cabin fever

ORIGINALLY POSTED December 23, 2022

i haven't left the house and i haven't talked to people. i spent all day rolling in bed or staring at my phone or staring at my computer or in the kitchen making breakfasts or staring at my dad's phone because he wanted to show me something. i lied on the ground and tried to paint something but got frustrated really quickly and then got really embarrassed and slid it under my bed. i played guitar but i only know one song and i got sick of it. it's been snowing out, and i don't have anyone to talk to well into the quiet hours of the night on the phone with anymore. no one cares that i finished 2 seasons of the show i like and how i saw this video of a wombat eating cherries on twitter and how i thought about the symbolism of molded fruit for a few minutes and i don't blame anyone for not caring, i just know everyone is leading as ornately intricate lives as i am and sometimes we just stay neatly tucked in the folds and axis points of our webs. i was trying to think of visual metaphors for friendship, and i was thinking about ocean currents, because sometimes they warm and then cool and then tuck below or beneath one another and sometimes they only cross for a second or sometimes they coexist or sometimes they change each other and it can be for a week or a second. i've also really liked the phrases "jellyfish tangles" and "penguin courtship" as just little mantras for myself. when my friends and i are bored we watch nature documentaries and usually just laugh at them. now i've been wanting to watch them seriously, but recently my brain feels like wet sparks so it's hard for me to do anything. 

there's a lot of people i wish i could say "i think what you've done with your life is really amazing and i appreciate knowing you" to but i just see them on instagram and hear their laughs in the backs of parties. but it doesn't change my sentiment, i just find it really cool when people make the most of being alive in their own ways, but i think that's just a given. who am i to tap you on the back and say, "you don't know me, but you make me happy." i did that to someone once at a party and acted on this impulse and got in the middle of this girl talking with her friend and said, "hey, we have a class together, and i wanted to say i've always found you really admirable," and she awkwardly smiled and said, "thanks." and i don't really remember anything else that happened then. i've spent a lot of time worrying if whether or not what i'm doing with my time is valuable. i should have a book published, i should have 100 close friends, i should have an internship set up at nyt and be working 3 part time jobs, and i should spend the rest of my time doing pilates, studying philosophy, and having incredible sex. but i've just been in bed and sometimes going downstairs to cook breakfast or look at the birds on the bird feeder. we're in a thick blizzard right now. i couldn't leave the house if i wanted to. i look outside and everything is glazed over, sleeping under thick, unwrinkled blankets. uncaring. it's like the whole planet is cataract-ed. it's not even peace, just indifference. my dad comes up behind me and says "that really fat one is a female cardinal." i feel like i need to cry. 

i'm not allowed to use my mom's mugs. it's all from my late aunt. my mom loved her a lot and got all of her stuff. my dad accidentally broke a few of my favorite mugs. my mom keeps aunt lenore's rose mugs on the top shelf in the back. my dad gave me one of his mom's mugs for my tea. she died a couple years ago. it has a silly face on it. my dad loved her a lot too. i get in bed, under a couple quilts, eyes still watery, and i roll over into a pile of plush bears and plush cows and plush mice i've accumulated from boyfriends over the years. a part of me feels like my mother for keeping them around. i feel like my father for letting me cry into them. i remember talking to someone about astrology, and how i think it's more the generations of cultural traditions and deeply ingrained symbolism of the world around you and the significance of having your own personal holiday somewhere in the mix that curates a unique experience pin pointed in this cultural pattern that can be mapped out by the month you were born in. that's kind of why i have a tattoo of a turnip between my breasts, but i can't explain that to anyone. i can't even really explain it to you. at least not right now. it'll take me a while. but it's a cute tattoo, and that's enough justification for it's existence. just, overall, i think it makes perfect sense for me to exhaust into the lull of unconcerned, but gentle, loving sleep as the world around me dances in the wind but is ultimately cloaked under winter snow.