My tea is gray.
Like muddy wet cement,
Thursday after chemistry,
Soggy jean ends and heavy packs.
The grass is seeping on the sidewalk,
Faded green and second hand,
Gray encased in green,
Ceramic with little white dots.
January storms with crisp clouds,
Winter cool but not cold,
And I wish for a moment,
Standing,
Sitting,
near a friend I never thought to have.
“I wish it were snowing,”
Chilled crisp air with little white dots,
Sloshy gray snow on the side of the road,
tires turning but car immobile,
Thursday after work.
It’s August but it’s Thursday,
So I can pretend with,
A White Polar bear on my tea mug,
Hot drink and hot air,
Crisp warm Blueberries,
And cicadas in the air.
That
It’s gray outside like my tea,
With little white dots in the air,
And rain on the ground.
My pants are in the dryer,
Because the ends were wet and,
My winter coat is out on the hook,
And not hidden in a coat closet,
That’s somewhere I’ll never look.
It’s something I can always hope,
That my life will return to these,
Little mundane moments with,
Matching details and a circular pattern.
Because they,
More than any huge event in my life,
Have defined who I really am.
So, hot one August night, I,
Close my eyes and pretend it’s,
A Thursday in January and,
I’m somewhere I don’t want to be,
With a friend I’d never thought to have,
Finding my jean ends wet,
And something gray like muddy cement.
Friday, August 12, 2011
Sunday, August 7, 2011
I Have Insomnia
And I don’t mean it’s-hard-for-me-to-fall-asleep-sometimes-when-I’m-stressed but full out there-are-days-where-I-just-don’t-sleep-at-all and no matter how exhausted I am I just don’t get sleepy. In the past week I’ve had about fifteen hours of sleep— in seven days.
People are supposed to get about fifty four to sixty hours of sleep. My max a week is usually forty hours. My average is twenty four hours.
That’s three and a half hours of sleep a night on average at twenty four hours of sleep a week.
I know all of this because when I lay awake at night trying to sleep I do this in my head. I keep a close track on the hours of sleep I get a night because every one of them is important.
It’s four fifteen in the morning and I haven’t slept a restful night since the beginning of July.
I’m not saying this for pity or for sympathy. I’m saying this because when I get this tired I can’t stop myself. I honestly would rather not be writing this and I most definitely don’t want to post it but I will anyway because at this level of exhaustion I am compelled to make confessions about the things that I keep to myself.
People are supposed to get about fifty four to sixty hours of sleep. My max a week is usually forty hours. My average is twenty four hours.
That’s three and a half hours of sleep a night on average at twenty four hours of sleep a week.
I know all of this because when I lay awake at night trying to sleep I do this in my head. I keep a close track on the hours of sleep I get a night because every one of them is important.
It’s four fifteen in the morning and I haven’t slept a restful night since the beginning of July.
I’m not saying this for pity or for sympathy. I’m saying this because when I get this tired I can’t stop myself. I honestly would rather not be writing this and I most definitely don’t want to post it but I will anyway because at this level of exhaustion I am compelled to make confessions about the things that I keep to myself.
From a Tumblr Meme
14) A turn on:
Graceful intelligence and a certain self-confidence of spirit usually get me highly interested in someone but all in all I’d say the best way to turn my head is sheer unapologetic nerdiness.
15) An embarrassing story:
I can’t say “converted it”. Seriously, I can’t. Every time I do I stutter and it’s really embarrassing to me. So one day we were doing conversions in Chemistry and I was working on some homework after class on it and hanging out with my friend, Sam. I apparently told her I had difficulty saying “converted it” and she conned me into saying it like forty times in a row because she found it hilarious. I was really embarrassed about it because she kept laughing at me and I had a squish on her. I know she was making me say it because she found it entertaining and adorable but I felt really embarrassed because I couldn’t just say no and stop doing it because it was making her laugh and she was asking and I’m one of those silly fools who will make themselves look like an idiot because of a crush/squish.
20) A fact about my personality:
It’s really hard for me to reach out to people and try to make friends with them. I always worry that I’m coming on too strong or they don’t want to be my friend or that they’re just humoring me until I go away. I really hate it when people do that, though. Like just pretend to be nice cause that’s polite. I really find it much more polite to tell someone to go away when you don’t want to be around them. I hate not knowing if I’m wanted or not because society says it’s rude to share your feelings if they might upset someone.
Graceful intelligence and a certain self-confidence of spirit usually get me highly interested in someone but all in all I’d say the best way to turn my head is sheer unapologetic nerdiness.
