I have to admit, for the first time in recent memory, February did not suck. At all. In fact, this past month has been the single best February in my life. Really! Even as a little kid i never built a fort to rival the one me and my main wiener man built the first weekend of the month. He also threw a party that kicked all of the asses. I've seen tons of live music. Besides my fuck-tooth, i had no major illnesses or accidents. I was thrust into an unplanned meeting that turned out to be just fine. I kicked butt at work at a time when i was really needed. The really, really stupid douche-girl at work just stopped showing up and ruining everything all the time. No one died, or was born dead. That's the biggest thing. And, this was the first time in 12 years that i did not break down and become consumed in grief.
So, yeah...maybe February isn't the worst.
But, more likely, it's a trick. We'll just have to wait and see.
Tuesday, March 1, 2016
Sunday, February 7, 2016
Or maybe...i'd just show me the pictures
If i could find myself in one point in the past, i'd find me 12 years ago.
I'd say;
Listen, i know shit sucks really, really fucking bad right now. I'm positive that you can never imagine anything hurting as much as this does right now. But hold on. Like, for real, grab a hold of something because it is going to get so much worse. There are going to be months straight where you cry yourself to sleep. You are going to fashion a fake arm and body out of pillows and blankets so you can even handle lying down at night and you are going to feel so empty and lonely that you are convinced you will never fall asleep happy or wake up content.
It's going to suck and be hard and i really can't even tell you how long it will last. I can't say definitively when the ache will go away, but it will. I can't remember when your heart starts to feel whole again - when you will learn to trust and let go. A long, long time.
But i can tell you this - in 12 years you are going to spend a day with a man you probably don't even believe exists right now. And on that day, you will build a blanket/pillow fort in your guest bedroom. You will fill it with only the things required to have the most awesome day you have ever had. Earthworm Jim will be there. You will smile and laugh until your face hurts more than your heart ever has. You will play and there will be sunshine.
There is no way to this fort, to this man, to this happiness without going through all that you are now. And you can handle this. You can handle anything. Let those feelings overtake you now as you will let them overtake you in 12 years. Because it is totally fucking worth it.
Or else i'd hand me these pictures and say "You'll see" in my best Bill and Ted impression.
Some totally rad dude is going to suggest using the 50 glow bracelets you bought the day after Halloween to "sew" all your afgans together. 
I'd say;
Listen, i know shit sucks really, really fucking bad right now. I'm positive that you can never imagine anything hurting as much as this does right now. But hold on. Like, for real, grab a hold of something because it is going to get so much worse. There are going to be months straight where you cry yourself to sleep. You are going to fashion a fake arm and body out of pillows and blankets so you can even handle lying down at night and you are going to feel so empty and lonely that you are convinced you will never fall asleep happy or wake up content.
It's going to suck and be hard and i really can't even tell you how long it will last. I can't say definitively when the ache will go away, but it will. I can't remember when your heart starts to feel whole again - when you will learn to trust and let go. A long, long time.
But i can tell you this - in 12 years you are going to spend a day with a man you probably don't even believe exists right now. And on that day, you will build a blanket/pillow fort in your guest bedroom. You will fill it with only the things required to have the most awesome day you have ever had. Earthworm Jim will be there. You will smile and laugh until your face hurts more than your heart ever has. You will play and there will be sunshine.
There is no way to this fort, to this man, to this happiness without going through all that you are now. And you can handle this. You can handle anything. Let those feelings overtake you now as you will let them overtake you in 12 years. Because it is totally fucking worth it.
Or else i'd hand me these pictures and say "You'll see" in my best Bill and Ted impression.
This is what you will see when you open your guest bedroom door. Yes, your second bedroom in a kick-ass apartment you have all to yourself.
Crawl in..
You came in through the porch - the ideal place to store empties and dirty dishes until cleaning time. It is also where the trash can and emergency flashlight are.
The Upper Deck. For to lounge or play cards or you know...whatever.
Fort Scolliwog is lit with your very own art.
When you look up, there is more art - plus the blankets lovingly crafted by the women of your family. (Spoiler: Aunt Deb made that pink one for a wedding gift for you and He Who Shall Not Be Named. You don't get married to him.)
The utility room - Earthworm Jim is the Super, so he hangs in there.
Wanna watch some TV? No problem.
Sofa King Worth It.
Tuesday, July 14, 2015
Sing it, sister!
I went shopping with my good buddy last week. As we were scoping out the merch, a trio of girls about 14 or 15 years old came in. They were being loud and silly - not to say that we weren't; they were just louder. At one point one of the girls said, "I like this skirt but I can't pull off mini-skirts. I don't have the legs." To which her friend replied, "Do you have legs? Then you have THEE legs. There's no wrong way to have a body."
Oh. My. Gawd. I was so unbelievably happy and excited to hear girls at the age i was when i absolutely hated everything about myself be so body positive and confident. I wanted to scoop that little purple-haired hero up and swing her around in the air crying, "Say it louder! Say it so they can ALL hear you!" Instead i gave a medium-loud, "Sing it, sister!" And did a fist pump. She probably didn't hear me. She really is a hero though.
Watch out, World. The next generations aren't buying your image-damaging ideals. Thank f√¢king christ!
Oh. My. Gawd. I was so unbelievably happy and excited to hear girls at the age i was when i absolutely hated everything about myself be so body positive and confident. I wanted to scoop that little purple-haired hero up and swing her around in the air crying, "Say it louder! Say it so they can ALL hear you!" Instead i gave a medium-loud, "Sing it, sister!" And did a fist pump. She probably didn't hear me. She really is a hero though.
Watch out, World. The next generations aren't buying your image-damaging ideals. Thank f√¢king christ!
Monday, June 8, 2015
Room by Room (1)
Or...The Unfuckering of My Home
The Bedroom
Sometime in January of 2012, a young (well, relatively) woman, spurned once again by dating catastrophe, decided to down-size her bed from queen to twin. This will make me think twice before taking another lover, she thought. Her mistake lie not in the size of the bed she chose, but in the arrangement of the new furnishing.
She had decided to use a bookcase as a foot board. There, she could keep a lamp, light reading material, empty beer cans, etc. But, due to the bookcase being open-faced, the bed not quite reaching said bookcase, and the fact that the young(ish) woman was frequented by thrash-inducing nightmares, led only to the creation of what she came to think of as The Cavern of Lost Things. Any and all things falling into The Cavern of Lost Things became objects of which were best not thought. And so, she dismissed them without care.
Fast forward three and a half years. The still totally young woman is facing living alone for the first time in nearly 10 years. Don't confuse it, she is elated, but feels daunted by the task of soon cleaning and rearranging an entire, enormous apartment to suit her needs and wants exclusively. A task which she has only dreamed about since stepping foot inside the beautiful space 8 years ago. She unfuckered the kitchen and back porch closets of unwanted remains of her previous roommate easily and with much satisfaction. Soon she will have to do so again throughout the house but, for now, she is simply cleaning up her own messes to get a head start. Today, she tackled The Cavern of Lost Things.
It was gross. Socks from who-knows-when. Earrings upon earrings she had long since forgotten. Letters that she never meant to write, let alone send. Pictures of people she barely remembered. Empty bottles of beer and wine. Money - bonus! Page after page of incoherent rants, surely induced by booze and something innocuous said by a friend or stranger. One saltine. Phone numbers with no names. Lists of random objects (probably lost things she was trying desparately to remember while inebriated).
Almost all of it was dirty garbage which she happily swept into the bin as she thought to herself, If this is all i have lost in three and a half years, then i have lost nothing.
When the unfuckering is complete, she will move her queen-sized bed back into her room. It's finally time to spread out.
The Bedroom
Sometime in January of 2012, a young (well, relatively) woman, spurned once again by dating catastrophe, decided to down-size her bed from queen to twin. This will make me think twice before taking another lover, she thought. Her mistake lie not in the size of the bed she chose, but in the arrangement of the new furnishing.
She had decided to use a bookcase as a foot board. There, she could keep a lamp, light reading material, empty beer cans, etc. But, due to the bookcase being open-faced, the bed not quite reaching said bookcase, and the fact that the young(ish) woman was frequented by thrash-inducing nightmares, led only to the creation of what she came to think of as The Cavern of Lost Things. Any and all things falling into The Cavern of Lost Things became objects of which were best not thought. And so, she dismissed them without care.
Fast forward three and a half years. The still totally young woman is facing living alone for the first time in nearly 10 years. Don't confuse it, she is elated, but feels daunted by the task of soon cleaning and rearranging an entire, enormous apartment to suit her needs and wants exclusively. A task which she has only dreamed about since stepping foot inside the beautiful space 8 years ago. She unfuckered the kitchen and back porch closets of unwanted remains of her previous roommate easily and with much satisfaction. Soon she will have to do so again throughout the house but, for now, she is simply cleaning up her own messes to get a head start. Today, she tackled The Cavern of Lost Things.
It was gross. Socks from who-knows-when. Earrings upon earrings she had long since forgotten. Letters that she never meant to write, let alone send. Pictures of people she barely remembered. Empty bottles of beer and wine. Money - bonus! Page after page of incoherent rants, surely induced by booze and something innocuous said by a friend or stranger. One saltine. Phone numbers with no names. Lists of random objects (probably lost things she was trying desparately to remember while inebriated).
Almost all of it was dirty garbage which she happily swept into the bin as she thought to herself, If this is all i have lost in three and a half years, then i have lost nothing.
When the unfuckering is complete, she will move her queen-sized bed back into her room. It's finally time to spread out.
Wednesday, May 13, 2015
So far, so what? or The Story of Her Heart
Chapter 1
Like any young, naive girl, she first gave her heart away without thinking. He was such a handsome and mature-seeming boy. He took her heart readily and kept it to play with. She'd feel her heart soar when he tossed it in the air. It was exhilarating! She looked more closely and realized that sometimes the heart whizzing over his head was not hers. He had more than one? Oh, yes. Several. He was juggling. She asked him about it and, without answering, he simply let hers fall to the ground and kept walking. She looked down at it, then at him, and thought What. An. Asshole.
She picked up her heart and felt its familiar warmth and weight and softness. As she dusted it off, she noticed there was one little hard part from its impact with the ground, but otherwise it remained the heart she knew. Let this serve as a reminder, she thought. I shall never give you away so quickly again.
She tucked it away where it belonged and continued moving forward.
Chapter 2
She was much more selective now. There were many people about; some moving slower or faster, some going backward or not moving at all. She found her pace and there were a few moving at the same speed. She gave her heart to none of them. Those around who noticed started talking. Saying things like, "Maybe she doesn't like boys. Maybe she likes girls." To which the girl, in her mind, said, "I think i might like girls...but i know i like boys." She liked that boy, the Second.
They settled in a pace together, different from everyone else. She thought, What if i just show him my heart? I don't need to give it away. And so she did. She showed him how soft and warm it was. Let him feel its weight. She showed him the hard part. She opened it and let him see things inside no one else had seen. And then he did something that had never occurred to her might happen - he took out his own heart and showed it to her. Let her run her hand over his own rough spots. He opened his too and she got to know him better than anyone else. She thought his heart was beautiful, even with the hard parts. She decided to let him have hers after all. He would have none of it. He thought they should share both and take care of them together. She thought she was lucky to have found him, and so young! They could walk together for so long now, being guardians of their hearts.
The times they couldn't be together, they would sometimes trade. She would spend hours examining his, learning about him, filling it with little bits of hopes and dreams and laughter. Little bits of silliness and sadness and of things that scared her. He did the same. When they would trade back, she was always so excited to discover what he had left her. Their hearts were each other's favourite thing.
He was older, though, and his pace picked up before hers, so their time apart became longer. There came a time he came galloping back to trade for his own heart back when he didn't fall into her slower pace and pass some time. He simply took his heart back, kissed her forehead, fumbled something into her hand, and was gone before she knew it.
