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#also I’m rereading the story again and I want to teach literature again soooo bad oh my god
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my dread levels are sky-high this morning and I know exactly why: I am already freaking out about clothes for tonight lol. I went and reread this Woolf short story just now and am struck again by how exquisitely it captures the unbearable agony of picking out an outfit for a social event, feeling excited or positive about it, and then arriving to discover that the outfit is utterly Wrong and humiliating and bad, and you by extension are also wrong, humiliating, bad. total emotional meltdown that snowballs into a total existential meltdown. this is so relatable to me that I have to laugh aha even as I also claw at my face because SO RELATABLE. like I feel this in my BONES:
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I have this memory of being in middle school and shopping for dresses for the first last & only school dance I ever attended, and I just had a total silent meltdown in the dressing room and then sobbed all the way home and said to my mother WHY CAN’T WE BE BRAINS IN JARS I WISH WE HAD NO BODIES OR CLOTHES I WISH WE WERE BRAINS IN JARS. these days I have largely moved beyond my ‘wish to be a brain in a jar’ phase but all it takes to plunge me right back into it is an unfamiliar social situation where I don’t fully understand the dress code or the framework of expectations through which other people will interpret my clothes. really makes me feel like I am losing my goddamn mind and also my grip on reality & on my own identity lol. I wish we all wore sacks I wish we all wore uniforms I wish we were all brains in jars communicating via electrical signals
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