Thursday, 22
Woke up early and went downstairs to see Mama. She was cold at first, and stayed off and on all day. We went to the mall and I tried hard to fill in the gaps between words. We found a gift and came home. I thought I'd bake but it turned out Papa could not take her to ODIM so I had to. The bus was nice but it was so grey and rainy I felt sick, and sicker because of St. Anne's. I hate the effect it has on me. Waited an hour for the doctor. Adorable baby running around while her mom chased her. I used to be that small. More carsickness on the way back. Asked M to pack my lunch and she did. Boring shift. Philippe is my new manager. They're so overbearing about shifts now. I always feel in the wrong.
At home, I read and quizzed M on the cardiovascular system. She told me a horrible story about high school friend drama. A girl she considered her friend is back-biting her. I pray everything is good for her. I want her to be happy. I want all of them to be happy. J had a bad day. I feel disgusted with myself for how I act. Papa is so tired. I started crying while writing this which is silly. I just want everyone to be happy. I hope tomorrow will be good.
Wednesday, 21
Woke up to the sounds of yelling. H is callous with his medicine, he does not care about us. I heard a voice that made me so sad I could have died. Went back to sleep, somehow; I did not want to face the day. "Why does this happen on every khushi ka moka? When I woke up, I was alone. I had yoghurt and called J. We watched some of a bad Netflix romance and then most of a Nixon documentary while I prepared sugar cookies and, after they went to sleep, bell pepper pasta. H came home and was sullen. When Mama came on lunch, I heated some pasta and she refused it. "You should have asked first."
I prayed Fajr, Asr, and Maghrib. Papa called, asked after H's exam. Bone-weariness. "Other people's fathers..." Mama was in a better mood when she came back. I showered, cleaned. Asked her to oil my hair. Accidentally said something which triggered her anger. I can never do these things right. Cried, stupidly. Made a study guide for M's science and math exams. Drew silly drawings in the margins. Set her up at the desk. I love her. Read for an hour. Tomorrow it will be just me and Mama. Please let it be nice.
Tuesday, 20
Woke up at a good time. Made pancakes for breakfast — they were not very good — I was following a new recipe. They were meant to be fluffy, but I could not handle them in the small pan with the same ease as the woman in the video. I ate a bit with maple syrup. After that, I cleaned some and then lay in bed with my phone while my heart pounded with a single-minded ferocity. I couldn't understand why — I was just sitting but I was so afraid of everything. I decided to walk to the library. Grey, overcast day, heavy with the promise of rain to come — J said something nice about how this means rain, and rain is beautiful, and the plants will be bigger afterwards. I sent them voice memos about silly things, like my pancakes and the Liver King documentary, and the RN app idea.
Mama called me at the library, upset because she'd forgotten her keys and I wasn't there to open the door. Anxiety came back, but for a reasonable problem this time. I got Madwoman by Chelsea Bieker, Nuclear War: A Scenario , and "I Heard You Paint Houses", as well as Atwood's new poetry collection. I sat there and finished A Touch of Jen , the ending of which underwhelmed me. I got home and made myself busy — I made dough which I might make into bread tomorrow. Mama came home and ignored me some, which made me feel crushed. When she finally spoke and demanded a response, my voice pitched into tearfulness. She became gradually softer after that. I am like an insufferable child. M is having friend problems — I hope hers will end better than mine. I worked on the app some, and then I started Madwoman, which I like so far. I'm planning to call J tomorrow. I hope I will not act awkwardly. I'm feeling broadly resentful of the world. I had horrible, vertiginous dreams. Restless and strange. I feel too seen.
Monday, 19
Fell asleep early last night. Waffles for breakfast. We went to the outlets and walked around some. M stayed home to study. Grey, overcast day. When we got home, I asked Mama to drive me to the store so I could get glue for my lighthouse model. We ended up walking around the mall for a while and I bought a lovely pair of pants with six little brass buttons at the waist.
I haven't written anything original (or good) in so long that I'm scared I'm forgetting how. It's like my brain is atrophying. I'm losing everything that made me a real person. I don't even think a lot anymore. I used to be able to entertain myself like that for hours, even just last year, but now I can't do anything but sit dumbly. / It's like a compulsion.
