And this is where the dream gets meta. At this point, I, as the dreamer, am vaguely aware of the situation at hand. I am watching this girl trying to fight for her life, yelling 'flower power', trying to make anything happen. She’s fighting a losing battle, but she can prolong evading the guys waiting to kill her. I can prolong the guys waiting to kill her, but then I would have to watch her suffer indefinitely, always in torment, always afraid, but still she would be alive. I had to a choice to make when I don’t usually have choices in dreams, to continue her torment or end it.

So in the haze of control, I decided to end the dream, and I had to watch them kill her. I didn’t enjoy it, but I knew there was only one way out, and it needed to end. Which is the moral dilemma behind it all. Is it better to live in torment and live or to die and end it?

It just felt so necessary to have an ending, even if it wasn’t one that I wanted.

I’m approaching yet another ending. Summer is fleeting, for me at least. This week, I pack up twice—from New York to Maryland—and from Maryland to Massachusetts. I have to count myself lucky that all my endings have been at a good point. The alternative is and would be so much worse. I had this thought settled in my head that New York, in the end, wasn’t for me, wasn’t the place for me to spend my youth. Because I haven’t been the me I remembered being in London. I’ve made so many strides this year, and talking to Alyssa, I’ve realized that I’m comparing incomparable things. My growth in London can’t be replicated here because growing doesn’t work linearly. And I had already made up my mind a month ago, but now that I’m here at the end, I’m not sure that I was right at all.

I write this in the peak of a cold, coughing every second, and drinking tea to soothe my chest. I had to splurge and spend $40 on the really good medicine so I could thug it out for me and Maya’s going-away party tonight.

I said to myself, I haven’t grown in the ‘Big Apple’. That I haven’t put myself out there more, or made more music, or written more pieces. But that’s really just summer. I was overzealous to blame so much on a place I’ve only been in for 2 1/2 months. As things are, I’ve realized a lot about myself. About the alone time I actually enjoy when I have freedom at my disposal. And like London, I’ve met so many amazing people once again.

When I meet people whose company I enjoy, I latch on like a docking spaceship onto a bigger satellite. I latch, but I won’t click unless the alignment is perfect. In the past week, I’ve met so many people I would kill to get to know better. And yes, it’s sad that I’m leaving, and I can’t for sure know if these people feel that pull that I do to want to see them again. But all I can do is try and try to make it known. I understand I ride this line of seeming clingy and wanting to reach out and make connections. It’s why I’ve banned myself from randomly insta-dming people I’m interested in (first) — the ‘first’ is very important because I love random messages, but historically this has never worked for me, and there’s only so many times you can repeat a mistake before it’s no longer a mistake and just embarrassing.

I want to be optimistic and hope that my leaving isn’t the end of these budding relationships I made, and that if I find myself back in New York, we could pick up where we left off, and that they would want to. But that kind of assurance only comes around through mutual understanding and love. The problem, in part, is that I always have so much love to give and will always give it. I can only hold out and hope that the future is well. I can’t make any promises

As I leave, I also leave behind the only boy on the hinge I have gone three dates with. Who is so kind and sweet and makes me painfully awkward than I usually am. I think about him, and all I have is this deep admiration for how whole of a person he is and how the next person he meets would be so, so lucky to have him in their lives. There is no future for us, and I knew that for a really long time. There was no chance of hooking up or anything along those lines, weirdly, that seems impure to put those desires onto him, which is why I know we haven’t spent enough time together for me to strip him down to the human basics of desires. I wish him all the best and am endeared to his love of movies that mirrors mine.

In a way, I mourn all the people I’ve met and refused to let go as passersby and condemned them to the graveyard that is my Instagram dm’s. That random guy I met from UMD or the niche micro rattail musician. The girls I met in line or at an event, bellbottoms who I’m not sure still has a girl but texted anyways because I was drunk, or the acquaintances that I want to become friends with so I try to play cool so I don’t seem overbearing and am left with conversation stoppers lying dead in their tracks met with a seen or a reaction emoji.

But I appreciate mourning the way that I appreciate embarrassment. It means there was something meaningful to chase and to leave behind. Sometimes all you can do is mourn good times, even though they were good.

This is a year of goodbyes, but I would be lying if I didn’t admit I always loved the death in it. One of my favorite cards in the tarot deck is XIII DEATH. Not in a cryptic emo sort of way, but because it always means new beginnings.

I was going to wait to post this post until after I saw the Jeff Buckley movie 'It’s Never Over, Jeff Buckley' tomorrow, and after we had thrown our going away party to give some perspective, but I am deeply and always impatient.

This is my last side note, but last night, congested with my cold, I was thinking about alcohol. I don’t know if I can say this past month has been the most alcohol I’ve consumed because I’ve had some pretty nonstop weeks in London, but I’ve had a lot of alc (sue me) recently. And it made me realize that my alcohol knowledge is built on other people. Alcohol has always been a blank slate for me. Gross liquors that taste like death and things to scarf down to make Western Massachusetts college parties bearable. But I have this list of associations in my head that I accidentally made, and here it is

☆ Pacificos - First time I had one was last week, when I went to buy more beer for a house party I was at. Zoe was waiting for her bus, but she tagged along with me to the corner store. I asked her what I should buy, which is kind of a hit or miss question for me to ask Zoe, but she pointed at the Pacificos and said that only people with taste buy those. So I bought them.

☆ Guinness - Will always remind me of Vivian (the German). I broke my Guinness virginity with her at a pub on the edge of Victoria Park. We sat at that pub for hours just talking and her telling me about her love triangles and so many other things. It was a really pivotal moment in our friendship. It’s quite honestly the only beer she drinks; she cannot do lagers.

☆ White wine - also Vivian, when she wasn’t drinking Guinness, it was always a white wine, plus she HATED red wine.

☆ Amaretto Sour - The first time I had one was also this summer. Alyssa put me on. She said it used to be her go-to drink, and it’s like really yummy. I think it was our first official drink together, and it was the night we joy bonded. Now we just randomly love bomb each other.

☆ French 75 - Also had my first one with Alyssa, but more so I’m reminded about how my roomate Aurdey told me she got too drunk in France off of these

☆ Beef Broth Shots - I took these with Alyssa and Audrey, and two of us would say they were horrendous and bad, and Alyssa would just say they were amazing.

☆ Soju - The first time I had soju Lia brought it for us. So they are forever interwined with the memory of her. But among that, it really reminds me of London and Maya’s dorm at UCL. It reminds me of London, Lana, and Maya.

☆ Tequila - This reminds me of Alyssa because she cannot tolerate it in any form. If tequila touches her lips, she’s going down.

☆ Vodka - This reminds me of a plethora of people, including Sophie. Very much Smith College coded. But most of my friends are committed that they will never again do shots of vodka.

☆ Moscow Mules - Lana is a big fan of these, or she was when we were in London. I think it’s one of the first drinks she learned how to make on her bartending journey. I think of her whenever I order one, and it’s such a safe bet because they never usually taste horrendous.

☆ G&Ts - This was Maya’s go-to for a bit in London, easy to make, easy to drink. I think of her when I order one.

☆ Aperol Spritz - Zoe again. We had an Aperol spritz run that ended in Berlin night after night getting drunk off of 3 euro spritz. Too much.

☆ Sangria - I am reminded of Spain. Maya and Maya, Bridgit, Zoe, and Vivian. Such a fun and festive drink. We were all chasing the feeling of summer then, I’m sure of it.

☆ Beerita - This is Maya’s (J) specialty. She made it for us at this hangout in Victoria Park. A crazy hot day in London (it was probably only 70), but me Vivian and got so drunk and it was just so peaceful and nice.

☆ Blue Moon - This reminds me of Alex and Paul. The weekend our band had our first gig, we were shuffling through names, and Paul had come to visit. I wanted so badly to see Sapien Joyride because of my celebrity crush (a white masc, let’s not speak of it) and Alex and Paul offered to go with me. We never made it outside of Wilson House. But we had heard tales of a secret catering kitchen with all the alcohol you can imagine from a secret staircase. We eventually found it and stole some blue moons to get drunk off of, maybe along with other stuff. It was a really chill night, odd in so many ways, but nice in others

☆ These random canned flavored margaritas - AC was fiending over these things at this house party. I have no clue what brand they were, but they were so good.

☆ Bailey’s - This will probably always and only remind me of my brother and his wife. This was like one of the only times I’ve drunk alcohol with an adult, and it was cute having that moment with them

I’ve said goodbye to a lot of these people, will say goodbye to others. But there are a lot of hellos on the way (cheesy cheesy). But if you made it this far, true dedication on your part, thank you!

So I preemptively say goodbye to this chapter in life and wait for the next goodbye to hit me.

Saturday, I went to a house party that AC invited me to. This is also the night, after almost a year, that I found out what AC stood for. But she told me that she feels caught up in my life because of my posts. Which is incredibly kind, but I am overwhelmed by the feeling and the fact that there is much of my life I haven’t documented. People I haven’t documented that I met and revolved around. It’s a combination of being too busy and not busy enough.

Since I’ve started this post…

I’ve gotten buzzed because I can do that now as a legal 21 year old. Crazy work. This will speak to the disjointed nature of this post. An amalgamation of things, and an excuse for me to write. I’m sitting at the living room table with soju open in front of me, the Talking Heads playing in the background. I sat down for 6 minutes on a voice memo, hoping to say something profound, I didn’t. Here are some quotes from that

This last one was about a boy I follow on Spotify, and I think he has an obscure music taste. I found him on Hinge and sent a like, not to go on a date, but to strike a conversation. I have this weird relationship with people on my Spotify. I have Spotify celebrities. There’s something so vulnerable about a Spotify. About a person’s music, which is why I am a certified music stalker, and also partially why I live under the assumption that I know a person after going through their playlists. And I guess as I’m sitting here on this couch and all I really want to do is connect. I want to connect to the people I know and love, but won’t respond to my text messages because they’re busy or not on their phones. To the people I’ve never met before, but I knew from afar, and the people I have met before, but are not close with.

I sit here wanting to talk, but I can’t, so instead I write this stream of consciousness. And I find that I’m not much of anything right now. A blob of a person who claims to be many things and has nothing recent to show for it. Music, writing, and films. I find that my writing has grown so much worse. I read things I wrote from a year ago and think that I can never replicate the way I travel through words and my growing curiosity in tone and sound. I fear I feel like every other person talking colloquially to their blog.

I recently discovered the roof of our building, and I’m trying to integrate it as a 3rd space. I’ve deprived myself of the sun because we don’t get it directly in our apartment, and I’ve been too lazy to go outside. I’m trying to rediscover pieces of me that I lost. And I have to admit, maybe that’s not the best way of thinking about it, it’s a little defeatist and self-pitying, but I will write poetry more and to you more, my dear reader. (Forgive me, I am tipsy.)

