A few nights ago I laid in bed and realized what a mere speck – just a drop in the river of time – that human existence is, compared to the sun and moon and stars, compared to the earth, which holds Galileo’s body and Christ’s and Sappho’s – it is the body of us all. How utterly insignificant I am – of course, I had known this as a basic fact of life, a knowledge carried like one’s own name, but buried so deep beneath the bullshit of everyday life that I had not fully realized it until then, and it was swift and crushing and overwhelming, like drowning. But it was also purifying – it cleansed me of the dust of vapidity, routine, and superficiality, and I felt like I was present in my own life again.
I don’t know if these are resolutions, per se, but every new year I like to set some goals for the upcoming year – too ambitious, as always, but I did manage to accomplish about half of last year’s so I think if I do the same this year, I’ll be happy.
- write at least 500 words every day
- submit to more literary magazines/contests
- read all the books on my reading list
- stick with the new schedule in order to better manage time
- practice violin regularly
- be happy/healthy & make new friends at college; focus on my studies, don’t be afraid to ask for help/talk to other people
- write in diary every day
- at least 1 blog post a week
- learn something new, like a new language
- exercise, meditate, eat healthy, drink more water, travel
- make use of time; don’t sit around moping, waiting, doing nothing
- try to be kinder to others, and to myself
For most of you, I’m sure 2016 has been a rather shitty year that you’d much rather forget; in fact, I too have only dim recollections of what happened earlier this year (for example, I almost forgot Donald Trump was going to be president), but I don’t think it has been entirely bad. For one, I got accepted early into one of my top choice colleges and will be starting there next fall, which is such a huge relief since I don’t have to worry about applying in the regular decision round. Some other notable things that happened this year were being selected to go to the New England Young Writer’s Conference, which was such a wonderful experience, and getting some awards at school. In terms of my other goals, I didn’t write as much or read as much as I had wanted to (seeing as half my poems were haikus), but I am taking a philosophy class this year and it is very exciting. I was at the same lab again this summer as last summer and I really enjoyed it, though I’m not sure if I learned very much. I think I’ve become a little more responsible, though. For the past week I’ve been exercising and doing yoga everyday, and I actually cleaned my room for the first time in over 6 months, and it seems to have also cleared up my mind somewhat.
I don’t know if I’ve really changed all that much this year? Honestly, it’s hard to tell, although perhaps I’ve gotten a bit more jaded, which was not my intention and probably something I’ll have to cure in the year to come. Another bad habit I’ve unintentionally developed this year is accidentally falling asleep at around 10 while doing my homework, waking up at around 4 or 5 AM, and subsequently panicking because I haven’t finished my homework/studied for a test/whatever. I seem to have procrastinated my new year’s resolution not to procrastinate. Oh well, there’s always next year, right? Anyway, how have your 2016s been? I wish everyone the best for a happy 2017!
Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
diary excerpts pt. ii
august 2015 – december 2015
august 3rd – “Everything is fleeting. Everything fades. And this moment – this hour, this day, this time – it won’t come again. This is all we have – a fragment of glass in the sand, the sparkling water under the bright bright sun. Nothing, not even the ocean or the clouds or the power and conviction of love can last forever. Everything fades; everything ends. Everything leaks through the cracks between your fingers. It’s future rust and it’s future dust.”
august 5th – “Social anxiety is really a huge pain in the ass, and as much as I’d like to not give a shit, I can’t help it – can’t get over it – can only really be myself when I’m only with myself. But at least I’m writing out in public which is the first step. I also have the strong urge to walk to Au Bon Pain and get a snack or something. I’ve always had this mental image of sitting in a Parisian café scribbling down poetry and drinking black coffee. My current reality is sitting in the back of Au Bon Pain after work, eating a toffee cookie and trying not to get crumbs in the margins of my notebooks. I once read a quote that said poets in yellow would be preposterous – but why shouldn’t a poet wear yellow? It brightens everything – it makes you feel like you have a bit of the sun in you. I’d gladly be a poet in yellow.”
august 8th – “Life is very immense and I want to capture the slow gravity of everything like water pooling around my ankles. It is August and heat shimmers around everything and the colors dip their feet tentatively in the pool of the sky. Tilt and tilt – it is midnight and the stars wink out at you, friendly and alive and burning and unassuming. You’ve got an airplane heart about to take off and I have pages and pages to fill with the lovely star clusters of dreams.”
august 9th – “The phrase ‘Back to School’ drives the stake of dread into the pit of my heart.”
august 11th – “Where does the wind blow when it’s afraid of the trees? Who sings the songs that the angels sing, and who dances the dance of the devil? When we are all rust and dust, will you be there to calm the frenzy of my decaying bones? Love is the antidote to everything, I think – it is what makes life worth living; I am very sleepy…”
august 20th – “I don’t like noise, but some people – my mother, for instance – have the need to to always be listening to or creating some noise. Maybe it’s because they’re afraid of their own silences.”
august 21st – “Today was my last day of volunteering. It was raining in the morning and we had to take the train. Thank God Dad is such a practical, reliable person and had an umbrella on him. We walked together in the rain through the damp, soggy streets and past oily, polluted puddles where raindrops fell in perfect concentric circles.
