i itch to blog. there are so many things i want to say before i forget and they leave me forever, but these days it feels like all i do is homework, say “i don’t remember the last time i slept”, argue, sigh resignedly and furnish my share of administrative work. if i’m lucky sometimes i get a nice hour in between classes to stare at the ceiling in solitude. i really like staring at the ceiling… just as much as i like my 10am with the newspaper, a cup of coffee and chocolate covered pretzels. those times of quiet are really so much better than the constant falling into traps of guilt tripping and frustrating skirmishes of having to explain myself. here’s why i did it, here’s why i didn’t do it, no that is not what i meant, yes i am fine. dudes, i really am fine, but if you bug me anymore i won’t be.
some news: i came across a new old beautiful soul the other day while digging through my old laptop for a research paper i wrote a couple of years ago. and by ‘new old’, i mean newly beautiful to me, but old in the sense that it has always been there, and i once upon a time knew it was beautiful, but never thought to explore. now, this beauty is close to me, orbiting from a distance, and i am grateful that i rediscovered it, and read again the essay that he wrote. sometimes i think i know beauty, but then things like this happen to remind me that i know nothing.
some more news: i recently discovered that i’ve developed lactose intolerance. the symptoms have been present for a couple of months, but i always brushed it off, thinking that my insides just needed to chill out for a bit from the London onslaught of Four Seasons roast duck. but, no. i can’t eat ice cream now without needing to run to the bathroom in half an hour. no ice cream! there is no amount of hand-wringing that will adequately convey just how much that upsets me. yes i know there are enzyme pills i can take to remedy this problem, but… i don’t know. i hate taking pills. i hate the idea that i have to eat a pill at a certain time, and in the right dosage, otherwise my body loses it. it’s just too much structure for me. it’s kind of like brushing teeth or plucking eyebrows — i feel no pleasure in doing these daily chores; on the contrary, the routine quite annoys me. is this a metaphor? i kinda just want to drop it all and run around naked (don’t correct me; you will obstruct my stream of consciousness… oh there you’ve done it again.
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and laugh. and remember everything that i have forgotten. and blog. in paradise, i would like to have my computer there with me. and hopefully, the paradise version of myself will not be lactose intolerant.
