Bunnies, Scary Kids, & Whales, Oh My: Stuff I’m Reading

Welcome back, cats and kittens!

Today I’m sharing some of the books I’ve read recently that you might enjoy,

but you don’t have to take my word for it…

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The Three & Day Four by Sarah Lotz
I’m kicking off with a double feature by Sarah Lotz who I had not heard of until Stephen King tweeted about Day Four a few weeks ago.

Sidenote: if you are looking for great book recommendations I highly suggest following King on Twitter. You have to endure some of his nonsensical tweets, but the book suggestions are ace.

Start with The Three which opens on four separate plane crashes that happen simultaneously. The only survivors are three children. How did they survive? Are they mutants? OR SOMETHING MORE SINISTER? Day Four picks up a year later on a cruise ship that descends into chaos when the engines inexplicably stop running. The ensuing riot of all the ugliness humanity can be would give Lord of the Flies a run for its money. It’s not a sequel to The Three per se, but they do compliment each other. Both of these books genuinely creeped me out, and I’ve read a lot of horror novels, so I enjoy when an author can give me the heebie jeebies. Also, when are kids NOT scary?

Down the Rabbit Hole: Curious Adventures and Cautionary Tales of a Former Playboy Bunny by Holly Madison
Yes, I might be allergic to reality TV, but I LOVE LOVE LOVE a trashy tell-all. Since I have the internet and am a person who reads stuff, I had seen all the articles leading up to the release of this book, “Holly Madison Tells What the Playboy Mansion was REALLY Like”, “Old Guy Sex, Eww”, “Kendra Puts Holly on Blast: We Are SO Not Friends”…so naturally I couldn’t wait to read it. The day it was released I’m ashamed to say I devoured it like it was Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Verdict: Holly came off a bit naïve (of course), but a little TOO much so. When you say things like, and I’m paraphrasing, that she moved into the mansion because she thought it would help her acting career and how shockingly oblivious she was to the lifestyle and stigma it would bring, I’m pretty skeptical.

Overall, I was pretty disappointed with it mostly because I like my tell-alls to at least acknowledge their mistakes graciously. There’s none of that here. If you want to read a great tell-all about the sex industry that doesn’t skirt the issues that bring women to it, I would read Jenna Jameson’s book, “How to Make Love Like a Porn Star”. It came out a while ago before she got far too much plastic surgery and had a volatile relationship with her babies’ daddy. However, it’s well written with a lot of insight into the industry and why she started.

The Heart of the Sea: The Tragedy of the Whaleship Essex by Nathaniel Philbrick
The story of the whaling ship out of Nantucket that was attacked and sunk by a sperm whale at sea was the inspiration for Herman Melville’s, Moby Dick. This book is chock full of Nantucket, sailing, and whale hunting history. The sailors were lost at sea for a number of weeks on small boats with dwindling food and supplies. The depths they sink to in order to survive are incredibly chilling. I might come off as an incredible nerd for liking this book, but it’s good and please don’t shove me in my locker again. Ok, fine, here’s my lunch money.

The Scarlet Gospels by Clive Barker
When I was little I was not allowed to watch scary movies (for obvious reasons), but I had a friend who rode the bus to school with me every day who somehow knew the plot to all the horror movies. All of them. I think he had an older brother or something who would let him watch scary movies when their parents were out. Or just bored babysitters, who knows? I would climb on the bus and he’d immediately tell me the plot to The Howling or Halloween. I’m positive Hellraiser was one of the movies he told me about. Then I think I wandered into the Horror section of the video store and saw Pinhead in all his glory on the cover of the tape. I think years later I watched the movie on cable and wasn’t impressed.

So, a few weeks ago when I was searching for new things to read I came upon The Scarlet Gospels and thought, why not? I have so many thoughts about this book. So. Many. Let’s bullet point them shall we?

-The descriptions of the gory things Pinhead does are some of the most graphic details I’ve read in a book ever. I was eating dinner while reading one night and had to put my food down to continue. That hasn’t happened since I watched The Human Centipede.

