:) i love you

call me gene or just forresterthis is a sort journal diary, and just a way to put what I make and think out into the world only to do something instead of rot hopefully! I don't what I'm doing here, i do not know how this works. please,, I am not to be taken seriously. I hope you are well today

[jeanforrester]

had a spirit week at school

I love making fun outfits at school especially cause I go to a small conservative christian school in the U.S. and I think it encourages other kids to dress fun as well. I'm not the most 'school spirit' person I don't really care about our sports but I had a lot of fun.

the themes were:

school colors: blue and gold

I was worried this wouldn't look right together, and but I got so many compliments on it.

next was: mismatched patterns and clashing colors

I like making my outfits look nice and at first I wasn't sure on whether I was gonna do this one but I ended up doing it except I think I way toned it down.

then: patriotic

it's kinda funny for this one, I think according to most people at my school, I think that what I think would not be what they see as patriotic and in the end the outfit kinda followed through I think. my outfit that I wore really reminds me of kinda a rebellious protest look. it's funny I originally wanted to wear the beret and this is the only time we get to wear hats at school. in the end it kinda made the look what it is, as better have historically had association with revolution.

the pins are my favorite part honestly. the american flag pin is upside down on purpose. the How's It Going To End is my favorite, it's a reference from The Truman Show and I think has interesting meaning overall.

Thursday: this was tourist/Hawaiian day

I kinda think this one is a strange theme but, I was thinking this one was gonna be the most boring and it kinda is the most simply but I still really like it. this day was cancelled in the end so I didn't end up wearing it there anyway.

there is one more day which was decades day and I dressed like the 1920s and did makeup and the whole bit, but I can't put any more pictures on this post, I might post it later.

so yeah, these were all my outfits. I just wanted to share cause it's kinda an art to me, and a creative expression and I had a lot of fun. I think the best part is, I love dressing up and making my outfits everyday, in some ways as a firm of expression, and to keep me from being too afraid to do things, and honestly this whole week I really was scared of what people would think, and yet at least for Monday Tuesday and Friday, I got more compliments each day than I usually get on most my outfits I put together. I find that often the more I feel like I'm pushing it and am scared my outfit is more weird than good I almost always get the most compliments.

anyways, moral of the story, why I most like to dress up: people like to see fun outfits, I think it makes them smile, and it inspires people to try to have fun with it and overall inspires curiosity and excitement in people's day. it always has for me and that's why I think I started.

I love you!!! have fun!!!

[jeanforrester]

https://youtu.be/Z0CEuYA3HF0?si=BygGUKRZetC1NWVm

this is a really cool song I heard recently, I think it should get more views!

if you are looking to watch something that are not shorts or slop take a listen

it feels like ending and changing and growing and it is written so beautifully, I love it

[jeanforrester]

il est trés [silent].

and

my body is filled with action that i have not made and my mind with things i have not spoken

maybe i wouldnt be trying to hold -- to cradle my mind, hold it together, in this way that you do

when a glass is broken and you are trying

to hold it together, in

just the right way so that it does not seem broken,

so that it is as if it never broke

and it is so fragile and that if you so much as move your hand the smallest degree one piece could

shift and become undone

and cut your hand as it holds it

and the entire thing comes apart

. . . . . . .

maybe my body wouldnt be loosening at the seams, between my shoulder blades, a line

into the skin, a shape, a separating

to scrape my thoughts off the floor trying to

pull my body, my skin together as one does with a drawstring bag

what if my mind werent so full. with all the thing I tie so tightly within .

still

i make my face scared

(or scarce)

and hope that people will be forgiving

[doebrain]

i have been thinking about the way horses will sometimes lie down when they’ve been overworked. you can beat them or starve them and they won’t get up. they understand something final. there is a term for it in old veterinary texts: recumbency without response. they cannot be coaxed.

i cannot be coaxed.

the psyche has laid down and the body keeps marching. my legs carry me to the park. i remember to pack a muesli bar. i behave like someone who is fine. i move my mouth in socially acceptable movements. i giggle. i answer questions. i develop a stomach ulcer.

i stand in the bath and try not to remember the versions of myself that lay here before, fetal and failed. instead, i rinse. i pour rosewater over my thighs. i scrub until my skin looks like it belongs to someone else.

some women cope by praying. others by working. others by setting things on fire. i write until my fingers ache. until i am empty enough to pass through a room unnoticed. until the rage climbs back into its little drawer. i tuck it in with a cotton cloth. i give it a kiss. i promise it tomorrow. you can only bleed out in so many places before they become sacred. i can no longer afford to be found in pieces.

[jeanforrester]

no metaphor is ever perfect we make it perfect

I don't know if this makes a metaphor not true. 

