(Photo by Maeve Scully Photography) darkness plays on darkness and we pretend we don’t hear we don’t feel we don’t know and that’s how it is. and the questions without question marks where were you why what were you wearing why what were you thinking why why why they start and don’t stop and that’s how it is. mothers’ daughters who might one day hold daughters and fear for their own different dark corners and fuzzy lights. and that’s how it is. and the act of walking home alone in the dark is a sentence a line crossed a fault because you are a girl and he is a boy being a boy and that’s how it is. lips that drip poison persuasion pleading and another set unable to form no and that’s how it is. our bodies are our own until he gets drunk then the lines are blurred and smudged mascara flows and that’s how it is. and I heard a girl tell a girl to just not think about it that it was okay but it wasn’t and we knew it. and we dried her tears with pieces of hope and easy words. and that’s how it is. we ignore and pretend it’s not real it doesn’t happen here it will never happen to me until it is and it does and it could and that’s how it is. words are not suggestions pushes are not green lights nothing is not yes do you hear me but that’s not how it is. O.A. photo by: Maeve Scully [pronouns are replaceable at your own discretion; this is from my personal perspective]
Last week was a rough week.
An unfortunate, inconvenient series of irritating events that made me wanna crawl into bed and quit everything for 3 months and maybe move to the deciduous forests of upstate Washington. A pile up of being late to too many classes, uncomfortable confrontations with bosses, spilled coffee, rain and at one low point, I kid you not, a campus bus roared past me and blew the hat I was wearing into the road while simultaneously splashing me with cold, swampy, sewage street water. I thought things like only happened during montages in cheap movies with a tragic instrumental playing in the background. And that was only Tuesday.
Some things to remember during bad days, weeks, months, years, etc:
I saw this quote on Pinterest (I know, gag me) that said “There’s nothing in nature that blooms all year long, so don’t expect yourself to do so.” The pressure to have your life semi-together can sometimes seem overwhelming and nauseating. A bad week does not deem you a failure or a weed. Shit happens. To all of us. A lot of the time.
You’ll bloom again. Last Wednesday I was convinced the Week From Hell™ would probably last forever and I’d die an angsty sophomore in college who really really needs to do laundry. But today is Monday. And I’m still a sophomore in college but perhaps a little less angsty and doing well on my bio quiz (yet to do laundry but). Little victories people.
It’s good to be in a bad mood. Maybe not forever but if you need to listen to aggressive music and be alone for a few hours to sulk and brood– you’re entitled to that privilege, even if you live on one of the most populated campuses in the country in the middle of a city. Allow yourself to feel it all. The good, the bad and the ugly.
Treat yo self. (-Tom Haverford, Parks and Rec star, inspirational being.) There are few activities more therapeutic in the middle of a thunderstorm of a week than doing whatever the heck it is you want to do. Eat good food, buy flowers, watch your favorite show instead of studying, take a nap, WHATEVER YOU WANT. Take the revenge you want out of life.
So it’s Monday. New day, new week. So far no buses have assaulted me– stay tuned for updates. But even if I get stung by a thousand bees in the middle of a hurricane after oversleeping for class with a midterm, there’s always tomorrow.
Age nineteen is a lot of searching. We searching for a passion, best friends, a major, a career, a place to eat that’s open past 2 am. We’re crawling around, looking high and low and half the time we have no idea what the heck it is we’re even searching for.
You know that feeling when you walked on to your college campus for the first time and knew it was home? Or when you see a pair of shoes, fall in love and bring them to the checkout without even checking the price because you know they’re worth it whatever it is? Or when you see an option on a menu and know this is the one, I want this please give me chocolate cheesecake now? That’s how I think all of our decisions should feel. That undoubtable gut feeling that this is right, for me, right now, right here. Chase that feeling.
At age nineteen we’re making a lot of choices and hoping to God one of them might be a little right, praying that we’re not accidentally destroying our livelihoods with our every minute decision. And there are times when you know your friends, parents, teachers, etc. would tell you choose option A and you get that nasty little sick feeling at the bottom of your abdomen when you think about option A but you choose it anyways to keep everyone happy and get your cerebellum to chill. But I think that sick little feeling is something more than just too much dining hall food. Lately I’ve been trying to listen to that feeling a little more and listen to my know-it-all overactive conscious brain a little less. And it’s working. Our bodies might know something our brains haven’t quite picked up on. We’re instinctively drawn to what is for us. Some science stuff backs this up.
We’ve all at some point ignored that gut feeling, pushed past using rationale and level-headedness to justify our decisions. And then, one day it doesn’t work, the plan falls through, the game is lost, it hails and thunderstorms, and YOU KNEW IT YOU SWEAR.
Follow that feeling, search for whatever it is until you find it, settle for nothing less than the feeling of finding the perfect leather jacket with only your size left, on sale.