Here are things I wrote today on the roof as the sun set

This upcoming semester, my last year, I have resolved to write a thesis around the absurd. Absurdism and the absurd. And while I was on the roof, sober but bathed in a sliver of the moonlight, I was thinking about romance, a thing that I have rarely experienced, but know from many sources that it really fucks you up. I sit there and I wonder if I had the chance to experience it, in what ways would it warp the world around me? I wonder if I had the chance to experience romance, would life and everything in between still be so absurd? In a way, I hope the answer is yes. Because if I find that things start to make sense, then I have given life more credit than it was due.

I tried to get my guitar teacher to teach me this song once, and he was mystified by it. unwilling to give the chords and progressions a shot. I have to admit, it is a very hard song, but I am utterly in love with it.

This post is in part a post to say that I posted. I am about to make a promise that all writers make, and it’s to write more.

Guys and maybe justin bieber doesn’t suck. Maybe really we’re all on the same wavelength

like come on, mk.gee’s guitar?

again i have succumbed
sworn up and down
for months on end to never turn back

learned my words are easily swayed
and that in a few weeks, the cycle will repeat again

i will delete this moment in time
swearing to never return

but in a perfect world my words would be as sturdy as that brick house the wolf could not blow down
in a perfect world my attachment to serendipity would
and could only exist in its truest form
face to face
words to mouth
from conception to inception

This may sound stupid, but I just got my hair done, and it’s new in a way that I’m not comfortable in it yet. So effectively, I feel like a catfish when I get online. I fear this moment in time being slightly different from the mes that exists in different moments in those photos that make my profile are inauthentic and a lie. But that’s not true.

Either way, time and time again, Hinge does disappoint. For some reason, the gayness has partially left my body this year (this sounds problematic but I really think it’s the sexuality is a spectrum specturming in one way for a bit) and it traps me because men kind of suck, in the nicest way possible. This time around on Hinge has technically been better than my other ones, more matches, more hot people, but still, no dates.

Well, one date. It was a nice date, a normal date. a little akward meeting a person for the first time and sweating your ass off in 90 degree weather. But he taught me a nice game of idiot, and we stared at the water off the pier that looked like wrinkled paper or topography. We were supposed to go on another one, but he’s currently sick, so again my lack of object permanence brings me down to square one. This is not from a lack of trying. I’ve gotten bold! cutting through most of the bull and just straight up asking to go on a date.

I was almost embarrassed by that, but drunk me only does things sober me wants to do. After two days of no response, I gave up on that pretty quickly. After a week, he finally did respond and said he would love to! I hate playing the wait to respond game because it’s either I respond when I want or I’ll forget. You should never limit your personality for another person! Fuck a game you don’t want to play. That being said, I responded, and now we’re back to no response. While I think this boy is cute, he might be a little evil, and I’m annoyed.

Everyone else on Hinge also doesn’t want to talk, and maybe it’s because they choose to match with people they’re not into and can’t be bothered to give the time of day to. But speculation speculation.

So technically I’m dating again, but only so much of that I can claim if I don’t go on another date. But I can’t give up, I’ve been in at least 5 different relationships in my dreams in the past week, some of the guys from Love Island, some people I’ve never seen before, and even yesterday night, Pedro Pascal. The universe is trying to send me messages in my dream, its telling me that im really horny.

I have landed back in the land of imperialism and consumerism. And even before I left, I knew deeply in my soul, I would miss London. I have lost and found different aspects of myself. I barely read, I barely write or make music—but as a person, I really feel I’ve grown—you’ll have to bear with me, I haven’t written in a bit, so my prose is a bit rusty. I’m at a peculiar bit of my life, things are ending, and many more things will end. When I first arrived in London my first dream was about leaving, finding myself in the airport, shocked that it all went so fast because I remembered nothing. I remember a lot, but it really does already feel like a memory. Being back in Maryland, it’s like the past five months didn’t happen. Every place I visit, I remember the last time I was there, and it feels like yesterday. Whenever I return home, the rest of the world feels so far away. It feels like Smith isn’t real or London isn’t real. I’m happy to be back. I haven’t seen so much green in forever, but still, I’ll have to grieve eventually.

I’ve been holding onto my jet lag because it’s the last gift I have from London. But my body is easily falling back into the familiarity of Eastern Standard Time

I am lucky because I did make friends who are amazing. Even luckier because some of them are American and won’t be lost by the act of me leaving—but everyone else…damn. The last time I wrote on here was before I went to Berlin (where many things happened and have fundamentally shaped my experience, the people I spend time with, and the people I miss). I’m being vague, I know it, about who I’ll miss, I think I refuse to fully examine it because I’ll have to confront all the ways I’m losing amazing and varied people. I’ll miss the Germans: Max and Vivian (with her stop making sense neck tattoo), and the Brits: Dan, Sophia, Declan, Anthony, (too many of them to name).

Maya, not the one who’s been brought up many times on my Substack, another Maya, likes to describe being in London as being in a la la dreamland, her reasons are stronger than mine (she found a British boyfriend), but I’d have to agree. I’m not the me I usually am, and the people don’t act like I would’ve thought they would at one point.

I’m in this really precarious position where my usual view of myself isn’t reflected in my perceived personality. It’s always hard for people to believe me when I say I’m on a journey to become more extroverted. Apparently, I’m already there. I’m so used to not being able to say much, even if I wanted to, or racked with a weird sense of anxiety and embarrassment. Especially at Smith, being in conversations with people I wanted to like and sitting in my silence because my brain refuses to synthesize thoughts. But I’ve realized that’s less of a problem with me and more of I just couldn’t fit into those pieces I wanted to. Smith College will never be enough for me, and it sounds a bit mean to say, but I’m appreciative of what it could give me, and in other ways, it would never be enough. I’ve come to terms with not feeling wanted there, feeling overextended, trying to be around people who I’m not sure we have much of a future together. My last year at Smith this coming fall will be many things. I expect to have no romance, because that’s the nature of my beast. I expect to spend less time with people, because I’m sick of the uncertainties when I’m sure I know the people who want to be around me, and that’s enough. And most of all, I expect it to end. So I have to enjoy it, because I’ll be happy to leave it, which is a crazy thing to say, because I have no clue what I’ll do after I graduate.

Stuck in my back and forth between the two majors I’ve chosen because there’s not much of a middle ground between Astronomy and English. But I know, no more small towns for me, and no more predominantly white lesbians. You remember how I said this was going to be my whore-mester, well like yes, I was over exaggerating and overzealous. I’ve been normal, I have kissed more people here than in my entire Smith career, which is why and how I know the problem is not me. Which is why I’m going to be in New York for the summer. I’m disillusioned enough not to count this move as a romanticization. New York is a place. A place where I can have my summer freedom, my 21st birthday with people that I like, an internship that will hopefully give me insight, and the stimulation of things that I know Maryland or Smith can't supply for me right now.

I’ve recently been so secure, it’s nice. I have this year, many times over, caught myself in a moment where I realized that I might be loved (is that too strong of a word?). Immense gratitude was felt when Vivian, Max, and Zoe helped me move my luggage down the stairs, when Declan (Brit) took the things I couldn’t throw away, and my calculator, which I hope he returned to Amazon. Obviously I’m still a person and I have doubts and insecurities—am I too loud right now? am I making sure people are comfortable? am I being considerate?—but I’m never worried about who does and doesn’t like me (until I am), it’s so great! to not have that wondering of words and actions not aligning. I’ve deeply learned to take people for what they are, and for the first time in my life, I haven’t experienced fomo, even in being alone.

Zoe really wants me to spill tea on here, and I would argue not much tea to spill, but I would kind of be wrong. But I won’t talk about the guys that I kissed, the grueling sickness that gave me an inhaler, or the interesting brits because I have nothing profound to say about it. Coming to London, I was set on this mission to get better at interacting with men (I’m fine with gay men) because Smith has severely messed with my socialization skills. I would like to say I succeeded, but I still accidentally find myself objectifying men and inadvertently flirting with them. Vivian likes to point out that I constantly sound like Amelia Dimoldenberg. Zoe doesn't like to believe I’m as into men as I say that I am, but it’s all whatever.

Speed run of things I did: I saw mannequin pussy again, and was at barricade for Kneecap, downloaded hinge and went on like three dates let a bum sleep over while I was traveling to Spain, promptly deleted hinge. Did karaoke, did not go to classes, went to many open decks with Zoe, did speed and ket for the first time (was supposed to do MDMA with Maya, rip), watched as my friends got interview by a tiktoker, poppers (again, but never again), Spain, Portugal, only got like throw up drunk twice, drunk texted, and gained like so many insta followers of people I might never see again.

@hazzythehypeman#fyp #usa #america #americatiktok #state #attractive #newyork

Tiktok failed to load.

Enable 3rd party cookies or use another browser

But wait, we did see King Krule on the overground last month and it was the best and worst thing to happen to me. We didn’t talk to him because we were arguing about whether or not it was him. I spent many of the remaining weeks praying and actively trying to run into him again. I watched his saxophonist’s show, Galgo, and the girl he’s seeing (who is fine as hell) now follows me on insta. I met Kit Young at a pub (none of my friends but Sophie, who was there with be knew who that was) and went back to an afters at his friends place where I watched him and someone else do some glorious British drugs, I did the smallest amount—I felt nothing, he also follows me on insta now too. Arguably, the saddest part of my time in London is not seeing Kit Conner </3.

Anyways, tomorrow I will be leaving again, packing another bag for another city. I hope it goes well, hope it is a swell summer. Most of all, I hope to write about it, to have something to write about. Writing is fun when I don’t wait months and have huge thoughts that can only be stated generally, instead of as a funny anecdote. I’ll have to pick up habits I lost again. Writing music, journaling (writing 23 pages about Berlin burnt me out for months), and reading. Pray for me!

Hey! thanks for 100 subscribers, this is not the juicy post the news should be met with, but hold out until the next one (It’ll probably be a photo dump, don’t hold out too hard).

this is an experiment, a night out with me on Valentine’s day

i plan to get drunk, i plan to have fun and meet people those are all of my goals

i don’t know exactly what ill do tonight or who ill end up with. i’ve been to heaven too many times already. no more, i put my foot down

i have to remember to email morgan back before monday

7:35 pm

i’ve asked nandi to pray for my success tonight

me and maya have decided to bar hop. i’ve asked both zoe and sophie what they’re doing tn, no response— will have to hope for the best

i’m racked with the throws that i have nothing to wear

i am dead sober

8:33 pm

i’m about to head out to take the tube to maya

i just groveled on the ground praying to god, the universe, guardian angel, and my ancestors for a good night out

i am drinking bad wine that i bought from the school store i feel nothing yet

8:56 pm

the tiniest of bit tipsy, i’m sitting in the overground waiting for the train to turn around again. i’ve decided to come out in my puffer and it’s so warm! but wow do i have broad shoulders — its a men’s xs. i’m thinking of changing seats

9:12 pm

still on the overground, zoe responded! she has a date with a guy named fish. how entertaining!

