i did not leave my home even once, but it felt significant.
not my not leaving my home, but the day, more generally. in that way that teaching on zoom feels significant but you also never really can be confident that you've had a real interaction. you've given a performance, yes, but you never quite really feel seen.
so much drama happens at home now.
my interior life has always been exceptionally rich, but now my public life occurs within my own interiors and it feels a bit ridiculous.
the proposal is finalized. the agent is submitting it.
i keep sending him nudges because all of my prior agents have ghosted me. and i appreciate that he has never shamed me for nudging him while also being annoyed at myself for feeling grateful.
"i don't want to sound ungrateful." that was the talk i delivered on kim kardashian this morning. a talk during which i disclosed that i was in an abusive relationship in college. something i know i would not be capable of doing in from of a room full of strangers in real life, but there are things that are possible on zoom that wouldn't otherwise be. and i am grateful. truly.
my essay grading scheme rewards risks, even if they aren't entirely successful. on zoom, i am able to take those risks myself, in my scholarship. and i am grateful for that. i fear it will soon go away. though i hope not.
today, tonight really, it will have been eight months since the date rape. i texted him early this morning, because i was awake and thinking about it and i needed to remind him. because i assume he has the luxury to forget.
screech is dead. do you ever think about that? screech died.
lindear found out the husband of the sister of someone we went to high school with died of covid a few weeks ago.
donovan died nine years ago of i don't even quite remember what.
all these men, all these boys of all our youths.
i think turning 40 threw me, maybe not just because it feels very grown up, but because it hit me that a full 20 years of my life, fully half of my life, has been spent dealing with the repercussions of abuse.
and here's to the next 20 years, should i be so lucky as to have them, being better because i'm doing the work now. but fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.
i vacillate between anger and sadness and often conflate them.