I told J how much I enjoyed working there and he told me how much of a help I had been to him, which is nice to hear. He took a selfie of us to send to his mom, whom he’d told about me, and then we said our goodbyes and he left to see the Meryl Streep movie. It was all rather rushed. Afterwards I felt empty. I sat in the lobby for some time drinking my peach iced tea and then I peed and then I sat around again, doing nothing, feeling the gravity of the realization that I would never see these people again. Sometimes people come into and out of the doors of our lives just in a flash, like big gusts of wind that blow through and ruffle pages and then when they leave, the stillness is so sudden and haunting. I wish it wasn’t like that.”
september 4th – “I feel almost cheated out of life, somehow, or defeated, or without purpose, direction, focus. I feel sick almost – tired of my surroundings, tired of the air here, which is too hot, too still, too stifling. Now I hear the sound of someone in the kitchen, and they will come up here and they will persecute me, hang me, scold me, ask why and for what, demand blood sacrifice, say something. And now that I am back in school I feel more stressed out and bored and harried and lost and alone and tired and misanthropic than ever. Whenever there’s time there’s a need to fill it up. God, I don’t know what to do – I feel half-delirious and there’s a sharp pain behind my forehead, and I feel like I had something profound to say but now it escapes me. There’s thunder rumbling in the distance, and I wish it was still summer so that I could stay up in the dark and listen to the sound of the rain and fall asleep to visions of wonder in my head. Summer always seems to be so infinite and wonderful when you’re in the midst of it, but it always ends too quickly.
september 15th – “I was transported from the garish sunlight of reality into the velvet midnight of love and murder. The night spreads out around me – I gather myself into myself, collecting all the varied ephemera that had drifted away in the day.”
october 19th – “This was the day that I was dreading and now that it is finally over, I am not very relieved. So much work to do still, but at least I got into NHS! – at least that was a nice surprise, even though lately I’ve been on the edge of a razor blade, just waiting to get cut.”
november 11th – “I think I would much rather spend eternity saving the world from evil and chasing after my true love than having to deal with grades and tests and pressure and failure.”
december 25th – “I wish it would snow, I wish it would snow, I wish it would snow…”
rose, salt, teal-grey. the flowers were rotting on the graves, bodies, marshes & fields in the early spring, yellow – mustard yellow, yellow pain(t), fingertips, since feeling is first, violence, blood & violence, stillborn, coruscate, the years, systole, diastole, pestilence, war, chiaroscuro, come them as they will, you you you – my hands, your corrosion, mountains, rise and fall, breathing patterns, things that fluctuate – the tide, ebb and flow, heartbeats, people through doors, fear – terrible fear, fear represented by spiders, hanging by a thread, harshness – harshness of voices, stigmata, blood and nails, midway, your funeral… my trial, murder and heat and it’s always the sun – glaring, blinding, suffocating, mirraging, shifting thoughts and perception – seeing things that aren’t there, points and convergence, isolation, mother i tried please believe me i’m doing the best that i can’t, shame like hot mud which makes you sink into the heat of your own body, even if you’re always looking for a way out, windowless internment, pawns, golden light and silver light – the golden apples of the sun / the silver apples of the moon, my body – its stars stuck in like crystals, like rock salt, miles and miles of shadow which recalls nostalgia, little girl – who do you think you are
endlesstrains @ flickr
diary excerpts pt. i
from oct ’14 – may ’15 diary
& a collage-y sort of thing made on photoshop
Dec 29, ’14 – “I wish I could step out of my body, out of my own self and climb right into another life. Everyone else around me seems to be speeding past, whizzing at 100 mph, like I’m stuck on the side of the road desperately waving for a ride but nobody pays any attention to me, everyone absorbed in the marvels of their own wit and the pleasures & opportunities life has so graciously gifted them and here I am, looking like a desolate fool, a sad clown with a red rubber nose, and somewhere, God is laughing. I can’t get past this feeling – it’s the only thing that’s been following me through my entire life. And maybe there’s this inkling in the back of my mind that if I did get past this – this roadblock – I’d be unstoppable.”
Jan 18, 2015 – “It’s so lovely in life to see how things fit together like hand in glove, precise and delicate and beautiful, enclosing perfectly within one another, fish hooks into open eyes. The more important things in language are the things unsaid, existing between the lines, in the spaces between the words. The thing I circumvent, can only draw a little red line around. The thing I feel for in the darkness, sensing its presence, its hollow weight. And by going around it, by feeling for it in the dark without turning the lights on, I am allowing it space to be itself. To express for itself what I lack the precision of language to describe. To let it unfurl at its own time, a flowing blossoming into wonderful pure joy and beauty and sweet fragrance.”
Dec 4, 2014 – “Days of the Week: blue monday, grey tuesday, wednesday has been cancelled, chartreuse thursday, vermillion friday, tangerine saturday, yellow mellow sunday.”
May 23, 2015 (on ants) “…oh, it’s horrible, horrible for such creatures to exist on this earth, not to be phased out during the grand process of natural selection – if I were the supreme overlord of the universe, I certainly wouldn’t select them…”
reading these back make me cringe slightly but i wanted to put them here to sort of document my growth in a way. so if you’ve ever wanted to glean some insight into the inner workings of a teenage girl’s mind, there you are. there’s no need to thank me for fulfilling your daily quota of teen angst 😉 i hope you’re having a lovely day! ❤
My eyes burn when I close them, a shimmering burning that digs in and hovers on the surface at the same time, coruscating diamonds into my wild irises. On some days it’s easy to think I exist in a multitude, a myriad of intricacies like lace-spun doilies, more delicate than spiderwebs and made with twice the stuff of gossamer and steel.
Everybody wants to be immortal in some way or another, even if they don’t want to admit it.