-I don’t have much backstory on the characters since I just kind of plopped into the story at the end, but they were so roughly drawn I don’t think it really matters. Detective guy, gay guy who you don’t think is gay cause he’s a tattoo artist but surprise, old blind lady who knows the spirits and sees dead people, badass chick who every one just kid of treats as asexual cause she can take care of herself, and another gay guy who hits on everyone.

-They use the little hellbox thing to travel to hell as Pinhead is basically going on a demon killing spree. How is he killing demons? Isn’t the whole point that they are immortal? I thought that was the whole point. All I know is he was using origami birds and I thought, paper cuts do really hurt, sooo…ok?

-So the Scooby Gang basically jacks shit up and wreck hell. Pinhead does his fair share of wrecking shit after essentially having a supernatural UFC fight with the devil (here described as what I could only conjure up as a spitting image of Matthew Mcconaughey).

-Then the gang scoots of hell like they just broke a jar of salsa in the grocery aisle and don’t want anyone to know it was them.

Final verdict: Um, if you must.

The Wind-Up Girl by Paolo Bacigalupi
Sometimes a writer creates a world, gives it to you, and says, “Take this and believe this world and its rules.” The world could be that the earth is going to hell in a hand basket and we are sending people back in time to live in the Jurassic era to save humanity. This will work out well, we promise. Some people will say ooooh, YES, I absolutely accept this world you have created. Others will say, I do not…it sounds dangerous (sit DOWN, Ian Malcolm).

I am about halfway through The Wind-Up Girl and I have no fucking clue what’s going on. None. The story itself about androids, some kind of climate change disaster which has wrecked agriculture, genetically modified food, elephant type animals they use for labor, etc, is good. I just have no clue what this world looks like that he’s trying to build. It feels like being in Geometry class where you have no idea what the hypotenuse is, but the shapes are fun to draw! However, I’m one of those weirdos who accepts the world you give me (and totally liked Terra Nova) so I’m going to muddle through and hope it all comes together at some point.

Rooms by Lauren Oliver
I finished this yesterday and still have to sit with it a bit. It illustrates how we are haunted by so many ghosts in our lives, real and imaginary. How people never truly leave even when they pass away and the secrets we all keep, until we don’t anymore. The story was a quick read with chapters from each of the characters’ perspectives. It stayed with me not because it was scary, but because it’s real.

Ali in Wonderland by Ali Wentworth
You may only know her as the wife of George Stephanopolous. I know her as the chick from In Living Color. I always try to read as many books by funny women as possible to fight the tide of “women aren’t funny” BS that sometimes crops up in this world. It gives me ammunition when someone brings it up in conversation and I can rattle off numerous books, TV shows, and movies written by women I consider to be comedic geniuses. Ali’s memoir is great and gives me inspiration to keep writing and being funny whenever and wherever I can.

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Pound Me the Witch Drums: Stuff I’m Watching

The last two and a half weeks have felt like Groundhog Day, one of these days I’ll wake up, do it all right, and be allowed to level up. Since I’ve had a lot of time on my hands I’ve been able to check out some awesome stuff that is quickly climbing the list of my favorite things.

I’ll start with TV shows…

Sense8:
A story of 8 people who are psychically connected, but live in different parts of the world. I had just gotten through the first three episodes when a friend asked me how it was, “eh”, was my answer. However, I stuck with it. It has some pretty predictable dialogue in places, but I did really like the story and the locations look amazing. I’m pretty certain that if I was psychically connected to 8 people none of them would be as cool as the people on Sense8. I’d more than likely end up with whoever was left over: A girl who chews her hair, some stoner, a lady who wants to tell me about all of her imaginary illnesses, a guy who I’m sure doesn’t date as many women as he says he does, a lady writing Teen Wolf fan fiction who makes me read her drafts, a meninist, an old lady who is convinced she was abducted by aliens and wants to tell you the story over and over, and a furry.

Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell:
If you have not read this book do so immediately. The show has been great and though it had a bit of a slow start (just like the book) it has hit its stride. If you like your historical fiction with a side of magic than this is for you. If you don’t, then I don’t know you, and please return my David Bowie CD. We are no longer friends.

Salem:
I’d seen ads for this show and assumed it was like the “Real Housewitches of Salem”, or whatever, that show is on Lifetime. Or it was some CW show that wasn’t Supernatural. So I moved right along, until the day when I looked around and there was literally nothing to occupy my time that I hadn’t already seen, read, or done. There Salem was in my “Recommended for you” queue on Netflix. I rolled my eyes and thought fine I’ll watch the pilot and if I hate it, I’ll turn it off and burn my computer as punishment.

Luckily for my computer, I LOVED EVERY DAMN SECOND.

The story is set in 17th century Salem, Massachusetts (one point for ambiance) at the beginning of the witch trials. Except there are actual witches. There are ACTUAL insane things happening in the town. The devil lives in the woods outside of town, which ok, I guess this was before he moved out to Vegas to get away from all the shitty East Coast weather. There’s a love story between a quiet girl of the village and that guy from the Mandy Moore movie where she wears overalls a lot. It’s gory, it’s sexy, they replace a guy’s penis with a crow. I repeat…They. Replace. A dude’s penis. WITH A CROW. I blasted through seasons 1 & 2 over the weekend.

Then there’s the theme song by Marilyn Manson (was Trent Reznor not available?) which is now on my running playlist.

UnReal:
This is the only show I’ve included here that doesn’t have a supernatural element to it so…you’re welcome. Do you like reality shows? Are you a faithful watcher of The Bachelor/Bachelorette fiascos they like to call shows? I am not either one of these things, but UnReal does an AMAZING job of picking those shows where the women and men line up to date and maybe marry apart. It’s a fictional show revolving around a Bachelor type show called “Everlasting”. It stars Shiri Appleby who you may remember from Roswell, or from recently when Adam spooged in her hair on Girls (SHE HAD TO GET A BLOW-OUT!). She is great as a producer who has lost her soul, and at one point her mind, to working on this show. It’s 5 episodes in on Lifetime (I know, I know), but the first four are free on Amazon.

Penny Dreadful:
I have had a running joke with myself (take a moment to steep in how sad that sounds) that I’m only one who watches this show and comments about it on Twitter. Thus was born my “Lonely Penny Dreadful Tweets”. You really all need to be watching this show. I, of course, will watch anything where Victor Frankenstein or his creature are featured. I’ll even sit and watch Van Helsing which is probably the worst movie ever made, just to see all my favorite monster characters interacting. They could be getting lattes at Starbucks and talking about their improve troupe and I’d be riveted.

Humans:
This show is only one episode in on AMC and I’m not feeling it just yet. Cliché bored dad gets hot robot to you know “take care of the house”, guy from Merlin might be a robot I don’t know, sex worker robot because honestly I’m pretty sure that’s the only reason we’ll make robots in the future: cleaning and sex purposes. Some science doctor type asks if they dream and I’m like didn’t we cover this in Blade Runner? Some robots run away, but much like your iPhone when you go camping, they don’t get far before they have to charge themselves. We can send some dudes to the moon, but we can’t figure out how to make our robots self charging? There’s some real talk about people losing jobs and career tracks because robots can do learn to the jobs faster and more efficiently. Then we’re back to the, “but can they love?”, and then finally “but can I have sex with it?” The answer is yes, yes you can have sex with it.

Next up…Books!
Stay tuned!

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Things Get Real…starring Oprah

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Oprah: So…how have you been since we last spoke?
Me: Great, actually.
O: Really?
Me: Yes.
O: Really?
Me: Well you know…chocolate milkshakes cure most things. Netflix has added a whole bunch of awesome stuff. I’m working on my fitness. Listening to lots of cheesy pop songs by Carly Rae Jepson, you know, the usual.

