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For Blainey

On this night Blaine and I danced for about three straight hours. Then we ran down to the river, took off all our clothes, swam across it, and ran back on the road to the honks of a few cars...then we ate like 1000 mozzarella sticks. It's one of many nights I'll remember fondly with her.

On this night Blaine and I danced for about three straight hours. Then we ran down to the river, took off all our clothes, swam across it, and ran back on the road to the honks of a few cars…then we ate like 1000 mozzarella sticks. It’s one of many nights I’ll remember fondly with her.

My best friend, Blaine, passed away over the weekend. Those who knew her can attest to her shining personality, friendliness, candor, beauty, passion, and overall brightness. I do not know what life will be like without her and I already miss her immensely. I only had the pleasure of knowing her for a little less than a year but she was truly special. We had an unlikely friendship but the greatest thing we had in common was our love for each other. During one of the dark days of feeling depressed she walked me to class and said, “Please let me help you, I’ll do anything you need me to do. I just want you to feel better.” She wanted so desperately for me to be happy and I could feel how much she cared. I am so grateful to have known her.

These last few days have been some of the hardest. But Blaine would want there to be a silver lining, and so it’s this. Her death has brought me to her lovely camp friends whom I got to spend a few days with at her funeral. They are wonderful people and I look forward to getting to know them more. With them I feel I get to know a piece of Blaine’s past and it keeps her with me even though she’s not here. I know there will be many more things she will give me as time goes on, but for now I have written this poem in her memory. Blaine was SO not into poetry but she came to my writer’s group that first day anyway just so that I wouldn’t be reading my poems to no one. Now that’s a friend.

But Blaine

strange air I taste
despair in the space
of unanswered sorrow

it all still goes
while we watch and miss
they wave and wear hats
bring books and buy coffee.
I look for her in hair ties
and bird songs but find nothing
the same or anything so different as her
——-pure breath, bright life

if my heart had hands
it’d hold pieces of her before
they escape like cupping water

when the thirst cries faith salty faith

it smells of spring and sun
and baby birds unborn.
the once snow drifts cry their last
tears floods of them rolling down
the gravel collecting dead plants carrying plans to the grate for all
the misplaced things but how
but how can there be
growth while she’s gone

Rest peacefully Blaine. We all have so much love for you.

No Talking, It’s Finals

Eek finals are da worst. Hence no posts. Well that and my life sort of falls apart every other day. It’s fine. I’ll be around in a few days after I take exams. Until then, here’s something that gave me a little chuckle:

“Tell me,” a rabbi asked Daniel Bell when he said, as a child, that he did not believe in God. “Do you think God cares?”


Well, then there was last night

My tail is between my legs. Last night I felt sad and lonely and so of course instead of feeling those feelings decided to go out and drink. Sometime between 11:30 and very inebriated I realized getting drunk hadn’t made me feel any better at all. I then had two very decisive thoughts:

Thought #1: Nothing will fill this emptiness and distracting myself just ends in self destruction– I should go to bed.

Thought #2: LATE NIGHT IS STILL OPEN. maybe there’s a god after all.

After a small, non-traditional Thanksgiving feast (chicken fingers, mozzarella sticks, a sandwich* and OH TWO COOKIES) I felt nauseatingly full. With some cookie still in my mouth I thought how this wasn’t the fullness I was looking for and maybe I had been better off feeling empty after all. *( Sandwich generally implies something like pb and j sized. This was a massive concoction of meat and hash and eggs and cheese and mayonnaise and…I actually feel disgusted recounting this).

But then I passed out. When I awoke at 4am I felt oddly rejuvenated and incredibly sick. I stayed up for a few hours and wrote and listened to Janis Joplin and snuggled into a corner of my bed with the window open so that the winter air would take away the stench of alcohol and ketchup and guilt. It did.

And so here we are. I considered not blogging this because it’s a little embarrassing that not even 20 hours before I was on the I’m-not-gonna-self-destruct train. How quick and easy it is to become derailed. I am human and by default a messy emotional contradiction. Fucking up has been my specialty this term and if I get an A in only that I won’t be surprised. But my mother (the megaphone of reason) said “be extra kind to yourself today” and I was like “you da shit.” She loves me all the time and if she can love me like that I can love me like that too.

