sometimes it's easier to just close my eyes and write.

yesterday there was a combination of nausea from new glasses, anger and sadness at having my roommate, a fierce femme with an amazing history of activism and outspokenness, be assaulted on the street by some asshole who thinks its his god-given right to touch any female body that he wants. then there was anxiety at being in a space full of people. and anxiety over the 35 pages of writing i have to do in the next 14 days. and anxiety over what i'm going to do with my life when all of those papers are done. and anxiety over unrequited emotional attachments.

fuck maybe i should have stayed away from talking about this again, i'm getting another headache and this time i can't lie down and drink tea and be read to because i have to write at least 5 pages tonight.

i'm so happy when i organize to get shit done. i love putting together events, setting up workshops, making progress, stocking up the library, reading new books, attending talks. i want to do it more. i want to do it now. fuck school. as has been asked over and over again lately in my life : what's the point of academia?