What the hell is this squishy thing? What are all these hard parts?! She sat down looking at the thing in her hand a long time before she realized it was her heart. She gingerly opened it and heard his voice, through sobs, apologizing. Saying it wasn't fair to her to be sharing her heart with someone so far away. Maybe, he said, when her pace picked up they could be together again but he was doing this because he loved her. Because she was so young and deserved better.
She ran. She screamed for him to stop and see that, for her, there was nothing better. Things were fine just how they had been. How dare he take back his heart so full and soft and warm with the things she had put in and leave her with this...this...whatever this was? She couldn't catch him. He was gone. She stopped. She dug inside her heart for that maybe that he had left, that hope of some day, and she ripped it out. She left it lying there as she shoved her heart back in its spot and slowly, slowly, with eyes ever downward, walked forward.
Chapter 3
She stopped moving a lot. She would take the vile, heavy thing that had been her heart out and try to figure out how she had ever held it precious. It was ugly and squishy but hard, and no longer warm. She thought she might be better off without it. So when out of the corner of her eye came a familiar dark, ugly man who insisted upon seeing it, she handed it over without so much as a thought.
He spoke, "I watched what he did to you. He was cruel. He did this on purpose. He wanted to hurt you."
"No," she said, "it wasn't like that..." She spoke without conviction though she knew her words were true. "He loved me. He left me a hope, a wish, that we can get back to how we were."
"Where is it?" He snarled. "Where is this 'maybe'? There's nothing here but an echo and some hard parts."
"I may have left it behind. But i can go back. I can get it and put it where he left it and maybe..." She was too tired and too scared to continue.
"I don't know why you even care. You two were never serious. He was playing with you." His black eyes sparkled as he glanced over his shoulder at her. He was tinkering with her heart and she was too broken to notice.
"But, i showed him everything. My hopes, my wishes, my fears, my silliness...that is serious." She really was trying to shake his words off, but they were coated in a slime that just made them stick faster.
All the while tinkering, he spat, "You are a child. You listen to the wrong music. You don't know how to talk to people. You trust too much. You see kindness where there isn't any. You don't know what's funny. You don't understand anything. You've never really felt anything. I can fix you and your poor, sad, shriveled heart. I can tell you what you really want. Just fall in step and never ask questions."
She was so exhausted. She gave in. She kept his pace, never really looking at him, just accepting that he now held her burden. If she didn't look at him, she didn't have to see how disgusting her heart was. At one point, he earnestly turned to her and halted their journey. He handed back to her something almost resembling her former heart. It was fairly soft and had less weight, although it wasn't as warm as it had once been. And he had changed as well. He wasn't quite so ugly and dark. She marveled at her heart, the strange magic he had performed, and barely listened as they walked on and he listed everything wrong with her.
She became comfortable, grateful even. Until all at once, he screamed, "God! You were so fucking EASY! You believed it all. I didn't fix your heart. You and that piece of shit are beyond help. Go on, look inside." And he sped away, backward, into the blackness from which he had crept.
Beyond bewildered, she shakingly opened her heart. It was full of brittle, empty things that hurt to look at it. It was mostly hollow, really. Plumped up with nothing at all. She couldn't believe she had allowed this to happen. Once again, she stopped and sat. She picked all those brittle, empty things out and one by one ground them to dust with her bare hands. It took a very long time. It hurt more than she believed possible and she was left with that heavy, squishy-hard, cold thing that she thought she could never love. She gently placed it deeper inside than she ever had before. He was wrong. It could be fixed. She could be fixed.
She carried on forward.
Chapter 4
She quickened her pace as thoughts about what had or hadn't been real raced through her mind. The Second, she knew that was real. She also knew she had lost any chance of sharing hearts with him again because of her anger and impatience. She longed to go back and find his maybe and put things back, but she knew it was impossible because of what came after the Second and the blanket of blackness and despair he left on that patch behind her. She thought that there must be others out there willing to share their hearts. Willing to look at what hers was now and not recoil in fear and disgust. And she refused to believe that anyone else could ever behave as the dark, ugly man had. She went even more quickly onward.
At last she came upon a group of people she recognised. They had walked with her after she gave her heart away the first time. They were friends, of a sort, and she slowed to observe their strange ambulation. They weren't moving forward so much as side-to-side, or two steps back then one forward, or else standing still in little clumps. A change of pace might be good.
There was a man there she had considered once giving her heart to, before she knew you could share, but he had already given his away and had someone else's back then. Now it appeared as though he had his own back. She approached him and he asked to see hers. She embarrassedly pulled it from its dark recess and handed it over. He was angry. He demanded to know who made it that way. She didn't know what to say. Technically, she was responsible for the state it was in now - hadn't the last left it slightly less fucked up? She was the one who tore it back to this. She stared at him. He offered to take it and put it right. She trusted him. He started walking sideways and she was confused. "Forward!" She shouted. "Together!" He shook his head and put more distance between them. "But...can't i have yours while you have mine?" No answer. She couldn't tell which way he had gone, so she held her position determined not to let him advance without her.
A little while later, not that long in the scheme of things, but long enough that she was feeling rather antsy and stagnant, she noticed him approaching from behind. He was keeping a quick pace with another girl. He held in his hand a gleaming, beautiful heart that was warm and soft. She could tell from a distance that it was just the right weight. She beamed, excited that he had kept his promise. He was approaching a fast clip and she held out her hands to accept her heart.
He slowed when he got close, ever so slightly. He knew what she thought. "No. This is hers," nodding to his companion, "and she has mine." They looked so happy.
"But where is mine? Where is it?!"
He was passing her now, but pointed back and over his right shoulder, "Over that way. Near some ruins. There was nothing i could do. You should have followed me. Something like that can't be fixed alone." Then, they were gone.
Last time, she followed with total acceptance. This time she had stayed right where she was full of questions no one was there to answer. She looked longingly ahead but knew she had to go back and find that blasted heart. Resolutely, she turned around.
Chapter 5
It was easy enough to find; the ruins were massive. Her heart was out among others but still recognizable as her own. She thought she saw it swell a bit as she got closer. But it was still a hideous thing that she didn't even realize how much she loathed until she saw that other girl's heart. So whole and full.
She picked it up and felt nothing. Well, maybe she felt a little more hollow. Did she? She put it down. Yes, she definitely felt better while it was not in her possession. She looked around. Really, she wasn't that far back. She hadn't made it to the blackness, a place she knew she might never escape. Maybe she could just carry on without it.
She looked down at the pitiful thing. She didn't want to leave it out in the open where just any trickster could find it. The ruins! She'd build a tower wall around it and seal it up tight. When it was safe, she could carry on without fear of it falling into the wrong hands ever again.
Building the wall took even longer than picking out the hollow parts had before. She set herself to the task and ignored every passerby as she worked. Even the concerned ones who just wanted to help somehow. What the hell do they know? She thought. With their precious intact hearts shoved away and protected? This is how i'm protecting mine, and i'll be a damn sight better off than any of those fools!
When it was complete, she stood back and admired her handiwork. Nothing would get to it now! She turned forward and lifted her foot to leave all that nastiness behind...but her foot wouldn't touch the ground. She couldn't move forward. She put her foot back and tried to lead off with the other. Same thing. She was stuck.
Chapter 6
Not stuck. She could move backward or sideways, but not forward. She wandered back toward the darkness, stood at the edge. She stepped in, after great debate, and it was full of foul beasts like the one who hurt her before. However, sensing they had no way to harm her without her heart, they left her alone in search of ones who carried their damage in plain sight. She made up her mind to go all the way through and look around to see if she could find that maybe after all.
She found her way out the back side. There it was! Right where she left it. She scooped it up, and it just crumbled away. But there were other things littering the ground. Things discarded from the Second's heart. Here, the time she made him laugh until pizza came out his nose. There, their first kiss. All around were things she knew had once been in his beautiful heart. It never crossed her mind as she numbly gathered them all in her skirt that he might have shed them on purpose to make room for things another person was pouring into his heart. Satisfied she had them all, she ran as swiftly as she could forward, back to her own walled up heart.
It was only as she began tearing down the bricks, that it occurred to her why all these things had been left behind. It was through a haze of tears and the shutters of sobs that she at last uncovered her giant raisin of a heart. It looked too small to hold all these things, but she remembered how it had been blown up by absolute nothingness before. She would get them in there somehow.
Chapter 7
These are mine now, she thought as she rifled through the contents. No one else can ever take them. She sewed them into a place inside and her heart once again felt soft and warm, although it looked as sickening as it always had since he left. She knew the difference, though, and that's all that mattered. Only upon rising to leave the broken tower, did she realise how much time she had wasted. She had gone unseen, unloved for so long. She had a lot to make up for and, so, began handing her heart out to just about anyone who took the time to acknowledge her on her path. Most simply handed it back, shaking their heads kindly. It didn't matter. Some day, someone would take it and she would insist upon having theirs and, while it might never be the same, it would be something. It would do.
Chapter 8
She found him - the One Who Would Do. He took her heart and handed over his so easily; it was almost magic. Magic? That didn't work out so well before... She pushed such thoughts out of her mind and tried to concentrate solely on filling this new heart with as much love as she could. He didn't exactly do the same for her, but neither of them spent too much time rustling up the other's contents, so she was satisfied continuing along with him, faster than she was really comfortable with, until it simply wouldn't do anymore.
There came a day when the new heart that the two of them created together stopped beating. She needed her heart back. She needed all those things inside that had made her feel happy once before. He had no problem handing it over to her. He didn't ask for his own back, but she was too distracted to notice. She pawed through her heart to get to that secret place and was surprised, and delighted, to see that those things had grown. They had even brought to them other warm bits of love and laughter and silliness from other places and people she had forgotten about. She reveled in them. They muted the ache from that third, missing heartbeat. She found, however, that he had put nothing in her heart - nothing at all. She wondered how he had kept it for so long without putting a single thing in. Remembering she still had his, she opened it.
Also nothing. This can't be! I put so much in! She turned it upside down and shook it, desperate to get back something, anything, of herself that she had poured in. All that fell out were lies and hatred and disappointment. It wasn't even his real heart. The last thing that fell out was a truth - that he had already switched it out and given his heart to someone new. She wished she hadn't looked so hard.
After a dreadful amount of trying to tinker with his the way hers had been before, she gave up. It wasn't the real thing, maybe never had been, and so there was nothing she could do to hurt it. She felt terrible for trying, but still gave it one last stomp before she picked herself up once again, and went forward alone.
Chapter 9
Time passed and the girl realised she was a woman - had been for a while. It had been childish to think she needed one other person to share her whole heart with. She took out bits and pieces with people she met along her way, and together they examined them. A lot of these people did likewise and the sharing, though not whole, was enough to make her feel less lonely. Many times, their discoveries and input would make the things in her heart feel bigger, more important, beautiful. Every so often, the things were turned ugly by others' eyes, and the woman would drop them behind her to rot.
She met another woman who she believed to be the strongest person she had ever met. Her new lover's heart was tricky, but the woman wasn't interested in her heart, at first. She made a gift of her rebuilt heart (which was soft again, and warm, and almost as light as it had once been) and honestly didn't want anything except her lover to keep it safe. She never even got a glimpse of the other's heart, until the end, and then she saw a version of her own old, fucked up heart, except further gone. She handed it back, shaking her head kindly. Only when her lover returned the woman's heart, reluctantly, did she notice how it had been corrupted. All good things twisted, tainted. Some gone without a trace.
She sat again. Alone. And started to untwist and wash her memories. To try and get the things back to how she wanted them. It was slow going, as usual.
Chapter 10
When the time came to go forward once more, she was even more selective than she was after that first time. Not just in to whom she gave her heart (no one, ever), but in to whom she showed any bits at all. And honestly, she didn't want to see anyone else's heart ever again.
