I am the embodiment of the word "productive" right now. I have finished my homework until Thursday, I am three weeks ahead in reading for Young Adult Literature, and I have 11 pages for Advanced Writing. Also, I worked out yesterday, went for a drive with Julia, attended an ATP meeting, and worked on my sock. This will make me very happy eventually, I hope.

I will post poems as I feel necessary

I have another poem by Sandra Cisneros. Same link, next poem down. "Bay Poem from Berkeley."

It's hard to find sincerity at a distance, so I'm not going to look from faraway. Tunnel vision: I am basically blind in everything.

Anyways, I am going to try to have twenty pages for my project in advanced writing by Thursday night. I am currently on page five. I can't tell if it's going well.

The Noises of Limbo

Perhaps if I had a bottle to throw
I could step on top of the brown shards
Every crunch would be satisfying
Better than the buzzing
That appears somewhere between
that moment
—Oh please no
—Oh please I will
—Spit out the whiskey
—Wipe my eyes clean
It will be ten minutes ago.

I didn’t drink enough to have a bottle to throw
I have too much to drink to have a bottle to throw
My throat like a drain, my throat like a twist
My throat like a straw with a hole
cut in the middle.

I don’t condone violence.
The shatter might be too loud.
There can be a contest between the silence and the breaking.

Not to repeat myself or anything

I am okay. I thought I would wake up and not be okay, but I'm okay.

Things are way too loud when it is silent. I am doing homework for Tuesday right now. It's too much reading, I can't concentrate.

I volunteered to write posts on a feminist blog, so you should go look at it and read about fun feminist things. (I wrote on sex dolls).

My least favorite part of being a child was wanting to do things, but not being able to. I had this belief that I would get older and would be able to do everything. I feel crippled by my fear and passive approach to everything.

Control

I am controlling
all the wrong things.

I have a little black book
that I put the wrong things inside.
It's even the wrong little black book
with the wrong system of numbers
instead of letters.

I control my eyebrows too.
I have little black tweezers for that.
I control my eyebrows while I am controlling
all the wrong other things.

Control does not spread,
it goes against the tide.
Control is highly futile,
just like the things I cannot control.

I have a little poem by Sandra Cisneros that I am quite fond of. It's the first one on the page, "Waiting for a Lover."

Colin and I had a nice little talk over break and one of the things we talked about was how awful living in a dorm room is for you, or rather, living in a dorm room is for me. I sleep in bed, I do my homework in bed, I use my computer in bed, I watch movies in bed, eat in bed quite frequently, and thus mess up my entire system of functioning, then I stop functioning and this is why I seem depressed at school. Therefore, I have a goal of spending less time in bed this term. I'm not sure it will work.

Boredom and responsibility are the same thing for me just like altruism and selfishness.

For example:
I am bored and so I am going to sleep at a reasonable hour for my first day of classes. I don't even have a book I want to read.

For example:
I feel good when I am nice to people and they appreciate me, thus I practice altruism.

I'm not sure I am actually altruistic or responsible. Any ways, I am off to go be pseudo-responsible.

The Aftermath of Watching Shows about Big Families

The whole time all I could
think was jesus,
do they ever have it wrong.

Things that are making me happy right now

1. Lots of things.
2. I'm going to take a shower. One of the worst parts of train rides in sitting in the same air for hour upon hour.

My clarity was so beautiful and so momentary. Time for a nap despite the piles of clothes on my bed.

Necessary Vibration

Would it be better if
all the hummingbirds and all the honeybees
stopped buzzing?
A suddenly silent cacophony:
this too is staggering.

People make me really happy. I don't have anything to follow that statement with. It's just true.

Overwhelming Excitement

Martin gave a really nice description of anxiety the other day. He said that the reason people are anxious is because they are just really excited. I don't agree wholly, but for somethings it makes sense. I am nervous because I am excited. I just encountered a probably I've rarely had with this blog; I want to censor myself because it is too apparent what I am talking about and I'm excited so I'm nervous so I try to hide most of it, because the fact that I'm excited scares the fucking shit out of me. I will just go write an entirely obvious poem. That's an excellent solution.

Hurray! I got good grades! Now I am off to Coffee News with Danny. Hurray! Garlic fries! Danny! Coffee! News!

I should rename my blog to: Why I am Happy at this Moment

Inner heatlh

I survived my yearly physical. I was seeing spots in front of my eyes the whole time I was so scared. I related to the small child screaming in the bathroom because she didn't want to give a urine sample.

Now: Haircut, DMV