10:02 pm

a boy from class followed me on letterboxd, how did he find me

me and maya are at wendy’s1

10:43 pm

step 1: vibes

step 2: hot peopleeee

looking

smoking cig out side of simmons

game plan. find hot person make eye contact wait till they approach you or approach them but they should approach you - me and maya

11:02 pm

no hotties

many bald guys very old ppl

had a yummy drinkkkk

great music tho

all the shawties went low. what do they knowww they’re all whiteeee 2

11:15 pm

tried to go to roxy. line and a ticket boooo3

going to another simmons maybe more promising

11:53 pm

boooo4

some ugly guy tried to dance with us😔 we had a g&t but i can’t even feel it so saddddd. the lexington save ussss

12:52 am

not too shabby some guys not our type tried to chat us up5

1:39 am

ordered an aperol pray for us6

1:47 am

vibes are good, no make out :(7

2:26 am

im working on it and maya is making out!!!8

artf pull through

3:08 am

i lost my north face and i miss it dearly, i stole another coat. this is not good

i talked to maya’s guys he’s nice. i like him, his friend chatted me up does not like me9, avoided me. rip no make out, no jacket im sad until im not10. the guy following me around scaryyyyyyy

not such a success

3:35 am

on the bus. night not a success so sad, no make out lost my jacket, got a new fracet butt it’s hugeeeee need to buy a new jacket 😔

valentine’s day not a success was stalked by a guy very scary very loser behavior but i liked the guy maya met, good night better luck next time

3:50 am

at maya’s dorm now,

reflections: this jacket i took instead is COMICALLY LARGE i took more L’s than i did W’s tn. fuck art he pinky promised me with thumb11 to find me again and he avoided me. i can’t mourn over that i just think he’s a pussy should’ve been straight up. i met some really nice girls one just turned 40 she was telling me it’s not about the end because then you get disappointed which j was but it was about the journey but in the journey i lost my jacket and my scarf and maya also lost her scarf. in a perfect world one of the bouncers will call/text me in the morning telling me they found something but for now i go to sleep sad having lost a coat i barely had for a week

pray for me, my prayers don’t seem to be going in myself. also that guy chasing me around sooooooo creepy

songs from last night:

Sierra Leone - Frank Ocean

Blood Diamonds from Sierra Leone - Kanye

Two Doors Down -Mystery Jets

Iris - Goo Goo Dolls

Hotel California - Eagles

Sunny - Bobby Hebb

Fill Me up Buttercup - The Foundations

My Girl - The Temptations

I think I miss being drawn to people. I think the mysticism of life has been so fleeting. I used to believe some feelings were so strong that two people had to be able to both feel it. That some people could work so well that every talking moment, every almost touch felt like letting two magnets find each other. And I would like to believe that these things are still true but in it’s absence, you forget they exist.

— Me late july

I think I’m finding my way back to this. I wasn’t wrong when I said you can tell if another person is into you, it’s as tangible as the air you breath, so palpable that you can’t touch it but feel it sift through your body and invade your mind. Although sometimes, it’s easier than that—men just stare at you to signal they want to kiss—SO scary.

I know my life is not a book with predetermined chapters or, a story that follows a three structure triangle but there are themes. They reoccur like an easter egg in your favorite show. and I’m dialed in. I’m visible.

At the end of my last post, I said I need to learn to love embarrassment, and I really took it to heart, much to my own surprise. I haven’t felt this excited since my freshman year of high school. It’s my personal goal not to shy away from embarrassment but to seek it out. To do it, over and over again. It used to be scary to say, scary to commit to but the fleeting nature of being in this city really does give me the freedom I need.

Regardless my title is a bit misleading. I came up with the name before I fully wrote down the thoughts that came along with it. The men, i’ve heard of and met have been quite weird, or maybe exactly what you expect them to be. I have two friends that have been cool girled by two separate guys.

Men always say that as the defining compliment, don’t they? She’s a cool girl…because Cool Girls are above all hot. Hot and understanding. Cool Girls never get angry; they only smile in a chagrined, loving manner and let their men do whatever they want. Go ahead, shit on me, I don’t mind, I’m the Cool Girl.

Laying in my dorm room, cold rainy Friday, I got high off of the edibles I snuck in (to the country, oops). In my semster goal to engage in more art my high time is my movie time. I do think I should stop doing this because I really do think too much when I get high. An over analyzer—I can’t tell when things are satire, leaning into camp, or a male fantasy.

Charlie recommended me, Redline. Which was a pretty fun movie but it is about racing and a cool guy, with unshakable cool morals who is the best racer ever. It was a man movie. JP was always going to win the race, get the hot girl who’s so cool and so hot and sexy BUT WAIT she’s not just cool, hot and sexy! She has drive she has goals, she wants to win this race too. But she was never going to win. JP quite literally wins the girl and the race with her as an armpiece.

The boys in my film class, and weirdly other boys I’ve talked to really enjoyed A Complete Unknown. I didn’t think of it as a man movie when I saw it, but now, it must’ve been! I have minute qualms with this move. Timothee did his best but Bob should’ve been played by someone else because at the end of the day I don’t see Bob Dylan but Timothee Chalamet playing Bob Dylan. The women in the movie were written pretty weirdly. Most of their acting wasn’t in their words but with their faces, which would be fine but it feels like they weren’t given the grace to expand their characters on screen but off to the side. And overall Bob Dylan is a dick who makes good music. Anyways, it’s really easy to categorize men and pretend that I understand them but I recognize in a sense this might be an overgeneralization.

But I do have a story to tell! A few weeks ago I ended up at a house party/pre game for Heaven (once again). Me and Maya spent half of the night confused about whose house we were actually at. “He’s in bell bottoms,” “He has scary green eyes”. When I finally located the culprit, I didn’t realize his eyes but definitely noticed the bell bottoms—Kendrick wore them better.

I was particularly social that night and didn’t really start up conversations until the bus ride to. We ran into other smithies which, to explain how out of the blue it all was would not suffice. These smithies were abroad in a different part of the UK and to end up on the same night, going to the same club, at the same time, on the same bus—too much. But gay people will always end up flocking to gay spaces.

Bellbottoms (this is what I will be referring to him as) was excited to go to Heaven and get hit on by a guy, his friend shared the same sentiments. I thought this was amusing, how could I not make fun of this?

I asked “So you want to get hit on by a guy but not make out” to which I received many no’s because they were not gay! I am devoutly on the side of committing to a bit, so I spent much of that night—before we split up—telling the guys they had to make out with someone.

When we finally got off the bus, I ended up walking next to Bellbottoms striking up a conversation. I don’t know if it was the act of bantering but a switch had flipped in my head and suddenly he was cute. I express this to Lana who tries to deter me “Kaday you just spent the whole night calling him gay, I swear he was going to cry.” It didn’t matter we lost half of our group quickly on arrival.

So at the end of the night in a drunken state, I find his Instagram and request to follow. It took five full days for me to say fuck it and dm him—again I was drunk. It then took two more days for me to ask to hang out and firmly place my intentions of a date by asking for drinks.

I got rejected! It was a nice rejection that really annoyed me, so I gave a 3-word response. I decided that was embarrassing, putting myself out there. I tossed in my bed and let out multiple sighs of exasperation. Was the problem me? Was he being nice? Talking to me out of pity? Am I not pretty enough? I wish I had pretty privilege. The whole thing annoyed me so much that I was determined, I was never going to speak to this guy again.

This is the evil part—In a few weeks, I’m going to Berlin with a uni club. They were, in part, throwing an event that some friends and I decided to go to. The whole thing was a bust. We were barely drunk, the place was smaller than expected, emptier than expected. But we paid six pounds and it was late. We had to commit to the bit. 40 ish minutes in I spot a familiar face and I brush it off because I can’t place it. And then I spot a face I can place. Bell. fucking. Bottoms. A sick joke from the universe. Again to reiterate, the same night, going to the same club, at the same time—what are the odds? Out of anything a person could be doing Saturday night—we were both at the same shitty club. We didn’t even go to the same school and had no correlations.

It was the last thing I wanted, I was already embarrassed. It felt like being in grade school and everyone knows who your crush is but you’re actively trying to get everyone to keep quiet. Facing him would’ve meant facing my rejection and you don’t go out on a Saturday night to face rejection, you go out to run from it. But alas there was no avoiding it.

Weirdly he was super nice and friendly about the whole thing. Almost excited to see me. I’m sure we had possibly made eye contact before that moment, so maybe he had a chance to think about it. But he hugged me, twice very enthusiastically. And like magic, those texts beforehand seemed all so trivial.

He tells me “I have a girl, that’s why I can’t link” which has a million different connotations that I refuse to get into. But we talk, and I’m a social person so I joke. He again wants to go to heaven—but does not want to kiss a man? Eventually, we end up shaking hands to solidify an agreement of some sort. He gives me a high-five but he insists we have to do it again because “it’s not real unless we interlock hands.”

This man is evil

and I don’t think he deserves rights

Bringing me to a point, sometimes people are evil. Sometimes, men are evil. And they know it or they don’t. I don’t think I was crazy when the idea of DMing him came into my head. I think there is an inherent transcendent thing that we as people pick up on. But what this night really taught me was that I wasn’t the problem!

Seeing Bellbottoms I thought something out in the universe was taking the piss out of me, but now I’m just grateful. I’ve never been over something so quickly and I’m excited to be in discomfort, distress, humiliated even.

Which is what I did today. Remember the guy I met down at the gig in Soho and my failed double texting. I’m over that too, but I still mourn the possibility of our friendship. He has something that I want—connections and knowledge. So even though I’m not reaching out for the same reason I did initially because you can’t crush on a guy you don’t hear from—I want to be friends. And so I’ve done the infamous and controversial: triple texting.

What’s the worst he can do, ghost me? He’s done it before. The way I see it, it was either miscommunication or he’s homophobic. And in either case, I refuse to be in the wrong. Being brave,I’m not going to spontaneously combust into flames for doing something I wanted to do even though it’s slightly humiliating. To be embarrassed: “a feeling of self-consciousness, shame, or awkwardness” is the antithesis of the quote from Eleanor Roosevelt “no one can make you feel inferior without your consent.”

