a diagram categorizing my current anxiety level via amount of hair on the shower wall

 

' a diagram categorizing my current anxiety level via amount of hair on the shower wall':

check back for annotations on said hair

'haze yourself'

i think i want this to be the title of my memoir:

' i vacuumed up my lexapro by accident so i guess today will be an 'off day''

my caprese ( with turkey ) is usually accompanied by avocado but today the panini press in the cherry tree cafe was set to 250 degrees F instead of its usual 300 degrees. i noticed Vicki, who usually works  at the cash register, hadn't turned the knob all the way and currently, my roommate is trying to convince me out of having sex. well. actually, i have a sort of diatribe against having a 'sex life' because of the slew of emotional and anxiety inducing issues it would bring into my already wrecked mind. i ended my monologue by saying 'but i have to do it'. she responded with an appropriate 'wut'. i explained further that i needed to 'haze myself' (in the immortal words of mary bishop) by starting my 'sex life'.

here are some excerpts from the conversation verbatim:

'do you know how long it takes girls who for their own personal reasons freak out about sex, which regresses them'

'pushes women back the inner woman cult revolution womens rights movement pushes back'

'im literally writing everything down.'

'take it out if it sounds bad'


'expression oriented v goal oriented
-go through different mediums. writing is a different'
'coming of age, where you ...

'hey im

stalking my roommate. it's too easy. ""

end.

other stuff i want to remember later :

writing is a different means of self expression but i just
remember this: write out these posts on notebook paper (or digitally???) and incorporate them into prints. concept: the absurdity of us all having our own websites and excessive documentation becoming the 'norm'
think aesthetically with the concept in mind goddamnit
art is hard and no one cares about  it

'delighted by her own disgustingness'

i often (for lack of a better word), become 'obsessed' with certain people who (to my paranoid lil brain) render me socially awkward to the point of autistic due to my inability to construct complete thoughts around said people. currently i'm holding myself back from this 'obsessive' stage and limiting any similar behavior to being 'shy' as opposed to thinking about this person frequently and imagining him/her and i in various situations and conversations. currently the closest person to this is my professor who i don't so much think about but instead wonder whether this person is truly 'happy' in his life and speculate to what his agenda regarding his own happiness might be. it's also totally disconcerting that i 1) nap for approximately 4 hours every tuesday and thursday right before that class and 2) yearn to be in the crew of english lit majors (all male, coincidentally) that sits in the front 2 rows 3) consider taking recreational anti-anxiety meds in an effort to 'loosen up' before this one class that seems 'tense' (to me only, i'm sure). huh.

muhduh muduh keel keel keel

yeeeeooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

keel keel keel

1) should i take all my classes pass/fail
2) should i then fail all my classes
3) should i then actually put effort into www.nameyourprice.com and get paid to go on dates with relatively disgusting older men
4) should i then develop and underfunded coke habit
5) should i then enter a downward spiral culminating in an episode of redemption (filmed via nude vlog entries
6) should i then gain a rather large internet following
7) should i then go on a keeling rampage

currently scouting for a ~33 yr old boyfriend

the internet at this fucking starbucks is so fucking slow i want to punch the indian gentleman sitting next to me in his fucking face.

the prickles came back this morning and i contemplated having a beer or smoking a bowl by myself in an effort to 'relax'. however the self consciousness that comes from drinking a beer alone at 12 pm is almost double the original anxiety i am attempting to combat in the first place. currently i am trying to solicit $15 from either of my parents in an effort to buy a purse i completely don't need but feel a 'need' for. this is hour 4 of my date with myself. if this were a date with another person i would've found it a 'great first date' and texted the other party two days from now and given him book suggestions since i (we(?)) went to 'subterranean books' after 'beasts of the southern wild'. based on all of the praise i've heard surrounding the film, i was honestly expecting something a little more 'sweeping'; the budget allowed the filmakers however to utilize a more stripped down filming style and utilize minimal set design that actually supplemented the content of the narrative. the lil cutie that was nominated for an oscar deserved the oscar based on her cuteness and ability to remain a 9 yr old despite being filmed by 10+ cameramen. the father (wink(?) was his name? maybe?) was the most unnerving character, based on his fragile mental and later physical state. he was objectively unfit to be a parent but was able to sustain a bond w hushpuppy based on the premise of survival. ie, he enables her to live by providing food, shelter, etc, and withholds companionship, warmth, or any of the other 'modern' (from an evolutionary perspective) implementations of parenting. in that way, most of the film seems removed from contemporary society, and instead feels more like a mid 1850s swamp town or a post-apocalyptic new orleans. i also liked how the audience's interpretation of hurricane katrina was shunned completely and the shelter employees were briefly the 'bad guys' while the swamp-dwelling protagonists yearned (as did we, on their behalf) to return to their unhygienic and non-literary society in the bayou.

