The Second Seat

I still haven't figured out how to keep people from sitting at my table in the library. The nonessential Second Seat. I've tried everything to keep people away. I've tried sitting in different parts of the library, maybe some areas are more targeted than others. I've tried having my headphones on, blasting music to appear deep in thought and therefore unavailable and unapproachable. I've tried spreading all my stuff out over the table, making it clear I was busy, and I needed the space I'd come early into the library to claim. Despite all this, it seems like every other time I come to the library my efforts are useless. I don't understand what makes me the target. Nobody else in the library ever has a stranger sitting across from them. Could it be my brightly colored hair? Maybe it's human nature to be attracted to bright colors. But in nature the brightest colors usually mean danger, so that can't be it. 

Today's incident was my fault. I didn't use any of my tactics so it was easy for this guy to come up and ask me if anyone was sitting in the second seat; that's another thing, they trick you with the wording of their questions. No, nobody's sitting there, but that doesn't mean you can. Even if they did ask me for permission, who am I to deny them? It's a very uncomfortable situation they've put me in, I don't have any defense mechanisms. Venus fly traps would just eat any pest that approached them, but if I did that I think it could easily be twisted and called "cannibalism." Anyways, it's my first day back from spring break and already the library shenanigans are happening. It's like the gods of this college are telling me nothing's going to change. I think next time I'll have to try to create the illusion of an already occupied second seat. Instead of setting my stuff off to the side I could place it on the seat so nobody even bothers to ask. Maybe I could even remove the second seat entirely.

The first guy to sit at my table leaves early. Usually I end up being the first one to leave and they get the table all to themselves. I thought, finally, I'd have a moment of peace so I can finish my work and readjust myself to sit comfortably. Only 15 minutes later does another person come up and ask to sit with me. Am I going crazy? Two times in one day. Maybe I manifested it by accident, by thinking about it too much. The other day I thought about what I would do if I ran into a mutual friend, and about three and a half hours later I did. But if I do have manifestation powers, how come I can never bring about things I actually want to happen?

It's not like anyone's trying to make friends either. IF they came up with me in the hopes of making a new friend and IF they struck up a conversation, even just a nice comment or compliment, I wouldn't really be complaining. But they come up and they sit in silence as they keep to themselves. One girl didn't even use the table when she asked. She just curled up in her seat and had a book in her lap. I mean, what's even the point? The library has sofas for that. The thing that gets me the most is the fact that nobody else ever has a stranger sitting with them. It's like, every day there's one single person who has the need to sit with a stranger at a table, and every single time that stranger is me. It's always me. 

On Music

As a chronic music listener, I've come up with a system of sorts when it comes to "filing" and organizing what I like. Anything I find boring is immediately thrown out of the picture. I used to force myself to get through a whole song or album, even if it wasn't pleasing to me, just to give it a chance. Eventually I figured, if it doesn't please me now then it most likely never will. And I skip over it. I suppose that same mentality can apply to other life situations. Why must we force ourselves to pursue routes which bring no joy? Why must we try things we have no interest in, just to feel the satisfaction of saying we completed it? What small chance of short lived satisfaction is worth time being uncomfortable and strained?

All my music must be organized into playlists with songs and artists of a similar type. That way, if I'm feeling a certain way I know where I can find songs to match, elevate, or even dampen my mood. Sometimes if I listen to the wrong song for the state I'm in it gets really uncomfortable and everything feels so jumbled up - it's better to stick to what's familiar.

New Bucket List

 1. Study abroad, right now I'm thinking Italy. Spain or Ireland would also be nice.

2. Make a painting that really means something. Talia suggested a "Picasso-esque portrait of lesbians" but I don't care too much for Picasso.

3. Write some songs for myself so I can record and release a tape. My biggest influence so far is Liz Phair's Girly Sound Tapes, but I'm sure I'll find some more inspiration in other places.

4. Write like my life depends on it, until I come up with enough for a whole book about nothing.

5. Think of no one but myself.

6. Have a cup of tea, to make my head stop spinning.

On Me as an Artist

I never really considered myself as an "artist" until pretty recently. Until then I was just someone who did art. yes, I have other creative hobbies such as writing, playing guitar. But they were never anything more than that, and I would've never considered them to be in the realm of art. I'm not sure why the switch happened. Everything basically started changing once I read Joan Didion and picked up a journal for my English class. My reinterest in reading peaked again during my senior year while I was taking AP Lit. My writing interest peaked during that summer when I started Seether. Visual art was always harder to come by. The past 4 years I had been making art out of necessity, in order to complete assignments and get a grade. The pieces I made were meaningless beyond the surface level purpose of being for class. But I guess all that really started to change once I introduced myself to Patti Smith.

I mean, she was everything. Artist, writer, musician, fashionable in the way I like, spiritual, everything I strove to be. That on top of the fact that the new art class I was taking helped give me a new perspective on the art I could be making. I began to see art through an intellectual realm, through an emotional one as well. Art was something you could put your whole self into, and others could put all of themselves into and the whole world could feel as one.

I wanted art to be me. I felt an insatiable urge to make things and share them with everyone. I started making videos, montages really. I carried around my little camera with me, anxious to capture everything.

A Walk in the Park

I ditched my classes on Friday to go to the Met. I saw paintings of the Virgin Mary and thought about how she gave birth to Jesus. And what had I been doing?

Overwhelmed and upset, I took a walk in the part where I stumbled upon a man with 6 dogs of the same breed. I asked to take a photo, and the man said yes. I went on walking and didn't think about anything at all.

But I was so sad. You can never seem to escape that feeling until you do, and then you feel stupid for ever feeling it at all. I felt like crying and crying and I would've liked to scream because I felt lost and like my life had no direction and nothing was ever going my way. And I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing and I don't know what I want and I just want someone to answer me. I want someone to have an answer and it didn't feel like even God had an answer. Or maybe I just don't know what I'm asking. 

Wasted Affairs - Mind's Eye

Mia told me about this song.

"When my talking stage didn't work out and I was sad I listened to this," she said. "Sorry if you think it' so stupid and dumb."

I listened to the song, and it wasn't stupid or dumb at all. 

Talia and I have been really into Eve Babitz. Of course, she read LA Woman before me because she gets to everything cool before me, and I only just finished it on Saturday. It's still nice to go through this together. Joan Didon is another strong favorite. We're both supposed to be reading A Book of Common Prayer right now but I'm not sure if she is, since she already read it before me (because she gets to everything cool before me). Eve understands being a girl and LA while Joan Didion understands New York and the chaos of life, despite being from California herself. Virginia Woolf seems to understand all the little bits in between.

It's January and we've just gotten our first snow that stuck, only it didn't stay long enough to be remembered. I always liked January winters better than December ones. December winters feel like the end of the world while January feels like the beginning of a new one. In December I tend to focus on my past and dreadful present, while in January all I can think about is my future. But soon enough Spring will come, and I will forget that there was ever snow, despite it being piled on the ground for weeks. 

On Why You Should Start a Blog

Because it's freakin awesome. Gives you something to do. Share your ideas and take in the ideas of others. Why doomscroll Instagram when you could doomscroll the Izzy Star 6000? No rules, no one in your ear telling you your writing is bad. No one cares. Do what you want.