I don’t consent.

I’ve been writing a lot of music since being around, so in a forgotten spirit on my substack here are some songs. I wrote two of when I was sick. Again in the spirit of the blog, not produced and from my voice memos

My next post might be about my mother, I hope you enjoy it.

The first week I arrived in London I went to Heaven along with Maya and Lana. There was no cover, a big sign on the wall that said G-A-Y followed by TV screens that had the same in spinning letters. I can say there were too many men for our liking and I don’t know if this is because of the disposition that Smith college has conditioned.

While dancing on the floor, like a poorly written script, she came out of nowhere. I’ve had a few kisses in my life. Some with people I still talk to, others with people I don’t. All platonic. Last year I did play spin the bottle for the first time but it lacked the teenage tension I dreamed of from TV shows and movies. Regardless of if you believe me if I say kisses can be platonic, I haven’t really had my first kiss. And I’m hesitant to give it to the girl I made out with at Heaven.

Her approach to seduction was haphazard. I was laughing for most of the interaction because of how absurd her running her palms up and down my chest like a cat swiping its paw could be considered romantic. I didn’t necessarily feel wanted or desired but I knew if I wanted it to, this could happen.

Before I left America I declared this my whore-mester—whore semster. Smith has this unique ability to make me feel unwanted and even though I never expect it every weekend I hope to be swept off my feet. So being away I’m trying to assert the possibility that I could be wanted, that I am wanted. This is why I made out with a girl who wasn’t my type and whose name I don’t remember. I’m not sure if I even asked.

Since making out with her I have gotten a cold, that for the most part has come and gone and left behind a raging pain in my throat. Every swallow is pins and needles sliding down. I’ve resorted to praying again, to find relief from this agony. Among this tragedy, I’ve been trapped in my room for much of this week suffering and writhing about the fact that I couldn’t go to the clubs to meet people and have my next make-out, hopefully a good one.

Which takes me to the embarrassing part of this story (only embarrassing to me). Thursday was club fair—they call clubs societies here—and I found out about a gig in the city. I went and brought Charlie and Lana along with me. Charlie is also an associate student that I recently met. This gig was a trip for me to hear good live music and get an in with the music society so my guitar skill—my limited guitar skills—don’t go to waste. Despite a fucked throat, I ordered an aperol spritz, a passion fruit cocktail, and a hard cider. Many more drinks followed this—A little trigger happy that I can now legally buy alcohol.

In the spirit of liquid courage, I began to shoulder tap and conversate. I shoulder tapped my way onto a boy. I had seen him for most of the night out of the corner of my eye. I couldn’t tell if he was looking in our general direction or just in mine. The ambiguity was enough to instill curiosity. And I had looked enough to decide that he was cute. I like cute. He was very receptive to my questions and we spent at least 10 minutes in a back and forth of yelling over the music and the exchange of my mouth to his ear and his to mine.

It all seemed quite too perfect for me since I’ve had such a low success rate. Cute, nice, not American, knows how to tease, not white, same age, same school, cool friends. Unfortunately, he did admit to liking The Neighbourhood but I was going to look beyond it. I offered to teach him guitar and he cheekly told me “I might take you up on that offer”. I was on a roll. And when we stopped talking he gave me a look from across the room. He ended back up on my side of the room but not next to me, I like to think he was being coy, the way you dance around things that you want. So I decided to be bold and ask for his information and then quickly book it out of the venue.

He had no social media—isn’t that what you want in a man? But he did give me his number while teasing me about not remembering his name, which I did ask for again once I realized but he said he wouldn’t “reward that type of behavior with his name when he remembered mine.” Regardless, a success story!

He texted me a period so I would have his number, I teased him about it because who texts a period? He told me “I’m a man of few words,” cute.

He texted me to get home safe and I drunkenly said that I wasn’t going home, instead to the lesbian club! Because I thought it was incredibly funny. I fear he now thinks I’m a lesbian and so I spend my night in a very empty lesbian club freaking out. I try and joke out of it and tell him he should come. He shuts me down “I rather not” — the damage is done.

In an attempt to get over the anxiety of it all I plainly state “to be clear I didn’t lesbian zone you.” There is no response just the dread and embarrassment of having shot and missed.

When I get embarrassed it lives in me for at least a week. It’s only been 3 days. Last night, Friday, drunk again—lamenting over the loss of this cute boy I give him the benefit of the doubt and I try again. Something small, I send him a period and I live with the anxiety of it in tequila shots and electronic music. It’s the next day and there’s nothing close to a response. I’m a smart girl I know when to give up. So I’ve given up. This doesn’t stop the wave of embarrassment that strikes me throughout the day doubled by the pain in my throat. I wouldn’t have been able to kiss him anyway.

When I think about it, it’s all I really want. To kiss someone that I want. I think it’s a very simple desire. I can’t help but fantasize what it would’ve been after it all. Would we have texted? Would I have written songs? Or shared my music to save him from The Neighbourhood? Maybe he was always never going to respond. I have a tendency to go a little crush crazy and I’ve only met this guy for a composite of maybe 1 hour.

I might see him again this Friday if I go to the open mic. I don’t know what I’ll do then.

I was inspired by these two substack posts I read I Think I Broke My Vagina and how hard should you kiss a woman? The inherentness of yearning is all I am. I rewatched In the Mood for Love today with Maya at the Prince Charles Cinema. The first time I watched that movie I was so moved I couldn’t explain it, I could just feel it in my chest. It’s a beautiful tragedy to want someone when you can’t have them. It’s why Past Lives feels so magnetic to me.

I crave a different type of intimacy. I want to be hugged from behind, have my hair tucked behind my ear, I want to whisper compliments under the covers, and wake up with our bodies tangled because even in sleep my body craves yours.

I realized just last year that the way I crave sex isn’t what most people want. One time my friend called me boring because I labeled myself as ‘vanilla'. It did hurt because I don’t think there’s anything wrong with wanting to be touched gently, or craved in such a pure way that my lips are enough. I prefer to indulge in my partner's presence, their scent, their voice, and their laughter. I like forehead kisses and compliments, I like laughing when we’re nervous and falling into each other again. I yearn for sex the same way you yearn for a first kiss, passionately, with your stomach in knots and giddy.

— I Think I Broke My Vagina

I want to be in love, I think. It’s all the pent-up passion. Pent-up passion sounds like a euphemism for wanting someone to fuck, and it must be. I guess you can’t know until afterwards. I think it’s a euphemism for wanting someone to kiss.

My favourite kiss was a hello kiss. I think about it all the time. I’d walked into a girl’s living room and she’d bounced over, happy to see me. She’d kissed me on the clavicle (a soft, soft, soft, soft, quick kiss) and whispered hey into my neck. I remember wondering if the happiness was written on my face, and if her roommates could see how stupid it’d made me. It was painfully affectionate and she’d done it as an afterthought, in the way that all people who are raised with love do.

— how hard should you kiss a woman?

So, yes whore-mester, but no whore-mester because that’s not really what I want. I want to be happy in like and happily wanted. So I will have to live with this embarrassment over and over again.

I need to love the embarrassment because it’s when I’m trying to connect to a person. It’s proof that I’ve tried.

I’ve begun praying again, for a bit—to ease my throat pain and to bring me romance and fun. I only pray when I want something and I don’t know how to get it. This might make me selfish but I am a selfish person.

I’ve come to London with a mix of opinions and thoughts. I didn’t realize until I got here that I had so many expectations for it. I thought of some high-class apartment with wine bottles lying around everywhere, warm dim lighting, and many hot boys (cut me some slack this does not exist in Northampton). But I think this year is really about shifting my mindset. Every day is a day that you work on yourself—I work on me. My room is small, and sometimes my bathroom carries a weird smell but that’s okay! My lamp does wonders, I have a Febreze bottle of a smell I love and reminds me of the color of this blog. And when I get my decorations I have hope. It’s cold but not in a way that I can’t bear a brisk 40 degrees, better than 30, much much better. I’m grateful for the breaks of sunlight in the abundance of clouds, and I will hopefully learn to love those too, and I love public transportation even though it is actively making me go broke.

Each passing day there are more and more people from my college on Substack which brings conflicting emotions. It’s the feeling of loving an artist and realizing you now have to share them with the world. I’ve had this blog for almost 4 years, I’ve carried these words and deeply sad parts of my adolescence for 4 years on this blog. I’ve been writing through my turmoil and 3 subscribers. Not that this page has grown much since then, but it feels like letting go of a long-time acquaintance. I’ve had friend breakups that hurt much less than this. Like sharing pieces of me with people I’m not sure would understand it, appreciate it like I do. This boom in local readership has infiltrated my mind and has made me self-conscious about what I post and who gets to read it. But I realized I shouldn’t care. I want to be perceived and digested, it’s why these words are here and not in my journal. So my challenge to myself is to be the most vulnerable I can be.

Today, I met up with Maya at a Cafe before her class. Which I enjoyed doing—I love spending time with her. I was spieling about “ugly people” which I talk about in a half joke. All my friends to me are beautiful. And it might seem vapid or even shallow but I know there is some societal truth and norms hidden under my words. There’s a deep rooted idealism that if you hang out with people you aren’t “attracted to” you in a way are admitting you are like them—you are the company you keep—and as I dismantle that I think it’s stupid! I don’t believe in defining your worth in beauty, it’s all so subjective and I’ve been personally victimized by beauty standards. So I will be less shallow…from now on it’s whatever.

It’s both smaller and bigger than I expected here. I have to admit there are many things I didn’t think about. But truly it all doesn’t matter. I know it’s not cruel to say I ran away from Smith to come here because I know many others who have done the same. But I find that I seem to be seeking comfort in the things that are familiar to me. I am enamored by the people I meet from Maryland/Virginia/DC and even though I didn’t want it, I’m saddened by my outcast status from the Smithies who have ended up in the same program as me. Especially since they seem to be both flocking towards each other AND branching out. I know that many of these relationships are tied to other relationships that I don’t associate with and it’s a lifelong struggle for me to learn that everyone can’t like you—and I don’t want them to.

I’ve met quite a few people so far, somehow too many and not enough. The other international students are very nice and are also trying to find their bearings. I feel like a first-year all over again. But I’m not trying to fall into the trap of falling into one friend group and staying there but I also don’t want to have these relationships turn into half-smiles 3 months down the road. I have one group saying we should party, and another group as well saying we should all hang out, and again and again—how do you choose? I’ve met many people that I’ve had great conversations with and people that I enjoy but still feels like I'm grasping for straws. I feel like I'm somehow waiting it out for that connection that feels “just right” one that feels like what I have with Maya and Stella, or Kayla and Noelia, or Nandi and Gillian. But then I’m reminded that when Maya and I first met it didn’t instantly work out and I didn’t find her again until the next semester. So maybe these things take time?

