Decluttering and uncovering my cultural heritage byway of sally rooney
After months of attributing my lack of reading to this single reason, I finally got my paws on the new sally rooney without paying a hardcover price. 72 hours later after its aqquirance, the book is still feeling impossible to begin as it was before it was in my posession; I have put it off for months and three days now.
Sally rooney, for me, like other thin brunette communists, usually subtly opens up an unconsented psychological portrait of myself. Especially after spending the past 5 years occasionally wearing a celtic cross around my neck (and suffering Ulysses), I feel a certain kind of right to Marianne and Frances as they are manipulated by cute boys, writing it down, and meandering Dublin streets. Relating to characters to a point of disillusion is nothing new to me. After Payson from Make it or Break it in 5th grade, I was going to the Olympics. Becoming the protagonist from my year of rest and relaxation has become my recent form of validation. The bang-ed women of the sally rooney multiverse are responsible for much of my young adulthood. I attempted to live the simplistic life of her beautifully dispositioned troubled girls, verging on anorexia or bipolar disorder or bankruptcy and rotating the same 3 sweaters.
Perhaps it's because finally I don't have to rely on fiction to access the crevices of my own personal reality that it feels daunting to approach that mindset again. Instead of beginning beautiful world where are you, I spend the afternoon attacking my closet. Moving to brooklyn then to madrid necessitates extreme downsizing. No voice except my own was the determiner of my clothing’s fate. An entire dresser drawer dedicated to vintage dresses? This is suddenly justifiable upon examining my personal wants and needs. Quickly, the impulse to throw away everything overcomes me. Not trite things, like selling his old sweatshirt (which did feel great), but also selling dresses I spent hundreds of dollars on and never wear and only preserve for their monetary value. I am now 200 dollars richer in buffalo exchange credit as well as the proud owner of dresser drawers that shut with little resistance.
A haircut and 3 glasses of wine later, I still cannot begin the novel. I crave the Irish environment, however, and listen to the old stereotypical croons of my childhood and trace my ancestry for future travel.
