how many times do you wanna bet I used "creepy" in this post

I hate to say it, but I am one of the Creepy People of whom I am so afraid. (They do always say that you will become the thing you fear the most, don't you?) Why do I say this? Well. It's simple. You see, I had a Gay Dream about one of my suitemates, and now I have a sort-of-not-quite-almost-there crush on her. And the poor girl is just trying to go about her life, trying to live as I am, not even thinking that in her own home, there is a tiny gay admirer, admiring her gaily. Oh, what can I do? I try not to look at her, because I don't want to be creepy, or perpetrate whatever the girl version of the male gaze is (which, I don't think that really exists, but I'm still afraid of it, okay, I Am Still Afraid), but she's very pretty, and I am Very Sapphic. Also, she's so cute? Like, her personality is totally adorable. Oh no, stop it Maria. No being creepy now.
Like, okay, when I like a guy (I mean, it happens in theory okay), I don't really worry about if I'm objectifying him or not, because 1.) I know I'm not, and 2.) the idea of a Female Gaze isn't a cultural thing that we need to worry about in general (in some cases, of course, just not as a widespread phenomenon, I mean we're not laboring under the oppressive thumb of the Matriarchy here). So it's okay and stuff. And if I see a hot guy in public, I can freely be all "ooh heLLO there sunshine wanna GO" (and then not do anything about it, because that's so much trouble), but then if I see a hot girl, at first I'm like "oouuuhhhHHHH" but then I'm like "nooooOOO" because I don't want to contribute to the systematic oppression of women! Do you see my problem? Gosh, it's so difficult. I am creepy merely by existing, which puts me on the same level as GamerGate fans and Bronies and Donald Trump, and that's a level that I'd really rather not share, if I had my way.
Hmm, but then this brings up an interesting question. Do I think that other women-loving-women are creepy? I do not! I would never say that (unless they were actually being creepy), so does this mean that I am being hypocritical again? Probably. How bad. I must stop.

Speaking of romance, DD hasn't texted me since Thursday. Do you think he telepathically sensed my internal mockery of him and retreated in hurt silence? Or could he have found my personal tumblr, where I post not-internal mockery? Oh dear, oh dear. Whatever shall I do?
Nothing, that's what. This takes care of my problem quite nicely.
Oh! Okay, so in my Korean class, there's this guy who's really quite spry, and he invited me to study Korean with him today, but I was busy lying on the couch wallowing in existential dread and misery, so I didn't reply. But should I have? Granted, I don't really need to study Korean, especially with other people, but maybe it would have been a good thing to do. Oh dear me! Maybe I should reply tomorrow, be all "oops sorry I just got your text! haha let's have a study date soon ;) " or something. Wait no, but that's not really the outcome I want. HELP. Why am I so socially awkward? I really think I need to go to finishing school or something. (Tangentially: whenever I hear "finishing school" I picture a whole bunch of daintily dressed girls fighting people, and a head professor person going "FINISH HIM" and that just goes to show you the deep and uncultured recesses of my mind) But what was I saying? Ah, yes. What will I do? Will he grow to hate me? (Probably not tbh; I'll just wear a lot of makeup on Monday) Social interactions are always so difficult :( This is why I can never grow up to be a politician.

My back really hurts. This might be because I've been lounging on the couch all day, and it might not, but I do know that the only time I left the apartment today was to go get food with Shezereh. It was surprisingly chilly out there. Maybe fall is finally on its way.
PUNKIN SPICE Y'ALL
I think I'm going to go to Westwood tomorrow. I'll bring my laptop and my headphones and sit myself right down to have a grand old time studying. I'll finish up that syntax chapter that I needed to read, and do my problem set for Ling 20, and maybe I'll print out the IRS request form for NAMI and do that too, and it'll just be swell and dandy. I'm actually very excited about this. Maybe I can even go a whole day without being hit on! (LOL no that's not going to happen) In order to facilitate this, I think I'm going to get up semi-early. Like, 11. (It's not sad that I have to set my alarm for that, right?) Then I can go and get some coffee and finally not have a headache, and it'll be truly magnificent. Oh. Wait. I hope I have enough money to buy a coffee, actually. Last I checked, I only had about 3 dollars in my wallet. Hmm, I wonder if I can pay with change?
A cheer to the joys of college life!