15) An embarrassing story:
I can’t say “converted it”. Seriously, I can’t. Every time I do I stutter and it’s really embarrassing to me. So one day we were doing conversions in Chemistry and I was working on some homework after class on it and hanging out with my friend, Sam. I apparently told her I had difficulty saying “converted it” and she conned me into saying it like forty times in a row because she found it hilarious. I was really embarrassed about it because she kept laughing at me and I had a squish on her. I know she was making me say it because she found it entertaining and adorable but I felt really embarrassed because I couldn’t just say no and stop doing it because it was making her laugh and she was asking and I’m one of those silly fools who will make themselves look like an idiot because of a crush/squish.
20) A fact about my personality:
It’s really hard for me to reach out to people and try to make friends with them. I always worry that I’m coming on too strong or they don’t want to be my friend or that they’re just humoring me until I go away. I really hate it when people do that, though. Like just pretend to be nice cause that’s polite. I really find it much more polite to tell someone to go away when you don’t want to be around them. I hate not knowing if I’m wanted or not because society says it’s rude to share your feelings if they might upset someone.
I'm Secretly Jealous of People Who Can Tan
Because I can’t. No, I don’t mean like oh woe is me I don’t have time to lay in the sun or put on fake tan.
I mean that my skin doesn’t really tan at all so I’m always this pasty white all the time. I grew up in California and I was pretty much always the palest kid even though I spent hours out doors every day and never wore sunscreen (I do now because I’m not so reckless and one second degree sun burn on my face is enough for a life time).
The only way you can tell how much sun I’ve been gettings is by how light my hair is. If I’m not outside much or it’s winter then my hair is dirty blond; if it’s summer and I’ve spent every day posible outside then it’s light blond.
I know it’s such a petty little insignificant thing to complain about but really it’s my only real insecurity about myself. I’m not ashamed of my extra weight or my scars or even my broad build but I hate it when people go: Oh you’re so pale! Because I hate being pale all the time.
I don’t want to be like old leather tanned but I’d like a bit of browning in my skin. I think it would be beautiful. I hate complaining about stuff like this because it really doesn’t matter but I really needed to share as well.
I mean that my skin doesn’t really tan at all so I’m always this pasty white all the time. I grew up in California and I was pretty much always the palest kid even though I spent hours out doors every day and never wore sunscreen (I do now because I’m not so reckless and one second degree sun burn on my face is enough for a life time).
The only way you can tell how much sun I’ve been gettings is by how light my hair is. If I’m not outside much or it’s winter then my hair is dirty blond; if it’s summer and I’ve spent every day posible outside then it’s light blond.
I know it’s such a petty little insignificant thing to complain about but really it’s my only real insecurity about myself. I’m not ashamed of my extra weight or my scars or even my broad build but I hate it when people go: Oh you’re so pale! Because I hate being pale all the time.
I don’t want to be like old leather tanned but I’d like a bit of browning in my skin. I think it would be beautiful. I hate complaining about stuff like this because it really doesn’t matter but I really needed to share as well.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
30 Day Ace Meme- Day 14
14. Tell us about a time you met another asexual, whether in real life or online.
I said Howdy and they said hello and then we had sex. Why the fuck are these questions so ridiculous?
I said Howdy and they said hello and then we had sex. Why the fuck are these questions so ridiculous?
30 Day Ace Meme- Day 13
13. Your favorite asexual website.
Am I going to have to copy/paste number 12?
However, the only site I go on specifically named after and made for asexuals is asexuality.org. I even have an account and buddies there.
Am I going to have to copy/paste number 12?
However, the only site I go on specifically named after and made for asexuals is asexuality.org. I even have an account and buddies there.
30 Day Ace Meme- Day 12
12. Your favorite asexual Tumblr site.
I don't have a favorite asexual Tumblr site. Kinda don't sort them into sexual and asexual. But I do have an extreme fondness for my fellow, Tyki, who does have a Tumblr. She posts some weird things but she's pretty awesome. Monte, or Holmesiandeduction, also posts a lot of things I rather adore and he is ace. But what someone's or some Tumblr's sexuality is doesn't really figure in to whether or not I like them. Orientation and gender are inconsequential.
I don't have a favorite asexual Tumblr site. Kinda don't sort them into sexual and asexual. But I do have an extreme fondness for my fellow, Tyki, who does have a Tumblr. She posts some weird things but she's pretty awesome. Monte, or Holmesiandeduction, also posts a lot of things I rather adore and he is ace. But what someone's or some Tumblr's sexuality is doesn't really figure in to whether or not I like them. Orientation and gender are inconsequential.
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