Other updates include: I’ve had my first non platonic make out with a girl who came on to me at the club. She was not my type. She was also sniffing poppers I think and I couldn’t tell if her vape was weed or nicotine. There is now a tickle in my throat and I have to hope for the best it isn’t a cold creeping in. I downloaded Hinge to meet people, it’s only been 3 hours and it is nighttime, but so far disappointing. I’m trying to buy an amp off of Facebook Marketplace, hangout with Caroline, Kate, Maya, and Lana, I bought a Membership to the cinema, had UK Popeyes (not as good), went out to another club with a group of people I just met, spent entirely too much money already, smokes many cigs and hit many vapes, trauma dumped, had UK subway (the same everywhere ig—but Fanta and Sprite is not!), and went to the British museum.

At the British Museum, I could only think “Wow they ARE thieves”. More so I was thinking about how the Africa section was the smallest out of all the others and located in the basement. I didn’t know whether to be glad or disappointed that they didn’t have much and that they had nothing from Sierra Leone or its neighbors. But I looked at the artifacts with love nonetheless.

In an attempt to read more, I’ve started In The Dream House (There’s a plethora of books I have started and haven’t finished yet). I have found that even just a small way through the book I resonated a lot with many things. Here are some quotes:

“She is that mix of butch and femme that drives you crazy”

“The sex was bad, obviously, but what you remember most clearly is what you wanted from that night. […] You wanted someone to be obsessed with you. […] How do you get someone you want to want you? Why did no one love you?”

I have thought this thought many times!

“This had never been the case before; it had always been fraught. How many times had you said, “If I just looked a little different, I’d be drowning in love”?

This one too, I will stop doing this.

“You have always suspected that you are shallow when it comes to desire, and there it was”

(see above)

“he fucked you and fed you and tired to teach you to love California. It was all you ever wanted. He was so pretty. You loved his downy ass, his surprisingly soft scruff, the strength of his hands. You wanted to crawl up inside him and have him crawl up inside you. He made you feel special and sexy and smart. He broke up with you because he didn't love you, which is a very good reason to break up with somebody, even though at the time you wanted to die.”

Not sure why this impacted me.

Anyways, needless to say, I’m still excited. I’m learning to take things as they are, to take me as I am. And I’ll hold out for the click still but it’s not everything I need it to be.

Here are some songs for the new years — some stolen from Maya

Sue me this is a good cover.

Really what I want to know is that, when my mother is gone, when my father is gone, that their culture can live on through me. That I'll know how to make the okra soup I love so much or granat soup, potato leaf, crain crain. I know my parents have gone through so much loss and they won't talk to me about it. I’ve never met my real grandparents and I never will. I’ve never met my namesake, I've never been to my parent’s home country. To my siblings' home country. I can’t speak the language of my parents. My mother Mende, my father Mandingo. Two languages that don't correspond so they spoke neither. I can hear creole but my tongue is still too afraid to let the words fall off my lips. So I have had to live life with people turning off their accents to talk “american” enough for me. I have said “I hear but don't speak” more times in my life than I can cout. America has robbed me of many things, my name even. Until I was about 3, I was an only child. My siblings too immigrated from Africa. I don’t think I understood who they were when they showed up or why the house was filled. I remember that part of my life in tiny memory flashes. The tv – degrassi, sun streaming through a maryland townhouse.

When I was young, I adored whiteness in a way I didn't know how to articulate. They were prettier, they were objects of my desire. Back when Disney Channel had Radio Disney and competitions I have this very specific memory of saying “I want her to win because she’s white (light? A variation of it)” my sister followed with a “that’s racist” I didn’t know what racism was yet or prejudice but the tone in her voice told me I was wrong to have said that, so as a kid does I pivoted.“Oh, then I want her to win because I like her glasses.”

I started preschool early, and I felt ugly with my natural hair out. I felt a sense of renewal when I got my braids done. This reminds me of a story my mother would tell me. When she was younger in Sierra Leone, likely Bo, she used to have very long hair. She told me her aunties would want to braid it all the time despite her refusals. When they were done she would cry about how tight they were and her dad would sit her down and help her take the braids out. She loved her father and I can’t love him for her. I won’t know that man or that person my mother was but I remember looking at a picture of me taken at summer school that year, and even at the age of 4 I knew that I was too dark. My second oldest sister, Aminata, always told me I was too white. I dressed white, I talked white, I would marry someone white. I never had the chance to be anything other than what I am right now. It irked me, because no matter how I talked or how she thought I acted, my skin was always this. Even though I wasn't black enough to her, the entire world would never let me believe anything else. But what is validation if not from your own people.

In first grade I got bullied for being too dark, although it seemed to be short lived because I didn't have this problem in second grade. I knew it was because I wasn't the right type of black. I saw it happen to another kids in my grade, Titus or Emmanuel. Emmanuel’s exclusions lasted until he transferred and Titus until the kids grew out of it. They too, weren’t the right type of black. Growing up in a predominantly black county has its advantages. I could’ve been a lot worse off. But I still never quite fit in. Everyone wasn’t the type of black we were–immigrant parents from Africa black. The girls in my class would steal my paper and up where I wrote my name “Kaday Jarra” they would follow with “is ugly” or “is dumb”. One day in first grade my dad came to pick me up and he called the girls in my class mean because they were laughing at him. I don’t remember if it was his accent or if it was his skin but that was the first time I learned that kids could hurt an adult.

Two summers ago I worked at the movie theaters near my house and it was the most recent I felt out of place. I am black, but I again didn't feel black enough. Here is a piece from my journal

August 11, 2023

“Today at work Karina asked what school I went to and I said “Roose” and then she said makes sense cause she hasn't really met–but she didn't finish her sentence to which I didn't really take the comment as an insult or held it against her but it has seeded in my brain and has led way to this vulnerability that I'm not the right type of black / ethnic enough. Like I know there's nothing wrong with being me as long as I'm authentic and I'm not harming others but like am I whitewashed? I don't think so I just don't feel like I fit into a category. Until recently I didn't even fully recognize there would be a difference between Africans and African Americans. Like somehow I'm not entitled to AAVE or the African-American experience because my ancestors weren’t here but I understand I am a part of the dysphoria. Which is why I feel so out of place even in my identity as African. My siblings are different cause they lived part of their childhood in the homeland, I've been stranded here, I don't even speak Creole. So I feel like a fraud. I'm black, went to a majority black school, and live in a black county and yet at my job I feel like my blackness is up for question around everyone else. But not even that, I just don't feel liked the way I wanna be maybe it's just takes time that I've run out of. On that note I'm not a coon even if people have been saying for a lot of my life that I'm white (funny i forgot about that) ~ the oreo. I just feel not enough and there's a sadness that a tie to my culture dies with my parents because I’m not enough. It feels bad that the people I think I fit with aren't black in the way I feel like I should be. But people aren't cookie cutter and my life doesn't have to look like anyone else's but I want to heal this disconnect.”

But all of this to say, I am proud of my culture, of Sierra Leone, the county I’ve never seen. I’m not embarrassed of it, even if I can't say that wasn’t always true. Like the way society makes you embarrassed of your parents at a young age, you realize those people who make you feel insecure suck. I still can't speak anything other than english but I want to start wearing my african dresses. To learn how to cook the dishes that brought me joy. I can’t guarantee someone will meet me and not think I’m american first but I want this piece of me to be more of me.

I still don’t know if i’m allowed to hit the African American box on forms but I know it doesn’t matter to the person reading it, we’re all the same to them. I am both and neither, like so many before me have said. I’m waiting for my parents to take me to their home. The place they miss dearly. The place they say they’ll return to when they retire—without me. To the place that has held many aunts and uncles I will never get to meet. To the place that made my mother a refugee and to the place that holds so many of my father’s stories that he will probably never tell me.

I didn’t have anyone to learn from, my siblings were too old, my parents didn’t hold the duality of my identity. So I had to bake myself from scratch. I made me with my bare hands and I'm still not done. I might never get the validation I want from the people I want it from. But I'll just learn to live without it. I’ll still live and I want my culture to radiate off of me.

I feel like I can boil down the past few months into themes, and I will for you!

Time, wants, and the assertion that everything is too little in comparison.

I have constantly felt that time is fleeting from me, every new day is today’s day after the next. When it’s Tuesday, it’s basically Thursday and there’s never enough time for me to feel like I can do it all. And I want to be able to do it all. My Goodreads goal is dead, my media consumption is dead. I’ve realized I’ve been on an involuntary T break and over the weekend two hits got me incredibly high. Painfully so, (this is me alluding to a lot of throw-up).

Which leads me to the fact that I have goals! Maybe too many of them. But I feel like I haven’t achieved much, there’s this gaping hole in what I deem achievements. I think now is a time for a redefinition of my wants. Coming into this semester I wanted community and I still do, but I feel like somehow I’m not doing something right. My delusional local celebrity crush is dead, and our friend group has barely grown. We’re in desperate need of adoption. But people come and things change and I can’t make them stay. This doesn’t make me as sad as it used to in the past. I think it’s because right now I at least have Maya and Stella. I want to build these relationships and I want people to build them with me. But time is a bitch. So instead I might have to pivot into a new goal. Rest. I want to focus on resting. I’m always worried I’m missing something and that’s a fundamental part of me—understanding that things are better when they aren’t the bare minimum. And I constantly feel I am hitting the bare minimum. That I can only fit the bare minimum.

Resting is finding the time for sleep. I think I might look the worst right now compared to my whole college career. I’ve never noticed the circles around my eyes more than in the last few weeks. So I am looking forward to London. To being new—starting fresh. To rest in London! I constantly look forward to when I can rest, and the only answer insight is when the winter hits. So I’ll be patient. In the meantime, resting is finding time to read, to watch a movie or an episode of a show. None of which I have done in a while. I think some of it is mitigating aspects of my life. A background show, a background movie. Being with people when you eat, when you do work.

I went to a poetry reading the other day with an emphasis on friendship. On the importance of finding family in queer friendships which I think I understand more than a lot. I think one of my missions in life is to build family out of friends. I have a complicated relationship with my family and the ways in which we perceive “closeness”. They can provide me with support but they can never be who I really need them to be. I used to be afraid that I ask for too much in friendships and that people couldn’t give me what I want. But it’s all a matter of being hopeful. I think I’m always asking for a lot and will likely continue to for all my life. I hope I find it.

