Taken from Lena Chronicles #31
May 26, 2014
(8:19pm)
A 22 year old boy named Elliot Rogers killed seven people and injured many more because he was "constantly rejected and still a virgin". It is terrible and stupid. Here's the thing, I am a feminist. But not a feminist in the old sense, in the way where women are better than men. I am a feminist in what feminism is becoming. It's in the way that everyone is equal despite gender, race, or sexuality. It's horrible that things like the shootings in California still happen in the world. A lot of it is just ignorance, its people blinded in some way of seeing how the world actually works, to seeing the mistreatment of certain groups. I used to be like that. I am so different than what I used to be. I used to use religion as a crutch for bigotry. I used to be a horrible person; I used to care more about a the words written in a thousands of years old unscourced book more than the lives of real people. Give me the chance and I would have called a girl a slut, I would have judged her for dressing provactively. I used to abuse my own gender so much, placing expectations on others and on myself that were crippling. And I'm so glad I changed and I can now say things like "I'm pro-choice, I believe love is for everyone, I think the death penality is hypocritical, and I'm a feminist" without being weighed down by the guilt and wretchedness that some religion puts upon my beliefs. And I know I have so much more to learn and I can only hope I become better throughout it.
Fin.
Monday, May 26, 2014
Friday, May 9, 2014
Fifty Things.
The last time I wrote in this blog, in fact, even touched it, was in October. I think in maybe the four years of history of this thing, seven months is about the longest gap I've ever taken in between writing. My life as of late has been something along the lines of these two photos, but not in bad sort of way, just in an "oh look at that" sort of way. Alot has changed for me in the past seven months, and I'd like to imagine I'm doing much better than when I last wrote in here. And I learned alot in that time too, so yeah, here's a list of things. And then maybe, just maybe, I'll start writing in here again like I used to.
1. I cannot climb trees like I used to.
2. Alabama parking lots are the bane of my existance. People in parking lots make me murderous and honestly I should be proud I haven't killed anyone yet.
3. Snow is powdery, and less cold than the coldest days, and brilliant and beautiful, and should happen every year. Also, snowcream is the most wonderful stuff in all of existance.
4. There will always be one song in every musical that I hate.
5. My life is so much better now that I don't work at Panera Bread and I never wanna put myself in an opressive workplace like that again.
6. I will always, inevietably, tell my mother everything.
7. Taking care of the people I care about will always be worth it.
8. Christmas has stopped being magical.
9. Halloween gets more magical.
10. I love sex and I am okay with admitting that because it is wonderful and great and a way to connect to people. And people who deny themselves that really are missing out.
11. And on that note, it's honestly not that hard to convince people to have sex. Either that or I'm more attractive than I imagine myself to be.
12. It is okay to be average, and okay to know that even if I try my hardest I will not always do my best.
13. I will never be able to vlog everyday of the year.
14. I have charm, and no matter how much I like to deny this, I know how to use it.
15. My fandoms will always take care of me.
16. A group of strangers who I met on the internet and have never seen in real life can comfort me better than most people in real life.
17. Nothing is more exciting than a new tattoo.
18. I only have the capacity for so much and so many connections and as much as I would love to befriend all the wonderful people I could possibly befriend, it is impossible.
19. Strangers are nicer than I think.
20. Every year kids will seem shittier and shittier than I thought they were before. Every year just adds more incentive not to have them.
21. In the end, Rickel Pickle will always save me.
22. I want nothing more than to get to know Bryn Chancellor as much as I possibly can.
23. As much as I can explain things to people I cannot understand it for them. And that is not my fault.
24. And in remembering that, I cannot blame another person when I do not understand them.
25. I have to stop forcing myself to feel guilty about the people it is nesscary to be a bitch to.
26. And on that note, being bitchier to those I don't care about and nicer to those I do care about it needed.
27. If I ever had doubts about whether I was a feminist before, I certainly have none now.
28. Having my opinions and telling them to people isn't that bad.
29. It probably would have been better had I been born in the 70's (for reasons, I would like to point out, NOT related to feminism).
30. People are easy until you start to love them.
31. I save people, or so they tell me.
32. I am more self involved than anyone will ever know.
33. I have always been lazy, just now it's more dissapointing.
34. I dissallussion myself a lot because I like my fantasies of things better than I like the reality of them.
35. Nothing feels better than standing on Palmer stage during College Night season. And nothing in the world makes me feel more connected to friends, strangers, and history than knowing that Purple Side won.
