word vomit

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Vomiting,
passion spreads across the floor
consuming and controlling
linoleum in its path.

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Procreate.

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It's just about midnight and I should be going to bed soon. I put the kids down around nine and wrote my article for the UNEWS this week. I am not cut out to be a journalist. Good thing I'm an English Lit major. Babysitting these five little hooligans has made me think a bit about children. I enjoy being around them but they're so exhausting. My stance on children of my own: I would really like to know what it's like to be pregnant. Also, I'd like to be a mother, raise someone who depends on me completely at all times. Watch them grow and mature, develop from little alien babies to real living humans. That has been the strangest thing for me to watch in my nieces and nephews, seeing them become real living humans. I feel like I'm watching the future, and really I am. The way some of them have turned out so far is confusing, I guess I just don't expect them to have complex thoughts yet but they really do. I would really like to have at least one child. I hope...
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New Summer

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It's a new summer and I've come to terms with becoming an adult and knowing that I am going to be living on my own again soon, hopefully, so I'm going to start adventuring into a few cookbooks that I have. I need to start gathering my own recipes for when I live on my own, and I need to become more adequate with reducing amounts and just cooking in general. Rules for myself: Once a week, I will pick a new recipe from the few that I own. Most of them will probably be vegetarian. Just for funsies. I haven't picked one yet.
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I'm getting really tired of feeling like everyone hates me. This is obviously a product of my overworking and under enjoying life at this exact moment. Perhaps things will be different in a week. As far as I'm concerned, that couldn't go any faster or slower right now. Seriously. I want to enjoy my time at home, but I'm so sick of being around so many people I don't like that I'm exhausted by my extreme need to show them that I really do like them, honest, which is obviously false. I really couldn't give a shit, but then people wouldn't like me and we'd end up back at the beginning of this paragraph. Fuck. Paradox. I am incredibly interested in writing and reading about Modern Greek writers this semester, especially since I get to learn on my own terms and read and write on my own incentives. I've chosen two books for my independent studies course, Beyond Broken Statuses: Modern Greek Short Stories and Mauthausen the latter being about a concen...
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