It was after a time, a quite long one in the scheme of things, that she gave out pieces - not for showing, and not the whole thing - but pieces she thought maybe other people could find more use in. To her astonishment, she began to get pieces from others in return. Useful pieces. Helpful pieces. Healing pieces.
Chapter 11
The woman stands with her back to the forward, surveying the distance she has come with this heart - the only one she will ever have. The distance is vast. It is filled with patches of blackness and torment, but much more of it is vivid and beautiful and more colourful than she could ever see while she was in it. I traversed this whole way and barely ever was I looking around. It is magnificent. She glances at her heart. It is warm and soft and just the right weight to carry, even if it has a number of hard parts here and there. It was always the right weight; it was i who was weakened at times. She squares her shoulders and prepares to turn toward the forward. She knows she never needs to take in this sight again - her heart will hold it if she ever needs another glimpse.
When she turns, she is awed. However large and amazing she felt the backward seemed, the forward is so much more vast and breathtaking! It boggles her mind and lightens her once again beautiful heart. And she starts forward again, alone, but not lonely, and with her eyes up and taking in everything they can. Maybe...she thinks. That thought is all she needs.
{Not} The End
Like any young, naive girl, she first gave her heart away without thinking. He was such a handsome and mature-seeming boy. He took her heart readily and kept it to play with. She'd feel her heart soar when he tossed it in the air. It was exhilarating! She looked more closely and realized that sometimes the heart whizzing over his head was not hers. He had more than one? Oh, yes. Several. He was juggling. She asked him about it and, without answering, he simply let hers fall to the ground and kept walking. She looked down at it, then at him, and thought What. An. Asshole.
She picked up her heart and felt its familiar warmth and weight and softness. As she dusted it off, she noticed there was one little hard part from its impact with the ground, but otherwise it remained the heart she knew. Let this serve as a reminder, she thought. I shall never give you away so quickly again.
She tucked it away where it belonged and continued moving forward.
Chapter 2
She was much more selective now. There were many people about; some moving slower or faster, some going backward or not moving at all. She found her pace and there were a few moving at the same speed. She gave her heart to none of them. Those around who noticed started talking. Saying things like, "Maybe she doesn't like boys. Maybe she likes girls." To which the girl, in her mind, said, "I think i might like girls...but i know i like boys." She liked that boy, the Second.
They settled in a pace together, different from everyone else. She thought, What if i just show him my heart? I don't need to give it away. And so she did. She showed him how soft and warm it was. Let him feel its weight. She showed him the hard part. She opened it and let him see things inside no one else had seen. And then he did something that had never occurred to her might happen - he took out his own heart and showed it to her. Let her run her hand over his own rough spots. He opened his too and she got to know him better than anyone else. She thought his heart was beautiful, even with the hard parts. She decided to let him have hers after all. He would have none of it. He thought they should share both and take care of them together. She thought she was lucky to have found him, and so young! They could walk together for so long now, being guardians of their hearts.
The times they couldn't be together, they would sometimes trade. She would spend hours examining his, learning about him, filling it with little bits of hopes and dreams and laughter. Little bits of silliness and sadness and of things that scared her. He did the same. When they would trade back, she was always so excited to discover what he had left her. Their hearts were each other's favourite thing.
He was older, though, and his pace picked up before hers, so their time apart became longer. There came a time he came galloping back to trade for his own heart back when he didn't fall into her slower pace and pass some time. He simply took his heart back, kissed her forehead, fumbled something into her hand, and was gone before she knew it.
What the hell is this squishy thing? What are all these hard parts?! She sat down looking at the thing in her hand a long time before she realized it was her heart. She gingerly opened it and heard his voice, through sobs, apologizing. Saying it wasn't fair to her to be sharing her heart with someone so far away. Maybe, he said, when her pace picked up they could be together again but he was doing this because he loved her. Because she was so young and deserved better.
She ran. She screamed for him to stop and see that, for her, there was nothing better. Things were fine just how they had been. How dare he take back his heart so full and soft and warm with the things she had put in and leave her with this...this...whatever this was? She couldn't catch him. He was gone. She stopped. She dug inside her heart for that maybe that he had left, that hope of some day, and she ripped it out. She left it lying there as she shoved her heart back in its spot and slowly, slowly, with eyes ever downward, walked forward.
Chapter 3
She stopped moving a lot. She would take the vile, heavy thing that had been her heart out and try to figure out how she had ever held it precious. It was ugly and squishy but hard, and no longer warm. She thought she might be better off without it. So when out of the corner of her eye came a familiar dark, ugly man who insisted upon seeing it, she handed it over without so much as a thought.
He spoke, "I watched what he did to you. He was cruel. He did this on purpose. He wanted to hurt you."
"No," she said, "it wasn't like that..." She spoke without conviction though she knew her words were true. "He loved me. He left me a hope, a wish, that we can get back to how we were."
"Where is it?" He snarled. "Where is this 'maybe'? There's nothing here but an echo and some hard parts."
"I may have left it behind. But i can go back. I can get it and put it where he left it and maybe..." She was too tired and too scared to continue.
"I don't know why you even care. You two were never serious. He was playing with you." His black eyes sparkled as he glanced over his shoulder at her. He was tinkering with her heart and she was too broken to notice.
"But, i showed him everything. My hopes, my wishes, my fears, my silliness...that is serious." She really was trying to shake his words off, but they were coated in a slime that just made them stick faster.
All the while tinkering, he spat, "You are a child. You listen to the wrong music. You don't know how to talk to people. You trust too much. You see kindness where there isn't any. You don't know what's funny. You don't understand anything. You've never really felt anything. I can fix you and your poor, sad, shriveled heart. I can tell you what you really want. Just fall in step and never ask questions."
She was so exhausted. She gave in. She kept his pace, never really looking at him, just accepting that he now held her burden. If she didn't look at him, she didn't have to see how disgusting her heart was. At one point, he earnestly turned to her and halted their journey. He handed back to her something almost resembling her former heart. It was fairly soft and had less weight, although it wasn't as warm as it had once been. And he had changed as well. He wasn't quite so ugly and dark. She marveled at her heart, the strange magic he had performed, and barely listened as they walked on and he listed everything wrong with her.
She became comfortable, grateful even. Until all at once, he screamed, "God! You were so fucking EASY! You believed it all. I didn't fix your heart. You and that piece of shit are beyond help. Go on, look inside." And he sped away, backward, into the blackness from which he had crept.
Beyond bewildered, she shakingly opened her heart. It was full of brittle, empty things that hurt to look at it. It was mostly hollow, really. Plumped up with nothing at all. She couldn't believe she had allowed this to happen. Once again, she stopped and sat. She picked all those brittle, empty things out and one by one ground them to dust with her bare hands. It took a very long time. It hurt more than she believed possible and she was left with that heavy, squishy-hard, cold thing that she thought she could never love. She gently placed it deeper inside than she ever had before. He was wrong. It could be fixed. She could be fixed.
She carried on forward.
Chapter 4
She quickened her pace as thoughts about what had or hadn't been real raced through her mind. The Second, she knew that was real. She also knew she had lost any chance of sharing hearts with him again because of her anger and impatience. She longed to go back and find his maybe and put things back, but she knew it was impossible because of what came after the Second and the blanket of blackness and despair he left on that patch behind her. She thought that there must be others out there willing to share their hearts. Willing to look at what hers was now and not recoil in fear and disgust. And she refused to believe that anyone else could ever behave as the dark, ugly man had. She went even more quickly onward.
At last she came upon a group of people she recognised. They had walked with her after she gave her heart away the first time. They were friends, of a sort, and she slowed to observe their strange ambulation. They weren't moving forward so much as side-to-side, or two steps back then one forward, or else standing still in little clumps. A change of pace might be good.
There was a man there she had considered once giving her heart to, before she knew you could share, but he had already given his away and had someone else's back then. Now it appeared as though he had his own back. She approached him and he asked to see hers. She embarrassedly pulled it from its dark recess and handed it over. He was angry. He demanded to know who made it that way. She didn't know what to say. Technically, she was responsible for the state it was in now - hadn't the last left it slightly less fucked up? She was the one who tore it back to this. She stared at him. He offered to take it and put it right. She trusted him. He started walking sideways and she was confused. "Forward!" She shouted. "Together!" He shook his head and put more distance between them. "But...can't i have yours while you have mine?" No answer. She couldn't tell which way he had gone, so she held her position determined not to let him advance without her.
A little while later, not that long in the scheme of things, but long enough that she was feeling rather antsy and stagnant, she noticed him approaching from behind. He was keeping a quick pace with another girl. He held in his hand a gleaming, beautiful heart that was warm and soft. She could tell from a distance that it was just the right weight. She beamed, excited that he had kept his promise. He was approaching a fast clip and she held out her hands to accept her heart.
He slowed when he got close, ever so slightly. He knew what she thought. "No. This is hers," nodding to his companion, "and she has mine." They looked so happy.
"But where is mine? Where is it?!"
He was passing her now, but pointed back and over his right shoulder, "Over that way. Near some ruins. There was nothing i could do. You should have followed me. Something like that can't be fixed alone." Then, they were gone.
Last time, she followed with total acceptance. This time she had stayed right where she was full of questions no one was there to answer. She looked longingly ahead but knew she had to go back and find that blasted heart. Resolutely, she turned around.
Chapter 5
It was easy enough to find; the ruins were massive. Her heart was out among others but still recognizable as her own. She thought she saw it swell a bit as she got closer. But it was still a hideous thing that she didn't even realize how much she loathed until she saw that other girl's heart. So whole and full.
She picked it up and felt nothing. Well, maybe she felt a little more hollow. Did she? She put it down. Yes, she definitely felt better while it was not in her possession. She looked around. Really, she wasn't that far back. She hadn't made it to the blackness, a place she knew she might never escape. Maybe she could just carry on without it.
She looked down at the pitiful thing. She didn't want to leave it out in the open where just any trickster could find it. The ruins! She'd build a tower wall around it and seal it up tight. When it was safe, she could carry on without fear of it falling into the wrong hands ever again.
Building the wall took even longer than picking out the hollow parts had before. She set herself to the task and ignored every passerby as she worked. Even the concerned ones who just wanted to help somehow. What the hell do they know? She thought. With their precious intact hearts shoved away and protected? This is how i'm protecting mine, and i'll be a damn sight better off than any of those fools!
When it was complete, she stood back and admired her handiwork. Nothing would get to it now! She turned forward and lifted her foot to leave all that nastiness behind...but her foot wouldn't touch the ground. She couldn't move forward. She put her foot back and tried to lead off with the other. Same thing. She was stuck.
Chapter 6
Not stuck. She could move backward or sideways, but not forward. She wandered back toward the darkness, stood at the edge. She stepped in, after great debate, and it was full of foul beasts like the one who hurt her before. However, sensing they had no way to harm her without her heart, they left her alone in search of ones who carried their damage in plain sight. She made up her mind to go all the way through and look around to see if she could find that maybe after all.
She found her way out the back side. There it was! Right where she left it. She scooped it up, and it just crumbled away. But there were other things littering the ground. Things discarded from the Second's heart. Here, the time she made him laugh until pizza came out his nose. There, their first kiss. All around were things she knew had once been in his beautiful heart. It never crossed her mind as she numbly gathered them all in her skirt that he might have shed them on purpose to make room for things another person was pouring into his heart. Satisfied she had them all, she ran as swiftly as she could forward, back to her own walled up heart.
It was only as she began tearing down the bricks, that it occurred to her why all these things had been left behind. It was through a haze of tears and the shutters of sobs that she at last uncovered her giant raisin of a heart. It looked too small to hold all these things, but she remembered how it had been blown up by absolute nothingness before. She would get them in there somehow.