36. Don't deny my anger.
37. I am better than some people but I have to judge when and when not to let them know.
38. A game called Ingress is very important in my life.
39. Caitie White is sincerely one of the best human beings I have ever met in my life.
40. I want to write a memoir before I die.
41. I want someone else to write a memoir for me after I die.
42. I can probably analyze everything, find metaphors from nothing.
43. My past self was smarter than I remember her to be in some ways better than I am now.
44. Nothing will ever be harder than writing everything over again.
45. I've gone two months without certain things and I can probably go longer.
46. I will take all the time I've been given and probably more.
47. I can write essays worthy of A's in the shortest amounts of time.
48. It will probably keep getting harder. I will wake up everyday and be heavier with something than I was before.
49. Despite how unreal it all feels before, know that it did happen.
50. I am not the same person I was seven months ago. I was not the same person I was even seven weeks, seven days, or seven seconds ago and no one can expect me to be.
Fin.
-Keshia
Monday, October 7, 2013
Half Past Midnight
From Lena, entry October 7th, 12:41am
I'm about how I get uglier and uglier everyday. About how I take all these damn photos for no real reason. I'm thinking about much prettier I was last year than I am right now. And how the year before that, even better. I'm thinking about how I can see it, how it creeps its way into the pictures. And how I can only see what I am now, which is ugly.
I'm thinking about I've had two relationships in the past two years and how those people are not even relevent to me anymore. How is it that something that seemed knit together before it nothing but frays?
I'm thinking about how I haven't made any lasting friendships in the last two years (in real life). About how I have met no one new and actually been able to catch them. No one wants to be and stay my friend.
I'm thinkign about how people tell me my anxiety and depression doesn't define me but that actually is it. That's why there is so much running away. That's why I'm uglier everyday. That's why no one wants to be with me. That's why no only wants to stay my friend. It's not you, Keshia, and it's not even me. It's your anxiety. It repels me.
I'm thinking about how much I hate myself and how no one can really tell how much I do and how no one would believe me even if I tried to tell them.
Fin.
-Keshia
I'm about how I get uglier and uglier everyday. About how I take all these damn photos for no real reason. I'm thinking about much prettier I was last year than I am right now. And how the year before that, even better. I'm thinking about how I can see it, how it creeps its way into the pictures. And how I can only see what I am now, which is ugly.
I'm thinking about I've had two relationships in the past two years and how those people are not even relevent to me anymore. How is it that something that seemed knit together before it nothing but frays?
I'm thinking about how I haven't made any lasting friendships in the last two years (in real life). About how I have met no one new and actually been able to catch them. No one wants to be and stay my friend.
I'm thinkign about how people tell me my anxiety and depression doesn't define me but that actually is it. That's why there is so much running away. That's why I'm uglier everyday. That's why no one wants to be with me. That's why no only wants to stay my friend. It's not you, Keshia, and it's not even me. It's your anxiety. It repels me.
I'm thinking about how much I hate myself and how no one can really tell how much I do and how no one would believe me even if I tried to tell them.
Fin.
-Keshia
Saturday, September 28, 2013
Life in Metaphors.
For as long as I've know myself I've never been good at expressing myself, particulary my feelings and particulary in words. And yes, that sounds so silly, right? I want to be a writer and yet I can't express myself in words. But here's the thing. Words are one of those things that hold a lot of meaning, you have to be careful with them. And even then, you there are different forums in which words can be expressed.
Take speaking, for instance. Speaking is terrifying. Trying to properly convey thoughts or emotions through the spoken word and doing a good job of it is truely a gift. I can't do it. Speaking is weak to me. The thing about speaking my thoughts and feelings is that I get flustered. I stutter and I'm usually under so much pressure that I just can't physically find the words that I want to speak and everything I say comes out into some utter garbage. And so I can't speak words. I can't tell people how I feel when speaking. And so that's why, most of the time, I choose to write. But even in writing there are tricky parts to it. It's hard to tell people straightly, "I am depressed, I do not like my life right now and I'm beggining to realize that I don't think I ever did." People have such a sense of justification, and are so suspicious of everything. One thing that I have a love hate relationship with in writing is the fact that you can't just tell people something, you have to show them or they won't believe you otherwise. And even then, even when you show them in the best possible way you can people will still say, "Whate are you talking about? You're perfectly alright, you're not feeling that." There is too much disbelief in the human race for people to be honest sometimes. The problem is that people whipser the lies and everyone clings unto that, but when they're shouting the truth they are told to shut up.