Probably, I should get my happy little self off to bed. Sure, I slept a ton today, but a little more sleep never hurt anyone, right? And it's been proven that night sleep is much better than day sleep. Oh, but that only applies to night sleep before 2 (and especially before 12). So maybe this will be equivalent to day sleep after all. Hmm, actually that raises an interesting question. At what point does the sleep effectivity begin to decline? Is it steady? Gradual? Does it decrease exponentially each hour after 2AM? And is it steady up until then? These are answers I must seek!
Oh gosh. Will my suite mate think I was waiting up for her if I go to bed now? She just came back and went to bed, and if I go to bed now, maybe she'll think "oh there's that Maria again, being all creepy on my (extremely attractive) ass, better not ever interact with her ever again." Which is okay, of course, because she has her own agency and can freely interact with me however she wants. But I don't want to be creepy. You know, I'm pretty sure most people aren't as afraid as I am of coming off as creepy (what a complexly parsed sentence). Maybe that means that I truly am creepy, because we fear the thing that is most true. Wait. No. That can't be right. I don't think we fear the thing that's most true at all. For one, I fear a lot of things, and I have seen from empirical evidence that most of them are indeed not true. For another thing, isn't that kind of a victim-blaming mentality? I mean, I'm not a victim, but for other people, like what if a bipolar person was terrified of being manipulative and toxic? That wouldn't mean that they were, and to say that they were just because of their (possibly misplaced) fears would be truly wrong. So I think that's a terrible mindset.
I'm glad we've gotten that settled.
Okay, so I think I really will go to bed now. I'm a little sleepy (I think?) and if not, I can play Candy Crush or go on tumblr, or look at pictures of myself like the flagrant narcissist that I am until I get sleepy. It will be A-Okay. Goodnight, then!

Guess who did her problem set last night? It was me. I did my problem set last night. I'm such a good student. Now I have an hour before my class starts, and I can do whatever I want.

So.

Let me analyze the dynamics of my relationship with DD. 

Now, as we know, DD is 27 years old. I will be 21 in 3-ish months (which is a whole other freak-out for another time), but after that, he turns 28 on March 11 (see I know this, I'm so great) (3 and 11 are both prime numbers, see), so it doesn't make that much of a difference. So, as we can see, that's quite the age difference. By the time I was born, he was in the second-to-last of Piaget's stages! And the last stage isn't even universal! Far be it from me to subscribe to something so normative and limiting as the stage theory, but it does give you an idea of where we stand in relation to each other. If I were a younger woman, I would be quite concerned as to the propriety of this relationship, and in fact, I would discourage it with all that I had in me. However, I'm a consenting adult, and I can make my own semi-rational decisions, so the manipulative/toxic aspect shouldn't be a problem in my case. Right? Hmm. Now that's a question. Really, it does make me wonder. Should he be going after women his own age? He may be a pedophile. After all, I do look like I'm about twelve. And I seem very sweet and innocent and naive, so maybe he thinks he can manipulate me. That's part of my charm, I suppose, but it does leave me susceptible to creeps (why else would I get hit on every single time I wear my hair in pigtails?). So this all is fairly suspicious, don't you think?

Even if we assume that we're both of age to make our own decisions, there's another aspect to this whole age thing. You see, we aren't in the same stages of our lives. I'm still an immature and puerile undergraduate, dancing my way through life with frippery and flamboyance (and plenty of purple prose). He's a Serious and Stoic grad student, who is probably in a brooding Bukowski phase. I don't think he's read Camus, but if he did, I'm sure he would find a Deep Connection. I think he's past the Kerouac-fuck-all-I'm-a-Libertarian mindset, thank goodness, but there is more to come, and I'm not sure his ideas would gel with mine. Oh, but then again, I do probably think that I'm more mature than I am. I mean, here I am disparaging a point of view that is no doubt very valid. I mean, I went through the phase myself in my teenage years. And they do say that only fools think they're wise. Well, I don't think I'm wise, but that just goes to prove that I am indeed a fool, doesn't it? Because I'm probably subconsciously trying to prove that I'm not a fool by saying that I am a fool. Which, you know, is okay. I'm fine with admitting how much I have yet to go as long as I get to learn some of what life has to offer. 

Where was I?

Right. Okay, so you see, we are in different parts of our lives. He's getting ready to settle down and find a job and all that. I'm still worrying about running out of swipes on my meal plan. Honestly, it sounds like one of these fanfictions.

Love Burns Red and Black: When a bored sociologist meets an enchanting young university student, his life changes in just one burst of light. Now what was right seems wrong, and what was wrong seems right. But will they find their happy ending, or will it just be one more castle on a cloud? (Archive warning: NSFW content)

Like. What are we supposed to do with this? What if he gets a job in Wisconsin and wants me to move there to be with him? I'm sorry, but your dick isn't that good! There's no way I'm changing my life's direction for something as insignificant as romance. (Not that it's completely set in stone, but circumstances are going to have to be a hell of a lot more dire than some dude who wants me to warm his bed while he goes to pursue his own dreams.) So there's that. And even if we did end up in the same place, what then? I still have to go to grad school, and get a job, and learn so much, and it's a bit early to tie myself down, isn't it? I know I'm not ready, not mature enough in any way to forge a very serious commitment at the moment. There's so much I need to do and learn and be before I can count myself as a Real Mature Adult member of society. So I need to figure that out, and I'm not sure a relationship like this would help me do that. But who knows?

