Reminders for Making the Best of Hard Times

  1. Remember that “All Things End:” Think about any past struggle you have gotten over. Are you in disbelief about the amount of heartache and time you’ve devoted to this? If so, then remember that this current time will likely pass the same, and your life will be as unaccustomed to this despair as you currently are with your past ones. If not, at least go listen to “All Things End” by Hozier because optimistic nihilism has never looked so good.
  2. Immerse Yourself in Escapism: Escapism has a bad rap, but if things currently are going poorly, a little fantasy won’t hurt. Read a book, start a new show or binge an old one, just entertain yourself. Distracting yourself can even be “productive,” which is what CEOs use to describe commendable activities. If you have to do well in school or earn tips at your underappreciated minimum wage job, then you might as well motivate yourself.
  3. Talk to Other People: As no feeling is completely original, it’s likely that there are people around you who share the same existential dread that you do. Vent all you want to this person, be validated by hearing your same sentiments repeated back at you and talk all you want about anything else as well. Being around others can also remind you that, if anything were to happen to those specifically like you, you and your friends can share the interest of fighting back.

PC: Google

American God

You always walk with shameless grace

A miracle I hardly see

Since a liar sent me up to heaven

And made me say that god would make us free

We’re twin seeds planted in two soils

You say that giving love is easy

Well my head’s decades late and bursting

With rooted shame from someone else’s creeds

There always came a suited fraud

Who’d vivisect my faith for me

To save me with values I’d never believed

Carrying the hate from an American god

Must keep eastern integrity

I sewed on button eyes to hide

Just who I was when I would read

My love could grow safe from deliverance

In stories where our loves stayed sweet

I wish it’s only ghosts I channel

When I gather virtuosity

You say my art’ll surpass their crimes

Well I fell for yet another facade

The expectations smiled on me

And the dearest tales I’ve seen

Have somehow become foreign to me!

Reading those words from an American god

Was a perfect futility

(I wrote this relatively hastily, so don’t be surprised if I create a revised draft of this. My expectations were a bit more ambitious, so hopefully I can create a version that mimics more closely what I wanted to see.)

The Last Thing Seen on Earth

(Or “When you’re living in an apocalypse and you’re best friend won’t run away with you to the nearest star system.” Title and some parts TBA, but we’ll publish it a la Dickinson)

The last thing seen on earth

Is our wrought decay

”Do you hear what I say”

How we’re waiting ever for the day of a jammed up dream

No one ever lived how they liked

But don’t just try and catch me

And don’t you cry for those who chose this

When we’re searching ever for the place

Where loss would never be

So please be close to me

Together we’ll rise on that black smoke

And the restless bear will raise her downcast head

“Do you even know her?”

She’s fine now that she can graze her feet

If not for her shattered dreams

”And again, you never saw her?”

You know she couldn’t choose who she got

There’s one for each god up in the sky

Then will you have me rise alone

When no one will be left to count me by stars

The last thing seen on earth:

I swear, it’ll be violets down waving

Goodbye, as thise before us know

No one else would sort our ashes

So why not come with us

Please won’t you come with me

As you are the universe’s cure

When you’re here with me

I Friggin’ Love Playlists

Everyone always has at least one moment in which they make a decision that completely upturns their life. What makes them notable, normally, is that they begin completely innocuously, like the decision to switch a class, to make small talk with a specific person, however you respond to them, and only later can that decision maker realize how a radical change to their life hinged on that one choice they didn’t see.

I may be able to call what I did around 3 years ago that sort of choice, but its payoff seems just as innocuously debilitating as its trigger. I saw a playlist on youtube, clicked on it, and listened to it while doing homework.

You might be compelled to laugh, but yes, it can be debilitating! Work moves like molasses if I’m not hearing sick beats, and hearing sick beats can make me less able to focus on what I need to. I’m not sure at this point if my habit slows me down or is the only way I can set my mind to anything vaguely smelling of labor. During regular classes it feels like I have to do anything else just to not lose my mind to the clouds, but nearly all teachers seem to misinterpret multitasking as a character flaw of the youth. I’ve become a Gen Z stereotype, technology has completely divorced my attention span from what organized society finds acceptable.