Sunday, 18
I woke up with a headache and it didn't go away all day. Work was a complete drag and I felt sicker and sicker all the while. I feel bad every time C looks at me — I always think about what my life could have been like if things didn't happen the way they did. When I got home, we went out for pizza in Laval. H said something about how he won't care abot this when he's older, which both M and I contested. I'll miss it so so much. We were talking nonsense and laughing the whole time — I drew that silly Y/N meme girl into the condensation on the window, to her delight. When we got home, I broke down her study schedule for science and then we watched videos on YouTube. We started playing Disco Elysium together, too. We'd tried once before, months ago, and got as far as looking at our face in the mirror, but she grew bored. I think it was just the wrong time because we got much further today and she liked it and laughed and seemed genuinely interested.
I find the longer If on a winter's night a traveler goes, the less I like it. The first 50% of the book was absolutely wonderful. The latter half isn't bad, certainly, but it is less suited to my tastes in a way that came across as surprising to me. Tomorrow is going to be a long day. It'll be a fun day, I'm sure, but I'm so vaguely anxious and stressed about nothing at all these days. Every day passes by fine, but my emotions are so up and down and I feel completely frayed at the edges, like I'm being pulled in so many different directions at once and the outline of me is falling all apart.
Saturday, 17
Thunderstorm in the morning. World was emerald green. Went to the bookstore with H. He got a manga. I got Legacy of Ashes: The history of the CIA by Tim Weiner. It was between that and a thick novel about the Romanovs. His nose started to bleed in the store; warnings everywhere. Unravelled the colourwork again. Got so upset. Watched a few episodes of H's show, but I hardly understand what's going on because I wasn't paying attention during an important episode. I feel like there's so many signs and I can't put them together. Something wicked this way comes.
Friday, 16
Nothing very interesting. Woke up at 9:30 AM and had watermelon for breakfast. Cleaned my room and changed my sheets and felt nice about it. Did the workbook chapter sensibly. Made plans to watch the Liver King documentary with J. Last night I started reading The Post-Office Girl by Stefan Zweig for bookbug and I really like it so far. Obviously I can't speak to the quality of the original text word-wise, but the translator did a wonderful job at capturing the perfect rhythm and cadence — it's a hypnotic read, and I'm liking it a lot. I'm reading the Internet Archive's copy, which is a scan and easy on my eyes. I like it much more than reading on the library apps. I also started catching up on Dracula Daily. I liked when Dracula signed off with "Your friend, DRACULA". I would do that alllll the time if I was Dracula. Feeling nice today. I'm happy to be alive in the world.
Thursday, 15
I woke up very late today (10:00 AM) because I was up very late last night. I was sure to set my room in order before going downstairs for breakfast. I tried making pasta but some of it burned and I didn't add much garlic so it tasted a bit bad. Called J and had a nice time until we started doing the workbook, at which point I felt myself growing sullen and recalcitrant as a poorly-behaved child. Total apathy. Void feeling.
When I went out to throw out the recycling, I heard a weird scream and looked down just in time to see what I believe was a gopher dashing underneath the hole in our front steps! Another portent: I was talking to Papa about the hole just a few days ago. Amused myself for the hour of Mama's lunch break by trying to get a photo or video of it by lowering my phone with flash on from above and blindly trying to angle it to where I thought it could be. The first time I went outside during my break, it was just outside its hole, and ran inside as I stepped out. I caught a video of it shrieking.
I felt somewhat better after this and was able to work on my project some. I think I am getting better at conveying space. I'm very excited to make progress on it. I read a comic — The Paradox of Getting Better — and cried. It moved me. I realized later I had been lousy and disrespectful towards J's efforts, and the very least I could do was try. At work, a woman wanted an item that had been $50 cheaper on the sale that had ended yesterday. My coworker got me because the customer was not listening to her and she thought I could talk some sense into her since I have a better track record at positive customer interactions than her (she is quite shy). The customer mocked me by parroting my words back at me in a high-pitched tone. My patience wore thin and I eventually directed her to service, assuring her they would tell her the same thing I had (that she had missed the sale and there was nothing to be done). While driving me home, Papa told me it was four gophers: two adults and their young. I'll call the city tomorrow to have them rehabilitated. Under our steps is not a nice place to raise a family.