Okay! So that's the age factor. Now let's deal with the more pressing problem: he doesn't seem to see me as his equal. 

Yes, yes, that's quite a strong statement, I know. But for cases like this, strong statements are where it's at. He seems to think that by virtue of age and experience, he's somehow the dominant member of the relationship, and can feel free to exercise his headship over little subordinate clause me. I guess some people are into that sort of dynamic (like in those fanfictions I had the misfortune of reading awhile back) (seriously I am going to be upset about this forever- my children Wouldn't Do That), but you know that I'm overly invested in equality, and I don't think I could accept a power imbalance of that sort. (Author's note: I almost wrote "inbalance" which is So Interesting, because it goes to show exactly how productive the in- prefix is, and how the /n/->[m] sound change is so integrally phonological and not morphological) Right. So, I don't think I could ever be a not-dominatrix (what even is that? A ~Dom?), and it would totally creep me out to try. Like, just because I like bottoming in bed doesn't mean I like being under your thumb in real life! For fuck's sake. The patriarchy really does need to go away already. But like, it seems like he wants to be The Man in the relationship, which is sexist garbage, and I'm so not down with that. I don't support traditional gender roles, you know! How could I, when I experience attraction to multiple genders myself? We have to be partners, or else we're nothing. And if he keeps this up, it really looks like we're going to be nothing.

As a sort of addendum to the previous point, I feel like he wants me to be his Pixie Dreamgirl. I understand that I may seem quirky and ditzy and dreamy and waifish and all that, but there's much more to me than just sunshine and daisies. I'm not going to Dance Into Your Life to Change It Forever or anything like that, and I'm definitely not going to die or get amnesia or undergo a terrible accident to fuel a tired and sexist plot point. I don't want to be one of these people who's like "oh I have so much depth You Don't Understand" because I'm not sure I do; in fact I think I might be pretty shallow. But I don't want to be reduced to a two-dimensional archetype either. And here's the thing. Even if I didn't mind this (for whatever reason), it wouldn't even work. I'm not always going to be happy, or witty, or fun to hang out with. Sometimes, I won't even be able to speak to you. Logistically speaking, I can't keep waltzing through a meadow of flowers with you forever, because that's not the type of person that I am. It's horribly reductionistic to pin that trope on anyone, and heaven knows I probably fit it better than most, but it just plain doesn't work, and to try and fit it on me anyway is just silly. 

On the other side of the coin (sort of), there's the fact that he's trying to get into my head with regard to my emotions now. Like, who even does that? Well, I guess they do in literature. And in theory, I like the idea. Just, you know, not as applied to me. I don't want to talk about my family, or my mental illness, or my eating disorder, or any of that stuff. Does it matter that I'm "slow to trust" or "timid" or anything like that? No! You're not my therapist, so stop trying to get jiggy with my headspace. If you wanna talk about your problems, I'm all ears, but for goodness' sakes, let's leave me out of it. 

Okay, I guess I should address this- I do know that for relationships, people should be emotionally available and open and trusting and all that stuff, and I advocate it, but I don't wanna do it. Which is part of the reason why I don't think I should be in a relationship yet. I'm emotionally immature, and I'm just going to end up hurting someone (maybe myself) if I go on like this. I need to fix myself before I can do anything serious. Oh. Right. So I'm the one who needs to fix me, not you. That's not your job. Love is nice (I guess), but it's not the panacea for all of life's ills that so many people seem to think it is. You be supportive while I work on myself. Yeah?

(Except that's all conjectural because I don't want anyone to be around while I work on myself) (but anyway)

I think he might accept this, though. Because I told him. But then again, who knows if it sank in or not? Maybe he was just agreeing with me. I guess the only way to know for sure would be to continue hanging out with him to see what he does (which sounds horribly clinical and not at all nice), and it seems that that's happening as we speak. So maybe I'll come to an answer sooner than I thought!

Overall, it's not a bad relationship. Heaven knows I've been in worse. The weird, gross parts of me like to be kissed and cuddled, and he's not a bad conversation partner when he's not being unbearably pompous (which, granted, is a lot of the time). I could definitely do worse. But could I do better? That's the question, and it's one that I can't answer yet. So I guess all that's left is to see which way the wind blows!

Happy October! 