Chapter 7
These are mine now, she thought as she rifled through the contents. No one else can ever take them. She sewed them into a place inside and her heart once again felt soft and warm, although it looked as sickening as it always had since he left. She knew the difference, though, and that's all that mattered. Only upon rising to leave the broken tower, did she realise how much time she had wasted. She had gone unseen, unloved for so long. She had a lot to make up for and, so, began handing her heart out to just about anyone who took the time to acknowledge her on her path. Most simply handed it back, shaking their heads kindly. It didn't matter. Some day, someone would take it and she would insist upon having theirs and, while it might never be the same, it would be something. It would do.
Chapter 8
She found him - the One Who Would Do. He took her heart and handed over his so easily; it was almost magic. Magic? That didn't work out so well before... She pushed such thoughts out of her mind and tried to concentrate solely on filling this new heart with as much love as she could. He didn't exactly do the same for her, but neither of them spent too much time rustling up the other's contents, so she was satisfied continuing along with him, faster than she was really comfortable with, until it simply wouldn't do anymore.
There came a day when the new heart that the two of them created together stopped beating. She needed her heart back. She needed all those things inside that had made her feel happy once before. He had no problem handing it over to her. He didn't ask for his own back, but she was too distracted to notice. She pawed through her heart to get to that secret place and was surprised, and delighted, to see that those things had grown. They had even brought to them other warm bits of love and laughter and silliness from other places and people she had forgotten about. She reveled in them. They muted the ache from that third, missing heartbeat. She found, however, that he had put nothing in her heart - nothing at all. She wondered how he had kept it for so long without putting a single thing in. Remembering she still had his, she opened it.
Also nothing. This can't be! I put so much in! She turned it upside down and shook it, desperate to get back something, anything, of herself that she had poured in. All that fell out were lies and hatred and disappointment. It wasn't even his real heart. The last thing that fell out was a truth - that he had already switched it out and given his heart to someone new. She wished she hadn't looked so hard.
After a dreadful amount of trying to tinker with his the way hers had been before, she gave up. It wasn't the real thing, maybe never had been, and so there was nothing she could do to hurt it. She felt terrible for trying, but still gave it one last stomp before she picked herself up once again, and went forward alone.
Chapter 9
Time passed and the girl realised she was a woman - had been for a while. It had been childish to think she needed one other person to share her whole heart with. She took out bits and pieces with people she met along her way, and together they examined them. A lot of these people did likewise and the sharing, though not whole, was enough to make her feel less lonely. Many times, their discoveries and input would make the things in her heart feel bigger, more important, beautiful. Every so often, the things were turned ugly by others' eyes, and the woman would drop them behind her to rot.
She met another woman who she believed to be the strongest person she had ever met. Her new lover's heart was tricky, but the woman wasn't interested in her heart, at first. She made a gift of her rebuilt heart (which was soft again, and warm, and almost as light as it had once been) and honestly didn't want anything except her lover to keep it safe. She never even got a glimpse of the other's heart, until the end, and then she saw a version of her own old, fucked up heart, except further gone. She handed it back, shaking her head kindly. Only when her lover returned the woman's heart, reluctantly, did she notice how it had been corrupted. All good things twisted, tainted. Some gone without a trace.
She sat again. Alone. And started to untwist and wash her memories. To try and get the things back to how she wanted them. It was slow going, as usual.
Chapter 10
When the time came to go forward once more, she was even more selective than she was after that first time. Not just in to whom she gave her heart (no one, ever), but in to whom she showed any bits at all. And honestly, she didn't want to see anyone else's heart ever again.
It was after a time, a quite long one in the scheme of things, that she gave out pieces - not for showing, and not the whole thing - but pieces she thought maybe other people could find more use in. To her astonishment, she began to get pieces from others in return. Useful pieces. Helpful pieces. Healing pieces.
Chapter 11
The woman stands with her back to the forward, surveying the distance she has come with this heart - the only one she will ever have. The distance is vast. It is filled with patches of blackness and torment, but much more of it is vivid and beautiful and more colourful than she could ever see while she was in it. I traversed this whole way and barely ever was I looking around. It is magnificent. She glances at her heart. It is warm and soft and just the right weight to carry, even if it has a number of hard parts here and there. It was always the right weight; it was i who was weakened at times. She squares her shoulders and prepares to turn toward the forward. She knows she never needs to take in this sight again - her heart will hold it if she ever needs another glimpse.
When she turns, she is awed. However large and amazing she felt the backward seemed, the forward is so much more vast and breathtaking! It boggles her mind and lightens her once again beautiful heart. And she starts forward again, alone, but not lonely, and with her eyes up and taking in everything they can. Maybe...she thinks. That thought is all she needs.
{Not} The End
Wednesday, April 1, 2015
Why are you telling me this?
Last night i was talking to a guy i've only met twice. We were talking about local bands and the people in them and started discussing a band made up of really good friends of mine. The bass player is a lady. All of a sudden, he interupts me and says, "Can i be a really big chauvanistic pig right now?" To which i replied, "Go ahead, but i might kick you in the shin." He backed away a few steps, took a deep breath and said, "That chick is, like, SO hot. Like really really hot." I cocked my head and said, "I have eyes, dingus. What's your point?" He's all, "Well, i would never say that to her." ... ?
So why the fuck say it to me? He wouldn't say it to her because he knows she gives exactly zero fucks what he thinks. I also give zero fucks. ZERO. All my life my closest lady friends have been way above average looking. In school my best friend was probably one of the most beautiful girls ever born. That's not why she was my friend. She was my friend because she was funnier than all get-out, supremely talented, and kind. But all the way until graduation and beyond all i'd ever hear from dudes (some of whom i thought were hanging around me because of me) was, "Damn! Beebs is HOT! Does she have a boyfriend?" Fucking ask her. And for fuck's sake, why tell me that? I already know. I spent most of my time with her and our other friends - i am completely aware of how pretty she is. Just effortlessly gorgeous and fit. By the way, i will not "put in a good word" or set you up. I eventually started blowing off guys who stared at her but then approached me; why wait around for the inevitable, "Hey, your friend is a babe"?
It took me a long time to get over growing up in the shadow of that. Paired with two guys in 8th grade who sat in front of me on the bus every single day only to spend the trip turned in their seats literally saying, "You are so ugly. A real dog. No one could ever like someone so hideous", school was fucking damaging to my self-image, -worth, and -esteem. I don't feel like a beauty queen or anything, but i can look in the mirror now and not see what they said they saw. 90% of the time i just think, Welp, that's my face. The other 10% i think, Maybe i am kind of pretty. And that's huge for me.
This guy the other night? It's not the first time it has happened lately. Another friend of mine from high school i recently reconnected with wouldn't shut up about it all night. He even felt the need to inform her long time boyfriend of her hotness. Really? You think he isn't aware? These dorks won't say it directly to the woman because they "don't want to make her uncomfortable". It's not like i am slightly interested in either of these two guys, but if i'm talking to you i don't need the obvious shown to me. "Hey, that Redwood is tall." "Whoa! Lake Superior is huge." Can we talk about something more interesting.? Maybe i could actually learn something from you. But then again, maybe not.
And why hasn't anyone ever cared about not making me uncomfortable?
So why the fuck say it to me? He wouldn't say it to her because he knows she gives exactly zero fucks what he thinks. I also give zero fucks. ZERO. All my life my closest lady friends have been way above average looking. In school my best friend was probably one of the most beautiful girls ever born. That's not why she was my friend. She was my friend because she was funnier than all get-out, supremely talented, and kind. But all the way until graduation and beyond all i'd ever hear from dudes (some of whom i thought were hanging around me because of me) was, "Damn! Beebs is HOT! Does she have a boyfriend?" Fucking ask her. And for fuck's sake, why tell me that? I already know. I spent most of my time with her and our other friends - i am completely aware of how pretty she is. Just effortlessly gorgeous and fit. By the way, i will not "put in a good word" or set you up. I eventually started blowing off guys who stared at her but then approached me; why wait around for the inevitable, "Hey, your friend is a babe"?
It took me a long time to get over growing up in the shadow of that. Paired with two guys in 8th grade who sat in front of me on the bus every single day only to spend the trip turned in their seats literally saying, "You are so ugly. A real dog. No one could ever like someone so hideous", school was fucking damaging to my self-image, -worth, and -esteem. I don't feel like a beauty queen or anything, but i can look in the mirror now and not see what they said they saw. 90% of the time i just think, Welp, that's my face. The other 10% i think, Maybe i am kind of pretty. And that's huge for me.
This guy the other night? It's not the first time it has happened lately. Another friend of mine from high school i recently reconnected with wouldn't shut up about it all night. He even felt the need to inform her long time boyfriend of her hotness. Really? You think he isn't aware? These dorks won't say it directly to the woman because they "don't want to make her uncomfortable". It's not like i am slightly interested in either of these two guys, but if i'm talking to you i don't need the obvious shown to me. "Hey, that Redwood is tall." "Whoa! Lake Superior is huge." Can we talk about something more interesting.? Maybe i could actually learn something from you. But then again, maybe not.
And why hasn't anyone ever cared about not making me uncomfortable?
Monday, March 9, 2015
Inflatable Bone
I devastated the kitchen today
made a bigger mess than i needed to
so i could have the satisfaction of making it shine like new
'cause lately i don't really feel like i have control of much
but breaking things just to fix is a really stupid crutch
I bit off more than i can chew
someone grab a bottle brush
cram it all the way down
i certainly don't want it to come back up
-all sticky and shit-brown
I'm in way over my head
thought i could tread forever alone
but now i'd really appreciate someone throwing me an inflatable bone
I'm losing all this sleep but it's so much worse to find it
it's full of normal-looking things
each with a fucking monster right behind it
i don't know how we got here
i see you cringe each time i speak
you don't bother to say to hello or even look in my direction when we meet
So while i sit here calmly, saying i want to be alone
what i really mean is
Can't you please toss me that inflatable bone?
Hand me over that bottle brush?
I know i say i'm fine treading here on my own
But please, friend, could you throw me that fucking bone?
I just don't want to bother you
or step on any toes
but i liked the way it used to be
it's still there, in pieces, i suppose
Now i'm gathering all the shards and making a neat stack
hoping i can find some glue and maybe put them back
I ain't got no reasons and nothing much to say
i acted like a stupid twat in ninety different ways
the whole thing seems so stupid now
like nothing much at all
but you take up so much space in me
and i feel so fucking small
So hand me over that bottle brush
throw me down that bone
i'll take your help and cram it down
and go on floating on my own
Tuesday, December 2, 2014
Lamps
Little bit of shameless self promotion. I've been making these luminaries for about a year now. I am opening an Etsy shop soon, mainly so i can make what i want instead of doing custom orders. This is where i'll be posting pictures of the ones i've made. Not all are available.
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More to come...
Thursday, November 20, 2014
Disassembly Required
Fuck bras. For real.
For several months, i have been wearing this bra even though the wire on the right side had snapped. My extra-clever good buddy, let's call her LadyButt, told me about a hack she saw where you cut maxi pads and stick them to the inside of your bra so the wire doesn't poke you. So i did that and for many months it worked. Earlier this week, however, the wire sort of started migrating and popping out in different places. Yesterday at work BOTH snapped ends not just poked me, but actually cut me in 5 places on my side boob and armpit. So i got pissed. Then i grabbed tools. I performed a wire-ectomy while laughing manically and ranting about fixing wagons. Then i put it back on to experience that "Ahhhh..." moment. Which promptly turned to an "Oh my fuck!" moment when i looked in the mirror. Now my tits are normal, which is to say somewhat assymetrical, HOWEVER, one wired boob and one unwired boob is a look that even i have too much vanity with which to walk around. So i had to pull the other damn side apart.
 |
| This used to be my bra. |
Alas, the tit sling is useless. It makes my boobs squeeze all over in weird lumpy ways. It feels one million times better but when i look down and see that crazy little middle third boob strangeness, it does not call to mind the sexy alien lady from "Total Recall". I think of my friend Fish's mom who has tremendously large and pendulous breasts and how bras aren't made for that shit so she always had "3rd boobage overflow", as my high school girlfriends and i called it. I don't want to go to there. All i want is a bra that fits AND isn't going to draw my fucking blood. Is that too much to ask?