I guess it depends what you believe about our reality

but a metaphor is really just what we make it

it's how astrology works and personality tests

it just takes someone to believe in it. 

it's why if you believe in hypnosis it works. if you think someone has a bad metaphor you will think of all the different ways it is wrong, instead maybe it's just a different perspective. 

if you believe in a metaphor you can always make it work

and it will fit the way your perspective, the way your brain is framed and how you see things

[jeanforrester]

On trying to understand the strange obsession with true crime

and the longing to watch more true, personal short horrific stories and poetry on the subject

it mostly is true crime in regards to men too women but I think it also includes everyone

I don't know why I need to know

it just feels like

"I'll feel better,

once I know."

it's not like a kind of peace

or betterment of the soul.

but almost like a dopamine hit of horror

reassurance of the part of me that

stays afraid of the dark

when I walk outside at night but

especially in my own home

when it makes the least sense for me

when I draw it out

and drink the darkness like syrup

draw the bad feeling up from my stomach

just to swallow it again

like molasses

it feels strangely desperate

maybe like a murder mystery

you have to find out

and maybe you can't let another case

another person

go unknown

untold

unfound

you are making the difference maybe

please, don't ask me why

but please

please

I need to see this

all the ways a man can hurt a woman

all the ways a system can fail a victim

and a boy

all the ways the world can hurt a person

and this will always go both ways

I've been trying to figure it out

why it feels so necessary

is it simply a validation of my fears that they don't hear

a listener to a victim has not become their label yet,

has not fulfilled their definition

waiting patiently to become a statistic

what is it that makes my desperation

is it a sharing in grief

knowing someone understands the fear

knowing there's a reason

knowing they weren't believed either

even if it is bad to believe your fears

a classmate tells me about how they know feminism is not like that but sometimes when you see the women online, see the people

saying they "hate men"

they really are ridiculous and maddening

and I say yes, that's just how they polarize us

what they want to do is

keep us in our fear

many women get to a point where one can doomscroll men too.

[jeanforrester]

and I was born in spring

I was born with everything

and yet I don't remember it at all

all the beauty and pain

of

coming in

out of my history

and I did not wake up till some winter ago

and I opened my eyes in the white, white snow

and I got up

and looked

and knew

something is dead

but I woke up too late

to see it's

birth,

it's death,

it's dying

and I've found I've been around awhile

and yet I had only just been born

so I got up

walking tall, but feeling smaller

I'm not sure I'll ever grow up now

I don't know what died or how

but something is gone

[natrinky]

I AM AN ALIEN, MY ROCKETSHIP IS HUMAN BONE AND SKIN !!!!!!!!!!

(i like messing with filters it looks silly)

[jeanforrester]

my,

god.

(part two)

other times I believe in god but it doesn't echo the roots in the same way as I do at other times. I was raised christian and I think that that is one version of god that will always be in my mind. but I think there's another, that maybe is my own. the marks of the lives that came before me and taught me will always leave a mark.

but when I was born, there still came new life. I think maybe this one is my own, it came from my own life as it blossomed through the cracks in my hands. 

so, this is the other version of god in my mind, when I don't see god as in memory, as i was raised ,

in these times, god is everything, and in every thing. and god isn't a person, nor exactly is god an "it", but the real being of everything and every idea and movement and feeling. god is all of this romanticism even in a cruel world. the reason why there can be pleasure in pain and pain in pleasure. god is also in pain, in all the despair. that god is meaning. I think this version of god; is simply everything.

the ideas and the world and the very feeling of being in it. that god is every interpretation and perspective, and person, and all the values and ideas i can hold within my mind. the very fact that I can see it, that i can think of it. I think god is the space in our brains that is thought. that god is consciousness. 

I think god is that last magic of missing understanding that is a search for meaning in everything. the invisible strand of red string that is our thoughts, that connects everything- that is god. the stretchy and stiff and stringy and sinewy connection, as well as the twirling of it, a tangle jumbled mess that makes a pulsing hole in the center of everyone and everything.

I think maybe we are all black holes of light, looking for meaning. and god is everywhere.

[jeanforrester]

my,

god

(part 1)

I don't believe but I'm not quite exactly an unbeliever. I mean, most of the time I don't believe in god, but at the same time I think I kinda do. 

I grew up in a christian home and when I think of my idea of god I think of that little joke quote i read Bruce Springsteen once said when answering a question- "once a catholic, always a catholic". the thing he was talking about at the time was mostly unrelated to what I'm trying to say now. but I think that I can't quite get rid of it, what I was raised believing in. 

so I think I'm a half believer because I don't know if there's a god for certain and I think most of the time it's probably not. but I think sometimes I do believe, and I believe in the biblical, christian god but just not in a biblical way. 

I don't see him as all powerful. 

-not so perfect and wise. 

I haven't decided if I think he's benevolent or malicious or just apathetic. maybe he's just as uncertain, and just as much a person. that is, if we were made in his image I guess. when I do believe in god in the sense a christian does, I think he must wonder why he's here as well, wonder where he came from.

[jeanforrester]

sickness can shake a whole house. even a borrowed one.