I forgot to take my meds for one day (maybe two) and I'm all woozy and dizzy now and it sucks :( I'm just tryina live here, man.

I'm back at school now, and week 0 is officially done, so that's all fine and dandy, but I really have had quite a time here. On Sunday, I went out with Cruz and Eric. On Monday, I had a "date" with Andrew and practically stayed the night with him. On Tuesday, I went to the mall with Irene and Cruz and Eric (and got really sore because we walked like seven miles to get there). On Wednesday, Marissa and Irene and Cruz and Eric and I went to Santa Monica. Yesterday, which was the first day of class, I went to a party at Cruz's apartment. And today, Irene and Eric and I bounces all over campus gossiping and eating way too many sweets. And of course all along I was meeting people and hanging out with my new suitemates and stuff. So it was an amazing week, but it went by really quickly. 

I feel like my suitemates are scandalized by me, though? Like they all go to bed at 11 or 12, and that's before I come home, and when they do see me, I'm bruised and tousled from rigorous sex with an older man, or passed out drunk on the couch (or grumpy and hungover and late to class), or hanging out with groups of random boys, and like. What are these poor innocent children supposed to think?  I'm not the scarlet woman that they think I am, but I'm not exactly innocent either. So maybe what they're thinking is correct? Who knows. I'm pretty sure they all gossip about me, though, which is pretty funny, now that I think about it. At least they seem to like me well enough. They keep asking me for advice about everything. 

Fortunately, my classes are doing well. I'm really bored a lot of the time, but at the times that I'm not, it's all very interesting! And when everything speeds up in a couple weeks, it'll be super duper! I don't have a lot of homework yet, but maybe someday I will. Or not. Who knows! All I know is that I don't have any papers to write this quarter, and that is a tragedy. 

Today, I have callbacks for the acapella group I auditioned for. I'm excited, but also, I don't want to go. What if it's terrible? What if they kick me out on the spot? I dunno man. Who can tell what the day may bring. Also, it's 2 hours, and I'm already sleepy. I hope I can stay awake the whole time. Well, nothing ventures nothing gained! We'll see how it all goes. Right now, I think I will sleep for a few minutes. That's not bad, right? Nah. Okay, goodnight! 

It's almost October can you believe this

It rained today! Il y a pluie!! Gosh, it was absolutely gorgeous. I got up at about 9 (really I woke up at 8, but I didn't want to get out of bed, you know how it goes) and made some tea and listened to aesthetic music and watched it coming down. It was very peaceful and lovely, and I treasured the moment deeply. ❤️ (Do emojis show up? Probably not. What a pity!) The kids didn't go to school today, because of suspicion of criminal activity, so we all stayed in and did homework and baked and read A People's History of the United States (can you guess who did each activity?) and it was nice. Dad was here too, but he mainly slept all day. For future reference, I must record the outfit I was wearing, because it was totally cute. So, I had my shorts, and a black tank top, and then I put one of Xander's flannels on top and put a pair of his socks on to keep my little tootsies warm. Very aesthetic and oversized and absolutely excellent. It's too bad I didn't go out; I'm sure I would have charmed the multitudes. This all makes me so excited for fall! I can't wait to wear cardigans and knee socks and drink pumpkin spice lattes and put on dark lipstick and listen to the 1975 while walking around campus. It's going to be beautiful! Fall is my favorite.

Okay, so this might be a little NSFW, but it has happened, and I must share. So, I was happily going about my business, reading Les Misérables fan fiction and having myself a grand ol' time when I stumbled upon a promising-looking fic about Grantaire playing piano for Combeferre and Enjolras. And you know I'm always a sucker for that, so I opened it right on up, and then. Oh gosh. Oh no. It was so terribly strange. The things they did, I'm telling you, I was not prepared, and I don't think I could ever be. And I know I'm a fairly vanilla person, like I admit it freely, BUT that goes beyond the boundaries of common decency, wouldn't you say? Not to mention it's all completely out of character, I mean sweet dorky Ferre would never be all weird and domineering and stuff. Okay, so is it a thing that people call each other "sir" and "master" and stuff in bed? Like, not in a flirty kind of way like "I'm about to blow your mind, sir" but like "oh, master, can I *insert act here* please" because I Mean. I think if someone tried to pull that with me, I would just laugh. Well, either that or be Highly Disturbed. I'm a pretty passive person (I think the correct term is "sub"), but I ain't into that, no sirree bob. Oh my goodness okay also! Apparently some people have a praise kink? So if you tell them that they did good or something, they'll get off on it. And I literally don't understand how that works, because what if you're at work, and your boss is like "oh yes very good job with the annual management session you did excellently with that"? Do you just... I mean, there has to be a way to regulate it, right? Maybe it's contextually limited? Wow, so I don't know, but I truly cannot stop thinking about this. I don't know if I'm horrified or fascinated or both, but I don't think I will ever be the woman that I once was.