For me the solution I have always found when expressing myself, particulary in writing, are metaphors. From the time I learned what a metaphor was I have been using them. And even before then, I realized, even before I knew their proper definition. Because I surrounded myself with books when I was a child, I engrossed myself in literature that was overflowing with metaphors. I remember, distinctly one of the first metaphors I made. I was five, I had hurt myself, a bruise on my leg from running into something. Instead of telling my Mom I hurt myself I told her I felt like a horse kicked me in my leg. I may have had metaphors before that. I probably did. I had read the horse kicking in relation to pain one in a book. A lot of my life came from books back then. A lot of my life still does. And so even today I use metaphors to describe my feelings. The thing about metaphors, it's like wearing a mask while telling the truth. And in some simple way, that makes it seem a little better. Because I paint my pain or happiness or wonderous nature behind these words, behind the connatations of like or as. They seem prettier somehow, not so raw and terrifying. And they seem more relatable, because I think that's what metaphors were meant for. You take something that not everyone is feeling and compare it something that everyone has felt or can at least imagine what it feels like. But even then, even in metaphors, they have their faults. Because not everyone understands metaphors, not everyone understands the sometimes fault of speaking the plain truth. I've actually had someone tell me once how bullshit my metaphors were and that I should just say my feelings. And then I did, and then I was told I wasn't. Shut up, Keshia, you don't know what you're talking about.
Do you wanna know a metaphor now? Do you want to know how I feel?
There's a difference to everything. It's like I'm stuck in these waves and they're just beating along. And I just let them hit me, over and over. But sometimes, I catch myself. I get surprised because I thought I was on shore and I'm not. I'm not nesscarily sure how to get back there or why I even want to get back there. I just know, really, that I'm tired of the waves.
Fin.
-Keshia
Friday, September 6, 2013
Dog Sees God
*note: I stopped posting blog posts in here bc they were basically taking over my blog, but there are still really awesome books that I want to talk about and so I decided that books I rated five stars via goodreads are worthy enough to make it to my blog
I make valiant efforts to rereads things that are my favorite works of literature at least once per year. As Dog Sees God lands in my rank for my favorite play, of course it is one of those things I endevour to reread. Let's get a little background history, I first read Dog Sees God my senior year of high school, nearly three years ago, after picking it up in the stores of random assorted plays on the shelves of the drama room. I instantly fell in love with it the moment I read it and pulled my two friends in it for a ride. We convinced our teacher to do a cold reading outlloud in class and got into some serious trouble because we severly underestimated how people would responsd to all the cursing and sexual innuendos in it. That little tussle only made me love it even more, it became like a bby to me. Something I wanted despretly to defend.
Dog Sees God : Confessions of Teenage Blockhead is a dark comedy that follows the life of a teenage 'blockhead' called CB. All the characters, the events, and themes suggest that these characters are the characters of Charlie Brown, but all grown up. In my opinion this concept is brilliantly done. You have these distinctive characters from childhood, things mostly associated with holidays like Halloween or Christmas. Regarless of how you found yourself in the world of Charlie Brown there is sucha stark contrast here in the play. The characters,the language, the scenes are so breath takingly real. And also painful. It's kind of a hard thing to grasp, that these happy go lucky hcaracters you watched dance around the screen are thrust into this world that is actually real, a world that is fucked up, that bad things happen in. And that's the beauty of it, it's in this juxtapostioned place that shows you how our world is compared to the made up ones we watched on tv screens at a young age.
The play opens w/ CB (Charlie Brown) writing a letter to his penpal, telling of the death of his dog, his dog who killed his little bird of a friend before having to be put down himself. He asks his penpal, do you think God goes to heavan? And it is this question that resides in his mind through the whole show. This question is the driving background of the whole story. Bert V. Royal introduces the rest of the cast throughout the play, doing a brilliant job of adapting them to their lives. These children have grown up and things have happened to them. Marcy and PepperMint Patty are accused of being lesbians and spike their milk cartons w/ alchohol.Pig Pen is a germaphone and in general, a douchebag. Linus lives off pot, he smoked his blanket to 'become one' with it. Sally undergoes a daily identity crisis. All of them become character types, people that we can see or can almost see in everyday life. They are more than just cartoon characters in this way, they become a representation of ourselves, or the good, bad, and absolutely hilarious things of life.
