shooketh. by thyself. & thy lack of. audacity. zest.

i despise telling people my age. i despise myself at this age. i despise myself. today. right now. for the past 48 hours. 

this happened to me in high school, my junior year. it was my second year playing varsity basketball then - a faraway dream. i remember realizing i was not that good at basketball anymore - in comparison to the growth of the folks i was with. i remember thinking i could be raw as fuck if i tried hard. if i focused more, disciplined myself more. but i didn't. instead i wanted to read about dead presidents and make the dopest notes on this side of the fuckin' mississippi river. i wanted to kick it with homies, be social, listen to music while i whip around in my shitty honda station wagon that to this day was my favorite car ever. 

i am confused. as to why. i am still here. i am impatient with myself. i am impatient with my current mental atmosphere. i want to be instantly evolved. i want to be instantly freed. from the lifeless, metal, fluorescent lit cell that i have found. myself. put myself. in. 

right now i despise japan. but really. i just despise. myself. 

but i still despise the 55 year old male teacher who walks around projecting vibes of absolute entitlement as a 55 year old man. thinking he can talk to people with gruff rudeness. i don't care how old you are or if you have a penis. i don't believe in violent oppression. but i do believe. that. sometimes. patriarchy. needs to be. punched. in the mouth. teeth need to be shifted. your ass needs to be on the ground. and your sense of hierarchy needs to be absolutely shattered, into sharp glass fragments glittering the concrete. 

how come men here can go out during their free periods without class to smoke their ciggies, but if i, a young womxn, were to smoke a fat cigarette (which i won't because i don't smoke) in between classes, would git them looks of shame like "groh, you messy."? this that shit i can't stand. this is when. i feel like. throwing. this laptop. out the window, with two hands. the kind of throw where i have both arms high above my head, and when i throw this object of apparent value on the hot pavement. watching, hearing the dense pack of plastic and metal - mined by exploited workers - break. with that dull, manufactured sound. but. here i am. using the computer. sitting in this teachers' room. typing this. a real employee i am. but really, if they only knew that i have been a cog, to the best of my ability, in their system. i have overtime hours. so. here they are. 

in other news.

i had 2 dreams last night. i should have written them down earlier. but. i fucking didn't. i wish i did. but. this is irrelevant and irritates me that i even attempt to share this on the infinite space of the interweb.

i had a dream that i was in japan in a teachers' room. there was a male japanese teacher who was off. he wanted to kill us all, and i was the only one that knew it. i locked all the doors. gave tips to all the teachers as to how to fuck this dude up, namely how to drop file cabinets on his head, and to tightly tie his hands with plastic strings. so that. when he wakes up, he can't move. but no one listened to me. and i knew everything that would happen. 

this reminds me that i had a dream that my best friend's boyfriend, who has had bouts of emotional and physical abuse, sexually abused me. i forgot how wretched i felt when i woke up, but i remember feeling an ounce or so.

i felt like that this morning.

i also had a dream after i pressed the snooze button on my iphone, which later i would regret, for i had 30 minutes to get ready to serve the man. but. 

this dream. it was a tv show, like as notorious as grey's anatomy. but it became real life, that was in. it was some type of terrorist attack. it occurred in two other american cities, but the one i was apart of was in san francisco. 

wait before that. i was an older woman who was remembering herself as a child. and the events that led to that current ptsd as an older woman. i was being sabotaged by a woman who wanted my ass dead. i realize none of this makes sense. to myself. for i was able to transcend time, space, consciousnesses. 

back to the terrorist attack of san francisco. there were three bombs that cut san francisco into three well-cut pie pieces. it was mostly the financial district, and some rich ass pac heights area. it was scary. then.

union street was a cobbled street and my homey was leading the horse carriage that i was riding in. we were whippin' and dippin' through the cobbled streets damp with that night time rain...with the orange glistening from the ground. we rode into the financial district. and we were looking for something. i was trying to save something, someone. we ripped past chinatown which was literally in complete hot ashes and huge ruins of stones. it was directly from a post 1906 earthquake photo. this horse carriage brought us up to the top of some buildings of chinatown and we were sliding from the tile roofs into the sky. we fell off. we were falling in the sky. past the layer of clouds. then. i caught onto the grate exterior of the transamerican pyramid building. it was overgrown with green. the window panes were treated so that no one could see me. i banged on the windows, pulled on the metal grated exterior. all of a sudden.

the top pyramid part of the building came falling off of the base of the sky scraper. down i fell with it. control. gone. then. the whole building shredded. and then.

a flash of japanese new television, in really cute anime style. covering how millions died from the transamerica building toppling down. it was my fault. 

i woke up.

distraught. 

and now. i am here. i have to pee, i have a class in 15 minutes. my last free period gone like the sand through the hourglass. slipping slowly. but almost like pouring. and i still. have 3 essays to write. for an art residency, i desperately want. but am scared to not get. that i fear i will not execute. i fear. i will crumble under pressure. and die. 

mediocre.