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Me: I read a lot of books? I’m up for a job. Someone might have thought I was pretty the other day, or they were wondering where I got my jeans, who knows?
O: But how are YOU?
Me: Um everything hurts and I’m dying? When I was younger and thinking where I’d be in my 30s, this was definitely not it.

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O: You tweeted out a link to this post…why?
Me: Not much has changed. Sometimes you want to revisit something to see how far you’ve come. There are times I feel like you can help shine a light and correct problems in the present if you reflect on the past. This is why I gravitate towards the people in my life who have been there the longest when I’m down. I guess I needed to see if that post was just a moment in time, or if it was true now.
O: Is it?
Me: Yes. I wish it wasn’t, but it is. People have been asking lots of questions in the past few months (especially recently) so it seemed the best way to answer without actually answering.

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O: So what are you going to do?
Me: Get up every day. See friends. Do all that writing I say I’m going to do, but always put off. Everyone gets dumped you know? Someone somewhere in this world is getting their heart crushed at this very moment. It’s not a new thing. Maybe you were with them 4 years and they hated your dog, so you were over it a week later. Maybe you were with them 4 months and they changed you so it takes a bit longer and some distance. Also, I’d really like to be funny again sometime soon. That would be nice. Mostly I want to move past this feeling that I saw all these wonderful things and then had the door shut in my face and locked. You just want to go back to who you were before you knew any of that existed, but you can’t. Getting past the self doubt and guilty feelings has been the hardest, but it’s just time and distance.

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Me: Werd. I’d like to win at some point too, Oprah.

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Get in Shape, Gurl

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It’s 95 degrees outside. The humidity is oppressive. Judging by how much I’m sweating, you’d think I opted to wear a snowsuit to run instead of shorts and a tank top. It’s only been about 10 minutes and I’m thinking of just laying down on the trail and letting all these bugs that keep flying in my face eat my eyeballs. Anything would be preferable to this fucking torture we call exercise.

It all started about two and a half years ago when I looked down and noticed I was getting a little soft. I’ve never been a rubenesque beauty, although I do admire our curvy girls who are doing it for themselves, and their ample bosoms for us all to lay our weary heads upon. Without you, where would we be? However, I wasn’t comfortable being soft. I wanted to be a badass, Buffy/Black Widow, don’t mess with me or I’ll drop kick your ass, kind of chick.

When you’re single for a long time and don’t see any prospects in the near future (or need any for that matter) you learn to take of yourself.

So it began.

Of course I wanted some Splinter-esque sensei to take me into his dojo of awesomeness and teach me how to control my emotions and use them to smite my enemies. USE IT. Obviously, this didn’t happen. Instead I was stuck in a hotel that had a small gym with two treadmills. So I put on my new sneakers that I had bought that morning with this exchange:

Salesperson: “Can I help you?”
Me: “Um yeah, I need sneakers for running and other athletic type stuff.”
Salesperson: “…”
Me: “Something that I can put on that aren’t chucks that I can exercise in would be great.”

I grabbed a water bottle and my headphones then headed down to the gym. The door opened to a cryogenic freezer that I was sure housed some sort of alien creature in suspended animation, but no, the steam dissipated and it was just some treadmills, a couple of weights, and an elliptical. Someone had apparently set the thermostat to “Arctic”. I set my water on the nearest treadmill and spent the next ten minutes figuring out how it worked.

Age: Um, 33…and a half, almost 34, but you know that’s just splitting hairs, but really, treadmill, does it matter? We’re all on a slow march to death anyway, why make it an issue?

Weight: For real, treadmill? Isn’t that why I’m here? Is there a “Comfortable with my weight, just want to tone my flab” option?

Exercise option: Um, I don’t know. Surprise me, robot treadmill, because you’ve already age and weight shamed me. How about we go for the exercise option of “Shout insults at me while I cry”.

