more often, her father says, “Because people don’t like the word magnesium.” On occasion, she watches a show about people who are addicted to strange things, like eating couches and bras.

 The first time she travelled by herself she was ten and on a flight to California. The man next to her was traveling to Thailand. It was going to take twenty-four hours and all he had was a bag of chips, which he offered to her at the end of the flight. She wanted to take the chips, but remembered she wasn’t supposed to take food from strangers. Her tape came unwound. Most people were already using cds. Once it started unwinding, it continued to go until there was ribbon everywhere.

When she’s living by herself in foreign country her landlady gives her fruit in a bowl as a housewarming gift. She hoards the Äpfel and the Birne until the edges become soft and wrinkled and she cannot eat them anymore and is forced to through them in the food waste bin where they become covered with spaghetti sauce and noodles because it’s the only thing she knows how to make. 

I didn't get into Minnesota. I have to leave again. When I cry while I'm swimming I swim much faster, but water gets in my goggles. It's not even that I like Minnesota so much, the school or the state. It's that leaving is scary. I'm scared of so many things, all the time. My lists of anxieties are inexhaustible and yet I continuously force myself into situations that make me nervous. At least people will speak English. They will in fact, be remarkably good at speaking English as it will be an MFA program. My poor dad pick me up approximately two minutes after I found out and had to deal with me crying in the car about how I just wanted to stay here where everything is going well for me. I had consolatory pizza for dinner with my dad after swimming, although to him it was just pizza. We bought plane tickets so I can visit Alabama. It will be okay.

Ah fuck, well something bad had to happen sometime. At least I'm going swimming so that if I start crying I'll be crying in the water.

As Friday mornings are generally the only mornings in which I am allowed to do nothing at all, I like to spend them as comatose as possible until my muscles ache from atrophy and I am filled with longing to get out of the house. The sign that I am twenty-three and not sixteen is that this longing occurs around noon rather than late in the evening.

I like the feeling of being sleepy and knowing I can go to sleep. I like Alabama, and kale, and bacon, and waking up early so that I can make breakfast. I like a lot of things right now.

I made a gym friend. This has never happened before.

1. Woke up and drank English Breakfast Tea and whole wheat English muffins with strawberry jam.
2. Went to barbell strength class. Added extra weight.
3. Drank a smoothie and read White Noise. Appreciated that the main character of White Noise also struggles with speaking German though he's the head of a Hitler Studies department.
4. Went to yoga. Worked on my headstand.
5. Got accepted into a third graduate school, which is not high at all on my list, but flattering none the less.

Today has been a good day so far.

The thought of leaving Minnesota is so heartbreaking. But I'll do it, no question.

Got into a second grad school program. It's surreal. As Michael Martone said, because Michael Martone just called me "This is the only time you'll ever be treated like a football player."

I read the same books of poetry repeatedly, the same way I listen to the same songs everyday. Eventually I will buy new music and new books, but will still read the old ones. I've been reading Sarah Manguso a lot lately, because I always read Sarah Manguso a lot. Poetry becomes different in a happy place, I can't even imagine feeling feelings that would require such lines.

Perfect sort of weekend.

I think I'm excited for the Superbowl because it seems so quintessentially American. I spent most of my life resenting America, being American, and now I just want to sit around drinking beer and eating meat slathered in sauce watching commercials for their entertainment value and though I know all of this goes against many things I believe in, it seems utterly part of my identity.

(Also there is nothing nicer than waking up on a Sunday feeling wonderful and knowing that later will be wonderful too and not just the ordinary tired, hungover Sunday)

Whenever guys are punching a punching bag in movies or tv shows, some really cute girl comes up to them and asks them about their troubles. I think this might be male fantasy more than anything else.

Why is it so satisfying to leave early and go home to bed?

I have this huge fear that we will run out of things to eat and drink at my Superbowl party.

My heart does this thing where it jumps in my chest. If anything, the arteries should be anchors, but they're not. I get a new email and realize it's only notification of the book I've just bought. I'm reading White Noise by Delillo partially because I feel like I should and partially because I like Delillo. I've read The Body Artist, Falling Man, and Underworld. I especially liked Underworld, with all that trash piling up everywhere. Yesterday at work my boss and a coworker were discussing a novel and my boss said, "Tasha would know the author," and I was worried I wouldn't, but I did. I need to read more.

My primarily goal in life is to be like Leslie and Ben on Parks and Recreation. You know, besides going to grad school and writing and stuff.

If only I could simultaneously curl up in the fetal position, draw, drink tea, and eat organic cheese puffs.

Spent most of the day exhausted and crabby with horrible cramps and somehow reached the conclusion that my cramps were not premenstrual cramps at all, but pregnancy cramps (I don't think these are a real thing) that happened to occur right when I was supposed to get my period. After a traumatic dinner with my mother though my body has decided to actually let my period start so despite my terrible mood at least I am not pregnant.

I have been the crabbiest person all day long. When I'm crabby there are people I like enough that I am still happy around them and then the rest of the time I just whine in my head.