I'm sure it could be heard in every room

not just mine

the way it echoed

and sounded like familiar pain

we all tried to ignore

to get some sleep

while the sick stay up

far far

past their bedtime

my writing has not been the same

something has changed

maybe it's temporary.

still something has changed.

maybe for better,

maybe for worse

still maybe it's temporary

I am not such but sickness is here

as well as around me

something

someone

some home

is sick

[jeanforrester]

I did not understand the pomegranate

once love was crushed in a hand

and seeds sprayed

like a shattered heart

pomegranate

I did not understand

but to be crushed to leave itself

in a million small places

no clean cut

no clean cut

the bone was shattered

and my heart takes root

in a million familiar ways

recognition

and my heart aches

in the blue sky

in the horizon

my heart is gone from my chest but still

I feel a squeezing in the empty cavity

like a phantom limb

my heart aches

in a thousand different places

my blood recognizes blood

and it rushes

when it meets itself

there is a young tree

bending over itself

with the weight of it's own heart

it grew up through the floorboards I'm sure

of the blue, the culver house, the white one, and the lime.

and finally I've let myself find rest long enough

it's been ten years since my mother

broke her heart

this heart that branched out

into a family

it's been ten years in a shattered house

and I've found

it does not feel like

home

no matter how I've tried to hold it close

maybe I'm holding on to those last seeds

for some where good

and kind

or maybe for myself

or maybe it's all gone

my heart's been spread across the state

I find it in unexpected places

in the ghost

of my amputation

'my removed'

I feel my heart

break again and again

[jeanforrester]

are we too separate and unfamiliar?

are you our father, or are you my mother?

do you think I over did it,

have I become cliche caricature

I think I've made

another

fracture in our space

I think I've destroyed another way

there's a new rock fallen in the woods

another strange separation

that i swear wasn't there

before

but maybe it was fate and always

and meant to be

in time's religion

it was always there

I'm being pulled

in the opposite direction

and I love you

and I don't

have a clue to how

to live

I don't know

and it's just another thing

our lives

despite woven in veins,

in blood

seem to be stranger

lately things have been changing

the way they might've

always been meant for me

my world has grown

bring my eyes

when was the change

when everything

familiar

died

in our circumstances

how to live?'

like this

this list

and graph

I have been

taught to live

this way

but not how to live in this

have you?

do you?

our circumstances are unwritten

I feel like everything's expanding

and decaying

ever outward

I've been spiraling

but like a galaxy into birth

is this learning?

is this change?

am I developing into

my mother's sin

does it fit?

does it suit me?

are the shoes too big

or am I just the one

all along

according to times religion

I've always been and I always will be

this

way

[jeanforrester]

the temperature dropped too low last night

honey (if I had one),

could you call the plumber

cause the pipe

dream

blew and it's coming

up through

the floorboards

and soaking it with the

smell of broken spirits

and insecurity

I'm waiting

and while I wait

my socks stay wet

underneath my feet

I hope I won't have to live with

the smell of

water damage and

waste

-d

time

under my feet

[jeanforrester]

I just heard someone talk about a reverend they once talked to who told them that children often base their idea of god off their fathers. what is my mother then, she has been a crushing holding changing role in my life, but there were times I saw more of her than him

.though sometimes I think I would have sympathy for the devil. but that is so so cruel. that is so so so cruel. it's not true. but let's just take metaphor as a brief moment and thought in time. an academic concept and that's it. let's leave it at that please, I'm not ready to go here. but I will say, I don't think anyone hates me dislike me, its that I'm not sure I'm lovely to be around.(somewhat of a love purgatory till I act) nor that I'm someone you want to spend time with or someone that is good for others. I just, I believe god is real, but I don't think I believe enough to deserve him. I don't think I deserve to be close to him, to know him. I've wondered, at my best times, if god and me have ways we can relate, if we are similar, if god feels as lonely, if god feels lonely and so strangely impossible and empty(how empty would be infinity?) if he also doesn't know why he exists, or what brought him to be. I've seen that thing about those from troubled families often see god as angry at them. I think he's indifferent and real.

[jeanforrester]

I am a dreamer in every sense of the word . in the negative; nïave and

perhaps blindly, stupidly optimistic . in the positive; an idealist, has great hope . above all a wanter. . though I tried to bury those greed among the rocks and the road . where the birds are there to get it .

but . . it is strange to be at the age of true dreamers, . the short time when your heart is strong but . your hands finally are too . and have no clue. . I think ambition might be the most . painful emotion I have ever felt . ..

I wake up from dreams every morning lately . with my subconscious, but I can't sleep in anymore . and have forgotten by the time I achieve anything .

[jeanforrester]

and

the snow has begun to have that blue hue

where you can't see the sun but you know that

it's setting

and someday I'll learn

to put it all

into words

but for now it's upsetting

and i

have not swallowed the sun but there's something

that makes my blood run and a slick red warmth

down the middle

(of me)

and the worst part

about winter is I can't see the sun

as it sets but the white turns to blue and

I know darkness is coming

.very soon