there is too much science for my lil brain!!

in no particular order here are the 'little things in life' to enjoy/look out for

-when i want to cancel plans w/ someone and they do before i have to
-when i am unsure about wanting to cancel plans w/ someone and they do before i have to
-eating in class
-eating in bed
-looking prettier than my enemies
-successful social interactions w adults
-going to bed hungry/on the verge of hunger (ie waking up skinny)
-finding candy/money/aderall
-good poops
-okay poops
-listening to a new artist and not immediately hating them
-emails from peggy
-mac n cheese at bd (friday)

im nervous about dying

i am a paranoid person. i have been paranoid all of my life for various reasons and at times the paranoia has objectively helped me but always always always gnaws at my inner monologue. in middle and high school i was paranoid about not having enough friends and have undiagnosed (varying from slight to severe) social anxiety. In high school, the end of this socially anxious period of my life (perhaps coincidentally) coincided with the beginning of my weed usage around 10th grade. Ironically, weed causes fits of paranoia, but seemed to help my sober state. My paranoia now centers around my reservations about art making and fully exerting myself academically for fear of 'choosing the wrong thing' to excel at. typing this out illustrates how much of a 'first world problem' this is and puts the problems of higher learning in a less severe perspective. my professors sense my growing fog of apathy via cognitive dissonance and goad the class frequently to 'commit to the material' and 'dont under estimate this class'. they are referring to me and me only and i will respond by returning to my introvert-roots and slowly absorbing material and hovering in the 'class average'

917 584 4893

the 'sorryhouse', 'muumuuhouse' and popserial publishing groups are (i guess) responsible for all of the
altlit' scene i am currently familiar with. tao lin is the most famous member (and will remain the most famous, i think) and one of the affiliated attractive twenty something living in bk posted his number and is seeking socialization. i'm tempted to respond and start a long distance relationship with him. i want to 'catfish' him so i can end up on the mtv series of the same name and meet nev shulman and his whipping boy max. i want to date the former using my long distance bf as lure and the 'switcharoo' will be so unexpected that nev will agree to go on a date with me in order to boost the ratings of his show. we will bond over our indian heritage (although he is ethnically jewish; perhaps he is an arab). i will use this tv exposure to fuel my internet presence and give up on ever having to get a real job.

i like being a girl and i am sexually attracted to men but i a hidden penis to swing at things and take fun dick pics for my own photo library. men dont take advantage of their penises (except maybe by imposing it on others in a sexual way) to my knowledge, and i think i would enjoy having one for the 'fun and creative' things i would do to said penis. i want to somehow take the sexual power and connotation away from the penis and see it for what it truly is: a hilarious fat little worm that should be wearing tiny outfits and pretending to read a tiny newspaper.

so i had this dream last night: ***disclaimer: i acknowledge that the 2 things no one cares about save f0r their own are dreams and poetry**

kurt cobain dressing as an elderly woman in order to acquire crack (or money of crack?? maybe just the crack i didn't really elaborate for myself mid-dream) as his crack addiction becomes more and more consuming, his state deteriorates to the point where he is recognizable as a crack addicted man despite the elderly lady outfit and makeup.


i want to write  a short film screenplay where a man (not kurt cobain) goes through the same thing but maybe instead of crack it could be a drug that's less 'hokey'. like crack is just lame at this point. heroin can still be sexy (see: heroin chic) if you've somewhat got ur shit together. but crack use is comedic (ironic crack use could be a funny thing??) maybe something like keyboard cleaner or nitrous?? (..are they the same?

am i motivated enough to write a screenplay???

n0 h0p3

facebook shouldn't have a 'status' option. instead people should be allowed only to post links and comment on such links. twitter should have a literacy/aptitude test before allowing people to create profiles. it should be mandatory that everyone keep a 'journal', online or otherwise.

