on routine
The sun rises and I hit my snooze button somewhere between 1-1000 times. I have not decided whether I need to brush my teeth before or after my morning coffee, because I can’t determine how nauseous I am yet. I remind myself that it’s not existential dread coursing through my veins, it’s cortisol. I curse my brain for misinterpreting regular bodily functions as opportunities for me to find new reasons to hate myself. I think about the differences between “curse” and “course” and “hearse” and “horse.” I am torn between dismissing all of my thoughts or recording them in a pretentious blog post.
“I hate the word pretentious,” is something my 21-year-old friend in Houston, TX sends me on AIM. I am 17 years old. I don’t remember how we started talking but I think it involved MySpace and a mutual friend in the hardcore scene. He lives on a house boat with his dad. I know that he listens to a band called Shai Hulud and I won’t understand that this band name is a Dune reference until I am in my 30s. In the background of one of our many phone conversations, I hear his dad make a joke: “Does she miss me?” I am advised that 17 is the age of consent in the state of Texas.
“I know it sounds pretentious,” is something I become used to hearing from men before they launch into a panegyric about their favorite [hobby, band, movie, book, show, cocktail]. I never think it’s pretentious. I think they’re scared to love something and prefer to keep an ironic distance. “Hipster” was what people said until they were given the term “millennial.” I want men to feel safe talking to me. I become used to them politely moving to new topics of conversation when I assure them that I don’t think they’re being performative. I delude myself into thinking my feedback is valuable.
I crawl out of bed out of necessity and because I am nervous due to cortisol. I drink coffee because the caffeine counterbalances my hypomania. I fart a lot. I think about Michael Haneke’s The Seventh Continent and remind myself to stop recommending horribly depressing movies to people who don’t already watch them.