I’ve also learned many things about feeling like nothing is ever enough. In comparison to last year, when things feel off, they are probably off. You can’t force someone to hang out with you, to think of you in the way you want them to because as cheesy as it always is—if they wanted to they would. (I’ve been really into snapping after things that resonate, so feel free to snap) It’s important for me to find a balance in accepting what you can change and who you can’t. I can’t force aspects of me to change, I can’t change my importance in someone else’s life. Other people are smart (most of the time), and people know how to treat people right. If they cared—you would know that they do.

I hope this isn’t reading like a sad post, I don’t want it to. I’m looking for magic. Which in the context of today might be a little hard. But we don’t stop living. I’ll wake up tomorrow and the day after next and the day after next. Today, it doesn't feel hard to be hopeful for a future of mine 4 years down the road. I know I can’t say the same for others and maybe I am in delsionville.

I think around this time last year, I said I wanted the theme of my year to be love, 2023-2024. I am different because I can say I want community. I want to feel supported and for others to find their solstice. I want open and free communication and a consideration of others that lets them know that you see them. When you grab them that spoon they forgot or pick up their trash. When you give them a letter they mentioned as a joke in a one-off comment, when you’d do them that favor of walking with them even when it’s out of your way. I in spite of it all, and this might be sometimes a little contradictory and hypocritical want to live in a world of compassion for the people you care about, even just a little bit.

I want time, I want people, I want for everything to be enough. I know some days will be hard. But today it’s warm, even if it shouldn’t be. The wind is kind and the sun kisses my skin. The faces around me are a bit defeated and if no one else can be hopeful today, I can be.

You and I can take turns.

This is my stream of consciousness on a sad Monday night before a stressful Tuesday. It’s rough, unrevised, a little corny but I don’t think this is a piece of work that needs to be more than it was—a point in time at 12 in the morning. It was a bit of a hard week. There were consistent hard weeks after that. I don’t think I’ve ever been so busy in my whole college career! Who would’ve thought double majoring in astronomy would catch up to me?

After writing that piece I had two really good lunchtime conversations. That Tuesday I had lunch with Yena and maybe my late-night writing manifested our conversation that day, but she called me pretty. It was like she read my insecurities that night and followed up with an “I’m not the type of person to just say that.” Me, her, and Maya had an overall yap session about dating at Smith and It reminds me how much I learn when I just get to be with different people. So I guess on that Tuesday, thank god for Yena. That following Wednesday I had lunch with AC. This is funny cause both of these people are now subscribed to my substack—a small world. All we effectively did was yap but it really inspired me to set goals and I think I’ve realized that goals are so so so important. When I go to Leadership conferences and they say it’s important to remember why you want to do this in the first place they are so right. My talk with AC really helped me put into perspective what do I want out of my time at Smith? And what do I do if I’m currently unsatisfied with it? No one else is going to fix a problem for you. I’ve decided that it’s so important to become more integral to the community, to a community I want to be mine. I still want to meet more people and talk and hang out. And while it’s a struggle right now it’s a long-term goal that I’m committed to.

I think what I’ve been feeling the most for the past 2-3 weeks is just stress and overwhelmed. And I don’t like living my life like this, it makes me break out!

I’ve deleted tiktok so I’m effectively stuck in the realm of 2024 meme culture, but in the wise words of a once trending tiktok sound: “They

say when you change your perspective that’s when miracles happen.” Which is something I sadly desperately need. I’m not actually sure I believe it yet, but nothing deluding yourself can’t accomplish!

Undoubtedly a lot of things are weird, or maybe just different, but for some reason, I’ve had this inherent cycism to the things I feel are complex. Things that deserve to be thought about in full and don’t have clean answers, but right now I’m a glass half empty. My love life right now is weird and I really think I’m the only one holding me back. For some reason, there’s this hesitation in letting anything happen and I feel like I need a catalyst/thrusting force. I know I just said that no one else is going to fix your problems for you but I need to get out of my head. I’m too good at letting things happen to me and not getting out of my head. The problem is that I want too many things and I feel like I can’t have them (I’ve said something along these lines before). Some rejections you have to take and move on, others you don’t. I’m trying to learn how to work around not having the things I want.

I’ve run out of many things recently: my lexapro, money, motivation. It’s a tough time right now because I recognize there are so many things I want and things I want to do to achieve them but I’ve been stuck in just feeling bad about many things. It’s hard to explain because I know that me overthinking and ending on a conclusion that’s sad and quite mean is wrong but that still doesn't mean that I can fully make myself believe it’s wrong. That was a vague sentence.

When I used to do therapy at children’s hospital back in high school, Stefania told me about mind traps where let’s say because someone didn’t ask you to go to __ then you’ve come to a conclusion that they don’t want you around or don’t care enough about you and now you’ve spiraled and keep on finding instances that prove your conclusion. But because you think others are rejecting you, you subconsciously reject them too, and now you’re stuck in this sad cycle. I’m somewhere in that cycle just not as intense. I understand that people are nicer and don’t anyalze things more than my insecurities lead me to believe but I’ve had a hard time shutting that down recently. All my efforts of perservence and trying to engage with others just further make me wonder how annoying am I.

I have this thing I’m working on—I’m trying to take up more space. It sounds corny but I think it’s important. I have this fear that I’ll make the people I like uncomfortable, really deeply irk them. And it’s a stupid fear but deeply entrenched in me. I’m still learning how to handle rejection but the thought of being close with someone and having them turn around and not be there anymore I think also scares me. But if I allow myself to take up space then it doesn’t matter if I do something annoying or embarrassing. I get more opportunities to redefine my outward presentation. If I’m quiet and small all the tiny things I do start to define how I see myself and I should be allowed to make social mistakes and come back from it.

In the spirit of doing more, I want to perform this semester. I want to party, I want to be around music, around nature, I want work not to overwhelem me, I want to feel like the things I do are important, I want to show up for my commitments, I want to have me time, free time, I want to give love, cry, and laugh and yap.

I want to be Forest Gump.

Now that I don’t have tiktok to distract myself I’ve taken to watching video essays and I recently watched one on Forest Gump. Knowing the topic of the video is “The Strange Conservatism of Forest Gump” and how this movie has been co-oped by the right you would question why I would say that. I mean the reason why the movie is so susceptible to right-wing propaganda is because it does a lot without saying anything. Forest is a static American character who doesn’t do much, he goes through life and lives his wacky adventures but the movie never says anything about the liberal movements it interjects or has a stance on war. But I’m going to say something sacrilegious—let’s forget all of that.

Forest makes the best out of his life. he is allowed to not be bogged down by societal expectations because he doesn’t really get them. He can adventure—be a world famous ping pong player, and start a shrimp company, he can discover Watergate, and become a college football star. I know that I’m filled with multitudes and I’m always saying this but I want to share them. I just feel like things are hard to press start on.

I know this moment right now is just one blip and maybe in a month I’ll have a completely different perspective. And it feels kind of regressive to talk about my not happy feelings when my goal is to bring these bits of optimism back into life and on my blog. But writing helps, even right now as I censor my thoughts cause I can’t in whole share me with you guys and expect it all to be understood fully without invoking a sense of unwanted pity.

So right now I’m a bit sad, I’m a bit stressed, a bit insecure, a bit afraid, a bit yearnful, a bit unmotivated, a bit unhopeful, a bit in pain from my period just starting, and yes.

This post feels more unwarranted than the others and I guess I’m a bit sorry for having to make you read all of it. I hope next time you hear from me I’ll say more interesting things. About how I’m trying so many new things and I had a great break and it doens’t matter if I disappoint anyone else but me and that I feel brave enough to just be.

on the brightside — the friends I do have are wonderful and amazing and I should hug them more often.

I haven’t written a song in a while, haven’t sung in a while and this one is a work in progress as all songs are. Not too sure I like the lyrics yet. Recorded on voice memos.

I think I miss being drawn to people. I think the mysticism of life has been so fleeting. I used to believe some feelings were so strong that two people had to be able to both feel it. That some people could work so well that every talking moment, every almost touch felt like letting two magnets find each other. And I would like to believe that these things are still true but in it’s absence, you forget they exist.

I realized I haven’t written in a while and I was thinking that I wish I could be in love just so I could be like one of those artists that have a muse. To be an artist that has the motivation to write poetry and tell stories of life and the world they’ve come to know. I want to be creative again and have something to show for it! My summer has been drained by classes and in my pursuit of relaxation (running away to another state) I don’t have my guitar (who I miss dearly) or the inspiration to write a story or a poem, or frankly it seems the time to watch more movies.

I’m not sure I had a point to make when I started writing this, more like words to write down to feel productive. Nikté was saying that she has such a powerful mind and usually what she wants tends to come to pass. Maybe it’s because I’ve surrounded my constant hopefully optimism with a mandatory side of cynicism, but I can’t remember something I REALLY wanted coming to pass. I haven’t felt a sigh of relief or that feeling of excitement and joy of being rewarded with something I wanted. Maybe the solution to this is to be more delusional? But of course, I’m very grateful for everything I’ve gotten and everything I have but why do I constantly feel like I’m dulling myself down to be okay with the way things are turning out? I think my ambitions are too big that they can’t exist in me for this long, so I have to let them go piece by piece until they fit my reality.

All of this might sound a little depressing, and I guess it might be a little melancholic but, on the bright side, I currently don’t feel depressed! I think it’s still to early in my life to call any of these thoughts facts—just speculations. I’m still hoping that by next year I make more music, I write more, I get really good at astronomy and I become famous and everyone in the world wants me. I become the people’s princess and all my solutions are solved by the abundance of money coming my way. I go to clubs and pubs and find my way into lake houses with friends where we all get shitfaced and play games. Midway through the night, we all start confessing our love for each other and how we never want to not be in each others’ lives. Maybe that’s a tall order? Maybe it’s not. Just a girl.

Anyways, that’s my update. I also haven’t listened to music in a while but i’ll drop some songs.

☆ How I met your mother (you cannot shame me for this, it’s my friends, as I said to maya these are MY white people)

☆ the people from the physics class + my ta and my physic professor

☆ physics being almost over

☆ late July (its my birthday and also the song by shakey graves - audiotree version)

☆ spamming the groupchat with my thoughts even though my friends don’t respond that often (stella I miss you)

☆ how much time i’ll have once I’m done with summer classes

☆ the thought of going to California

☆ matcha +oatmilk

☆ mountains

☆ Brat by Charli

☆ going to the sweat tour with Maya later in the year

☆ seeing mannequin pussy later also with Maya and aster!

