A. returned from school/work hungry. Television was on--a show about supermodeling, becoming one, a supermodel. It reminded A. of Zoolander, the seriousness with which they took ridiculousness--posing sexily with dead fish, with a glass bowl of butterflies on their heads, etc--but she found herself enthralled by the rhythm, the mindlessness, and let herself go. It was Marathon. A. seems to believe in finishing things. Someone finally won. Confetti. Hugs. Money. Promises. Tears. Disappoint. A lot of strange pictures.
A. packed up her things and went to her room, where she could not sleep for having felt she wasted hours of her life. She talked on the phone--this helped, learning about friends, praying for friends, brought her back from (sur)Reality TV to the world she lived in. She read over and edited some poetry. This also helped.
A. went to sleep. Awoke. Still feeling the hours of wasted life settling around her bones, thought about her garden. Maybe there in the mud, she will find herself again. A. went to sacredspace.ie where she was reminded that the two greatest commandments were to love God with all your heart, and your neighbor as yourself. A. wonders if the wasted life in Reality TV feels so terrible, because in watching TV there is no God but the people who vote contestants off the show, and there is no neighbor, because friends and family must speak louder than the TV to be heard. She apologizes to her God. She wants to apologize to her neighbors, but doesn't quite know how to word it. A. apologizes to herself, saying, let's get a ticket away from Reality TV and let's never go back.
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