And, in case you're wondering, my right boob has snapped every single underwire in every single bra i've bought since 2004. My titter will not be caged! Only, yes it will because i run the show. Got that, bitch tit? I sentence you to a new bra.
Saturday, November 15, 2014
Wise Old Six-Year-Old
I work at a before and after school program. There is a game that, as far as i can tell, every 4th grade girl has played since the beginning of time: MASH. You know, M for mansion, A for apartment, S for shack, and H for house? [Interesting development: the S now stands for sewer, as of this week apparently.] Anyway, then you have all these catagories to fill in like who you'll marry, where you'll live, what your job will be, how many kids you'll have, etc. You or your "game master" or some combination of the two pick 4 or 5 things to fill in each catagory. Then all but one of each thing are systematically eliminated by counting by a random number and crossing off stuff and your future is no longer a mystery. Earlier this week i played and had the best future ever wherein i married Neil Patrick Harris (who is my spirit animal). Sure, we lived in the sewer but who cares? We also had 2 kids, which NPH already has so my vagina was a winner too.
Yesterday i played again with two little girls who somehow managed to predict a most vile future for me. I marry a coworker (he's actually a pretty good looking dude but he's 13 years younger than me - i have limits) and i become an astronaut, so it wasn't all bad. However, we will live in a sewer and drive a poop truck, his job will be "pooper" (lucky we live in a sewer then, huh?), and we'll have a pet alligator (also appropriate) and 60 kids. Sixty. At least we have a good sex life? They wrote a song then a rap and teased me about it all day. I was also hanging out with a little 1st grader who was terribly upset about the prospect of me living in a sewer married to a pooper and driving my 60 kids around in a poop truck. During the sing-song mocking she got very quiet. After i sent the twosome over to another coworker to share their beautiful ballad, this little girl turns to me in all seriousness and says the wisest stuff-
"I have come up with 3 ways to make sure that never happens. If he askes you to marry him, say no. Don't go to astronaut school, ever. Don't move out of your house. No, 4 ways - don't ever sell your car. If you do, buy the same car again." And then, the kicker, "It's hard enough to take care of 3 kids. Just ask my mom. So never, ever have more than three kids. Oh, and do not buy an alligator. Five ways."
She kills me! But really, she's right. Next time i get all weirdy about where i'll be in five years all i have to do is think of the worst place i could be and just not do the things that will lead me there. She's going to run the world some day.
Yesterday i played again with two little girls who somehow managed to predict a most vile future for me. I marry a coworker (he's actually a pretty good looking dude but he's 13 years younger than me - i have limits) and i become an astronaut, so it wasn't all bad. However, we will live in a sewer and drive a poop truck, his job will be "pooper" (lucky we live in a sewer then, huh?), and we'll have a pet alligator (also appropriate) and 60 kids. Sixty. At least we have a good sex life? They wrote a song then a rap and teased me about it all day. I was also hanging out with a little 1st grader who was terribly upset about the prospect of me living in a sewer married to a pooper and driving my 60 kids around in a poop truck. During the sing-song mocking she got very quiet. After i sent the twosome over to another coworker to share their beautiful ballad, this little girl turns to me in all seriousness and says the wisest stuff-
"I have come up with 3 ways to make sure that never happens. If he askes you to marry him, say no. Don't go to astronaut school, ever. Don't move out of your house. No, 4 ways - don't ever sell your car. If you do, buy the same car again." And then, the kicker, "It's hard enough to take care of 3 kids. Just ask my mom. So never, ever have more than three kids. Oh, and do not buy an alligator. Five ways."
She kills me! But really, she's right. Next time i get all weirdy about where i'll be in five years all i have to do is think of the worst place i could be and just not do the things that will lead me there. She's going to run the world some day.
Sunday, November 2, 2014
Cereal. Not cereal.
Ok, so, "Sorry. Not sorry"? I've been saying, "Kidding. Not kidding" a lot lately and a couple people appreciated it, but mostly i think people were just trying not to punch me. Well, now there's "Cereal. Not Cereal."
It's not something you say so much as a sad, sad part of being me. I eat a lot of cereal. But it's not cereal so much as two things, one solidy and one liquidy, that i mix up in a bowl and eat with a spoon, often when i'm very drunk. There's been partially melted peanut butter with chocolate chips stirred in, cottage cheese with crumbled doritos, saltines with alfredo (no noddles, man), cheese sauce with tuna, and chopped up hot boiled eggs with perhaps a titch too much butter. There was the wheat thins in ranch. None of these are things i eat more than once. I mean, they are sickening while they happen and i only feel even worse later on. But last night i found a cereal, not cereal that i may have to experience again. Half a jar of turkey gravy heated till nuclear-hot with toast chunks stirred in. Actually, it was just bread because i was too impatient to wait for the toaster.
Or maybe, i'll just buy some milk and gawddamn shredded wheat because that's all i wanted in the first place.
It's not something you say so much as a sad, sad part of being me. I eat a lot of cereal. But it's not cereal so much as two things, one solidy and one liquidy, that i mix up in a bowl and eat with a spoon, often when i'm very drunk. There's been partially melted peanut butter with chocolate chips stirred in, cottage cheese with crumbled doritos, saltines with alfredo (no noddles, man), cheese sauce with tuna, and chopped up hot boiled eggs with perhaps a titch too much butter. There was the wheat thins in ranch. None of these are things i eat more than once. I mean, they are sickening while they happen and i only feel even worse later on. But last night i found a cereal, not cereal that i may have to experience again. Half a jar of turkey gravy heated till nuclear-hot with toast chunks stirred in. Actually, it was just bread because i was too impatient to wait for the toaster.
Or maybe, i'll just buy some milk and gawddamn shredded wheat because that's all i wanted in the first place.
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
Time to start quitting
I have no voice. Not figuratively. I cannot make any sounds with my vocal chords AT ALL. I am reduced to communicating via white board and crude, made-up sign language. This could not have happened at a worse time because i have a shit ton to say. I'm at the end of various ropes - have been for a minute.
First, Cousin Roommate has been using my car nearly every evening for just about 6 months now. Fine, whatever. He needs a vehicle and his piece of shit is broken all the way down. Has he taken it to be looked at? No. Has he helped me pay for insurance or maintainence? No. Is he saving to buy a new car? No. Does he have a plan at all that involves him not mooching off me for the rest of existence? No again. If he would put more than $6 a week in the gas tank, i might not want to punch his guts out. Every day he takes it, he says he's putting gas in right away. Every time i get in my car the tank is running on fumes. But he just bought himself a sweet new 2nd keyboard to compose on and he stays stoned pretty much 24/7, so bully for him! I guess i'm the asshole.
Then there's my house guest. Six weeks ago, a long-time friend of mine was in a situation up north that was not healthy. He needed to come home for a while. We all encouraged that. He, Thorton, asked if he could stay at our place for a couple (2?) weeks. Still here. No problem. I love the guy, of course i'm going to help him out. He helped me put together a custom work bench for my arting that fits quite nicely in my bay window - AFTER i rage cried in the bathroom because he and Cousin Roommate kept saying they would definitely help me in any way they could as they sat around getting lit, playing guitar and piano respectively, and generally not getting off their asses at all unless they were hungry. So i carried all the lumber to the porch and started doing it myself. At which point, a man certainly stepped because that's a man thing, building. Well, one man stepped in and the other ran to his room. That was 3 weeks ago. I've been able to use my new work space a total of two times. It happens to be behind Thorton's sleeping area. I have two lamp orders i cannot fulfill because the times when i'm not at a job, the space is occupied by mountains of whatever, a bed roll, or the man himself. Also, i am hosting a Halloween party this year and i need to get that room ready. I cannot do so and it's particularly more irritating as the date approaches.
And this work space thing...i spent a considerable amount of time before Thorton even got here designing it. It incorporates all my current furniture and allows for two work spaces and a sitting area. I moved all but one piece of furniture myself, as per usual. I cleaned for many hours and prepped for many more. I got rid of butt loads of useless materials and garbage. After my space was set up (although not organized, see above), Thorton says to me, "Now what i'd really like is for you to do something like that for Cousin Roommate." Exsqueeze me? Baking powder? No one did it for me. Why can't Mr. Humble Genius do it himself, other than being too high to function 90% of the time and utterly lacking any sort of motivation? But, in true door mat fashion, i was determined to figure a way to unfuck his rat-hole-studio using only the furniture i have, save for a custom built topper for my dining room table so it won't get ruined like everything else. I spent more than 3 hours coming up with a work space for two people (so he can have art night with his pal), a sitting area for watching YouTube videos of street fights and epic fails, display space for his paintings and sculptures, storage, AND a space for his keyboard (but now he has two, so that's fucked). I showed the plan to Cousin Roommate and he loved it. All i asked was that he pack up all the shit, clean a bit, and help me when it's time to rearrange. That was almost 2 weeks ago. What's been done? Not. A. Damn. Thing.
On the other hand, when i showed Thorton the plan, his response was, "Well, i was thinking someting more like this", scribbling on my design while explaining a thing wherein i have to get rid of 4 pieces of furniture and disassemble then reassemble 2 more and eliminating all hope of displaying anything or being able to entertain, "so that he has one big giant surface area so i can do animation." Ok. I'm sorry...Charles what now? My mind just sort of broke when he said that. If he thinks he's staying long enough to still be here when Cousin Roommate finally gets his ass moving on this, he better be drawing up plans for bunk beds in his bedroom. I want my gawddamn studio back.
Anyway, all of that was to illustrate how atypical my life is at the moment - and i'm going to quit smoking tomorrow. Because it's killing me. The smokes are killing me and not being able to tell people off is killing me. I'm getting my voice back, for good, even if i become a morbidly obese super bitch. Send good thoughts...please.
First, Cousin Roommate has been using my car nearly every evening for just about 6 months now. Fine, whatever. He needs a vehicle and his piece of shit is broken all the way down. Has he taken it to be looked at? No. Has he helped me pay for insurance or maintainence? No. Is he saving to buy a new car? No. Does he have a plan at all that involves him not mooching off me for the rest of existence? No again. If he would put more than $6 a week in the gas tank, i might not want to punch his guts out. Every day he takes it, he says he's putting gas in right away. Every time i get in my car the tank is running on fumes. But he just bought himself a sweet new 2nd keyboard to compose on and he stays stoned pretty much 24/7, so bully for him! I guess i'm the asshole.
Then there's my house guest. Six weeks ago, a long-time friend of mine was in a situation up north that was not healthy. He needed to come home for a while. We all encouraged that. He, Thorton, asked if he could stay at our place for a couple (2?) weeks. Still here. No problem. I love the guy, of course i'm going to help him out. He helped me put together a custom work bench for my arting that fits quite nicely in my bay window - AFTER i rage cried in the bathroom because he and Cousin Roommate kept saying they would definitely help me in any way they could as they sat around getting lit, playing guitar and piano respectively, and generally not getting off their asses at all unless they were hungry. So i carried all the lumber to the porch and started doing it myself. At which point, a man certainly stepped because that's a man thing, building. Well, one man stepped in and the other ran to his room. That was 3 weeks ago. I've been able to use my new work space a total of two times. It happens to be behind Thorton's sleeping area. I have two lamp orders i cannot fulfill because the times when i'm not at a job, the space is occupied by mountains of whatever, a bed roll, or the man himself. Also, i am hosting a Halloween party this year and i need to get that room ready. I cannot do so and it's particularly more irritating as the date approaches.
