Kill-Kill-Kill Time (Blogtober #1)

Been listening to more Magdalena Bay. I spent half of Sunday Killing Time. I scrolled my phone while silently lamenting how the hours slid by. It’s a loop of self-decomposition, killing time while mourning the death of time. Does anyone else do that? Get stuck in that thinking trap: “I’m wasting so much time! I’m going to waste more time!”

What my therapist (and friends) have been trying to tell me is that time is an uncontrollable commodity. I am not Loki. I am not the Time God. But wouldn’t everything be perfect if I could stretch time, carve time, create time, extend the days, the weeks, Twentyfive Eight, does that sound like enough?

Slowly convincing myself that it is ok, that maybe the best use of my time today was scrolling and scrolling and releasing unnecessary tension I’d been holding onto. Moments of downtime are necessary.

I’ve been getting up earlier. Productivity after work is impossible, so why not just go to bed? Although I know I’m pushing it, I really do need 7-8 hours of sleep to function, but I trick myself into thinking 5-6 hours is ok, and use (abuse?) caffeine to stay lucid. It’s in the song: I don’t care, if I don’t sleep. Sometimes I don’t care, sometimes I feel like sacrifice/the grind feels good (until it doesn’t…).

The song continues: but someone better pine for me without love, i’m without me

Without love, I’m without me. I tell myself every day I don’t want to feel, but I still feel. I want to be above desire, above wanting love, but of course, it’s a feeling that waxing and wanes. I tell my therapist I don’t want to feel, she says if I focus on not feeling, I am still attracting feeling. Someone, better pine for me. Don’t we all want to be pined for? Or is it just me?

I went thrifting a few days ago. Well, it was a consignment store I visited. I got a good haul, I especially like the skirt I bought, it’s long and black and fitted in a way that is sexy but not too sexy. But I spent more money than I expected! My sister likes to show me this Youtuber named Charles Broomfield. He’s about the same age as me, works at Google, and spends as little as possible living in Washington D.C., with a goal to retire at 30. I don’t think I’ll follow the same path as Charles, but his detachment from earthly needs is aspirational. I am looking at my own spending and thinking about what I truly need to purchase, and what can wait. Unfortunately, at the consignment store, I felt that I truly needed to buy those clothes. But! There is a solution: The turquoise dress I bought sells for $100+ on eBay. That’s enough to cover the haul. When I get a chance, I’ll list it there.

One thing I’m doing is trying to clear out my pantry and fridge. That means, eating every last bit of food I’ve been avoiding, instead of buying more food. I cooked two boxes of protein pasta I had and ate for breakfast and dinner for like four days straight (I get lunch from the office. I go everyday). I drank the last of those absolutely disgusting Ensure nutritional drinks I bought way back in February when I got my wisdom teeth extracted. It’s boring, it’s affordable. I’m cosplaying a starving artist, and it excites me? Maybe it’s a part of my attraction to sacrifice, as I said before, the grind. The capitalist propoganda is winning - I have to be more productive, like a machine, spend less, sleep less, eat less, do more, achieve maximum efficiency, when does it end…

I was detangling some hair extensions (bundles bundles bundles) and I’m over it. I wish my hair was longer, but I think in 2027 I will ditch extensions and just wear my natural hair, regardless of length, because it’s cheaper/less work anyway. I’m nervous about how I will be perceived. Sometimes, it feels like as a woman, long hair is the standard for being considered feminine, and my hair shrinks - even if it grows longer, it will literally shrink. Combine that with being a black woman, and I am nervous about how my interactions in society will change, ugh, I hate being perceived at all.

I’m having friends over today, so I went to Albertsons, to get some eclectic snacks; Cotton Candy flavored ice cream bars, and Chester’s Puffcorn.

Saturday I went to Stacie (and Richard’s) joint birthday party. I wasn’t in a social mood, but for Stacie, I will show up (I don’t know Richard, but he’s nice. I like his cat.). Tristan was there with a cast on his finger, so I took a picture to feature on the blog. I met some of Stacie’s other friends, and also had Costco pizza, which I ate very slowly, as I’m not sure I’m supposed to be eating pizza at this point (I got dental implants like, 2 weeks ago). I caught up with Tayonce who I hadn’t seen in months. Otherwise, I didn’t stay for too long. Once I got home, I had to use a gazillion wipes to get off the mascara I’d put on, I don’t know what compelled me to put on mascara, and nothing else, because I am I not great at makeup, but I felt like I needed something, and if someone could teach me how to do makeup, that would be great, comment below if you’re willing, this is a paid opportunity.

I got a $250 speeding ticket a few weeks. Paradise Valley, freaking Paradise Valley, go away Paradise Valley! I signed up for defensive driving, hoping it would be cheaper, but the course was something like $230. I saved $20. Yay.

I’m excited to learn what exactly I should do at a four way stop sign when everyone stops at the same time.

Joyce, Jordyn, Jaelynn, and Maya came over, and we played Uno and chatted. It was nice, I like having company. I kind of wish we took a picture! I did some cleaning beforehand, but ending up spilling a drink on the sunflower colored tablecloth so I had to throw it in the laundry bin. It bothered me a little, it matches with the pillows. I ranted to Maya about my “starving artist” pantry clearing effort, and she seemed concerned. Jaelynn was very tired and slept on the couch. Joyce relunctantly ate the ice cream bar and said it was alright. All of us shared the Trader Joe’s strawberry candy belts that Maya brought, which reminded me of the Sour Punch Straws I’d eat as a kid. When I was a freshman in high school, I was on the tennis team, and they’d give us a box of those to sell, and I ended up buying/eating at least half the supply. I thought of those days, which now seem like a foggy dream, the one semester I committed myself fully to a sport and didn’t quite (do I have that sort of tenacity now?) eating candy belts, sugar stuck to my fingers, and somehow ending up on my shirt.