I've been reading A People's History of the United States, and it's quite good for being Socialist propaganda. The history is all correct as far as I can tell, and it's easy to read. Well, okay, the prose itself is easy, but I've been really slow getting through it because all the injustices outlined therein make me so angry that I have to lay it aside for awhile. Or else I have to ponder deeply, because who doesn't love to think about history and its implications for today's society? I know I do! Wow, I really wanna start a revolution, though. If I had to strike, I'd like to think that I would do it. Rights for all! 

Did you know that William Jennings Bryan was Secretary of State under Wilson? Somehow that must have been lacking in my education, because I had no idea. It kind of sucks for him, because then he had to do the Scopes trial and die in disgrace, and wow, what a fall. But he did have a life to live, and I'm sure it was fascinating while it lasted. Also, I had no idea how active Emma Goldman continued to be well into the 20th century! She's so cool. I mean, I'm not an anarchist, but you gotta respect her conviction. E.L. Doctorow didn't do her justice.

Tomorrow, we have to go to CKC :( I've been dreading this ever since we got out the last time. What an infamous thing! Maybe nobody will go. Also, I have to call UCLA's psych department to see if I can get that class. How scary! I hope there are still spots. It's cognitive development, which is totally fascinating, and even if it didn't fit perfectly in my schedule and fulfill a requirement for my cogsci minor, I'd still want to take it. Fortunately, it's a lecture (like a big one), so hopefully they will be a little more flexible about letting me in. It's really very inconvenient; they don't let anyone but psych majors (and psych/ling majors) enroll in the upper div psych classes without a PTE number. So even though I'm a bona fide cogsci minor, I can't get in there. Such an elitist attitude! The linguistics department would never do that. 😒

(I'm sure they are all very lovely, and they have their bureaucratic reasons for being this way, I'm not hating) (not much, anyway). What else? Hmm, I should probably start packing to go back to school. Gotta get all that stuff, ya know. I wonder where my high liters are, now that I think of it. I haven't seen them since June. Well, now. It seems I'm going to have a lot to do. Isn't that exciting! Best get started soon so I don't start the year in deficit. This is definitely going to be one of the best years yet, I've decided! 

My nose is so itchy. What is this? Maybe it's a sign that someone is thinking of me. Is that it? Or is that when your ears are burning? I know that when you sneeze randomly, it means someone's talking about you. Let's just assume it's someone eulogizing my beauty and charm and leave it at that. 

I should probably go to sleep soon. Dad is going out tomorrow, and the kids are going back to school, so I have a chance to be productive and practice singing (for auditions next quarter) and all that. There's laundry to be done and a house to be straightened up, and I have a councilor to call! Maybe I can make an omelette or something too. Okay, I must go. Goodnight! 

Tfw everything's awful

I think I should mention for the records that "tfw" means "that feel when" and it's some sort of internet meme? I don't know. It's a tumblr thing, and when tumblr is concerned, there are no real answers (it's kind of like Dada). 

The only day worse than Saturday is Sunday, and that's tomorrow. What am I doing with my life? I hate the weekends, like I literally dread them all week. Who even does that? Me, that's who! Wow, I'm great.

See, on weekends, people are supposed to do fun things, go out, party, enjoy life, all that. But for me, the only drinking I do is alone, in my room, trying to drown my sorrows in crappy cheap liquor, and the only social interaction I get is when I have to talk to people at church (and my students, of course). I guess it's a social anxiety thing? I dunno. Like I don't wanna do anything, but then I feel horribly guilty about not doing anything, so I really can't win either way. Anyway, that's not the worst part. No, the worst part is having to deal with my family. On weekends, we're all home together, and it's hell and I hate it, and I want to die. Not that that's unusual, mind you, but it gets worse on weekends. And then on Sunday, we have to teach! I literally loathe it. Detest it. Objectively speaking, I suppose it's not that bad, but for some reason I really hate it, so I just go on hating it, and my wrath increases every day. Soon it will be uncontainable (that's a lie; I need to buy textbooks, so I must contain my fury long enough to get paid). Last night, I woke up a whole bunch of times because I was dreading the weekend so much, so I didn't get much rest, and I'm sure that didn't help anything? But then I slept a lot in the afternoon (not very restful or good sleep, mind you), so I'm not tired, but I'm still miserable, so maybe sleep doesn't have anything to do with it at all. Talia, on the other hand, got a full eight hours, and was wonderfully chipper. It made me happy to see her. 

