"college Is The Best Years Of Your Life" "college Is For Meeting New People And Expanding Your Mind"

Every episode I think “surely, things will get better. Surely, they—at the very least—cannot get worse.” Every episode I am somehow proven incorrect

i keep thinking about how rfk said that autistic people "will never write a poem." i keep thinking about that, about if humanity is calculated on the back of old verse. how far we measure personhood is in baseball and stanza breaks.

i keep thinking - i have over 7k poems on here alone. language can be a special interest, after all. did you know the word autism comes almost direct from the greek word autos, meaning "self"? self-ism.

maybe he is right - i haven't really played baseball. i was a ballet dancer instead. and besides - my sister once accidentally hit me in the face with an aluminum bat. i'm not sure if the injury gives me half points. am i only a person in the dugout? hand in a mitt? swinging?

does softball count? does cricket? am i a person if i throw the ball to my dog. am i a person as long as the ball is in the air, or do i stop being a person as it rolls into the bushes. i took my girlfriend to fenway recently; was i a person in the sun, with my hands up, with the game laid out at my feet in a diamond. i felt like a person, but that was back in the summer, and i often feel my most person-like then.

am i more of a person because of the sheer number of things i've written? does quality matter, or is it quantity? i used to write entire books every summer in high school - i wasn't doing well. i felt the least like-a-person back then. but then - does any person feel human in high school?

in the library, ink on my skin, i feel personhood shutter at the edges of myself. actually, writing feels blissfully like not being myself. it feels birdlike; escaping into creation so my body dissolves and i survive only by muscle memory. i am not there, i am writing.

but who can deny the falconlike focus of warsan shire, the tenderness of mary oliver, the sheer skill of amanda gorman. those are poets. they are certainly human. you could line them up with the way their words have influenced us and measure their literary shadows like wings.

perhaps it was very assumptive of me to want to be a poet rather than "a [ label ] poet." i wanted the work to fill itself in, rather than be stained by what i am. i do not write in despite of my neurodivergence, i am just neurodivergent and writing.

does the poem have to be in english or can i send it through my palms into the coat of my dog. does the poem have to make sense. does the poem have to love you back.

if i break a glass, will the poem appear naturally? or is the act of breaking the glass human-enough. the shards of my life glittering out beneath me - do i have to write the poem, or is it self-evident in the pile of glass splinters? i cannot grasp this world the way other people can. regardless, i endeavor to touch - even the mess - very gently.

i broke my toenail against my coffee table recently. i released a bug outdoors. i made coffee. i walked my dog.

i didn't write a poem about any of these things.

something else, then. existing without humanity.

I had such high expectations for the finale and they were still all surpassed. The drama of Tula almost killing Jaysohn only for Viola to crit twice and completely wreck everyone. An absolutely insane last battle followed by an even crazier epilogue. Jaysohn deserves his airbud moment. I can’t wait for Lila to solve climate change. Thorn really was a prophet. I still need an update on the status of hats. What an amazing story the whole way through.

The vulture dimension?

The fucking VULTURE DIMENSION????

I have three exams before now and next episode, but all I can think about is vulture dimension. About to fail every class.

How can I function when vulture dimension is just out there?

I can’t. The answer is I can’t.

What an extremely innovative and insane commentary on consumerism, technology and what society expects women to be

Cannot FUCKING stand when my loose leaf tea says to add tea in tablespoons instead of teaspoons. I'm sorry, bitch. Am I making tea or am I making a table. Let me double fucking check.

I'm not a socially awkward introvert. I'm a socially awkward extrovert. I am perfectly capable of carrying a conversation, but I'll carry it like a seagull carries a french fry. Snatching it from your fingers and flying off faster than you can process, and then taking it somewhere weird.

On my cop arc (have to proctor an exam)

I'm like a girl who wants to read more books but doesn't

I did NOT need to be called out like this. Yes, I spent this morning eating spinach directly from the bag. I do not understand what to do with spinach. I know I am supposed to eat it so I will take it like medicine. I am glad to know I am not alone in this experience