Last night I stayed up with my finger hovering on the “BUY” button on Depop. Will this grape Mariah Carey inspired butterfly top and coordinating thong bring me inner peace? The jury is still out. I have thought of styling the thong à la whale-tail, but in all my years of thrifting and online shopping I have yet to find a genuine pair of ultra low rise jeans. I’ve never been particularly attracted to my midsection, but sometimes if I have reservations around something I force myself to do it anyway, as a lil bit of informal exposure therapy. If we base our self worth on the opinions of others, then we end up listening to narc bros who made us feel like shit for eating pizza The line between body neutrality and positivity. I like clothes and I like wearing them, and sometimes I just try not to think about how they look on me or how I’m being perceived in them.
I am floundering, and the days blend together as I go about my lil tasks of trying to get myself to leave the house at least once a day, so that I can remind myself that I am living in addition to existing, and also so I don’t snap at my roommates. I am set to start a job in Burbank, which is exciting, the company sells an array of silk pillowcases, face masks, and eye masks. I’m hoping that if I’m nice enough, they will let me test drive the products hehe.
It’s been over a week since I quit smoking. I did not quit for the sake of my organs or longevity, but for fear of creating nasolabial folds. I have been highly interested in facial yoga as of late, and did not think it was wise to throw away what little strides I was making with an action which was literally setting me back! Also you stink. Your clothes stink, your hair stinks, everyone knows you stink, except you. And if you do realize it, then you try to mask the odor with a strong-smelling perfume, which gives you the aroma energy of a stinky bathroom smell being masked by Febreze. Quitting smoking forums are encouraging as they are depressing. The stark realization that you were filling your life with an addiction because it was a way to pass the time and avoid introspection. This past year has felt like nothing but boundless time. SO much waiting, and sitting. And waiting. And yearning. And missing people & places & new experiences.
I’m lucky to have gotten my vaccine a bit earlier due to essential work. But it’s been a bit of a mind f because in my head I’m like okay we’re good now, let’s get started on this new normal. But then remembering that the vast majority have still not received their vaccines, and the pain of waiting, and the pain of my Citizen app saying that there are now factory delays. It’s hard though to think of the ‘old days’ and how much sadness still plagued me then or uncertainty. Not knowing how to act in groups. Feeling sad for myself but then oscillating between that and being my own persecutor, telling myself to get over myself and stop feeling so comfortable in this black sheep victim chair, which I didn’t place myself in, but that I have the option to move from.
I think I miss getting ready and pre-gaming most. Which is funny because that is essentially already what being homebound has become. I think it’s the knowledge that you are going off somewhere with your friends. That good or bad, you’ll have a laugh over it. I did a virtual happy hour with a friend I’ve reconnected with from high school and it was so nice. We both bought cheap wine from our respective grocery stores, and cyber-stalked people who made us feel unworthy, people we hated, people we crushed on and/or are crushing on. Even if it’s just Bad Bunny.
They bulldozed my old high school building, which resided in the former Porter Middle School (or PMS as it was affectionately referred to) which was built in the 60s. I remember there being chipping paint and that in the bathrooms some of the windows opened. I remember sometimes I would go to the bathroom in the middle of class and would have the passing thought to escape prison break style. But now it is no more. Two of my former teachers have now quit in light of being expected back for in-person classes while the pandemic still rages in Texas. I don’t think any of my teachers liked me. Probably because I was a little shit due to mental-physical-spirtual disturbances from only sleeping for like five hours and not receiving emotional attunement. But we all have to grow and start from somewhere. ❤ A teacher I enjoyed for his being as socially awkward as we were, is now teaching at another school, and has pink hair. It made me think of Lady Gaga. He was from Washington, the harrowing place where I endured my soul-searching journey in 2019, as I attempted to gain access to enter the army base where I was born. I hope he is well, pink is always a sign of better times.
Looking forward to see where this job takes me. Feeling #blessed. Trying not to ruminate, trying not to fixate. Trying to be in this world but not of this world. Watched a very problematic Spanish film, Loco Por Ella which definitely is worth the distraction if not by its very absurd nature. Cheers X