☆ my car

☆ driving when everything is blue and listening to Jackson to Lucinda Williams

☆ my mother

☆ spending my birthday with school friends

☆ rediscovering old music

☆ non english music

☆ being summer time pretty

☆ not being on hinge or tinder

☆ the thought of being able to making music and record it and maybe upload it

☆ potentially making more friends

☆ gay people (I see your value now)

☆ spending time with people

☆ not being cold

☆ being delusional

☆ having solo dance parties with my speaker

☆ cheeto puffs

☆ letterboxd (my one true love)

☆ texting people like were mid conversation

☆ texting people I haven’t in a while

☆ troye sivan grinding on ross lynch

another more comprehensive post is coming!

I’ve been trying to move like a parasite and weasel my way into people’s lives (let me in!!!) because of my added asset of mobility (my car Haley <3) and it’s only the month of the gays (June) and I have time—until I go to Cali. I think I’m writing in a way that is reminiscent of brain rot because what am I even saying?

I think all of this is slightly a prologue to the vlog I just made (yeah yeah I made another one). Really I’m doing the world a favor and filling the void of vlogging YouTubers. This vlog, I feel, is a little less fun than the last one—this is partially because I left my sim card at home for spring break, ergo I didn’t record for a lot of the semester. And at the end it really started to get fun.

I haven’t journaled for a while, haven’t really thought for a while. All I’ve done is pretend I understand physics, try and produce Sally’s disco and my songs, and watch movies (my letterboxd going wild) so I will use this opportunity appropriately. it is currently almost 3 am and I’m very tired and yet I am still writing! I would like to list my summer goals as a form of manifestation. I feel like I did this last year but how could it hurt

• party hard

• read

• hang out with people

• reintegrate men into my life (the women’s college changed me)

• go on at least 3 dates

• start exercising

• tango

• find a sport to play

• finish recording/producing all the songs I want to

• go to some live shows

• start journaling again

• pass physics and calc

• have a great birthday

• make random friends

• go out more

okay so really the bar is kinda on the floor, right? I hope no one comes across this post and decides I’m a shit writer I promise I’m just tired! Okay, I think I’m done yapping I’ll be back eventually with something meaningful to say something meaningful to do. and I’ll put ivy down there (which is not perfect but I haven’t posted a song in a while here).

The song in the vlog is hydrate or die. Me and Alex worked on it and made it using garage band its fun as fuck.

working on some music! on dating apps, praying for a good summer. enjoy the pictures of my women’s college experience because i now have to reacclimate to men

oh my god my dying. i feel like tiny aspects of my life are crashing right now. i think it’s the performances in my future (my band’s and just mine) that’s setting me off. I’ve gotten better with anxiety and doing certain things—compared to like middle school—performance anxiety is performance anxiety. the messed up part about it is that it’s never something i can talk myself out of—there’s years of underlying association conditioning. i don’t even have to think to have the nerves show.

I’m typing this and i realized just so many things have been rolling since i last blogged. nothing crazy, it’s never anything crazy, I’m still living a slightly tame life. but I’ve been reeling from 20 different things at once, feeling wanted and un the usual as it exists

I feel like I could say about a month ago (maybe only 3 weeks) we had our first gig. back then we changed our name to Breakfast for Dinner cause Sofya didn’t work out but now were pretty definitively Marrow. I worry sometimes if it projects an image that were not, I worry a lot about being received as something I’m not. There’s still this caveat to being lead singer—it gives me anxiety and still I guess I do like having people rely on me. or just being in a team, it’s why i loved wrestling so much. but again there’s so much pressure to voice for a band but really i wouldn’t have it any other way. it feels like a pipe dream fantasy in a way. last semester I kept saying that I would do open mics—I never did. but this year I said i could/would preform by myself at capen garden? I think i really just wanted a place to put my songs other than here. the thing about making things is that you want people to hear it, see it, read it. I’ve been thinking about when I’m older and i describe this moment of my life to my kids or something and I go “yeah i was in a band in college…i was the lead singer” it’s weird to imagine the now as a now and not already a past. time is just so fleeting and it always passes you by

anyways that week we had our first (and only so far) gig i guess i had my most (and maybe only) definitively romantic encounter. Which was nice because I’m just a person. and I switch between feeling like everyone is in love with me and that no one is, right now I’m going down the ladder. it just sucks because I won’t have that moment again or even a possibility to recreate it. and I know me—if I have something on my mind for too long i will impulsively do something about it and ruin my day…and I have and I will have to live in my embarrassment.

on a contrary even though this was about a man, I’m sacred sometimes that smith college could’ve turn me into a lesbian. and there’s nothing wrong with this statement, but I feel like the severe lack of exposure to men really affects how I perceive them and my development in understanding the world around me and how things work. I feel like even more than before I understand and enforce the gender roles in a way I didn’t before. smith is so incredibly queer and I understand the blending of gender in this space done by women, non binary, and trans men. but when I meet a man I can’t help but analyze and box our socialization and their characteristics. There are ways that I understand we are inherently different and that they’ll never get me the way another girl does. but to that, there’s the chance I’ll never be able to understand them. there are times more often than not that I find my self annoyed at just the presence of a man—and there’s nothing they can do about it. I worry I’m subconsiously becoming attunded to something I didn’t want to be.

pivot! I don’t know if you recall (you would if you read my posts) I did once say I was in love with Sapien Joyride, there’s a small chance I was so involved then because I was just high off the experience of the concert. the room was hot and there were sweaty men. again delusions delusions. but! we’re playing the same show coming up with means i have to show up and show out. Not that i need their (or one person’s) validation to be cool but it couldn’t hurt.

I wanted to also add that I guess I’m a liar because I said I wasn’t going to get on more dating apps but not even a whole day past from my last blog post and I redownloaded hinge (because Lia made me). but it’s really getting to that point now and it’s truly sad and I would love to put the effort into it but I can’t it’s both too much and too little.

I feel like there’s more things to say, because there has to be this weird reason why i feel so bad and am still feeling it as I write.

I’m tempted to put this behind a paywall, but who really reads my blog? (i’m gonna do it anyways)

on that note listen my my class project for climate change (not Marrow) affiliated.

Read more

Read more

also this song is in the vlog, so listen to it afterwards if you like it. it’s still just a demo cause i don’t have my music stuff with me. it’s also my one original take so the guitar mistakes are still in there because i refuse to rerecord through voice memos without my other guitar. okay enjoy

• being a bitch

• reverting to a high school sophomore mind state

• praying + claiming

• feeling it in your finger and your toes

• men’s body wash and deodorant

• smelling like rain

• adoration

• stalking

• having weirdly inexplicable dreams

• eyebrow piercings

• 2000s RnB

• genital warts

• make outs

• communication

OUTS

• men (maybe also guys named olly after a haircut)

• raffles

• loving your little lives

• slim easy

• “I used to believe no one could love you like I do, and I’m starting to think that it might be impossible not to”

• sustainability

Read more

The other day I wrote these lines because I had decided to do either something destructive or something healthy.

Here are the lines from the unfinished poem that I wrote

"i’ve decided that rejection is better than not knowing
but deep down i know
that acceptance is better than rejection [...]
  
so i’ve committed to [...]
it might be premature
it might be too late
but turns out agony isn’t a good look on me [...]

i know i’ve decided not to decided and i'm trying to figure out why i’m feeling so burden [so hurt?]
i think it’s because i know things are coming to an end
it’s the healthy thing to do, to get hurt, to hurt yourself and move on
sometimes the healthy thing to do is to just hurt yourself"

And it’s been a few days since I wrote this. It’s crazy how much of a different person you can be in 6 days. Especially when I said can’t imagine being a different me in 2024. I decided not to do the thing because it turned out I got an answer to my decision before I could even try. There are still a few underlying issues here. While yes, it hurts having this sudden realization dawn upon me, it was good for moving on which I can say I have, even if it’s just a little bit. There’s a caveat, it’s sad because I feel like it’s too soon to completely deplete myself of the feelings I’m trying to move on from. And I’ll apologize for talking in vagueness, I know I’m being watched right now so you will all just have to guess about the specifics. The thing is I know what’s for the best, and how I should be feeling, but it sucks that how I think I should be feeling never aligns with what I am feeling. it’s either a curse or just the way things are. I’m writing this little statement because I recently had the thought that what if the pain that I experienced in the first place wasn’t enough? I’m left with less anxiety and a lot less physical pain, but not devoid of it. What really bothers me is that despite knowing what I know, knowing that I potentially was wronged it doesn’t change some aspects of how I’m feeling right now, maybe time is the only thing that would correct that or maybe I should put myself out there to get hurt even more. Irreversibly so. So that I have no what-ifs to hold onto. Would that solve or exacerbate my issues?

I know that I said I wanted my December to exemplify what I wanted my year to be, but it’s a little crazy. The month is almost half over and I feel like I’ve been thrown curve ball after curve ball. Like so many of my plans poof! gone! so many of these expectations I had set up…gone! But I figure if I write optimism, it will take root. So yes, I have about half of this month left but I just got over a recurring cold that I’ve had since October and things HAVE to be on the up and up. I feel like I’m using this space to commit to you and to me that I will just try harder because I need to. So after I finish my essays and classes are over, I’m committed to having a great semester being stuck here until the last week of December.

But, I’m a bit of a hypocrite because I’m writing this blog post instead of sleeping or doing my homework.

And now that I’ve written about the biggest feeling looming over me, I’m gonna take a page out of Maya’s book and give you guys a media update!!

Reads

Arguably, I don’t need a big section for what I’ve read recently because I haven’t really read recently. But nonetheless, I exist to please, so I’ll recap my semester for you.

Postcolonial Love Poems - I read this book for my poetry writing class, honestly it’s been forever but I know that I wrote this super long like a 1000-word reflection (I was being an overachiever). I wouldn’t say this is a favorite of mine, but I think it was really well written at a lot of points. It’s hard to not read this and draw the line of similarities between BIPOC experiences. So much of wanting love and feeling betrayal about who you give that love to, of having pieces of your identity stolen from you and then force-fed to you. There’s something so deep and honest that I understand even if the entire poetry collection isn’t for me.

feeld - I don’t have much to say about this one, other than I finished it and the poem I’ll put at the bottom will probably remind you of it.

Bluets - I loved this book. I highlighted with blue in a book about loving blue. It’s a breakup poem and even though I read it like two months ago I imagine if I re-read it, I would get it deeply so. There are so many tender moments that I feel like should exist inside of me in this book. Maybe I should go back to memorizing quotes.