I still feel pretty sick from all that food. I have lots of work to do and I’ve slept maybe five hours. I’m minorly hungover and decently disappointed in myself. Regardless, today is a new day and I’m taking the tiniest of steps to make it better (i.e. I’m in the library, so even though I’m not working yet I’m moving in the right direction *pats self on back*).

Oftentimes we need our kindness when it’s hardest to give it to ourselves. But if we can find that compassion I think there will be less incidences of drunk Thanksgiving feasting in March.


Are You a Tornado too?

tornado use

Don’t be fooled, I made this drawing NOT a second grader.

I have not been posting this week because I’ve been really busy and pretty depressed. Now that a decent amount of people I know read this it’s hard to be honest and say I’m having a really rough time of it. I can be pretty open (too open) in retrospect but while in the throws of stress and anxiety and general confusion it’s quite difficult to admit. I don’t know if it’s a pride thing or just a general denial or a wishing that I could tell everyone I’m little miss sunshine (I haven’t seen that movie in so long and plan to as soon as finals are over). I generally feel guilty when I’m not happy because I feel that I’m a pretty privileged person and to not be happy is incredibly bratty. Wishing things weren’t as they are has never changed much for me though, so I figured, as it is March 1, I might as well be honest. Plus the whole reason I started this blog was to not be ashamed of the shit goes on in my head, however negatively it manifests. So here it is.

  • I’m lonely. I miss my boyfriend. That loneliness makes me depressed and I start to feel like nothing matters, like taking care of myself (getting enough sleep, not eating jelly beans for dinner, etc.) is just not that important.
  • The negative feelings are also scary. I feel like they will destroy me if I don’t distract myself with something else.
  • Once I’m depressed it takes so much energy to do anything productive or good for me (exercise, do homework, etc.). Therefore, things like drinking a lot and staying up too late become very appealing distractions. They take me out of the unpleasantness of the present moment. They feel good especially because they’re naughty (I’ve never rebelled, not even once, maybe once, so I don’t know why I have this sudden urge).
  • All the things that feel so good initially end up making me feel 10000 times worse the next day. I’m either hungover or have a stomach ache or am so tired I can’t function and thus the cycle continues.

I discussed this with my therapist (who is a godly genius). We established that I’ve become very disconnected from my true needs and desires and so instead Tornado Florence takes over, destroying everything in her path. Le sigh. Some examples:

  1. I slept four hours Wednesday night after drinking an entire bottle of wine by myself*. And a smirnoff nip. I then proceeded to eat half a bagel and pass out (teeth not brushed, retainer not worn). *clarification. I was not drinking alone, just had this particular bottle all to myself.
  2. I burnt myself on a cigarette (bad decision # 541, alcohol induced of course) which resulted in a bubbly blister that I played with and finally popped while zoning out in class.
  3. I did not shower for three days. Though I did change my underwear once. Sooo, half a point for me.
  4. When I could have had a nutritious dinner I chose instead to eat some Russel Stover chocolates (leftover from VDay = not very good) and a bag of jelly beans (I don’t even like jelly beans) while watching HBO go.
  5. I ordered $227 worth of free people merchandize (shipping including), justified by the fact that I just got paid (read: my check covered barely half of my purchase).

However, there is hope. I’ve moped all week and I’m sick of it. I would like to do something proactive instead of complacently allowing myself to self-destruct. If you would like to follow along as I try to keep my life together (I hope you will) please do as that’ll likely be the gist of my posts for the next two weeks until break begins. Tomorrow I’ll provide a detailed plan of how to not self-destruct, but for now I’m just proud of myself for not being hung over or sleep deprived¬†because I prioritized both sleep and sobriety last night. One for me, goose egg for Tornado Florence (okay like one me, 12 for Tornado Florence, but I want a clean slate and so I’ve given myself one).