Please Don’t Look At Me

It feels to intimate when a man says my name when they are a stranger. How dare you use the syllables of my lover. How dare keep the “s” dripping on your lips, the same way he says when he’s in me. Call me my honey, call me darling. My name is too mine.

I’m a colector of lives. How many can I live? I will write about them before I die. Somewhere in forgotten corner of Spain on the second floor condo. The ceiling fan will spin lazily above me. The flies will find my manuscripts.

The subtle way that large man got into his Jeep

The two people greeting eachother shyly in front of the library

The lovely way the voices of artists

After such a remark, it was hard to come back from it. I didn’t think of myself as a particularly spiritual person. I don’t want to tell him this either because it did seem important to him and I didn’t want to ruin a good thing.

He started to sense that what he was saying was crossing an invisible line that I was acutely aware of. Thought the line didn’t bother me, and I sometiemes even liked when conversations went beyond it, I often found myself at a loss for particularly what to say. This seems to be the reason for his withdrawal into more normal conversation. He asked if my mom or dad named me and I said “actually it was my aunt who convinced my mother.” And he said that it was a blessing.

I slowly and unknowingly developed a Dr Pepper habit since the last time we saw each other.

The pain becomes acute, especially when strangers are nice to me.

It’s weird how grief wears your face now. I felt you when I felt sadness for the people of Iran when we dropped the bombs. I felt you when an acquaintance died. I felt you when I dropped my favorite mug and that’s when I realized I’ve made you into something you are not.

When I see you in a year, like I promised I would when I said goodbye, I’m going to ask you where you found your hot chocolate recipe and let you know that I use it every winter. And sometimes I put too much cayane pepper in it so I keep the memory alive. You were always so sweet to me.

You didn’t fight for me when I was leaving. You don’t even fight for yourself most of the time I don’t know why I thought I’d be any different. Not talking to you has been the hardest thing Ive ever done.

It’s easy to see: I wanted to turn you into poetry— into the garden, sky and water trickling over rocks so that you could soothe me even in your absence. You just wanted to turn me to dust. It’s easier to forget the dust. Your body will linger in the folds of my mind, tucked into the folds of grass.

I think I did the right thing but the right thing will now haunt these halls. Although, I know you never agreed to be a ghost in the walls of my life, there you will stay, locked in the attic like a wife I am ashamed about. I will trick another lover, they won’t know you are trapped where you cannot be seen.

We need to name it something else for when pain is beautiful.

I’m not stalking your Spotify. I’m not stalking your Spotify. I’m not stalking your Spotify. I’m not stalking your Spotify. I’m not stalking your Spotify. I’m not stalking your Spotify.

I look for you in everything. I always have.

Maybe I don’t miss him, I just miss the stability, familiarity, and intimacy. :/ and I can get that in someone else, just give it time.

It does not get easier, but grief becomes satiated the more I dwell. The hunger comes back 2 fold.

Grief is a tall man with a dark beard and a top hat Seem to be covered in shroud. His tongue feels like sandpaper and his skin is young, but patchy. He’s aggressive when he kisses me, and sometimes I am scared of what he can do. But it’s always the same, he caresses my face with the back of his hand, I can feel his long nails. He cradles me head as he lays me down to do what he came here for.

If I’m holding your child

And were to almost break my spine to give him life

Would the love I feel bleed into your heart?

When I left the car, in my arms a baby, a branch of a tree hung low

Ducking down as if to bow to the ancient being

You looked away and jingled your car keys into your pocket

In the silent house the baby does not cry

It does not know that the love is complicated

That the mother steps around it to not get caught

Bear trap after bear trap on every stair

I smile and am terrified he can sense the dread

Wild animal afraid of death and beauty

When my spine finally did break and the bleeding wouldn’t stop

You held my hand and

You couldn’t tell me you love me enough

For me to understand that it was something different

The child stay in my arms, a boy I wanted to name Earnest

The bleeding comes, the crying

I’m tolerant of people taking my time

When before I would have rolled my eyes

I can appreciate them for who they are

And give them a part of my as a gift of that appreciation

And I find myself

More and more

Not asking anything in return

It comes naturally to myself now, too

“In this context, I really like how I act”

I say to myself after a fun night

With safe people

Context becomes my safe haven

And my core, unending self is all of it and loved

(You can start loving over people before you love yourself

Maybe that’s how we learn

No Biomass :/

No biomass “data not shown >:(“

I guess this is the control? It’s like 1mM so like I guess-this is also wheat grains and might not even be usable <3

Only leaf content measurement which sucks

No root/shoot comparison :/

Only shoots/that’s ok! :)

To be honest, this study has like 2 pixels in their graph total and I’m not too convinced of their math so please check this again when doing conversions <3

Honestly this paper sucks Hard but it has most of the things I need and it includes the extremophytes which is need so :/

Doesn’t say when the treatment started and how long it was to germinate and grow it in non-treatment conditions so that’s awesome

If things are going all at once, are they going slower or are they going faster?

Today my mother told me a story about how my father walked out on a couples therapy session because he refused to give my mother a gift on Mother’s Day. He walked all the way home in the rain from a county away and got a lawyer the day afterwards.

I once begged a man to give me flowers on Valentine’s Day. He came to my house with wilted tulips and chocolate and laughed when I said I appreciated it. For my birthday he did not know what I get me and I would have been happy with a bouquet in a nice vase and a love note. Instead he got me a hammock.

When I walk into a room with my mother usually someone comments on how similar we look. I use to hate this and dyed my hair pink in retaliation. Now I am proud of it. If I never saw my own flaws in such a hardworking and stubborn woman, I would have never gotten the strength to embrace and challenge them within myself.

I always watch movies way too late lmao but I've been meaning to watch the Mid 90s film for a while now because it seemed like a rock-hard, sobering, slice-of-life, coming-of-age film with cool skating. I was regrettably met with predictable story lines, unrealistic characters, and gore/trauma for shock value. Don't even get me fucking started on how it completely brushes over the racial trauma of one of the main black protagonist. It just felt like Jonah Hill virtue signaling about racial issues that he himself shouldn't really be touching on because it came across as disingenuous. There was no real character growth, the mom was a throw away character and the main kid was just put in really awful situations and I guess that was supposed to substitute as some type of character development? Only good things I'll say is I liked the soundtrack and there were a few scenes that were amazingly filmed and planned and the tricks were also insane. I understand the angle he was trying to emulate, but it came off as corny and insincere. I think the same thing about Jonah Hill's movie about his therapist but that's another post entirely.