The Fool

Today is a day. Just like any other.

Always, the mundane - in between the dull moments, when I realise their backbreaking harshness is actually heartbreaking beauty.

Ben is in the kitchen, making a butternut squash and sprouted white bean soup.

I have a thousand things to do, that I don't want to do.

Like rinsing the buckwheat groats as they sprout, life cracking out of the seed, I will digest them easier.

Where have I been?

Always something more important and less scary to do than sit down in front of the computer with music in my ears and write a blogpost.

I could spend my whole life procrastinating. I'm not joking.

I know that my heart calls me in a certain direction, and all I can think is how impractical that direction is. But I am slowly discovering that nothing else will make me happy.

Bite the bullet, work nine to five, scrimp and save, and get my undergrad.

Yeah, I can do it.

But right now, I have reactivated mono, and a flurry of colds and bacterial infections have crippled my confidence. I feel selfish and isolated, but this is what my naturopath said to do.

Rest. Sleep. Take my vitamins and stuff. And there are alot of them. Pills by the fours and fives getting stuck in my throat.

But I can do it. I can. I will. I must. I gotta. I don't know. Should I?

I went to beauty school for one day.

I didn't know what I was doing there! People speaking of their all consuming passion for hair, and skin, and make-up.

And I felt ashamed. I was just there for a quick and easy career.

I don't have a passion for hair. I hardly ever wear make-up. In fact the only make-up I own is an eyeliner pencil from a $1 store, and some bits and bobs from my Mother-in-Law.

I dye my hair, but only because I get bored and depressed with the Georgia staring back at me from the mirror in our badly lit bathroom.

I don't even know what a pore is supposed to look like.

Why then, did I go to all that trouble? Running around getting referral letters, and writing a personal essay on my intent.

'I have a love of fashion, and it is my ambition to one day run a hair salon of my own.'

No it bloody isn't!

I get my hair cut rarely, I wear sweats all the time, except for when I 'dress up' in my jeans.

And then, I'm sitting there with Ben in front of the TV, when it hits me.

I am passionate about veganism, about womens rights, about learning, and most of all - about writing.

I WANT to go to college! I want to LEARN! I want to write books, and work on a Farm Sanctuary!

I don't want to work in an industry where women are nothing but hungry mannequins.

I don't want to wear high heels for 10 hours a day.

I'm quite partial to my scruffy secondhand clogs, thank you very much.

And I shall wear them during lectures on english and american literature and what not. Heaven.

I'm tired of being false. Of trying to be something that I'm not.

Who am I really?

A tall young woman with dreadful posture and a strange sense of humor.

(By the way, as an aside, my kitten just stuck his claws in my back.

I swore. Alot.)

I'm going to school, bastards!

I don't know when. But I will. Mark my words.

This blogpost was brought to you by the sounds of Warpaint, an all girl band from California.

Ben came home with the album a couple of months ago. I don't know how I'm supposed to listen to all his albums if he keeps bringing home more.

But this one, this one is amazing. This one is angry. This one is sad. It's dark, it's fearsome.

It contains the dregs of my angry female memories. Abuse, harrassment, spurned love.

Grasping, thrilling obsession.

Drinking it till my glass is empty, swallowing pills that make me feel flat and fuzzy and then shatteringly clear.

Clear, cold, vengeful, shameful, screaming whoops of laughter.

Being young, invincible, owning the world!

Realisation - this is my life, and I get to fuck it up. Over and over and over and again.

Frustration. Addiction. And not being able to stop.

Running away. Only to crash into the wall of myself.

I'm there, wherever I turn.

I might be dead now, if help hadn't found me.

All of this comes running out my fingers, in words that appear on a screen before me.

Music that makes me consider, and drives these feelings out my hands.

I feel blessed to be able to express in this way, because I can be very glib when it comes to words that are spoken.

These written words can stay here forever. In some tiny slot in cyberspace.

I'll forget them one day.

Maybe even tomorrow.

Warpaint are Emily Kokal, Theresa Wayman, Jenny Lee Lindberg and Stella Mozgawa.

They lead the way. They are the sound of 2011. I'm not joking. It was an election! They were voted into office!

They had my vote.

I hope that these words and this music make you feel something.

I hope you have the courage to follow your own dreams, so others can look upon you and feel inspired.

I hope we can do this together.

I'm now just typing crap.

Over and out, bitches!