I won't say much more, because I really could go one forever, but at this point I'm trying my best to keep spoilery free. But I will say this, the stroy is stunning. Bert V. Royal is so clever, so in touch with making a story that holds so much meaning with just recogonizable characters milling along in life. I laughed my head off while reading this, I sobbed my eyes out while reading it. It was beautifula nd wicked and such a great story that when I first read it, three years ago, I had to sit there when I was finished and just be there. I had to just exist, I had to keep myself to graps by the qualms of reality. Okay, maybe I'm overreacting, here, maybe just a bit. But you have to understand. I love this play. And I think I'll continue to love it.
Fin.
-Keshia
Dog Sees God : Confessions of Teenage Blockhead is a dark comedy that follows the life of a teenage 'blockhead' called CB. All the characters, the events, and themes suggest that these characters are the characters of Charlie Brown, but all grown up. In my opinion this concept is brilliantly done. You have these distinctive characters from childhood, things mostly associated with holidays like Halloween or Christmas. Regarless of how you found yourself in the world of Charlie Brown there is sucha stark contrast here in the play. The characters,the language, the scenes are so breath takingly real. And also painful. It's kind of a hard thing to grasp, that these happy go lucky hcaracters you watched dance around the screen are thrust into this world that is actually real, a world that is fucked up, that bad things happen in. And that's the beauty of it, it's in this juxtapostioned place that shows you how our world is compared to the made up ones we watched on tv screens at a young age.
The play opens w/ CB (Charlie Brown) writing a letter to his penpal, telling of the death of his dog, his dog who killed his little bird of a friend before having to be put down himself. He asks his penpal, do you think God goes to heavan? And it is this question that resides in his mind through the whole show. This question is the driving background of the whole story. Bert V. Royal introduces the rest of the cast throughout the play, doing a brilliant job of adapting them to their lives. These children have grown up and things have happened to them. Marcy and PepperMint Patty are accused of being lesbians and spike their milk cartons w/ alchohol.Pig Pen is a germaphone and in general, a douchebag. Linus lives off pot, he smoked his blanket to 'become one' with it. Sally undergoes a daily identity crisis. All of them become character types, people that we can see or can almost see in everyday life. They are more than just cartoon characters in this way, they become a representation of ourselves, or the good, bad, and absolutely hilarious things of life.
I won't say much more, because I really could go one forever, but at this point I'm trying my best to keep spoilery free. But I will say this, the stroy is stunning. Bert V. Royal is so clever, so in touch with making a story that holds so much meaning with just recogonizable characters milling along in life. I laughed my head off while reading this, I sobbed my eyes out while reading it. It was beautifula nd wicked and such a great story that when I first read it, three years ago, I had to sit there when I was finished and just be there. I had to just exist, I had to keep myself to graps by the qualms of reality. Okay, maybe I'm overreacting, here, maybe just a bit. But you have to understand. I love this play. And I think I'll continue to love it.
Fin.
-Keshia
Thursday, September 5, 2013
Blue Collar Blues.
"I am not mentally prepared to go into work today."
"I am not mentally prepared to go into work today."
"I am not mentally prepared to go into work today."
"If you make me fucking go into work today; I will have a mental break down."
I'm sorry, but mental illness is no excuse for not going into work. Being hurt is not reason for not smiling. Feeling so stressed that you literally have thoughts about killing yourself is not an excuse to be as an ass to the customer who was an ass to you first.
I've worked for the past two years of my life at the same place. It's not a place I'll mention here because I'll at least have some form of delicacy on this thing called the internet. And it's reached the point where I've become absolutely miserable at my work place. And yes, I'm not the only one; you don't see sincerely happy people loving their life working in retail/food. Those aren't careers, they're jobs. And no matter what anyone says they can't be fully happy in them. Anyone feel free to correct me if you think I'm wrong, for now I'll just believe this.
They thing is about my job, I did love it, at one point….at one point work was something I looked forward to. Things were shitty at home, things were hurting me there. And work was where my friends were at, where there were people who were there for me. And then it wasn't, not really, I moved, I transferred to a new work place. And things were okay, but not really. And now things aren't good. Things aren't good at all.
Let me bring you back to October 2011, I was working Subway. I had only been there for about two weeks and I knew people there didn't like me, I was annoying and obnoxious, you know, the type of person I am. I didn't think, though, they would dislike me enough to tell the manager to fire me. But they did. And I had rent due, and I couldn't go without a job. Over the course of a day I applied to nineteen different places. And the next day, one place took me for an interview. This is the place that eventually gave me a job. And you have to understand, at this point, I was desperate. I would've scrubbed the floors with a toothbrush I needed a job so badly. But of course, one develops standards after a bit. My standards didn't even have to be developed, rally. They were just there. I work in one of those places that isn't fast food but isn't really a restaurant either. It's the perfect kind of in between that isn't too stressful under any situation. And the people there were great, I think I was instantly enamored when my trainer sang Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory to me on my first night of work.