New Spotify & Apple Music Playlist Categories in Chartmetric

PC: Chartmetric

Ranking all the Books I Read So Far in High School

Along with a nice and accurate, but short, explanation of the tiers. The works listed early are the ones I favor relative to the others in the same tier.

It Does Not Deserve Rights: Ishmael (sorry Alvarez, but the gorilla gave me Neil DeGrasse Tyson vibes. Say that I’m privileging humanity all I want, but I will stand by my fervent hatred of this book. I rank John Steinbeck’s pro-euthanasia fantasy over this dribble).

I Respectfully Tolerate Them: The Crucible, The Things They Carried, Of Mice and Men, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. (I feel like this is the unofficial “problematic faves” tier. It doesn’t mean that these works weren’t impactful in their own time or can’t still be enjoyed today, but reading them I felt that essential parts of the narrative’s worldview aged poorly, i.e. John Steinbeck’s pro-euthanasia fantasy. And since the worldview of a book is the basis for its themes and who the story is willing to develop, it means that these works, in my opinion, really suffer on their own merits).

Makes Sense They’re Classics: Julius Caesar, Siddartha, The Odyssey. (I find these to be the true neutral, and regard them in the way non-English people regard classic novels. Parts are genuinely moving, parts seem so divorced from contemporary standards for art that they are hard to engage with as a modern audience. A British actress I follow once said that Julius Caesar was her favorite Shakespeare play, which I found interesting because, though I’ve only read three of his plays, I think Julius Caesar is a bit bland by the Bard’s standards).

Uniquely Excellent: The Haunting of Hill House, Twelfth Night, The Importance of Being Earnest, Wuthering Heights, Brave New World, Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglas, Cannery Row. (It’s my unofficial Whipple tier, I don’t know how she keeps doing this. I usually love these books because they have themes that I really resonate with, because they present interesting questions and tensions, or even because their words are written so wonderfully. But I also feel that these works are very much “favorites” in that I believe they stick in my mind because they have a lot of elements that I personally favor, and might not be universally applicable or endlessly nuanced.)

Actual Masterpieces: Romeo and Juliet, Invisible Man, The Great Gatsby, The Catcher in the Rye. (These books are like the ones from the previous tier, but they are endlessly nuanced and readers can appreciate them even if they have wildly different interpretations of the text. Ambiguity is always the best thing about art, as arriving at a conclusion can make one feel like they’re part of the artistic process itself. To qualify for this rank, it also helps if every word in the work feels like it was written like magic, i.e. Romeo and Juliet and Invisible Man).

Set of 5 Vintage Books Customizable by Color Authentic Hardcover Farmhouse  Wedding Table Decor Art Deco Literature Library Antique Bookshelf - Etsy

The Creation of Someone on Writer’s Block

(I remember being ten and constantly looking out of my bedroom’s window.)

What’s going on here?

What are these things in my mind’s eye

Winding and filled with desperate wanderlust

Leaning out of windows to peek through

Studying and thinking

If only they could ever leave their current life

Leave and learn and grow, all like they used to

Back when they were spontaneous

And go out into that bright world out there

Just. In. Sight.

Will these things in my mind’s eye ever leave? 

Like will I go on with these wandering thoughts

Thoughts that fly and flit around my head

That I always try to grasp at

But no, it never seems to stick

And what will happen once critics see these thoughts?

What would they read out of these ramblings?

Will they draw constant connections to specific word choice, as per usual

Hyper focus and hype up the accidentals

Pay such special attention to the fact that flit, it and stick

Rhyme and just so happen to be within two lines of each other? 

Because alliteration is the height of poetic meaning

What allegory will they invent for this

Imagine the new entity which could rise

From the dirt

To be studied and beloved

Far beyond its lowly circumstance

Open Windows Pictures | Download Free Images on Unsplash

Ecstasy

(This one, like the last post, is also pretty old and hard to relate to now. But I really feel I should incorporate more experimentations in orthography when writing, because that’s what really makes this stand the test of time for me.)