Once I’d answered all of the robot treadmill’s questions, I wasn’t sure if it was going to charge $30/month to set me up on dates, or start. Lucky for me, it started to move. There was a TV attached so I turned it on to an episode of Castle. I started to walk briskly while Nathan Fillion hammed it up. After a few minutes I thought, let’s crank this up to 11 and get movin, GURL. My inner voice when I’m exercising can get sassy. So I “cranked it up”. 1 min and 30 seconds later I thought I was dying. Literally going to have a heart attack in the middle of the smallest hotel gym in the world. Fortunately, it was so cold that the anguished look on my face as I died would be preserved perfectly.

Then I took it down a notch and started off slowly.

This went on for a few days, I’d walk briskly while watching whatever tragi-comedy-drama TNT wanted to play to fill time in the early afternoon. I gradually worked up to running for two whole minutes straight without wanting to write my will and bequeath my Garbage Pail Kid collection to someone worthy.

Leaky Lindsay isn't going to just ANYONE, ok?

Leaky Lindsay isn’t going to just ANYONE, ok?

It took about a year for me to work up to actual running. Where I could say, “Hey I’m heading to the gym for a run” and not feel like I should be saying, “Hey, I’m heading to the gym to walk fast for 20 minutes and maybe not die for the 30 seconds I’m going to attempt to run.” I’ve never been a runner so beats me why I chose this torture over CrossFit or Pilates, but I’m pretty sure it had something to do with outside being free. As in, no bank breaking membership fees. You go outside and run.

So a year and a half later, I found myself outside attempting to run the trail by my house. If you thought the treadmill was a debacle, it was nothing compared to being outside. It was the first time I looked around and thought,

“I fucking hate this.”

HATED it. Everything about it. It was hot, I had to pee, and I had no place to hold a granola bar, because I am NOT wearing a fanny pack. Next to people who whistle in public, I couldn’t have hated anything more in that moment. So a day later I did it again. Each time I put on my sneakers I’d remember how much I hated it and I’d walk out of my door headed for the trail.

Then one day a few months ago, my mind was preoccupied with a complicated situation that I was trying to process and work through. I had been out on the trail for about 30 minutes when I realized I hadn’t stopped.

I. HADN’T. STOPPED.

Not once. I just kept running. My pace was great. I was sweating like a crazy person, but I HADN’T STOPPED. I had noticed my clothes were fitting differently the last couple of months. My arms were toned and I could finally keep up with some of the chicks in my kickboxing class. Thank you, Jebus.

In the last two and a half years I have worked up to about 4-5 miles every other day, or every two days if I get lazy. I actually look forward to my time out on the trail to be by myself and think. My running playlist changes to keep me motivated. There are still days I hate it, HATE IT, but I found a song for those times I get whiny about it…

I told you my inner voice was sassy.

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(fun?)Employment, Part 2: New Career Paths

I’m closing in on the end of the first week of my unemployment.

Every piece of clothing I own has been washed and put away.

Orange is the New Black has been watched and enjoyed.

I’m running about 5 miles every other day.

But let’s be honest, this shit sucks. The first few days I got REAL Neely O’Hara in Valley of the Dolls about this whole thing.

Just leave me here. No, YOU shut up. NO, YOU'RE drunk.

Just leave me here. No, YOU shut up. NO, YOU’RE drunk.

I lamented to my dog about the unfairness of the world. He didn’t really have any sound advice besides just kind of laying there and ignoring me which I interpreted to mean that we all just have to trust that life will work out if we just chill. Or that my dog is 14 years old, blind, deaf, and tired of my bullshit. Last year when I found myself in this position it wasn’t such a horrible mess. There wasn’t much work and my company was kind enough to let me stay on for a bit longer before I was laid off. I was totally zen about the whole thing and quoting Ghandi and all to my supervisor who was beside herself that I was leaving. I was excited to focus on my writing and take a break from the endless traveling.

This time things are a bit different.

It was my decision to resign and a huge risk. In that “Hey guys, let’s try it WITHOUT a safety net this time!” kind of way. On Saturday I spent the morning in my bed contemplating new career paths…

Investigator: I could solve mysteries now that I have lots of time on my hands to scope out leads and listen to Serial again. I’ll buy a used Cutlass Ciera and eat a lot of hamburgers while I do stakeouts.