I think I will be able to finish If on a winter's night a traveler tonight. I was listening to the audiobook while at work because I mistakenly assumed the club would convene tomorrow (rather, it's on the 30th). I am 76% through for now, and still enjoying it as much as ever. I want to revisit some portions of the audiobook which I couldn't listen to with my full attention. Calvino mentions a story from the writing of the Qu'ran I had not heard before; asked Mama about its veracity and she, too, denied having heard it. I looked it up and was able to find the original story. It is different from how Calvino portrays it, but the effect is largely the same.
"For many years Cavedagna has followed books as they are made, bit by bit, he sees books be born and die every day, and yet the true books for him remain others, those of the time when for him they were like messages from other worlds. And so it is with authors: he deals with them every day, he knows their fixations, indecisions, susceptibilities, egocentricities, and yet the true authors remain those who for him were only a name on a jacket, a word that was part of the title, authors who had the same reality as their characters, as the places mentioned in the books, who existed and didn’t exist at the same time, like those characters and those countries. The author was an invisible point from which the books came, a void traveled by ghosts, an underground tunnel that put other worlds in communication with the chicken coop of his boyhood...."
Wednesday, 14
Woke up at an okay time (9:15 AM; could be better). J was awake already and we spoke after I had breakfast. Talked about design stuff -- I feel unhelpful. Afterward, they asked me to read aloud to them from Part 3 of If on a winter's night a traveler (my favourite chapter so far). I can't really explain it right now, but I feel connected to it. It's portentous, and it's beautiful. I wish I could write like that, but my writing is shallow and peripheral these days. This is what I say every day.
After this, they kept me company while I baked upside-down pear cake. It came out very good. The brownies are disappearing fast. I think I will have to distribute the cake amongst the neighbours; no one in this house is a fiend for it, but everyone acknowledged it was good, except for H, who doesn't like anything like that to begin with.
The call was nice and I was happy. I had a really nice afternoon. The Lalaloopsy doll I ordered came in the mail right as I put the cake into the oven -- also a portent (!). Papa made pizza in his oven for dinner. I coded in the evening -- I am working on a recipe book. I am taking steps towards being a big person.
J asked me to start filling in a workbook for the problem and sat with me while I did the first chapter. It made me feel stupid and small. 7/9 is not a good fraction to exemplify. I feel like I could fix everything if I wanted to. I think I have been this way for so long that I don't know how to feel any other way, and I don't know if I want to, either. How do you go about fixing someone like that? I can't take it seriously because I don't really want to change. I had such a nice afternoon. Now: melancholic. Wrung-out. I feel like a rotten fish. Bloated in the middle; insides lying inert inside of me like so much alien radial cartilage. How can I keep living like this?
Tuesday, 13
I woke up late again. I spent two hours wandering the house without really doing anything but looking at my phone and feeling miserable for it. J offered to call but I made up an excuse and declined. Room was an absolute hovel. Couldn't stand to look at it. Dolled myself up and went out. It was a beautiful day; hardly any clouds. Sky blue as anything. Hot. Mr. D's cherry tree is dropping petals like snow into our backyard. Wore a scarf so I could feel more comfortable. Went to the store and bought chocolate chips. Crossed the parking lot and imagined I was crossing a desert. Idled in the bookstore. Considered buying a book about Watergate; but I have enough. I think I'll find it at the library later. The bookstore depresses me the very most; everything is so expensive.
Mama had an appt. for French. Sat with her and asked some questions to clarify for her. I hope she will do it. Made brownies. They came out very good, but I do not have the stomach for much these days, and I was never one to eat baked goods excessively in the first place. M and Papa both liked them. M says she will take some for her friends tomorrow. I'm glad. Some of the cake went to waste and it made me feel awful that I couldn't eat it.
Spent the evening coding. Didn't speak much to anyone, but I was glad for their company. I am so afraid of being a grownup. I keep crying thinking about how small I was. I wish I gave everyone an easier time. I wish they were more than just content.
Started reading Calvino's If on a winter's night a traveler last night for bookclub (o_o;). Enjoying it immensely. People told me for years I would, that it was exactly in my lane. I took it to heart, but kept putting it off. It feels alive.
"[A]ll places communicate instantly with all other places, a sense of isolation is felt only during the trip between one place and the other, that is, when you are in no place."