The Story of the Lost Child - Oh my GOD. I love this series. It’s so girl like it’s just so girl. Elena Ferrante might just be a god. It’s so human and so Italian at the same time. I liked living with these girls, feeling their betrayal. I’ll miss them since this was the last book. There’s something symbolic about reading the first three in summer and finishing the last in fall (I used to be an English major). It’s so gentle and heartbreaking it feels real.

The Hunger Games (+ Catching Fire) - Sue me, I never read the books. But man do I love Peeta. He’s a smart boy who knows what he likes and what he wants and that’s so comforting.

Honorable Mentions:

Just Kids - I started reading Just Kids in the summer because it’s a staple for artsy girls and because my friend Sencea is hopelessly in love with Patti Smith. I can’t deny that Patti is an amazing writer and honestly really inspiring but something has stopped me dead in my tracks so, I will be reading this eventuallyyy. Especially because Maya started my copy after me and finished before me.

On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous - okay so last year I said the reason I haven’t seen Ocean Voung yet in my college town, even though he lives here is because I haven’t finished his book yet. And then I saw him once! but yesterday he was at our local library and I MISSED HIM. I’m always missing famous people. I will finish his book and I will meet him eventually.

Bable - I started reading this last year, and this is like the longest book break I’ve ever taken. I promise to read this cause I loved poppy war. and because my co, M, let me borrow their copy.

Less - I started a few months ago, I didn’t finish. Sum of it. I will eventually

random poetry books - The plethora of poetry books I started for class and will never finish and have to remember to return to the library.

Music

My music selection is not allowed to be as timely as the whole semester, because I listen to music all the time. Music got me through this hard month <3 so here’s what I’ve mostly been obsessed with recently. If you don’t dig it you’re wrong!

Here are my top 3 out of these at this current moment:

Drunk II - Amazing song literarily cannot get enough it’s like etched into my brain

Be That Easy - Crack Cocaine is in this song

Take Off Your Cool - This song got me through a hard weekend. And I will say thank you. (I listened to this song 40 times in the span of two days)

also wanted to add, Good Song is a last-minute addition, it’s just really hitting today.

Honorable Mentions:

the songs my old roommate’s ex-boyfriend wrote about her and dropped on her birthday. it’s all just very comedic to me.

Movies

Okay, so this one is tricky because I do and I don’t watch a bunch of movies…okay like fine, I guess COMPARED to a “NORMAL” person I watch a lot. I will just show you my letterboxd from this semester (ugh I know another self-proclaimed cool girl on letterboxd) and I’ll highlight my favorites for you. I realize that since I’m doing this you guys will definitely need an update after the break because I’m an avid movie watcher over breaks.

September

Pride & Prejudice (2005) - This was actually forever ago. Me, Maya, and Mia watched this on my bed while me and Maya were high and there was a party happening down the hall. Peak romance hello? and what a greatly directed movie for 2005

Bottoms (2023) - Ugh amazing beautiful all the best adjectives and I will say the best use of party 4 u by Charli.

As Above, So Below (2014) - Someone in my astronomy class—did i mention i’m going to major in astronomy now?—brought this up because they’re reallyyy into this movie, and I think I had wanted to watch it at some point anyway and it did make an astronomy reference (also this reminds me, over thanksgiving break I was playing Jackbox with my friend, Caroline, and the question was what other planet in the solar system is closest in size to Earth and she confidently thought she had the answer in the bag cause she’s also taking an astronomy course and she was the only one in the room that guess Jupiter). Anyway this movie is camp. Like it’s bad but it’s good. You can tell they had a vision for the catacombs and weakly built the rest of the story around it and said “yeah like good enough”. It’s a fun movie!

October

I actually have nothing interesting to say about this month except for I feel it in my fingers

November/December

Ugh! What a long month

Whip It (2009) - Gay and gay. It’s a shame the movie didn’t see how gay it was. And how could you cast Elliot Page in anything and not see the immense queer energy he brings to whatever project he’s in.

Drive Me Crazy (1999) - I haven’t met anyone who’s seen this movie before. I found it over the summer and it’s just like a fun 90s brain rot movie. It’s a teen movie but it doesn’t follow the same micro formulaic cliches that have defined the 10s and the 20s. And the soundtrack is amazing. there are some qualms, there always is, but this movie is so fun.

It Chapter Two (2019) - Yes I watched this movie high but WHAT THE FUCK WAS THIS? this movie is beyond bad. Even I could tell while I was having a little bit of a high crisis. And don’t even get me started on the CGI and the uncanny valley of the de-aging. Also, what’s with one of the characters making up a fake ritual and then drugging the other one? The fucking effects? WHILE I WAS HIGH?!? this move was not real. It doesn't deserve a picture

Good Will Hunting (1997) - Oh god, like I love this movie. The way I wish I had to go see about a girl. Or was a genius. And the copious amounts of Elliott Smith: beautiful! Like I’m not Will Hunting but I also am, but I also am not. And like this is a little secret between the two of us but I am in love with young Matt Damon I think.

Bound (1996) - Oh gay gay gay. throwback to when I was convinced Bound would guide me out of my tragic love life.

Nowhere (1997) - I don’t know like Dark just might actually be me. Because all he wants is to be loved and all I want is roughly about the same. I feel like we’re both pathetic in the same sad artsy way. Also, yes this movie did and did not make sense but I feel like it’s one of those you either get it or you don’t. Also, the fucking aliens I can say they also mess up my life. And I mean how can you not highly rate a movie that has Radiohead (How can you be sure) in the soundtrack and Blur.

Honorable Mentions:

Annie (2014) - I didn't finish it, barely started it. There were only two options for my rating of this. Either no stars and a heart or 5 stars. I have opps watching my letterboxd and I’m not sure if I’m ready to fight for this.

John Tucker Must Die (2006) - A rewatch of course. I just got distracted and forgot to finish it, but I firmly believe that if I finished it I wouldn’t have missed Penn Badgley being at our school like two weeks ago.

Shows

Invincible - You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for invincible, well like I feel like you could guess but since 11th grade! Since zoom school! And the worst part is that after 2 (basically 3) years THEY SPLIT IT UP INTO TWO PARTS. I didn’t even realize we were at the mid-season break until they said they were taking the break. So watch me suffer I guess. Needless to say, the first season is impeccable and you can tell the team really grew this season and I feel like they were aware of criticism and fan perceptions. So even though this is torturous among other things I am excited for the rest of the season. Also one of my other loves mains it - Mark Grayson (who is voiced by Steven Yung who I try not to think about too hard cause I loved him) and oh did I mention the cast is stacked? Sandra Oh, J.K. Simmons etc etc.

Gen V - I know that Jack Quaid isn’t in Gen V, but he is in the Boys and I’m always talking about him because his sister goes to Smith, where I go, and NO ONE knows who I’m talking about. It’s a sad world for me. I wish I knew people who are fans of The Boys but aren’t also annoying. But like anyways Gen V, I was watching this on the train to NY for my fall break and, I’ll just say don’t watch the show in public. Or you know what, if you’re brave like me, do, and have your friend take a picture of you watching a tiny person on a “normal” sized dick. No, I will not be explaining. Can I also just say I am in love with bi-gender Jordan Li

Scott Pilgrim Takes Off - So good! I was iffy at first because the animation seemed weird to me, but really it was funny and so mindlessly fun. I love the Scott Pilgrim movie, whatever anyone has to say about it. but it’s really cool how the show just takes a step back from Scott and lets everyone else live it’s fun and kooky in the way I want Alien Girl to be (I haven’t told you guys about Alien Girl—it’s a me and Maya project to be continued hopefully soon). But it’s just smart and I feel like trusts it’s audience to see the growth the writers have made.

Better Things - My friend Ayla said this was one of her top two favorite shows ever so I started watching it. Admittedly I haven’t watched it in a little and am only on season 3. While we were exchanging shows I did tell her to watch Dark, but I have great memory and I know a bunch of other people don’t so I don’t expect much. She was right when she said the show was very much so vibes. I feel like so many of the show’s montages just build in a way that you wouldn’t expect to be immersed into a show. I miss the theme song, Mother by John Lennon really added. It’s fun and very laid back in a way that’s real, but still unattainable for me. I like it.

Heartbreak High - Like THIS is it for me, like this show is everything. I and my friends started rewatching it one night when we got high together. So so Australian, so modern, so funny, so dramatic in the right way, and so so so many hot people.

Everything Now - To be honest I forgot I watched this, I just remembered it cause I remembered how much I liked Heartbreak High

The Vampire Diaries - I thought you broke my heart, so I rip open Aaron's neck, that is how much control you have over me.
And I'm still here! That's how much control you have over me!
Listen to us. This is toxic. We are in a toxic relationship, Elena. I just killed your friend, and you find someone else to blame!
You want me to blame you? Easy! Done. You screwed up, Damon. Again.
Thank you
You put me in a position where I have to defend you... Again. Where I have to bend my morals. Again. Where I have to go against every single thing that I believe in... Again! Because I love you!
Then stop loving me!
I can't!
Well, that's the problem. We don't work

Honorable Mentions:

Girls - Maya is the main perpetrator in my decision to watch this, but somehow Stella and Lia have also both watched it. So eventuallyyyyy I promise

Twin Peaks - Like yes, I wanna watch it eventually and I will but I can feel Maya looming over me telling me to watch this one too

Naked Attraction - Watched like one or two episodes with my friends Ingrid and Grace and other people and like yeah wow, naked people and they’re British.

genera+ion - We started to rewatch this on Maya’s birthday cause it’s fun and good and Lia is obsessed with Lukita, but we genuinely have not picked this up again.

Photos

Because I said this was gonna be a long post, here are photos from my digital. (recent) moments that were good (I’m limiting myself to the past month 11/11-12/11), even if in retrospect they don’t feel the same.

disclaimer: sadly I haven’t seen Mia in forever over the weekend so the only photo I have is from Halloween

Poetry

Last-ish but not least (maybe a little least) I’ll drop one poem (I might drop the rest later) from my poetry writing class this year, I don’t think any of my poetry is done. but I like to share with y’all.

how should i correct it?

if i scarred u off
buy axing four 2 much &
showing 2 little

how do i axe 4 u to 
axe 4 me
how do i get u too want 2 wont me

how can i pic a part at ur brain
to fine the peace where i mite exist
to fine the peace where u think abt me
as much as i think abt u 

how do i fix this 
if u run off
am i suposed to chase u
if u take a step back do
i take 1 forward

or do i let you go?

Okay wow! I know that was a long post, I never do this! so as a treat take a break and have this song. and maybe also love me.

don’t judge! i sound better live!! it’s hard to sound constantly good in recordings + the most recent version is different but I think this might be the over all best recording I have

untitled and unnamed

plus i’ll add this here