Start a New Religion: I read and watched Going Clear and it all seems pretty easy. “Hey, [fill in name of celebrity] you’re hot and I’m starting a religion. Wanna join?” Who doesn’t like their ego fed by a cult once in awhile? I haven’t really worked out our creation story yet, but it will be loosely based on the plot of Barbarella.

Sci-Fi + Badass space chicks = Religion

Sci-Fi + Badass space chicks = Religion

Stripper: Yes, the money is great, but it all just seems so high maintenance. The heels look dangerous and shoving money down by your “Lady Gaga” does not seem sanitary. Although I have my signature song picked out just in case.

Professional Netflix Movie Decision Judger: This is something I just made up. Every time you pick a movie on Netflix I will come on right before, make a sour face, and say, “Um Nicholas Sparks? Again? I mean Inglorious Basterds is available and you choose this?” It seems like the 90’s are back so why not bring the full video store experience as well? Complete with the curtained off porn section that you just kind of got lost and OMIGOD how did I end up in here? I tripped and fell through the curtains. This is not mine. I’m holding it for that guy over there in the trench coat and sunglasses.

Tuesday I woke up to a phone call from an awesome recruiter who had reviewed my resume and felt that I was perfect for a position she was trying to fill. I wiped the Snapea Crisp crumbs from my face and things didn’t seem as bleak. It’s tentative, but a great lead. So hopefully I’ll be back amongst the other worker drones soon.

Until then if anyone needs me I’ll be over here trying to come up with names for my space alien priestess/overlord…

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A Wedding

A little over a year ago I moved my blog from Blogger to WordPress. I checked out tumblr first and found it to be a bit confusing. I also have no idea how to make a GIF of scenes from Supernatural so I figured I might not fit in. I ended up choosing WP and started writing. I wasn’t sure how to build up an audience again or how it all worked around here, when one day a delightful redhead commented on one of my posts.

I was hesitant at first, she could be an ax murderer intent on wearing my skin as a dress, but as time wore on we became friends. We chatted off and on and even exchanged phone numbers so we could text and gossip. So I was delighted when Aussa invited me to her wedding this weekend. It was small and absolutely lovely.

Thank you so much for your friendship, Aussa. I’m so glad I could be there to see you and Alex start your life together :)

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My dress. Complete with cat ears, because every wedding needs cat ears. Especially Aussa's.

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I call this picture "When Angelle Met Aussa : A Love Story"

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My swag. Aussa on its upkeep, "Put it on a windowsill and like, don't water it."

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You’re the Other Side of the World To Me

It’s no secret amongst my close friends that things have not been going well for me the past few months. So much so that I’m sure they are circling the wagons and proofreading each other’s intervention letters. I still get up, get dressed, and function normally at work. My friend calls it “humaning”. I put on a good human. However, there are days I close my office door and stare at the wall for a while. There are days I can’t sleep and end up at work at 5am, because I was awake and what else am I going to do? There are other days I sleep 12 hours and wake up with a migraine so bad it’s all I can do to shower and try to be nice to people.

I think happy people who go to lots of yoga classes call it “depression”.

“Hello and welcome to Depressed People Anonymous. You there in the back row, would you care to share your story with us?”

“Um, hi…I’m Angelle and I’m depressed. It’s been uh, two years since my last episode. I only want to eat pizza 24/7, but I can’t, so I binge watch Netflix. Oh, crap, this is anonymous, my name’s not Angelle, it’s Emily or something. Forget I said that.”

I’m always hesitant to write about my problems on my blog. Always. I deal in funny stories, witty comments, and twitter accounts where someone puts bread on their dog’s face. Talking about my issues for me is like someone stopping you on the street and asking if you have time to talk about our Lord and Savior.

Of course, by that I mean Xenu.