Is It Bad to Drink Water That's Been Sitting Overnight? | Trusted Since 1922

You-know-when-a-burning-thirst-jolts-you-at-three-in-the-morning

And-you-stumble-blindly-to-the-kitchen-for-a-glass-of-water

And-you-finally-find-a-clean-cup-and-fill-it-with

Two-thirds-hydrogen

One-third-oxygen

And 

When

That 

First

     A

   tom

      .

Touches your tongue

It feels like

Every version of you

In every alternate universe

Has just met their soulmate

For the first time?

Or else you’re in a field of nonexistent flowers

Or in a milky atlantis

Or in a skyscraper right in the stars

Some primal thirst has been indulged right where you solely are

And whatever “you” could be, it’s nothing

It’s flying through the night

Stardust drenched

When you, in your pajamas, have been quenched?

That’s what it feels-

Felt like

When one would live an eternal nightlife

Starkly still, inside and one

The slightest sensations, stars brushing the earth

The Moon’s a Fonder Friend to Me

Would I need to have you admit

It could have been anyone – anyone – else

To make peace with the growth you made for me

My mind remembered paths back then

But the moon was new as a maiden voyage and –

I never gave an ample thought 

To where your hand was taking me

A derelict shack with only ravenous eyes

They’d say I should’ve been anywhere else

But that desperation made me 

Wonder if you were broken like me

And then I did recognize the musk

There is that rusting and hopeless ennui

You said my best refuge was apathy

And in the end, “you let me be”

You boasted on the courage of my honey,

Of the loneliness piercing your mind.

Mouth slick, you said – I’m the last angel you’ll send away?

Because I let some layman hoard my empathy

Remain a porcelain face.

Be stabbed through a belly’s pit.

Fluttering lips taught your whispers over my cries

As you went on to embalm each part of me

One day I stopped with bearing all your doubt

I should’ve had anyone – anyone – else

Gnawed legs do fit gnawed light stumbling through the leaves

I yearn to crack at every stride – I get to choose

“You laid in the bed they made for you”

That’s the first worthy thing that’s been said in his world

Because you are a fonder “friend” to me

I love you more than he, the sun

Suffering each fiery beating he sends your way

And you haven’t a spark to respond

Yet look how you shine with the light you’re given

I follow behind – what else will I do?

Maybe I learn to thrive, from what you did

Would I love her soft glow with no ravenous glower

But the best lesson I learned from you

Is that I could have been anyone

Anyone else

Moon Tree” by Bonnie Moreland/ CC0 1.0

(“My first kidnapping victim left me for the moon.”

“That’s rough, buddy.”)

Falling Leaves

(I first wrote this when I was around 13 or 14. It’s a bit disorienting to think that I was of the mind to write something like this, but this oldie is still a goodie.)

These green leaves

In their impetuous youth

Would spend their year of life

On watching humans live

The lives they never could

It was a wonder seeing them

Them, showing off their longevity

To choose their ways, to choose their fates

To weave their strings of life themselves

When leaves are blown adrift in wind

It’s helpless to resist, they say

In spring they envy cherry blossoms too

Off white small petals that would die in weeks

But even if it sounds too crazy, know

That blossoms rave so bravely in death

That their plight’s much more celebrated, cared

And have the simple leaves been loved before?

For leaves, they’re doomed

For brevity

For nothing in

Their future but

Repeating their

Colossal faults

Till end 

Then they’re

Tumbling

Down to

Earth

Bobbing and weaving and dancing through the air

Trying to be flames

With their brittle, brown carcass

To shine before the end

To roots centuries old

Bony and formal and cold

That leaves had always flown above before

They were weaving for a new fate.

But now it lies dead.

All because of what they were.

Not even to see the crescendo of freeze.

Leaves Fall” by Kelly Ishmael/ CC0 1.0