or write, rather.
i’ve been seeing this thing i like where people are posting very stream of consciousness style and it took me back to a time i was reading a lot of faulkner and i am trying it. although i am already struggling in my mind to quit thinking about what audience i’m writing to and what my eventual message is going to be but the purpose of this is just a writing exercise and maybe also an exercise in vulnerability. if we are really being honest, i can never spell excersize correctly on the first try. i may even get crazy and forget some commas and add some s.pontaneo’us punct!uation, or maybe even write in one big run-on sentence to free myself of the ongoing grammar critique inside of me but anyway, i digress. i have not written in a while on my blog. i will visit my website and think about all the topics i might be able to conjure up a few paragraphs about. but then i wander away in thought thinking that wouldn’t even seem authentic in an age where everyone has a blog and is trying to be as raw, as fashionable, as healthy, as mommerific, as artsy, as creative, as barf me barf me barf me this is exactly why i cannot write about anything quite much at all because all the ideas are taken and how am i even unique? even this little exercize seems overly done “hey look at me i’m different…?”but really the reason i did pop in because i do think noting one’s thoughts is important. sometimes it seems a little weird posting a selfie but gosh i have been loving it lately. i remember when there was some intrigue, spontaneity…what is that word i am looking for? resist google. stretch your mind. think hard. keep resisting google. look out the window and don’t think about it for a second. synonyms…fine, i will google it: ANTICIPATION in even seeing your selfies because you were taking them with a disposable camera and even 24-hour pickup was a novelty. so be cynical all i want to about the age of oversharing and noses stuck in phones but it really is a ‘thing” to be experiencing to a certain degree. after all, we are here in this culture and simply by reacting whether participating, criticizing or observing we are creating a very distinct and necessary point of view for posterity. and as for me. me me me me me. i will partake. why not? i regret way more that i didn’t say in the grand scheme of things and john mayer said to say what you need to say and i will listen to pretty much anything that he says in the key of G. so today i am writing as vayda lays here next to me in the bed. lays lies is laying is lying? i never honestly know but at this point i am not tabbing over to google. i know, you don’t care about me thinking about my grammatical errors, but that’s about 25% of my waking thoughts so they must be included for sheer intellectual honesty. so we are lyyyyyyying here and i feel bad that my baby doesn’t sleep in her own bed. that she has only slept in the beautiful babys dream crib my mom bought her for an hour and fifteen minutes of her whole life. thank goodness its crib to college because i could have bigger things to worry about i mean really you can figuratively spit on me that i am actually worrying about where my child sleeps because she is sleeping and there i go judging myself for caring about the pettiness of my life because it really is an easy, good one and no one cares except you. but anyway i care and i pay for this website and when i started it ten years ago it was just a place to pour my thoughts into an anonymous black hole of eyes that hear with different ears that may never even tell me they see me but i find comfort in knowing they’re around. it’s like writing a letter that drowns in a bottle or a thousand notes and poems and words in a box about you that you or no one will ever completely decipher correctly. see, i enjoy laying here next to vayda every time she naps. i do need a night a week that i don’t go to bed at nine o’clock p.m. but on nights like last night when i sleep ’til 7a.m. and accidentally fall back asleep until noon, i’m able to think in complete quiet besides the soft hum of the fan and the choir of summer birds chirping just behind the bricks that surround us. i’m able to think and reflect and connect instances from today with memories from earlier today or last year or two decades ago if it’s a really lucky day and if i can’t connect them and they seem slightly notable i can record them to be redeemed at a time when i need them. and that is beautiful – that incredibly existential moment when something you’ve kept inside for days, weeks, years all the sudden comes to fruition and makes all the sense it never seemed to could before. all these stories and moments that are individually mine, those are my treasures comma splice. not this blog or your blog that’s popular for a minute or has a lot of followers because of your theme that’s cool and all but it’s mostly about you about me about us our connections our moments our memories and how other people share and relate. so i lie here with vayda gazing out the window thinking about how bright this life really is. how the most ear-piercing noise in this room is your breath moving in and out of your nose in the most peaceful utterly heartmelting way and how i know this moment is fleeting by as i waste time to type some my-mother-is-a-fishy brain vomit as mr. davis coined it, i suppose. but how could i not take just a couple of minutes to be silly and remember the nuances of such a seemingly insignificant moment in the neverending hours inside our familiar four walls? see everything is a circle to me and i look at this circular A monogram that hangs from our window and creates this beautiful monochromatic thing that i stare at as i wonder and doze and begin to dream, probably because it’s all black and white as they say dreams are but i swear i dream in colortechnicolor and everything is a circle. one big circle we all rotate on and our cycles of moods our cycles of habits social circles (need i go on with illustrations) and an astute observer can pick up on them all just by listening to stories and possessing the proper amount of empathy. and i hula hoop in my circle and i can move and work to make my circle bigger and hold maybe your circle inside my circle. i would do that for you, or at least move my circle to rotate at just the right axis that our circles often overlap or maybe we miraculously mirror each other in size and shape and maybe we warp the same way for a time or forever or orbit apart accidentally or excruciatingly but that is just life. if design govern in a thing so small, or could robert frost be right in proposing all those white things sitting there so perfectly kept for the ultimate plot? i didnt even have to google that because it’s one of my favorites other than the discerning eye by emily and everything by ee cummings of course i love writing like this because segueways aren’t necessary how freeing how nonsequitor i see why the teenagers aren’t using punctuation now. see, i’d write more letters like i used to but mama always told me never to write something down unless you’re prepared for someone to keep it forever. so i end up doing this dance where sometimes i only keep it all in my mind and don’t even write in my journal but what’s the point of being so restrained? why not say something stupid on facebook or share a little meaningless selfie or create something i’m not totally sure i’d even qualify as art? why not? i guess in the end there is a great balance found in doing that dance. to find the great charm, the great interesting mystery in waltzing between vulnerability and restraint but then i guess when i listen to the hamilton soundtrack when v is playing i get really excited to share even this without reading it three times in a row and correcting typos or expounding upon sentences that may have incomplete thought. i will post it just the way it is and pretend i am the girl from awkward. on mtv i wish that show wasnt over because i watched every episode and vayda didnt wake up this whole time
OK, and i know for sure it is OK not being rude all caps but grammatically correct it is OK not o.k. or O.K. or okay or Okay, but OK i did read it over once and i didn’t take anything out but i really wanted to backspace the word comma slice since it isn’t a comma splice but i kept it there to enjoy the irony later on when i read this again when i’m bored or old or never