"Come with me and you'll see a world of imagination…"
I worked there for nine months and it was sincerely the best nine months of working in my life. The people there were great, and I sincerely got along with pretty much all my coworkers and managers. I genuinely felt well liked and liked people in return. I loved that we could work hard and still be silly at the same time. There was this one coworker of mine who I would always sing cat songs with, to the customers, right after we closed. Sometimes we would laugh so hard that we would literally fall to the floor. And there was a magic time of day when we all had to stop and pause and just look at the sunset streaming in. The thing is about that place, I mean, there were bad times too. There was once when I was so stressed and angry I hid and the back and threw around dishes. There were times when someone was perhaps badmouthing someone else, or I accidentally hurt someone's feelings with my foot in mouth disease. But those aren't the times I really remember from it. I really remember all the times my coworkers would wait around for me and my ride. I remember the time I cam in sick and all my coworkers jumped on me, telling me they wouldn't allow me to work and I needed to go home and rest. I remember the going away party they threw me where they bought me gifts and everyone was hugging and crying. I'll remember that. I remember that it was wonderful and that I loved the place.
But then I had to go to college, I had to transfer stores. And it wasn't the same feeling at all. Everyone on this new crew was negative, no one liked their job, no ones wanted to be there half the time. When I spoke I felt like a nuisance. And they made jokes about me, how I was scary because I was such a fast worker. A lot of them (not all) really didn't care much about work ethic. This was just a job they had, not something they really tried at. And I don't know, it just kind of dragged everything about work down for me. And it was hard to make friends; they're only a few solid people who I actually consider friends from this place. Everyone else is just someone I work with. And it was bad, for a while, but then I got used to it. Because I suppose that's just how it was going to be. But then summer happened and everything just went, to use the phrase, from bad to worse.
And now, now it's at the point where it's hard to describe. Only that I hate work everyday I go into it. It's making me miserable.
I had a point to everything, I did…
Meh.
Fin.
"I am not mentally prepared to go into work today."
"I am not mentally prepared to go into work today."
"If you make me fucking go into work today; I will have a mental break down."
I'm sorry, but mental illness is no excuse for not going into work. Being hurt is not reason for not smiling. Feeling so stressed that you literally have thoughts about killing yourself is not an excuse to be as an ass to the customer who was an ass to you first.
I've worked for the past two years of my life at the same place. It's not a place I'll mention here because I'll at least have some form of delicacy on this thing called the internet. And it's reached the point where I've become absolutely miserable at my work place. And yes, I'm not the only one; you don't see sincerely happy people loving their life working in retail/food. Those aren't careers, they're jobs. And no matter what anyone says they can't be fully happy in them. Anyone feel free to correct me if you think I'm wrong, for now I'll just believe this.
They thing is about my job, I did love it, at one point….at one point work was something I looked forward to. Things were shitty at home, things were hurting me there. And work was where my friends were at, where there were people who were there for me. And then it wasn't, not really, I moved, I transferred to a new work place. And things were okay, but not really. And now things aren't good. Things aren't good at all.
Let me bring you back to October 2011, I was working Subway. I had only been there for about two weeks and I knew people there didn't like me, I was annoying and obnoxious, you know, the type of person I am. I didn't think, though, they would dislike me enough to tell the manager to fire me. But they did. And I had rent due, and I couldn't go without a job. Over the course of a day I applied to nineteen different places. And the next day, one place took me for an interview. This is the place that eventually gave me a job. And you have to understand, at this point, I was desperate. I would've scrubbed the floors with a toothbrush I needed a job so badly. But of course, one develops standards after a bit. My standards didn't even have to be developed, rally. They were just there. I work in one of those places that isn't fast food but isn't really a restaurant either. It's the perfect kind of in between that isn't too stressful under any situation. And the people there were great, I think I was instantly enamored when my trainer sang Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory to me on my first night of work.
