Age of Anxiety

I am pissed.

Why?

Well first off, I have a persistent baby cat mreowing into my right ear, and a raging headache near my left temple from stewing over things much too late into the night.

What do I have to show for it? A truly pissed off human being. 

Robert Frost says that a poem starts with a lump in the throat. In my case, it started with a thump in my chest, and an aching flame that grew with each short breath as I tossed and turned beneath my comforter last night.

As of recently, I have been unusually bothered by the connotations associated with the terms, 'Man' and 'Woman.' I have been told that men and women act a certain way due to their biological histories and societal conditioning enforced upon them everyday...but for some reason, I can't settle for that. 

I call bullshit on the whole damn thing. 

Am I just close minded? Or am I in denial? Is our society already deeply attached to these values that categorize men and women? Will women always have these expectations to be beautiful and perfect?

So really, why am I upset?

I feel that I am constantly being measured by men, with my body at their disposal. Also, why is it 'normal' for men to ogle at pornography and place real women next to the expectations that pornography broadcasts? Is it really normal for men to be masturbating with thoughts and images of other naked women when they have someone special in their lives, that would share their bodies with you? Is that connection with your loved one really not that special anymore? Or am I just a sentimental mess? There is always going to be someone more beautiful, tone, and willing...and I thank society's approval of pornography, among other things, for reminding me of that everyday.

Whatever. I'm pissed. I feel selfish for thinking that I'm special and want to be the only woman that physically matters in a relationship, otherwise, why would I give myself out to someone when my body is truly a part of my own identity? 

I have more to say, but I had to get at least that bit out.

Peace, mothafuckahs

Lexi A. Swenson

*** WARNING *** This video is not official but just a tribute for Daft Punk. Hello everyone I hope you guys like my video dedicated to Daft Punk leave a like...

5/17

I wonder how many decibels each “square” on the indicator bounce back and forth between my beat-up eardrums. I’m at 12 out of 16 (which really is quite loud). I decided to stop at 13 while experimenting with the up and down volume keys. I can hear the clattering of used mugs and dishes colliding with one another through my headphones. Even worse, I can still hear the indistinct murmurs of customers filtering in and out of the coffee shop.            

What did I expect at 9AM on a Sunday? I guess it’s impossible to start the day without your Dark Roast Brazil blend and all-too-excited-to-be-here company. I don't know why that annoys me.

Even though 9:18AM has barely brushed by, I feel as though the day has already been wasted. I’m not in the correct frame of mind to do work.

Why? Because I don’t feel like it. I haven’t been feeling much of anything lately except for paranoia.

  Did I follow the guidelines correctly?

  Did I remember to lock the door?

  Am I not a deep and interesting enough person?

  I definitely don’t have a final today, right?

  I swear it was Sunday, not Saturday.

  Does this person still enjoy my company? 

Maybe this feeling isn’t exactly paranoia, but regardless, these worries have started to seep in well past the surface. They have pushed me into the arms of my one true comfort (my 4 inch mattress pad).

As the amplitude of a sound wave increases, the volume of the sound increases along with it. Right now, I haven’t been processing as many ‘sound waves.’ My volume is muted, and my thinking obscured. I’m not sure how to fix it.

  Feeling strained (and listening to Daft Punk)

If you lose your way tonight, that's how you know the magic's right.

Baths - Orator

 5/14

I looked up at the sky today, and there was a messy shape of a cloud (that maybe) looked like a question mark.

I have the half light haze of a pale morning blue over my eyes, and it makes me wonder. Why does it take my eyes so long to adjust? I haven’t exactly been feeling normal.

Orator runs softly throughout my head, and I don’t want to listen to any other song. “As kids you never spoke me. It was bleak. Dogs(?) don’t see so well, every old person goes to hell and I. I don’t love you. I don’t love you. We can talk, we can talk, all you want, but you’ll never speak to me.”

The synth fills my stomach up with charming melodies, and it feels so good right now.

As I blur my eyes back and forth and in between thoughts, each cloud starts to bleed into one another, creating new organic shapes. 

Maybe it’s because I put my glasses on, but when I looked back up at the sky, my messy question mark wasn’t there anymore.

Feeling blue.