And this work space thing...i spent a considerable amount of time before Thorton even got here designing it. It incorporates all my current furniture and allows for two work spaces and a sitting area. I moved all but one piece of furniture myself, as per usual. I cleaned for many hours and prepped for many more. I got rid of butt loads of useless materials and garbage. After my space was set up (although not organized, see above), Thorton says to me, "Now what i'd really like is for you to do something like that for Cousin Roommate." Exsqueeze me? Baking powder? No one did it for me. Why can't Mr. Humble Genius do it himself, other than being too high to function 90% of the time and utterly lacking any sort of motivation? But, in true door mat fashion, i was determined to figure a way to unfuck his rat-hole-studio using only the furniture i have, save for a custom built topper for my dining room table so it won't get ruined like everything else. I spent more than 3 hours coming up with a work space for two people (so he can have art night with his pal), a sitting area for watching YouTube videos of street fights and epic fails, display space for his paintings and sculptures, storage, AND a space for his keyboard (but now he has two, so that's fucked). I showed the plan to Cousin Roommate and he loved it. All i asked was that he pack up all the shit, clean a bit, and help me when it's time to rearrange. That was almost 2 weeks ago. What's been done? Not. A. Damn. Thing.
On the other hand, when i showed Thorton the plan, his response was, "Well, i was thinking someting more like this", scribbling on my design while explaining a thing wherein i have to get rid of 4 pieces of furniture and disassemble then reassemble 2 more and eliminating all hope of displaying anything or being able to entertain, "so that he has one big giant surface area so i can do animation." Ok. I'm sorry...Charles what now? My mind just sort of broke when he said that. If he thinks he's staying long enough to still be here when Cousin Roommate finally gets his ass moving on this, he better be drawing up plans for bunk beds in his bedroom. I want my gawddamn studio back.
Anyway, all of that was to illustrate how atypical my life is at the moment - and i'm going to quit smoking tomorrow. Because it's killing me. The smokes are killing me and not being able to tell people off is killing me. I'm getting my voice back, for good, even if i become a morbidly obese super bitch. Send good thoughts...please.
Friday, September 26, 2014
Me(at) vs. the Vegan I
That title probably makes it sound like i have an internal struggle with veganism. I do not. Even a little. I know what i am.
That said, what kind of vegan wears leather boots? Seriously?
I am at war with a "vegan" at my job. She doesn't know it. She doesn't know anything, apparently. I can't believe she's even real. This is the type of person i really do actually despise and it has nothing to do with veganism (which is something i don't believe in - probably because it's stupid or i don't understand it). I despise her because she is yet another example of someone who has nothing spectacular to share with the world and therefore has glommed onto an ideal which she believes makes her more interesting and better than others. In reality, she is a sanctimonious asshole who hasn't bothered to even read up on the thing that she says she is.
Vegans do not:
wear Dr. Martens.
eat 9 pieces of buttered garlic bread.
consume copious amounts of chocolate chip cookie bars while exclaiming, "These are TOO good!"
eat gummy anything.
lick the bowl of the meat-based pasta sauce i made and ask to take home any leftovers.
eat all the peanut butter and leave the knife gummed up with the stuff all stuck to the side of my sink - IF they like their patellas in their correct location.
And they certainly don't tell me how pretty my chicken salad is while lamenting that they cannot eat it after they just ate rice cakes containing FIVE animal by-products. ! And how very dare they say, "I'm a vegan with poor self-control."?! What you are, ma'am, is a dipshit who wishes she was a hipster with an angle. I say throw her to the real vegans - they'd gobble that shit up, EXCEPT real vegans don't eat animal by-products.
I'm starting all my soups with chicken stock this winter and finishing them with heavy whipping cream, so she'll have to pack her own lunch of gummy fruits, rice cakes, and chocolate chip bars.
That said, what kind of vegan wears leather boots? Seriously?
I am at war with a "vegan" at my job. She doesn't know it. She doesn't know anything, apparently. I can't believe she's even real. This is the type of person i really do actually despise and it has nothing to do with veganism (which is something i don't believe in - probably because it's stupid or i don't understand it). I despise her because she is yet another example of someone who has nothing spectacular to share with the world and therefore has glommed onto an ideal which she believes makes her more interesting and better than others. In reality, she is a sanctimonious asshole who hasn't bothered to even read up on the thing that she says she is.
Vegans do not:
wear Dr. Martens.
eat 9 pieces of buttered garlic bread.
consume copious amounts of chocolate chip cookie bars while exclaiming, "These are TOO good!"
eat gummy anything.
lick the bowl of the meat-based pasta sauce i made and ask to take home any leftovers.
eat all the peanut butter and leave the knife gummed up with the stuff all stuck to the side of my sink - IF they like their patellas in their correct location.
And they certainly don't tell me how pretty my chicken salad is while lamenting that they cannot eat it after they just ate rice cakes containing FIVE animal by-products. ! And how very dare they say, "I'm a vegan with poor self-control."?! What you are, ma'am, is a dipshit who wishes she was a hipster with an angle. I say throw her to the real vegans - they'd gobble that shit up, EXCEPT real vegans don't eat animal by-products.
I'm starting all my soups with chicken stock this winter and finishing them with heavy whipping cream, so she'll have to pack her own lunch of gummy fruits, rice cakes, and chocolate chip bars.
Thursday, September 11, 2014
Priorities, man. Music always wins.
In about an hour, i'm going downtown to watch my buddies' band play round 1 of a battle of the bands. They're awesome. You check them out - https://www.facebook.com/pages/Flannel-Season/305504089484374
Anyway, after they win that, i sleep. After the sleep is an hour and a half of work and THEN i leave for Riot Fest in Chicago. Holy shit. Best.
This trip is going to kick all of the asses. I'm going with the Queen of Roadtrips, Jewels. I will never get caught up financially after this and i don't give one FUCK. We have less than 12% of a plan. It's perfect. It's like when i went with Angeez to see Gwar in Chicago back in 19-tickety-7 (Gwar stole our word for ninety-BAM!), except better for several reasons.
1) I have approved time off from work. Back then i composed a note to my boss at Happy Joe's that went a little something like this: "Hey, J-----, Angeez has an extra ticket for Gwar tonight. I'd really love to work my shift but Gwar won't be there. They will be in Chicago, however, so off i go. I hope i'm not fired. I'll be in tomorrow if not. Thanks!" My employment was not terminated. At that time.
2) I have money this time. Some. Last time i literally had $2 in dimes. No spanging this time, boy howdy. No trying to write bad out-of-state checks. No following weird rich suburbanite bro-hams to some freaky mansion and doing shots while hiding from dude's parents. They took our $25 check and didn't rape us, so there's that. And no blowing tolls because we put $22 in the tank and bought a pack of smokes with the rest.
3) I am legally allowed to drink. However, i shall not do so copiously because i can't navigate 7 stages drunk.
4) I understand #3. At 19, i couldn't navigate just one stage. Anyone attempting to point that out would have gotten face-punched though.
5) Three letters: GPS.
I'm so stoked!
UPDATE: Flannel Season DID win Round 1. Muthafukkin straight!
Anyway, after they win that, i sleep. After the sleep is an hour and a half of work and THEN i leave for Riot Fest in Chicago. Holy shit. Best.
This trip is going to kick all of the asses. I'm going with the Queen of Roadtrips, Jewels. I will never get caught up financially after this and i don't give one FUCK. We have less than 12% of a plan. It's perfect. It's like when i went with Angeez to see Gwar in Chicago back in 19-tickety-7 (Gwar stole our word for ninety-BAM!), except better for several reasons.
1) I have approved time off from work. Back then i composed a note to my boss at Happy Joe's that went a little something like this: "Hey, J-----, Angeez has an extra ticket for Gwar tonight. I'd really love to work my shift but Gwar won't be there. They will be in Chicago, however, so off i go. I hope i'm not fired. I'll be in tomorrow if not. Thanks!" My employment was not terminated. At that time.
2) I have money this time. Some. Last time i literally had $2 in dimes. No spanging this time, boy howdy. No trying to write bad out-of-state checks. No following weird rich suburbanite bro-hams to some freaky mansion and doing shots while hiding from dude's parents. They took our $25 check and didn't rape us, so there's that. And no blowing tolls because we put $22 in the tank and bought a pack of smokes with the rest.
3) I am legally allowed to drink. However, i shall not do so copiously because i can't navigate 7 stages drunk.
4) I understand #3. At 19, i couldn't navigate just one stage. Anyone attempting to point that out would have gotten face-punched though.
5) Three letters: GPS.
I'm so stoked!
UPDATE: Flannel Season DID win Round 1. Muthafukkin straight!
Way to go, boners!!
Sunday, September 7, 2014
Dick-tionary
Yesterday i binge watched half of the second season of Spike TV's "Ink Master" while working on various art projects. Dave "Lady Lips" Navarro (which i call him because, honestly, he has the prettiest mouth) spends a lot of time on that show defining words like contrast and light source. Words that are basic as hell. I thought maybe he's really dumb. Maybe he spends so much time caring for his luxurious hair and trimming those atrociously weird "mutton burns" that he never got a chance to learn vocabulary. Maybe Spike TV doesn't expect their audience to be very bright, a fairly safe assumption considering most of their programming.
Anyway, after the binge, i sat around with three of my dude-friends listening to them talk. These are dudes who treat me like one of the guys, so i get an almost accurate sense of what they talk about and how they talk about it when ladies aren't around. And i was able to figure out why ol' Lady Lips tries to sound like a dictionary. It's not because he assumes other people don't know what a word like, for example, GRID means. It's because he's trying to sound smarter than he really is. Trying to establish authority about a subject that he actually doesn't know a whole lot about. Apparently, in groups, dudes do this all the time. All three of those guys did the same thing last night. None of them do that when talking to me one on one, mainly because i'd roll my whole head and scream, "Zoidberg!" at them. It's like faux-intellectual bullshit that irritates the fuck out of me and bores me to the point that i lose all interest in whatever they're trying to say. I don't need a definition from their dick-tionary because i have my own. And it's bigger.
Anyway, after the binge, i sat around with three of my dude-friends listening to them talk. These are dudes who treat me like one of the guys, so i get an almost accurate sense of what they talk about and how they talk about it when ladies aren't around. And i was able to figure out why ol' Lady Lips tries to sound like a dictionary. It's not because he assumes other people don't know what a word like, for example, GRID means. It's because he's trying to sound smarter than he really is. Trying to establish authority about a subject that he actually doesn't know a whole lot about. Apparently, in groups, dudes do this all the time. All three of those guys did the same thing last night. None of them do that when talking to me one on one, mainly because i'd roll my whole head and scream, "Zoidberg!" at them. It's like faux-intellectual bullshit that irritates the fuck out of me and bores me to the point that i lose all interest in whatever they're trying to say. I don't need a definition from their dick-tionary because i have my own. And it's bigger.
I mean, LOOK at those LIPS!
Sunday, August 31, 2014
Really, i'm not using it
Free to a good home - or bad one, i don't care: One barely used uterus. Like a piano, the actual getting it out of where it is and to your place might be tricky - that part is up to you though. Seems to work fine, except for once ten years ago; however, since then, it has been perfectly regular. Requires meds two days a month. Answers to a variety of swear words. Pick it up today and i'll throw in two ovaries and a diva cup as a bonus.
Seriously, get this fucking thing out of me.
Seriously, get this fucking thing out of me.
