suffering the heat

It’s 96? It’s supposed to be 96. Degrees. Outside.

Does that confuse people on the other system? Probably not by now. People must hate the United States, for many reasons, but mainly for its overexposure. That’s not the correct use of that word, is it? For a Word Major, I’m awful at words.

You can’t watch a movie without being reminded of the United States. You can’t watch the news, either…again, for many reasons.

I hate the news.

Sometimes I feel like people who aren’t depressed are the real crazy ones. How could you watch the news—any news—and blink and shrug and go about your day? How can you just know that there is so much suffering—

This is why I have a problem with “God,” anyway. And this is so typical, I know, such originality coming from good ol’Introvert Playground. But again, again, again, how could a God allow so much suffering?

I hate knowing that one day I will get a papercut and there is nothing I can do to stop it. Life is full of papercuts, and bee stings, and stubbed toes, and broken hearts, and funerals, and shampoo in the eyes and splinters in the thumbs and dead people taking up all the slots on TV.

Television is suffering. Even the fake stuff, the shows and movies, they’re all about suffering. Even comedy is about suffering. It’s like we know we live in the gallows but only the depressed people feel like talking about the elephant in the room. And then everyone gets mad at them for doing so.

“What can be done? Just don’t think about it.”

Okay. I won’t think about the world. But can I think about myself, and all the disappointments I can’t prevent for myself? Failures, rejections, heartbreak?

How does any girl live past thirteen? She feels the pain of a menstrual cycle for the first time and is so happy. It’s the second month that it sinks in. It is going to hurt this bad for so-and-so days every month for forty years. It’s a prison sentence.

I feel trapped by my body. It is strange and alien to me, a vessel to hold my pain.

Where it rains

Where stupidity reigns, the closed mind domain,

Mem’ry retains only diamonds and pain

That are gained by the people preferred as bloodstains,

Who scream and make mountains of mole-hurricanes.

Ankle sprains, labor pains, they are one in the same

Blood runs red in all veins but some spill, some contain.

“If our rattling chains cause your painful migraines,

Equality! A solution that should be entertained.”

Introvert Fashion

I’m addicted to scarves.

No, it’s true. I have probably about thirty scarves. It’s a problem. But I love them.

I do really like fashion, but I’m not a huge risk-taker. I wouldn’t leave the house in a Lady Gaga meat dress or anything–in fact, I often limit myself to one “strange” thing per outfit, whether that be a scarf or bright shoes or big earrings.

The second thing about my fashion sense is that, obviously, I’m an introvert, so while I like being fashionable I don’t like to stand out too much. I wear a lot of earth tones. Burgundy, olive, dark  brown. I also like to cover up quite a bit with cardigans or tights or, yes, scarves.

There are some strange fashion choices, especially at a liberal college like the one I go to. I’ve seen girls with full heads of hair wear wigs to class. I’ve seen fake tattoos, platform sneakers, and sweaters with boobs embroidered on the front.

This is all fine–fashion is about expression, and if girls want to express themselves with neon and flash that’s fine! It just usually signals a neon and flashy personality, which I don’t really have, so the fashion seems odd to me.

Fashion may seem trivial, but it’s a way for other people to see who you are at a glance. However, it’s not just about how daring your choices are. Even as an introvert I like a bit of color. I like painting my nails and wearing hats and just a bit of flair, because I like to.

What I would never wear is a political tee shirt or button. A lot of my (liberal, young) friends are very much into Bernie Sanders (democrat running for president in the US). That’s great, fine, but then they also wear his shirts, his buttons, his stickers, like flashing billboards about their political views. I just wouldn’t be comfortable doing that. It’s not so much about the color of the clothing as what it says about you.

That’s kind of why I like fashion. I get to pick what my outfit means, one piece at a time, and then how those pieces relate say something as well. Everything you wear says something about you, whether you realize it or not.

So, I will keep my brigade of scarves and wear them with regardless of warm weather!