so i haven't been here in a while because i thought that writing about my mundane life is whiny and boring but i just read little snippets of sylvia plath's journal and they are great, and i find that random details about someone's life can be interesting to read, but it's probably only because she's sylvia plath.
i'm not sylvia plath.
(but i am so unsubstantial in real life that i have to mark my presence, i have to sustain my existence, i don't mind disappearing suddenly but it's the gradual, uncontrollable insidious waning that gets me)
today i woke up extra early at 9.30 a.m., which was later than i was supposed to wake up at but i still took my own sweet time and i got to school on time!!! (okay i was a few minutes late but it doesn't count) so i sat at the staircase at first which i didn't mind but we late stairwell people got a seat when the others were ordered to move to the right to make way. so i got a seat which was great but i didn't talk to the girl on my right, or the girl on my left.
the professor was introducing us to psychology and then he asked us this question:
"What would you do if nobody could find out what you did?"
and so he handed our pink square slips of paper which i liked and told us to write down our answers.
me, being the morbid angsty teen that i am, immediately thought "kill myself". i knew that maybe i would have chosen something else in the actual event, so i tried to think of something else but i couldn't. i wouldn't rob a bank because stealing is against my "Principles", even though i am generally anti-establishment. i only think of killing others when i'm really angry, and right then, sitting among strangers in a cool room, i found that i had no desire whatsoever to stab anyone. which was good. since i couldn't think of anything else
in the middle of the pink square i wrote
in tiny, neat legible letters:
and then i folded it up into a triangle but then i decided it was too different so i unfolded it and folded it into a long rectangle but it was still different and anyway it still had the triangle crease marks it was too late the paper would have to be branded for life so i just handed it in.
this professor, this shiny head flannel shirt glasses man put all the pink slips in one pile. and then he reads them to the whole class
he never told us that he would!
so i just sat, waiting for him to read out my death wish. at least it wasn't graphic, i didn't paint a wordy picture of me blowing my brains out or drinking bleach so that my insides could be purified while dying. i wasn't worried, i was intrigued. was he going to psychoanalyze?
he got through the pile
"rob a bank"
"steal a million dollars"
"steal 2 million dollars"
"become a high end stripper"
"rob a bank"
"kill the person to my right"
"check people's facebooks"
"punch everyone i hate"
"rob a bank"
the pink paper pile thins
"date my friend's ex"
any minute now
"I'm not going to read this"
he casts it aside.
i don't have evidence it was mine. it was far away and i wasn't close enough to see the triangle creases or the writing on it. it might have been some perverted orgy featuring Scarlett Johansen and Mila Kunis. it doesn't matter. he wouldn't have read it anyway.
but not only that if no one knew i died it's either some clone of mine took my place and lived my sorry life, maybe living it better than i do, or i just never existed
so anyway blah blah what is psychology blah we're out of time okay bye bye
i walked out into the scorching heat and i was supposed to go for a lunch date but i thought friend had forgotten so i just tried to scrutinize the map which was confounding. i am not a map person. friend popped up out of nowhere and it took me a while to register her face. i got subway and they didn't have the $5.95 meal so i feel deprived of my beloved chocolate cookie and unhealthy soda. we ate near a shimmering lake with this huge fountain thing that spat nicely into the lake. there were lily pads and ducks and oh! it was pretty lovely. i have never been there before. the grass was nice but patchier than my father's hair and there were lots of ants. thankfully none of them bit me and i wore no pants so they couldn't get stuck there and have me slapping at my legs like i'm performing a jig. i win this round ants. i have killed your fellow citizens without any ramifications.
there were tons of birds and they were kinda cute but those that want your food look menacing; they seemed to have eyes slanted downwards from anger and greed, but i know i'm just projecting onto simple creatures who are not capable of complicated emotions. audacious. that was the word on the tip of the tongue when i was ambushed by those birds, but it never got out.
so we talked and we went to the library and they have like shit tons shit tons truckloads of wonderful old books from decades ago with those old library stamps which felt lovely and old and i got sylvia plath's bell jar (finally! although i have speculated too much on the content and read too much on it that i might have spoiled the experience) and almost all of her poems in one book, printed in lovely typeface on yellowing paper. i hope it will be good, like the yellow wallpaper, but i heard plath was bipolar, not depressed like perkins.
so we parted ( i did badly at trying to be friendly and i forgot to return a compliment! alas. ) and i made my way back on the bus. i was watching a blonde girl and an asian guy from the university talk to each other. i do that a lot. i don't even try to be inconspicuous, i take it for granted that i am invisible. nothing more than a faceless uninteresting person in the crowd.
i got off at the shopping centre and i did some "shopping". meaning i walk through stores and touch all of the clothes, spending at most five dollars because i'm broke. shopping malls to me are like drugs to an addict. what i do in there isn't healthy. it's like i'm stuck in some sort of bright, melancholic limbo. i feel barely alive, so i should be floating down the corridors but the thump thump of my heavy feet is too loud. i walk and try on clothes i could never afford. i promised a gorgeous shaggy fur cardigan that i loved her and would come back for her. she was $45 and silky as a golden retriever. i'm not sure when i'm going to get that kind of money and she's too beautiful for me. i expect some other girl shall get her.
i went to k-mart (my faaaave) and the lights were bright as usual and when you step in it's kind of like heaven. they had this rack
and i just gravitated towards it. in the midst of all the usual cheap sweatshop tees there was a bright slip of purple lace that just stood out to me. i held it out
and it was this tiny rhubarb coloured lace top. the lace had orchids in it; the centres looked like vaginas. i had to get it. i tried it on and hurray! it fitted, though it was slightly suffocating because it was meant for kids 120cm tall. i am 160 cm tall. but it was stretchy. i like getting clothes that wasn't meant for me. i'm such a rebel, though of course, style bloggers did it before me and gave me the idea. my taste in clothes is very rarely original and different. i have to get brainwashed first by looking at pictures of conventionally attractive women and studying what they wear. that's what everyone does really. i just spend much more time on it.
so i stuffed that guilty cheap purchase of mine to bring it back home to join all its cheap sisters. i browsed around but found nothing in my budget ($1) and so i headed home.
where i am right now.
i wish you all a good day