Thursday, August 14, 2014
15 Years
Apparently, even after 15 years a person can still experience Crumple Neck. Crumple Neck is a phenomenom i first witnessed and named after my brother Mike died. He was an immensely popular dude. There were a lot of people coming and going to offer comfort and to pay their respects. That moment when it hits you that someone is gone, after the shock wears off and reality sets in - that's when it happens. I saw it happen to each of my siblings and my dad and countless of his friends and family. The hands cover the face, the head falls forward like neck has given out under the enormity of sadness filling the brain, the whole body quivers for moment and then down they go. The body just collapses as if their bones have crumbled. All the times i watched it happen, the Crumple Necker was caught and mad hugging and sobbing ensued. It was horrible. I didn't experience it, or perhaps part of it is not realizing it is happening. I guess that could be.
I've been feeling not entirely like myself for about a month. I feel offended and slighted by completely innocuous things. I feel like i'm on the defense at all times. My brain gets fixated on stupid shit and won't let go like it normally does, like lakes and harmless off hand comments or a not-prompt-response from someone. My inner dialog and even what comes out of my mouth has been a nonstop stream of hateful bitchiness. I've been worried constantly about nothing in particular and seem to look for something going wrong to focus on. But everything is awesome - there's no reason for this. I love my jobs, my home, my friends, my city. My parents are moving back soon, the school year is about to start and the program this year is going to be bigger and better than ever and i get to work with two of my best friends, my art has been selling a little. All these things are great. So why do i feel impending doom? My anxiety has been getting progressively worse for a week straight.
Yesterday i realized that this is the exact way i was feeling in the weeks before my brother died. I kept having panic attacks and thinking everyone secretly hated me. I went to my doctor 3 times in the month leading up to Michael's accident. Every time all i could do was cry and tell him over and over that i felt like something bad was going to happen. I couldn't explain why or what, i just felt doom. After he was hurt, he was improving for two weeks and had one week left in the hospital before getting transferred to a care facility for therapy...and then he just died. He was fine, burnt but fine, and then he was dead.
When i felt that yesterday, that i was back to that place i was in before that all happened, i panicked. For real panic, worse than i have experienced in 15 years. I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop and i'm absolutely terrified something terrible is going to happen again. Everything could go to shit again. I Crumple Necked. There was no one there and i went down like a ton of bricks. I went to the doctor, poor guy. He was only a general practioner, but he listened and was encouraging. He let me know that even if i watch for this stuff and do what i can to twart it, sometimes depression can get in there so intensely that before you know it you're bawling your head off, hiding in your bed or becoming a defensive über bitch and start having panic attacks. That is how my depression presents, and that way sucks because panic attacks can happen if i'm worried about having one or i remember ones i've had before. It's a sadistic disorder.
I miss my brother and i miss feeling normal. I hate my stupid brain for not knowing what chemicals to produce and when. I hate feeling like a fuck up when i'm doing the best i can. I hate feeling like i can't talk to my friends when i feel this way because i don't want to seem weak or bring them down.
This shit was supposed to be under control.
UPDATE: I didn't find this out until 3 days after i published this post, but on the day i had my freak out and went to the doctor, my oldest brother DJ was on a farm during a grain dust explosion. He was not hurt, thankfully, although there was a casualty at the site. Weird, huh?
I've been feeling not entirely like myself for about a month. I feel offended and slighted by completely innocuous things. I feel like i'm on the defense at all times. My brain gets fixated on stupid shit and won't let go like it normally does, like lakes and harmless off hand comments or a not-prompt-response from someone. My inner dialog and even what comes out of my mouth has been a nonstop stream of hateful bitchiness. I've been worried constantly about nothing in particular and seem to look for something going wrong to focus on. But everything is awesome - there's no reason for this. I love my jobs, my home, my friends, my city. My parents are moving back soon, the school year is about to start and the program this year is going to be bigger and better than ever and i get to work with two of my best friends, my art has been selling a little. All these things are great. So why do i feel impending doom? My anxiety has been getting progressively worse for a week straight.
Yesterday i realized that this is the exact way i was feeling in the weeks before my brother died. I kept having panic attacks and thinking everyone secretly hated me. I went to my doctor 3 times in the month leading up to Michael's accident. Every time all i could do was cry and tell him over and over that i felt like something bad was going to happen. I couldn't explain why or what, i just felt doom. After he was hurt, he was improving for two weeks and had one week left in the hospital before getting transferred to a care facility for therapy...and then he just died. He was fine, burnt but fine, and then he was dead.
When i felt that yesterday, that i was back to that place i was in before that all happened, i panicked. For real panic, worse than i have experienced in 15 years. I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop and i'm absolutely terrified something terrible is going to happen again. Everything could go to shit again. I Crumple Necked. There was no one there and i went down like a ton of bricks. I went to the doctor, poor guy. He was only a general practioner, but he listened and was encouraging. He let me know that even if i watch for this stuff and do what i can to twart it, sometimes depression can get in there so intensely that before you know it you're bawling your head off, hiding in your bed or becoming a defensive über bitch and start having panic attacks. That is how my depression presents, and that way sucks because panic attacks can happen if i'm worried about having one or i remember ones i've had before. It's a sadistic disorder.
I miss my brother and i miss feeling normal. I hate my stupid brain for not knowing what chemicals to produce and when. I hate feeling like a fuck up when i'm doing the best i can. I hate feeling like i can't talk to my friends when i feel this way because i don't want to seem weak or bring them down.
This shit was supposed to be under control.
UPDATE: I didn't find this out until 3 days after i published this post, but on the day i had my freak out and went to the doctor, my oldest brother DJ was on a farm during a grain dust explosion. He was not hurt, thankfully, although there was a casualty at the site. Weird, huh?
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
The Story of Kasper OR Why I Never Trust That I Actually Know Anything
A long, long time ago, when i was in community college in Illinois, i had a classmate named Kasper (obviously, that is not his real name). He was a mega-babe and by far the most hilarious man i had met since moving away from home to a place where i knew no one except extended family who lived 45 minutes from where i was working as a live-in nanny. The family i worked for was (still is) awesome, and while i was content with my living and working conditions, i was lonely. I had made no friends outside of the cul-de-sac and none of those people were my peers in any way. I just didn't do anything except work, create art in my hella sweet suite in the basement, write letters, talk on the phone endlessly with all the friends i had left in Iowa, and spend hours reorganizing my expansive Pez dispenser collection. In the first six months i lived there, the lady of the house kept encouraging me to go to college, to figure out what would come after being a nanny, to challenge myself and put my "obvious intelligence" to use in bettering myself. She convinced me to get an education and helped me enroll in night and weekend classes at the county college 20 minutes from our house. Oh, the perks of living with a brilliant school counselor...
I excelled at my first two semesters although i had a hard time relating to the kids in my classes. They were all several years younger than me and had all come from very different (far more privileged) backgrounds. Working in groups was like being thrown into a group of derelict aliens. After a year of not meeting anyone who i thought possessed any of the qualifications i require for friendship, and after about the Nth time some idiot 18 year-old boy said, "Cold out there?" while eyeing my chest as i came in from a snowstorm, i came to the conclusion that i was simply not going to make friends. And then, in Spanish class, i met Gata and in Math for Teachers i met Kasper - all in the same week. Gata was the funniest girl i had ever met and easily the coolest and most interesting person i had met in years. I had thought all the cool people were already my friends and that they all lived in Iowa and that people from Illinois were pretentious jerks. She proved me wrong and i am forever grateful. Now Kasper...he was funny too, but also kind of dark and mysterious. He had these brown eyes that i wanted to live inside of, or else rip from his face and keep in a jar. I would get so nervous before class that i almost felt like puking. He would come in, look around for me, and then take a seat as close as possible and proceed to ignore the lecture portion in order to show me pictures that he drawn or things he had written. If i came to class late, he always had a seat for me. We worked in groups or pairs together exclusively and talked about music and art and deep things. After class we'd go to the cafeteria or the commons and just hang until the school closed for the night. If i happened to be looking stressed or unhappy, he would go out of his way to make me feel better. We never talked outside of school but i thought about him constantly and talked about him to Gata even more. One weekend she and i had plans to meet some other friends at a bar to see a local band that did a pretty decent rock cover show. Gata convinced me to invite Kasper to meet me there. I somehow managed to ask him without throwing up all over myself or having a stroke and to my utter delight his reply was, "Hell yeah - i love their show. Can't wait!" And so Saturday could not get there quickly enough. I wish that the world had ended at that moment.
Saturday night i sat at our table breaking my neck to see the door. Eventually i started to think he wasn't going to show and gave up watching the entrance like a hawk. I was having a good old time with Gata and some other classmates when someone taps my should and i stand and turn to see Kasper...with a really pretty redhead on his arm. He introduces us (i can't remember what the fuck her name was because really all i could hear was the blood rushing out of my heart and brain and some voice inside me saying. "You stupid bitch. You really thought this was going to be a date, didn't you? You sad, sad stupid cow."). After the intro, the redhead says she's going to get a drink and Kasper leans in, all smiles, and says, "I can't believe she said yes - i've been working up the nerve to ask her out for months." I opened my mouth and heard, "Oh, how extraordinarily awesome that must be. Hope it goes well." Then i turned back to my table, drank my beer and Gata's, ordered shots and another round for everyone except the traitor and his red-haired hussy. I proceeded to get as drunk as possible as fast as i could. Needless to say, Kasper and his date found another table and spent the whole night gazing into each other's eyes and giggling with their heads together. They didn't even watch the goddamn band, the losers.
The rest of that night went as expected. I was feeling hurt and embarrassed, but above all pissed off. I was mad at myself for misinterpreting his friendship for something more. I was really honked off at him for spending all this time talking to me about everything in the world besides that dumb slut he brought ON OUR DATE. And i was incredibly angry that i had just looked so stupid in front of my one and only friend in the entire state. Gata was awesome about it though - she offered to cut his brake line or punch the girl in the face or follow Kasper to the bathroom and cut his balls off. You know, all the things a best friend does. In the end though, it was me who got punched in the face that night. I ended up getting jumped by 3 horrible cunts over a misunderstanding about the stupid drummer's sweatshirt. That's a story for another time.
Anyway - that is why i never actually believe anything that i think i know. My heart is a big mean jerk that can trick my brain into almost anything given the chance.
I excelled at my first two semesters although i had a hard time relating to the kids in my classes. They were all several years younger than me and had all come from very different (far more privileged) backgrounds. Working in groups was like being thrown into a group of derelict aliens. After a year of not meeting anyone who i thought possessed any of the qualifications i require for friendship, and after about the Nth time some idiot 18 year-old boy said, "Cold out there?" while eyeing my chest as i came in from a snowstorm, i came to the conclusion that i was simply not going to make friends. And then, in Spanish class, i met Gata and in Math for Teachers i met Kasper - all in the same week. Gata was the funniest girl i had ever met and easily the coolest and most interesting person i had met in years. I had thought all the cool people were already my friends and that they all lived in Iowa and that people from Illinois were pretentious jerks. She proved me wrong and i am forever grateful. Now Kasper...he was funny too, but also kind of dark and mysterious. He had these brown eyes that i wanted to live inside of, or else rip from his face and keep in a jar. I would get so nervous before class that i almost felt like puking. He would come in, look around for me, and then take a seat as close as possible and proceed to ignore the lecture portion in order to show me pictures that he drawn or things he had written. If i came to class late, he always had a seat for me. We worked in groups or pairs together exclusively and talked about music and art and deep things. After class we'd go to the cafeteria or the commons and just hang until the school closed for the night. If i happened to be looking stressed or unhappy, he would go out of his way to make me feel better. We never talked outside of school but i thought about him constantly and talked about him to Gata even more. One weekend she and i had plans to meet some other friends at a bar to see a local band that did a pretty decent rock cover show. Gata convinced me to invite Kasper to meet me there. I somehow managed to ask him without throwing up all over myself or having a stroke and to my utter delight his reply was, "Hell yeah - i love their show. Can't wait!" And so Saturday could not get there quickly enough. I wish that the world had ended at that moment.