Now I know full well how lucky I am to have a family, especially one with people who don't hit me or snoop through my personal things (usually), and I really have no right to complain, but I will anyway, because complaining is what I live for. So. It's always horribly hot in here because Dad only lets us use the air conditioner when he wants it (which is like never), and I'm sure that doesn't help anyone's mood, so everyone is constantly pissed off and/or sad. Me included, but I don't have the luxury of showing that, so let's discount me for a second. There are bugs everywhere, because people keep leaving the doors open (like, windows have SCREENS, they're meant to be used for cooling purposes, why can't you guys realize this), and I hate bugs :( Like, they're okay outside, but they're not meant to be in the house, and I'd rather keep away from them, you know? They probably thrive in here because it's so horribly dirty. Everyone is a slob except for me (and Xander, but he's not here), and we're all too depressed to clean up, so the house is a literal pigsty (literally- the guinea pigs' cage seems to spread out across the entire house somehow). It's almost to the point that I feel dirtier after taking a shower, because of how nasty the bathroom is. Oh yeah, showers. My family should start taking them. I think Talia and I are the only ones who wash every day, which is, ya know, kind of disgusting. I mentioned that I use a clean towel and washcloth and stuff every day, and it was like a frickin revolutionary statement, I mean everyone was so shocked and horrified, like "Maria that is WAstEfUL" like no, what's wasteful is you throwing away your health because you couldn't be assed to throw your linen in the laundry, this isn't 1736 damn it

UGH

Okay, so also! Dad is really weird, as you know, so he doesn't let us use normal laundry detergent (it was a struggle getting him to let us use laundry detergent At All, but that's neither here nor there), and all out clothes end up smelling like ass, and not even remotely clean. I guess some of us (read: everyone except me and Talia) don't care about the smell or the lingering stains or even the indignity of having to go over everything with a lint roller three times afterwards (which they don't do, by the way), but when I wash my laundry, I mean for it to be clean, you know? I didn't think this was such an unusual concept. Also, we don't have a dryer, so we have to hang out our stuff on the balcony like we're in the goshdarn tenements. Talk about airing out your dirty laundry in public- literally everyone in the neighborhood can see my barely-cleaned thongs flapping merrily in the breeze. When I'm at school, I bask in the glory of a lint filter and dryer sheets and actual detergent, and washing my sheets every week, and living like the terribly privileged one-percent asshole that I am. It's really something, I'll tell ya what. It's also something to be able to eat off dishes that are definitely clean (because of course we're not allowed to use real dish detergent or clean sponges either) (and our dishwasher has been broken for years). SPEAKING OF, I feel like most people don't eat the way we do, like we manage to be both healthy and unhealthy at the same time, and that's a feat right there. I try to cook good meals for the kids, so at least they get something, but the rest of us (me included) eat horribly, and it's bad. I mean, for me, a shitty diet is a given, but the rest of all y'all ain't got no excuse. What can you do? I suppose I should start cooking for everyone else too, but frankly, it's daunting. They're all so picky! I mean, come on guys. Beggars can't be choosers. 

Right, so that's the setting. Then we have to layer the Interpersonal Drama on top (which is like something out of a frickin Victor Hugo novel), and the daily minutiae of our daily lives, which is all horribly depressing by the way, and it's a recipe for the Bleak House of the postmodern age. Which is, you know, saying something. I think I would feel personally offended if we never provided the basis for a Gritty and Meaningful masterwork, showcasing the depths of the human condition and standing in as a symbol of the grimness of society. (Come on, isn't that everyone's goal?)

Thus, to put it in the words of one renowned 19th century scholar, "men, women, and children are living in Shit." Oh, this is life, I suppose, and I mustn't complain (outside of here, where I will indeed complain profusely), because I am more privileged than 99% of the world's population, and frankly, I really don't have the right. I expressed as much to my therapist, and she started going on about how the "poor starving children in Mexico" lead the "simple life" and how living hand-to-mouth is actually much easier than living in luxury because those poor people don't have to think about nuanced feelings like Sadness or Anxiety. This was all very problematic, and I had to argue with her for the rest of the session (which wasn't very productive), but sadly, it's all that one could expect. I mean, the woman is white.

