NaNo

Day one: 1676 words about glitter, chewed-up bacon, and cherub thighs.

Day two: 1,988 words about neatly organized wicker baskets, purple lipstick, and a necklace made of red and yellow pom-poms.

ONCE UPON A TIME ONE OF MY STUDENTS READ A POEM ALOUD AND IT WAS SO GOOD THAT I STARTED TO UGLY CRY AND THEY ALL JUST SORT OF LOOKED AT ME WITH PANICKED EXPRESSIONS LIKE HAVING FEELINGS WAS CONTAGIOUS AND THEN AFTER THAT NONE OF THEM COMPLAINED ABOUT HAVING TO DO A POETRY UNIT

Friendship and Extended Metaphors

Making new friends is kinda like getting a bonsai tree.

At first you’re all like, fuck yeah, I got a bonsai, look how neat! But then you start to realize that bonsais require EFFORT and you have to WATER THEM and put weird little wires on their BRANCHES and then you’re just kinda like, yeah, there’s a tiny-ass tree on my windowsill and I don’t know how to feel about that.

Bonsai trees don’t understand when you just want to lie in bed and contemplate the weight of the universe pressing on your eyeballs. They’re all like, hey, repot me and check my soil composition and also let’s go out for beers.

How do you explain social anxiety to a bonsai tree?

Why do I always want things that I will eventually kill?

SO

Writing a personal entry about my life seemed like a good idea about two minutes ago, but now it’s hanging over my head like one of those commitments you see to completion due to obligation rather than desire.

Or maybe I just won’t see it through at all.

(That in and of itself is probably the best example of what my life is really like, anyway.)