A TV Series Tour de Force

To rest your wrists, you shall feed on the Watchlist. Until now, my predictions didn't fail me.

And with those, oh how they didn't fail me

And THIS, was worth the road trip it took to watch it:

I caved in

... And actually hung out with the group I kept getting recommended.

-It's all a bunch of overachieving and badass ladies! You'll fit in just fine

And we actually hung out after the O'Keeffe exhibition. They went. I didn't. I joined for cafe.

And I say cafe and not coffee because at least coffee wise, these ladies do things the way I remember it done from my side of the Atlantic, not the rush-rush one of the American side.

When my therapist used the word : overachieving and then the word badass, I started wondering how the lady viewed me. I guess I never paused amidst the intense sessions and reflected how this American born and bred Midwestern typical belle (granted, with some experience abroad) saw me. When she associated me with the words and the ladies, I paused. But then, I didn't have it in me to speak up or wonder aloud or ask. I am not used to getting direct feedback, and when I get indirect feedback like that, I don't know how to speak or react or keep up the conversation.

Anyway.

So the ladies... Gosh, I wish many thing. I mean, I promised my therapist I will give it a try and two and even three. We are doing things her way anyway. But damn, there were just so many things that just...eh.

Where to start? How can I say it without being judgmental or negative?

The fuck with all this, this is my own personal space and my first impressions weren't great, which is more often than not, not a good sign.

I heard some shit I didn't think I would hear it in real life from grown supposedly self-aware self-reflecting adults:

-I was never someone who did things like everybody else anyway, hu hu hu hu.
-I have always been a bit of a loner and a marginalized person myself
-I just started reading Harry Potter, couldn't go past the first chapter, that was it.
-All that is mainstream, I actively avoid. I just can't with the middle class taste of things.
-From my time at the ivy league, I particularly miss the intelligent conversations and the insightful debates. Everything pales compared to it.
-How can I persist to exist without watching/reading this "insert obscure reference that would appeal to a very small audience"?

etc...etc...etc I sat through this for five hours and twenty seven minutes. When they joined me at the coffee shop, I was working on my assignment and noted the time because of some calculations I needed to check after some time. Then, I checked the time consistently after two hours, when I realized what I was into.

I think the funniest part of the whole exchange was the point where I wrapped up part of the discussion on introductions:

-So if I understand correctly, you ladies all come from Caucasian families of academics and technical households with one or two overbearing parents that pushed you to excel and you kept that pattern in everything you do in life, whether in pursuing a career in academia and still feeding an artist that was asphyxiated by paternal figures?

They said yes and were very enthusiastic about it and their writings and their blogs, and their future trip to see a play and their season tickets for the local performing center and I just looked at them wondering if all they stated beforehand was no longer present in their mind.

I didn't realize, silly me, that the mantle of "intellectual" and "artist at heart" and "versed hipster" were truly labels people in real life pursue relentlessly with no self-awareness and a total lack of sense of irony, what the fuck...

Why am I back to high school with the friends that are part of the old families and that barely spoke any Arabic?

A Netflix Tour de Force

It has been a mind numbing binging period on Netflix. No more homework, so more feature films.

Also Evangelion is on Netflix, so more esoterical death than I could handle right now.

Trust in that veiled hand, which leads
None by the paths that he would go
And always be for change prepared
For the world's law is ebb and flow

Eh

It turns out my form of meditation is giving my therapist ideas. So, she says if it works for me, then it's all good.

Then I was talking about that point and the art exhibitions point came up. I go to the ones of our university's museum when I feel inspired by the topic or the pieces. Otherwise, I don't actively seek them, and wouldn't go if the overview or the synopsis doesn't speak to me.

So Lee Krasner came up when I was speaking of Milo's abstract work:

Of all I could find of him at our university's library, these were the portraits that caught my attention. Otherwise, I think I would stick with Joan Miró thank you very much.

There was talk about Georgia O'keeffe exhibit happening in Wichita throughout the spring/summer. I haven't gotten around seeing her work and I don't feel like it. I get hammered by facts but I honestly couldn't care less right now, nor do I go exploring art for the sake of it.

If anything, I honestly feel this one thing I do to alleviate my mind and that provides some relief is in the process of getting turned into "a thing", and I can't muster the capacity to say no or argue against it or stop it. I just take the brochure and move on, then will probably flake on the person at the last moment.

And perhaps some time later, I may stumble on Lady O'keeffe (I keef her name at least) in the library or somewhere else and I will look into it. And perhaps I will like it and perhaps not, and perhaps I will regret not going to this exhibit happening right here right now and perhaps not.But until then, I don't care.

Her name was Lola, she was a showgirl

I miss the beach and the ocean and the quiet mornings and the solitary world and the emptiness and the silence and the stillness and dawn

Kamikaze on the Loop

I got a car. How does it feel? Like everything right now, nothing.

I got my first B. I knew I will start slipping eventually and I knew a class will take the hit. I spoke about it to my therapist and she said: " What if it happens? It's not the end of the world!" She's right, it's not the end of the world. It's nothing really, just plain nothing, just empty worrying and anxiety.

Friends are coming all the way from the other side of the Atlantic. It doesn't feel like anything, but I can't act like it for a plan that finally came to a fruition.

Here is the thing about this whole time:

When Eminem put out Revival, I didn't like it. Neither the beats nor the lyrics. It just tsk tsk... Plus, Beyonce ? Really? Ed Sheeran? Seriously dude? Please add Justin Timberlake to this combo and I'm done...

But then again, every artist has to have that little black sheep. I still have appreciation for Revival, just no love. When my homies, fans as well if not hardcore fans, were berating the album, I defended Eminem's choices and argued my appreciation of certain tracks.

Then, Kamikaze dropped out and I liked few songs and connected with one or two, gave me goosebumps and ignited my replay tendencies. And that was it.

In my quest to trying to connect back to things I used to like, I can't seem to connect back with much. But I was listening to Kamikaze while trying to work out and I just started crying in the gym. It's not even the lyrics or thematics or the beats. It's just the emotion, the pain inside god damn. I exhausted the tears and the pain inside.

I am still listening over and over again to Kamikaze as of now, I never want to forget that. I can't believe how much it just makes sense irrespective of content and beats. That one is tough.

Hell, I am even relistening to Revival and his track with Beyonce hit me hard.

                               

Looks like it's me and good ol Marshall for this reinveted but not quite phase.

Being human is getting too hard good grief.