What was I saying, though? Ah yes. So, it's very bad of me to complain, and believe me, the guilt is eating away at me as we speak. But that's okay! We all need to feel guilty about something! (That's so far from being true, ignore me) And I know that oppression and pain aren't competitive sports, and someone else's suffering doesn't negate mine, but it's hard to feel that my problems are legitimate when I have a roof over my head and enough food to eat (that I don't eat, but it's the thought that counts) and own an iPhone and go to one of the best universities in the country. There are people who would kill to be in my position, and I'm squandering it by wallowing in my own Feelings. That's another reason to hate me, and actually, now that I think of it, it's another reason that I could be a Brooding Postmodern Antihero. Oh gosh, I don't like where my future is going. Before I know it, I'm going to be living in sin in a dingy apartment in New York City, punching random people in the face, or maybe killing men on the beach and having to go to jail because I was wholly unrepentant about it. And I won't even have the male privilege to get away with it! Oh dear, oh dear. What a sad turn my life has taken. At least, I can win some aspiring novelist a Pulitzer when he decides to write about me. 

Man, ya know what I wish? I wish I weren't so damn ugly. Like, I'm pretty sure a lot of people wish that, and to be honest with you, I'm closer to Esmeralda than Quasimodo in the grand scheme of things, so my complaints might seem a little silly, but trust me, they are heartfelt. I'm never going to be thin enough (which, granted, might be an eating disorder thing, but STILL), and my smile is hideous, and my hair is thin, and I have horrible bags under my eyes that never go away, and my eyebrows are so THIN what the heckie, man how does that even happen? Also, I think my boobs are shrinking? Which is totally not fair, I mean they were two of the only things I had going for me. And yet, people won't stop hitting on me! So, looking at things objectively, it really seems that we've arrived at quite a Critical Situation, and I can see no way out but to join a nunnery, and that's something that I definitely don't want to do, because I've seen that opera about the Carmelite nuns and I know how it ends, okay, I Know How It Ends. All in all, I'm a little dissatisfied. What can you do, though? I have a body that works, and that's what's important.

I should go to sleep, but I don't want to, because once I do, it'll be Sunday, Bloody Sunday, and that's the worst bloody day of the week. If I were ever to find out that I was a princess and needed to go off to a small European principality ASAP to give a rousing speech about identity and multiculturalism, I think now would be a good time for it. Naturally, I wouldn't stay there, but the event would take long enough that I wouldn't have to teach. Oh yes, and they would pay me (or give me access to the royal treasury or something), so I wouldn't have to feel guilty about not working. Oh me, oh my, tomorrow's coming, and I will cry. Let's see if I can manage to get out of bed (if I do, that will be a victory). All right, time to go. Goodnight! 

September!

Happy September! Well, it's been September for a bit. But I can still wish that it's happy, can't I? Goodness knows we need some happiness up in here.

Dad has somehow gotten a teaching job at La Sierra, teaching remedial math. We all suspect that it's as a courtesy to Xander, and he will crash and burn, but of course we can't say that, and we are all very supportive. And it would be nice if he could earn some money. Mom is reneging on the promise of a legal separation with him, which is understandable because it's extremely expensive, and thanks to Xander, we have a lot of unneeded bills to pay (somehow he ended up having to pay rent in New York even though he's moved out AND in LA, which means that we have to cover it), so I don't blame her. But I do think that she was more than a little happy to take the easy way out here. No one is at all on the same page, which means that I'm on everyone's page (which is highly exhausting), and let me tell you, I've never seen such deluded individuals. We could provide fodder for the best of postmodern dramas. Actually, I do think a musical loosely based on our family is in order; something like Next to Normal, but without hot imaginary sons and with more puns? Kind of like Camus-meets-Victor-Hugo-meets-Jonathan-Larson, ya feel? Anyway. So our home life is a disaster. At any given moment of the day, someone is off wailing in a corner, and that someone can never be me, because I'm a Good Mom and I can't give in to petty things like emotion. Or anxiety. Or, ya know, anything. I am marmoreal! (That's a nice word, isn't it? Very picturesque) I gotta say, though, sometimes I just really wanna fight. Like, I really wanna beat the tar out of someone, just once. I think it would be very therapeutic (maybe not for them, though).

It's gotten very hot lately, and it's almost unbearable. Dad turns off the air conditioner when he doesn't need it or want it, completely heedless of everyone else and our protestations, and it's always a battle, trying to turn it on before he can turn it off again, and turning it on when he leaves the house so the air can get a little cooler to tide us over through the next hot spell. Then he gets mad, but it's worth it to have a little bit more comfort in this horrible humid heat. How did I live in Ohio for a year? I often wonder. It's so sticky and gross with the moisture in the air, and I really do feel like I'm suffocating. Yesterday, I tried to sleep downstairs, because upstairs was unendurable, and I woke up like five times because I was all sweaty (also because of nightmares, but that's really a given). I hate being sweaty! It's so nasty and disgusting. Like, okay, I could never live anywhere but California, right? But I'm expressly Not a heat person. Cold is good; I can deal with cold. But heat? No. Sometimes I wish I had elemental powers like Storm so that I could envelop myself in a little bubble of ambient air at all times and not have to deal with environment problems (when I'm not wishing for that, I'm wishing for Bobby Drake/Emma Frost ice powers). Oh yeah, how did Emma Frost come to get his powers anyway? And did she somehow get Paige Guthrie's diamond form too? Gosh, I'm so out of the loop. There's like a whole chunk of the universe that I'm totally missing. 