Saturday night i sat at our table breaking my neck to see the door. Eventually i started to think he wasn't going to show and gave up watching the entrance like a hawk. I was having a good old time with Gata and some other classmates when someone taps my should and i stand and turn to see Kasper...with a really pretty redhead on his arm. He introduces us (i can't remember what the fuck her name was because really all i could hear was the blood rushing out of my heart and brain and some voice inside me saying. "You stupid bitch. You really thought this was going to be a date, didn't you? You sad, sad stupid cow."). After the intro, the redhead says she's going to get a drink and Kasper leans in, all smiles, and says, "I can't believe she said yes - i've been working up the nerve to ask her out for months." I opened my mouth and heard, "Oh, how extraordinarily awesome that must be. Hope it goes well." Then i turned back to my table, drank my beer and Gata's, ordered shots and another round for everyone except the traitor and his red-haired hussy. I proceeded to get as drunk as possible as fast as i could. Needless to say, Kasper and his date found another table and spent the whole night gazing into each other's eyes and giggling with their heads together. They didn't even watch the goddamn band, the losers.
The rest of that night went as expected. I was feeling hurt and embarrassed, but above all pissed off. I was mad at myself for misinterpreting his friendship for something more. I was really honked off at him for spending all this time talking to me about everything in the world besides that dumb slut he brought ON OUR DATE. And i was incredibly angry that i had just looked so stupid in front of my one and only friend in the entire state. Gata was awesome about it though - she offered to cut his brake line or punch the girl in the face or follow Kasper to the bathroom and cut his balls off. You know, all the things a best friend does. In the end though, it was me who got punched in the face that night. I ended up getting jumped by 3 horrible cunts over a misunderstanding about the stupid drummer's sweatshirt. That's a story for another time.
Anyway - that is why i never actually believe anything that i think i know. My heart is a big mean jerk that can trick my brain into almost anything given the chance.
Monday, August 4, 2014
And it turns out...just another stupid fucking squirrel. So it goes...
My faith in humanity has taken yet another blow. For the past 18 hours i've been shaking. I threw up twice. I can't sleep. I haven't cried though...witch babies don't cry.
I've seen things. I notice stuff. I convince myself they are innocuous - that i cannot be interpreting the situation correctly. Internalize it. Forget it. Never mind that i am pretty intuitive and that things can mostly be taken at face value. Seeing a purple squirrel, for instance. A purple squirrel is just that - not a red and a blue squirrel standing really close together. (Listen, i seriously haven't slept. I'm in a place from which i don't know how to proceed. I obviously can't make metaphors at the moment.) Four times i saw that purple squirrel and four times i had myself convinced it was a red and a blue one, or that it was a trick of the light, or that i was hallucinating. But that purple squirrel showed itself to someone else and it can no longer be denied. It's like the hairy little fucking idiot ran right up to me, bit my finger, peed on my leg, and threw a piece of bark at my face. Upon the bark are scratched these words:
I'm a purple squirrel, but you already knew that. I've been a purple squirrel for years. I'm not exactly hiding it very well, i am? Being very still and pretending i'm not here never worked - you still saw me. But you were willing to ignore it. Thanks for that, but as idiots do, i forgot you were the only one who had spotted me and revealed myself to another. But i know you, you won't say anything. And if you do, i will present a blue squirrel and a red squirrel and make you look like the fool you are. So it goes...
Hey, squirrel, fuck you.
I've seen things. I notice stuff. I convince myself they are innocuous - that i cannot be interpreting the situation correctly. Internalize it. Forget it. Never mind that i am pretty intuitive and that things can mostly be taken at face value. Seeing a purple squirrel, for instance. A purple squirrel is just that - not a red and a blue squirrel standing really close together. (Listen, i seriously haven't slept. I'm in a place from which i don't know how to proceed. I obviously can't make metaphors at the moment.) Four times i saw that purple squirrel and four times i had myself convinced it was a red and a blue one, or that it was a trick of the light, or that i was hallucinating. But that purple squirrel showed itself to someone else and it can no longer be denied. It's like the hairy little fucking idiot ran right up to me, bit my finger, peed on my leg, and threw a piece of bark at my face. Upon the bark are scratched these words:
I'm a purple squirrel, but you already knew that. I've been a purple squirrel for years. I'm not exactly hiding it very well, i am? Being very still and pretending i'm not here never worked - you still saw me. But you were willing to ignore it. Thanks for that, but as idiots do, i forgot you were the only one who had spotted me and revealed myself to another. But i know you, you won't say anything. And if you do, i will present a blue squirrel and a red squirrel and make you look like the fool you are. So it goes...
Hey, squirrel, fuck you.
Thursday, July 31, 2014
I can smell it sneaking back - smells like chocolate chips and peanut butter
So depression and anxiety are trying to make their way back into my every day life. I noticed it the other night when, after the 4 hour nap i took when i wasn't even tired, i chose to eat peanut butter by the spoonful with chocolate chips stuck in instead of cooking the food i had bought. I noticed it last night as i was getting grilled about Riot Fest and, once again, made to feel as if my opinions about music are wrong (how many times do we have to go over that OPINIONS - even yours - are not FACT, so quit trying to act as though because mine differ from yours they are wrong) and as if my financial woes are anybody else's business and as if i'm a criminal for taking a night off work. I further noticed it last night during a discussion which was somehow deemed an argument into which i was only barely allowed to inject my perspective. And i noticed it today when i wanted to punch the face off of everyone i work with. Everyone.
This could just be my period coming on. I'm tired, i have a low threshold for bullshit, and the dullness of domestic work makes me want to scream and light shit on fire. Sounds like PMS - only this is beyond. I wanted to yell at a five year-old today for eating and talking at the same time. Talking with a full mouth is my biggest pet peeve in the world. This kid does it constantly. I politely remind him to chew with his mouth closed, finish chewing, and swallow before speaking. He doesn't get it. I finally convinced a teacher earlier this week to face his chair away from me, so that i at least don't have to see it, though i still hear it. So i'm hearing it today and i'm humming and trying to ignore it so as not to lose my shit when my boss comes into the kitchen area to get a burger, half of which she shoves into her mouth. And then...she starts talking. I'm standing there, knife in hand, watching globs of food fly out of her mouth and on to my food prep station - the station that is currently housing the food i prepared for the children to eat. Watching this grown-ass woman eat with no plate, standing in the middle of my work space, yelling to be heard over the kids, projecting the pure example of the heathen behavior we are trying to eliminate in the children, and spewing masticated food all over the freshly prepared plates of food i just spent 3 hours making. Slack-jawed i stared, loosely gripping my chopping knife, and over walks another teacher, mouth full of food, to converse with my boss. I put the knife down and left the room. I paced up and down the hallway chanting, "I hate this place. I hate these people. I hate my job. I want to die." for about 10 minutes.
This is not how i do. I love that job. My coworkers are mostly tolerable humans. I certainly do not wish to die. The kids are my favourite part. I may get frustrated, but i have never felt the concentrated hostility i did today. And now i am ashamed of myself, which makes me even more angry for some reason. And tomorrow i will be sad for thinking the things i thought and the shitty attitude i had toward people i really do like. Then i'll just want to sleep, which means i won't get things done, which means i'll get anxious and overwhelmed and i'll start being even shittier to the people i care most about. I am so sick of having to be hyper-vigilant about my emotions. I wish i could have a couple days in a row where i'm just fed up and it's okay. But i know how fast this shit can sneak up on me and how quickly i can lose control of it. And i think i know why it started.
I went to Colorado two weeks ago to attend the wedding of a friend. I had a great time. True, i only went swimming once and that was in a pool and i didn't get to explore as much of the Denver area as i had hoped and all of the touristy things i wanted to do were impossible with the chaos of the wedding details. Not a big deal. The wedding was super fancy and i had a good time hanging with my friend and her family. Camping was a bust. For reasons outside my control, i only got to camp for one night instead of three. While it was the most beautiful night sky i had ever seen and the mountains surrounding us were breathtaking, i was disappointed to leave immediately in the morning without doing any hiking or even site seeing in the car. But i quickly got over it and enjoyed what was left of the trip. Since i've been home, though, i have stared for hours and hours at our campsite on the map of the Rocky Mountain National Forest. Just within 3 miles of where we were, there are a dozen little hikes that lead to mountain lakes - lakes which only a handful of people ever get to see. And i saw none. I had to pack up and just walk away from all that splendor. I realize that i am devastated and it is making me bitter and intolerable.
I suppose i should suck it up and figure out how to move past it or i WILL be battling depression because of my shitty attitude. No more peanut butter and chocolate chips for dinner. No more four hour naps. No more rants in the hallway. Time to hike up my big-kid underpants and move on.
This could just be my period coming on. I'm tired, i have a low threshold for bullshit, and the dullness of domestic work makes me want to scream and light shit on fire. Sounds like PMS - only this is beyond. I wanted to yell at a five year-old today for eating and talking at the same time. Talking with a full mouth is my biggest pet peeve in the world. This kid does it constantly. I politely remind him to chew with his mouth closed, finish chewing, and swallow before speaking. He doesn't get it. I finally convinced a teacher earlier this week to face his chair away from me, so that i at least don't have to see it, though i still hear it. So i'm hearing it today and i'm humming and trying to ignore it so as not to lose my shit when my boss comes into the kitchen area to get a burger, half of which she shoves into her mouth. And then...she starts talking. I'm standing there, knife in hand, watching globs of food fly out of her mouth and on to my food prep station - the station that is currently housing the food i prepared for the children to eat. Watching this grown-ass woman eat with no plate, standing in the middle of my work space, yelling to be heard over the kids, projecting the pure example of the heathen behavior we are trying to eliminate in the children, and spewing masticated food all over the freshly prepared plates of food i just spent 3 hours making. Slack-jawed i stared, loosely gripping my chopping knife, and over walks another teacher, mouth full of food, to converse with my boss. I put the knife down and left the room. I paced up and down the hallway chanting, "I hate this place. I hate these people. I hate my job. I want to die." for about 10 minutes.
This is not how i do. I love that job. My coworkers are mostly tolerable humans. I certainly do not wish to die. The kids are my favourite part. I may get frustrated, but i have never felt the concentrated hostility i did today. And now i am ashamed of myself, which makes me even more angry for some reason. And tomorrow i will be sad for thinking the things i thought and the shitty attitude i had toward people i really do like. Then i'll just want to sleep, which means i won't get things done, which means i'll get anxious and overwhelmed and i'll start being even shittier to the people i care most about. I am so sick of having to be hyper-vigilant about my emotions. I wish i could have a couple days in a row where i'm just fed up and it's okay. But i know how fast this shit can sneak up on me and how quickly i can lose control of it. And i think i know why it started.
I went to Colorado two weeks ago to attend the wedding of a friend. I had a great time. True, i only went swimming once and that was in a pool and i didn't get to explore as much of the Denver area as i had hoped and all of the touristy things i wanted to do were impossible with the chaos of the wedding details. Not a big deal. The wedding was super fancy and i had a good time hanging with my friend and her family. Camping was a bust. For reasons outside my control, i only got to camp for one night instead of three. While it was the most beautiful night sky i had ever seen and the mountains surrounding us were breathtaking, i was disappointed to leave immediately in the morning without doing any hiking or even site seeing in the car. But i quickly got over it and enjoyed what was left of the trip. Since i've been home, though, i have stared for hours and hours at our campsite on the map of the Rocky Mountain National Forest. Just within 3 miles of where we were, there are a dozen little hikes that lead to mountain lakes - lakes which only a handful of people ever get to see. And i saw none. I had to pack up and just walk away from all that splendor. I realize that i am devastated and it is making me bitter and intolerable.
I suppose i should suck it up and figure out how to move past it or i WILL be battling depression because of my shitty attitude. No more peanut butter and chocolate chips for dinner. No more four hour naps. No more rants in the hallway. Time to hike up my big-kid underpants and move on.
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