all it takes is a train ride

This week is going to be another Blog & Unclog session. I’m on an Amtrak to St. Louis and listening to Grimes. I really can’t believe she only ate spaghetti on tour. I’m not gonna fact check that because in my heart it’s true. I’m tired of pop culture having to be verifiable. So what if I start a rumor… Isn’t everything in entertainment already made up?

I’m tired of knowing what the word solipsistic means. I’m tired of having to look up what the CIA did to “flatten literature” with the Iowa Writers’ Workshop.

It’s my fault for listening to communist podcasts and reading reviews about memoirs by models (looking at you @emrata). But Jesus CHRIST can we just let sentences be pretty and models have literacy!

I want to live a life where politics and fun and love coexist (use the same font as that bumper sticker that the worst driver you’ve ever met always has). We all need to hug each other and read bell hooks.

Life flies by too quickly when you don’t have time to do absolutely nothing.

El Paso feels like it was a million and one years/personalities/lifetimes ago. I spent all my free time driving through the Franklin mountains listening to critically infamous music, laughing with friends I’d only known for a few weeks, and wishing for someone to kiss.

For some reason my life in Milwaukee is absolutely buzzing with business and anxiety. I feel like I have to fill up all my free time with online classes, a new hobby, or a fourth job. It’s like I’m back to my freshman year on Dayton’s campus and the lamest thing you can be is available. I want to fuck around and get up to tricks!!!

I’m finally taking the time to think about everything that’s happened over the past few months, and I want to press pause. Why didn’t I do more stand-up? Why didn’t I walk to the lake more? Why didn’t I spend more time having fun with my students? Why can’t I go on dates without feeling cringe? Why am I only writing bullshit? Am I wasting my life?

Everything is an excellent idea until it’s time to execute it into action.

I’m a slut for new beginnings and I don’t expect to operate any differently in 2022. I’ll make too many promises to become a better/sluttier/smarter person and I’ll still fuck up catastrophically and exit the newest year unsatisfied.

Is it charming to be twenty-four and completely rudderless? In my heart I still think I can be a pop star. Watching other people give up on their dreams makes me cry. I’d do anything to have ambition. Maybe I’ll start a podcast about it. Who the freak knows.