I wonder if I should try to sleep downstairs again today. It might be cooler. But then again, it might not. And the kids might want to sleep down here, so I would want to give them the couches, and I'm not really keen on sleeping on the floor, you know? It's too bad I'm running low on alcohol; I could dose myself up, and then I'd be able to fall asleep anywhere.

Right, so speaking of which! I'm really running low on my supplies, and it's terrible. Did I mention that some lowlife was filching my whiskey? It like to broke my heart! I mean, I'm not at all stingy- I'd be more than willing to share- but they took So Much, and really, it was my only recourse, so I was sad. I used the last of it on Labor Day for our family dinner, and it was barely one shot, so it didn't do jack (that was a pun, please appreciate*), so it was barely even worth saving. But then again, I feel like most of the beneficial effects of alcohol are psychological anyway, so maybe it actually was good. Who knows? All I can say is that I wish Xander would hurry up and visit so he can buy me some more, better, hard liquor. I'm terribly sick of our (disgusting) brandy. Really, I'm thinking these Romantic Parisiens must have had more money than they knew what to do with if they were able to consistently get drunk on brandy. Or maybe it was stronger back then? Or more cheaply produced? I'm sure people like Grantaire could knock back a bottle a day, easy, even so. Hmm. Is that why all these Impressionists were so obsessed with absinthe? 

As I said before, though, we're running low on our spirits. This is very worrying, because I literally can't eat dinner with my family unless I'm drinking, and once we run out, I have no idea what I'll do. Eating is hard enough for me anyway; I wouldn't be surprised if one of these days I'll have to sip through a shot or two even just to eat on my own. Why do I gotta be this way, man? If only people never had to eat anything. I would be happy to spend my life drinking alcohol and never letting a bite of food pass my lips. Oh, dreams! 

Anselm has started asking me for help with his homework all the time. It's nice and all, but son I ain't tryna write your whole assignment for ya, kay? Kids these days. Was I that dependent on outside help when I was a freshman? (Well, in math, yeah) It really does make me feel like a real mom, though. There's nothing like it! I make the kids food, and dress them, and brush their hair, and help with homework, and nag them to clean up and stuff (really, it's Anselm more than Talia, but I get on her case too), and wow, man. I'm good at this. And also, it's NOT my calling. I will never have kids of my own. Of course, this makes me feel somewhat guilty, because I've been socialized all my life into thinking that I should be a Good Wife and Mother, but I'm sure one of my siblings will provide grand kids for Mom and pass on the family line and all that, so I don't have to take on that particular burden (although maybe I should?), and I shudder to think of what kind of anxiety-ridden messes my children would be if I had them, so it's probably good for the future generations if I stay single, if we really think about it. Besides, I'm terrified of giving birth. Like, babies squish your internal organs. I'm 100% not about that, man. Okay, but where was I? Oh yeah. So tomorrow is the open house at the high school, and Mom doesn't want to go with Dad (ofc), so she says I should go, but I'm not excited because I absolutely Know that her "conscience will get the best of her" and she'll tell Dad about it, but she won't want to go with him, so I'll have to go with him, and trail around with him for two hours. He'll tell me I'm a failure and crap at everything as be really embarrassing and offend everyone, and it will be a horrible experience. But Anselm needs someone in his corner, so of course I can't back out. But I do wish that Mom's conscience would fail her sometimes. 

I watched two episodes of Sense8 today. It's a good show! So aesthetically pleasing. There are some problematic elements, but overall, it's pretty well done. Of course I'm not even halfway through the season, so I don't know for sure, but I already hope they renew it for season 2. We could use more shows like that, and less like Sherlock or Supernatural. Gosh, I used to love Supernatural. But then it got so yucky, and now it's just kind of like that one weird friend that you try not to talk to because they always end up being really offensive and mortifying, but you always say hi when you see them because you shared a Past together. Such a let-down! It should have stopped at season 5, man, that's all I'm saying. 

Speaking of Netflix, I'm probably going to watch some now. I feel the X-Files calling to me. Or maybe I'll read Les Misérables fan fiction. I read a super cute one the other day, and I still think about it in spare moments. Maybe I should read it again. Anyway, that's all for now. I shall bid you a fond adieu, and a lovely bon soir as well! Au revoir! 

*because it's Jack Daniels. What a good pun 😎