my fear is that people think they are 'expressing' themselves through fb/twttr when really they are just re-hashing(re-hashtagging) tiny events in their day that say nothing about who they are or how they feel. i'm not totally 'bummed out' about this however, the dullness that shrouds my peers allows others to shine brighter perhaps?????? this is an uncharacteristically positive view

how many mg of prozac is the obama family on collectively

there's too many politics in the world for my lil brain!!!

for most days this week, i have somewhat purposefully gone to bed hungry, knowing this will be last week i have a limited selection of food available and thus could loose a couple lbs relatively easily. on the mornings following these hungry nights, i would wake up surprisingly satiated and, according to me, a bit thinner. yesterday, however, i decided to be 'normal' and eat a light dinner. this morning, i floated out of bed a stinging, bloated mass, hovering above my bed in pain before drifting downstairs despite dizziness and back/neck pains. the pain spread form my stomach to my uterus(?) resulting in a brief and always hilarious pregnancy scare. ive spent the past ten hours mostly horizontal, wincing in pain and farting un-satisfyingly at random intervals. it also hurts to breathe deeply or even somewhat deeply. in case i am dying, refer back to my last post as a suicide note-equivalent.

i think in tweets now--is this what a coma feels like / bob loblaw

2 weeks of the past 4 have involved blanketing myself in a silence that comes only with a fluctuating family situation, wealth, depression, and long-distance travel. nothing like a visit to your third-world country of origin to remind yourself just how different you are from your white middle/upper class friends. this silence is punctuated only by ~40 episodes of arrested development watched in 5 hour increments in a cerebral palsy like trance that can be achieved only through desperation at a 6 yr old nugget of pop culture that 'culture' actually got right. Occasionally during the two weeks, I have ventured out into the surrounding town of Hopkinsville, KY, to one of a handful of places: taco bell (drive thru), subway, the ymca, wal-mart, kroger, or my dad's office. The latter (grammatically correct to say the latter in a sequence?). Although this is objectively depressing, my increased lexapro dosage is still a new and exciting regimen to my life, and the extra serotonin has helped me adapt and sustain a voyeuristic view of my current situation. After busting my knee via severe constipation, I laid off the lexapro for 2 days because they induce nausea and constipation. during the two days, i initially felt no different and perhaps even in an elevated mood (although this could have been in part to the extra positive attention I was receiving from my overly and unfortunately doting parents). the bookend to our trip to india bookended these two days, and it was at the hyderabad airport that i felt myself slipping into a panic that rendered me literally speechless. the anxiety i'd been subduing for the past 5 weeks of medication enveloped me once again in its prickly arms. I quickly slipped another tablet and within minutes felt calm once more. The speed at which the drug took hold clued me in on its at least somewhat placebo affects, but I was comforted, and that was all that mattered. on the 16 hr flight I slipped two nyquils and awoke only for the 3 in-flight meals, my circadian rhythm embarrassingly primed for adorably plated yet unappetizing plates. after coming to what i consider home (nashville), i was prepped for 2-3 hours with my friends. i settled into bed to rest my throbbing head, and woke up 7 hours later once again to angry parents. after 2 weeks hanging out exclusively with my parents, i became aware two possible scenarios: 1. i love hanging out with my parents, who are hilarious and loving people that genuinely want whats best for me and the people they surround themselves with
2. i am so good at adapting to a given circumstance that i could have spent 2 weeks with anyone + lexapro and had a great time.

either way, the first day back in america seemed bleak in comparison to the warm, sociable, and colorful climate that had so readily taken me in.

the past few days have been better. i am nestling back into my thick blankets of silence, attempting on 3 occasions to listen to music only to shut it off and drift back into the noiseless void of tumblr, thought catalog, vice, and fashion blogs. somehow i think i enjoy reading about music more than actually listening to music.

it's almost like, there is too much good music in the world so why even try to pick some of the vast selection available via blogs, spotify, torrents. etc . but this is how apathy crept into my life and has since loosened it's knot tied around my neck but not enough for me to slip my head through to the other side.

sigh that's a really emo/gai image but i think it 'works' in the context of the rest of this post. although im going to be the only person reading this. me and me in 3 years stalking my 2013 internet presence and finding that i was clever but too lazy for it to matter. which is coincidentally the same thing 55 yr old me reflects on while absentmindedly staring at a blank word document.