So I'm starting a blog

Which I've been talking about for months now. Why does it take so long for me to start something new?

why does it take so long? Largely because I don't want to start something that'll prove I'm not as smart as I thought I was. Starting means the beginning of a death to a perfect idea that exists only in my head. Once I write it down, it becomes real, and reality has a habit of being disappointing. In a way this is my exposure therapy.

But if there's a largely there's also a marginally. It's marginally because...

It's kind of weird to use the word marginally here no? maybe it's because that's how we feel about the marginalized. Taught systemic oppression bleeding into syntax. Language isn't neutral.

Maybe I haven't started a blog because deep down I believe the things I want to say will only matter if they're perfect. But perfection is sterile. It's violence against becoming. I'd rather be messy and alive. Which is to say... maybe it's not just about starting a blog. Maybe I'm just trying to look deep and cool. Because I'm not a thought daughter. All I do is read texts by thought daughters and adopt them as my own. Essentially, I commission thinking.. in this case with my time. Well that's really performative. What a terrible waste of resources. The rich really would do anything for a bit of performance. Absolutely despicable.

The rich is me. Did you know we have 24 hours a day? And if you really try you can always find excess seconds and minutes. You pile them and it becomes 3 hours. I pay 3 hours a day to earn secondhand peace and critical thinking. My day is 21 hours after trading the rest for illusion. How long is yours?

But if you know me you know I hate performative people. Especially kids like that one guy with artificial rosacea. But the other day a lovely girl in 10th grade asked a question about authenticity. What is authenticity? Maybe nothing is authentic. Maybe the artificial rosacea guy is just taking advantage of the game. His authentic truth is being inauthentic. 

And that loops back to why I can't start things. Because I want to be perfect, and perfection often holds hands with inauthenticity. But what can I say? I want to be perfect. I want it to be uncriticizable. (Ironic because I don't even think that's a real word. Criticize me) I want to pre-apologize with brilliance. I want to say what I mean so well that no one can misunderstand or correct me.

Which is wild because I don't even believe in perfection. No one is perfect. We know that. You can't appease everyone and often times than not you can't even appease yourself. Perfection is cool but that's not blogging is supposed to be. I don't want to let this be surveillance over my expression. I believe in run ons and contradictions and sentences that that trail off mid-

So yeah. I started the blog. Largely because I need to start somewhere. Marginally because.... you read the rest. 

Anyway. That's all the thinking I can afford for today. School's cool and IB is surprisingly lenient with me right now. I'm maintaining a surprising grade for how little I study. When I say study, I'm talking about a 30 minute back and forth with chatGPT in the morning from 7:30-8:00 on my way to school and very seldomly doing my homework. 

Fortunately, Trumpet banned the word "climate change" so now we can ignore it! Thanks orange man.

Am I leaning into laziness under the justification that I'm choosing to be messy and alive over inauthentic perfection? Don't answer.

I do have to start locking in now. can't be caught getting 5s in my lock in year. The bad choices I'm making now will inevitably come crushing down on me... but that sounds like a tomorrow problem. Currently I'm enjoying my life painting. Speaking of, I recently purchased the paint "manganese blue hue". It's a substitute for cobalt blue... which is too expensive, especially in the hard times when I don't even  have a proper phone case. Priorities. 

It works alright, so I'm not complaining. But I yearn for the cobalt blue.

How was the Mamma Mia musical? I didn't go. Largely--I mean partially because I missed the tickets to my friend who bought the last one. You know who you are. I will hunt you down.

I was never really interested in our school's productions other than the year we did Shrek and I was in the pit orchestra. There still is a photo out there of the violin section playing in a high position and everyone else is playing correctly but me. A drummer tagged me on that photo and I have it in 'hidden from my profile'. It haunts me to this day.

I'll end this with my favorite ABBA song Angel Eyes. Listen to it and think of me.

This isn't really a love song to me. I mean, depends on the day. It reminds me of something but I won't get into that. I do really love the second verse though.

I also missed the chance to use Dancing Queen as my 17th birthday song. That too pisses me off time to time. 

That's it. Please know that half the stuff I said was a joke. I meant half of it. I'll see ya tomorrow. Super Sunday!