mess

I’ll consider taking this back later.
  • Why have online photo albums solely dedicated to food become so popular? What’s our infatuation with food and being a foodie? I like drinks more than I like food. Call me a drinkie. Better yet, call me a bevie because it sounds legit.
  • In one [hyphenated] word, I am: self-indulgent.
  • I seriously have a love/hate relationship with social media. Social media makes me judge-y. And it makes me feel like other people are judging me. Better put my best foot forward and make this facade diamond hard and diamond beautiful.
  • Would you rather be ignorant or extremely self-aware? I think both can make us act like arseholes.

An excerpt I love from The Namesake:

For being a foreigner, Ashima is beginning to realize, is a sort of lifelong pregnancy — a perpetual wait, a constant burden, a continuous feeling out of sorts. It is an ongoing responsibility, a parenthesis in what had once been ordinary life, only to discover that that previous life has vanished, replaced by something more complicated and demanding. Like pregnancy, being a foreigner, Ashima believes, is something that elicits the same curiosity from strangers, the same combination of pity and respect. (Lahiri, p. 49-50)

This resonates so deeply with me for some indescribable reason. I thought I just liked the way it was worded, but there’s something more about it. A parenthesis in what had once been ordinary life. It sounds like a sad passage at first, but the more I read it, the stronger Ashima sounds.

And somewhere on the other side of town:

Stan has been talking in his sleep lately. Or rather, activity has been going on in his sleep. Once, he sleepslapped me on the cheek. Hahaha!! I’m gonna get in trouble for this later. Okay, okay, okay. It wasn’t a slap, but he turned over to face me and “tapped” me on the cheek with unusual purpose and finesse. And then I woke from my Stage 1 NREM and said, “Hey! What did you do that for? Stan? Did you hear me? Why did you slap me?” Nothing. He just kept snoring. So I guess I had to forgive him. I woke up in the morning a bit disgruntled and told him what happened. No recollection on his part. And another night, he rolled over to face me and started chuckling. It was cute and creepy all at the same time, so I kissed him lightly, turned away, and pulled the covers over my head.

I feel like a mess today.

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