"Come with me and you'll see a world of imagination…"
I worked there for nine months and it was sincerely the best nine months of working in my life. The people there were great, and I sincerely got along with pretty much all my coworkers and managers. I genuinely felt well liked and liked people in return. I loved that we could work hard and still be silly at the same time. There was this one coworker of mine who I would always sing cat songs with, to the customers, right after we closed. Sometimes we would laugh so hard that we would literally fall to the floor. And there was a magic time of day when we all had to stop and pause and just look at the sunset streaming in. The thing is about that place, I mean, there were bad times too. There was once when I was so stressed and angry I hid and the back and threw around dishes. There were times when someone was perhaps badmouthing someone else, or I accidentally hurt someone's feelings with my foot in mouth disease. But those aren't the times I really remember from it. I really remember all the times my coworkers would wait around for me and my ride. I remember the time I cam in sick and all my coworkers jumped on me, telling me they wouldn't allow me to work and I needed to go home and rest. I remember the going away party they threw me where they bought me gifts and everyone was hugging and crying. I'll remember that. I remember that it was wonderful and that I loved the place.
But then I had to go to college, I had to transfer stores. And it wasn't the same feeling at all. Everyone on this new crew was negative, no one liked their job, no ones wanted to be there half the time. When I spoke I felt like a nuisance. And they made jokes about me, how I was scary because I was such a fast worker. A lot of them (not all) really didn't care much about work ethic. This was just a job they had, not something they really tried at. And I don't know, it just kind of dragged everything about work down for me. And it was hard to make friends; they're only a few solid people who I actually consider friends from this place. Everyone else is just someone I work with. And it was bad, for a while, but then I got used to it. Because I suppose that's just how it was going to be. But then summer happened and everything just went, to use the phrase, from bad to worse.
And now, now it's at the point where it's hard to describe. Only that I hate work everyday I go into it. It's making me miserable.
I had a point to everything, I did…
Meh.
Fin.
-Keshia
Thursday, August 15, 2013
Slumps for the Chump.
Halfway trhough August already? No, really, I'm having trouble wrapping my mind around this concept. Today is August 15th, this is what I'm writing on August 15th. Because it is, and it's scary. It's also scary that 2013 is nearly over. But that's cool. That's cool. This has probably been the fastest year of my life, to be honest, and I really don't think it's the whole current time thing. You know, the thing where the time you're living in is the fastest and so because of that it seems the fastest. And I know this, because 2012 felt significantly slower than 2011 or 2010. But then my concept of time is all strange.
I've been in a slump lately, a slump of bad proportions. This slump is basically came about from feeling useless as fuck about everything. It happens almost every summer, a summer lull that ha sbounced back and forth across every summer of my entire life. Reason for the summer lull have included lack of school. I think I've made it clear in this blog before just how much I love school and how much self meaning it gives to me, so I won't give into that. There's also the fact that I have worked this summer more than I ever have in any summer of my life. (Edit: I worked more the summer of Washington but that time was such a confusing clusterfuck of things) And lastly is that I always make these empty promises ot myself during summer, like I'm going to write so much, I'm going to read so much, I'm going to get so fit. Every damn summer I make them and every damn summer I don't keep them, in fact I probably recede on them. I usually am only active at work, so I get fatter. And even though you would think,that logically having more time, I would read and write more, but somehow I don't. And this summer, this is has probably been one of the of the worst summer lulls of my life (Washington was worse, along with the summer between eighth and ninth grade, it being the worst). And I don't know why. I have this particular way of hiding mysef away from the world in music and pretending I don't exist. I've been doing that so much this summer.
And school starts in eleven days. And I just can't wait for it. Because I'm tired of slumping.
Fin.
-Keshia
I've been in a slump lately, a slump of bad proportions. This slump is basically came about from feeling useless as fuck about everything. It happens almost every summer, a summer lull that ha sbounced back and forth across every summer of my entire life. Reason for the summer lull have included lack of school. I think I've made it clear in this blog before just how much I love school and how much self meaning it gives to me, so I won't give into that. There's also the fact that I have worked this summer more than I ever have in any summer of my life. (Edit: I worked more the summer of Washington but that time was such a confusing clusterfuck of things) And lastly is that I always make these empty promises ot myself during summer, like I'm going to write so much, I'm going to read so much, I'm going to get so fit. Every damn summer I make them and every damn summer I don't keep them, in fact I probably recede on them. I usually am only active at work, so I get fatter. And even though you would think,that logically having more time, I would read and write more, but somehow I don't. And this summer, this is has probably been one of the of the worst summer lulls of my life (Washington was worse, along with the summer between eighth and ninth grade, it being the worst). And I don't know why. I have this particular way of hiding mysef away from the world in music and pretending I don't exist. I've been doing that so much this summer.
And school starts in eleven days. And I just can't wait for it. Because I'm tired of slumping.
Fin.
-Keshia
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