You can’t run away fast enough and you hope they’re not following you. So I generally harass my friends and therapist with all of the crazies that live in my head. By “crazies” I mean the normal every day stuff we all have:

-The “Oh god. Is that person going to talk to me? What do I say? Ok, just ask them questions about themselves. People love talking about themselves. You’ll get through this.” Crazy

-The “He’s cute. No talk good all of sudden. Face not work. Me drool?” Crazy

-The “This space is very big and there are lots of people and I may die.” Crazy

and the one we all know and love dearly:

-The “They’re mad at me. I know it. I’m a garbage person who should build a spaceship and live on Mars. See what they just did? That means they hate me and I’m going to go live in that dumpster and start my own colony of dumpster people who eat cardboard. We will be a proud, albeit smelly, clan.” Crazy

That last one is a doozy. It can knock you clean out of a good mood into a spiral of self-doubt and listening to sad Jeff Buckley songs. Next thing you know you can identify all the snack stains on your sweater and haven’t talked to anyone in a week. You pick yourself up and next thing you know it happens all over again. The depression shark comes from the depths of nowhere and pulls you under again.

I find blogging about your problems or issues to be very self-indulgent. Mental health in general can be very self-indulgent. When does it ever make sense that a problem is completely your fault? Multiple factors contribute to something getting messed up. Now, I’m not ignoring those times when it IS in fact your fault, like tweeting funny dog memes and you smash into the car in front of you. That, my friend, is your fault. However, human interaction is different. We all have a plethora of feelings and reactions when faced with a hardship:

The Shutdown: This is like sealing up the apocalypse bunker. No one gets in or out once those doors have sealed you inside. You resolve to not leave until the air is safe to breathe again, which might be 1000 years from now, but you can tough it out eating beans from a can. May God have mercy on the poor soul who talks to you, because it will be like trying to have a conversation with paint.

The “Everything is fine :) It’s SO FINE:)”: You ignore. There is an enormous elephant tap dancing with the problem stenciled across its side, but you cannot see it. The sun is shining and you have inspirational quotes to pin, pictures of your shiny, HAPPY humans to post of Facebook. EVERYTHING IS AWESOME, nay, STUPENDOUS. Inside you may think about breaking that coffee mug and slitting your wrists, but you’ll just have a glass of wine and tell that story about how your kid pooed in your lap.

The Fixer: Before this thing happened, everything was good. Maybe we all just need to go back to that? Rewind and start over. Clean slate. Let’s forget this, move on, and learn the lessons. Preferably, right this second. Ok, how about now? Now? Ok, I gave you like, five minutes, now? Remember that time when everything was cool and we laughed about that thing? That was fun. So, now?

That last one? That’s me. I’m The Fixer. The “let’s clean this all up and pretend it never happened” person. My childhood was full of that moving around so much. You hate these people? It’s cool, we’re leaving soon, you’ll never see them again. Clean slate. Yet, what they don’t tell you is as you get older, you very rarely get a do over. Once you have smashed a plate into a wall, you can’t put every shard back together again and pretend that it will hold up to your dad’s 5 Alarm Chili Spectacular Spectacular. You also can’t pretend that you didn’t throw it against the wall in an impulsive fit of rage/sadness/anti-plateness. You did it. This isn’t when you were 8, threw a ball in the house, and accidentally broke a priceless knick knack.

You threw it.

You broke it.

Own up to it.

I don’t always throw the plates, but I spend a great deal of time cleaning up the pieces of ones thrown by others.

So why if I hate blogging about my feelings with the fire of a thousand suns am I doing it now? Well this post by Chuck Wendig for one. This space is mine and if I want to talk about basket weaving for poodles I’ll damn well do that. I’ve also mentioned that I don’t journal as I lack the adult gene to keep track of said journal. Then there’s the fact that it’s hard to articulate your feelings to your friend when you are laying on your bathroom floor sobbing. I can’t coherently explain to them with words why after months I still feel empty inside. Like someone came in the night, stole an organ, and left me in a tub full of ice with a burner phone to call an ambulance. Your friends love you and go on the defensive and you’re too emotionally exhausted and drained to say, “Chill out. I miss his face every day. Just say, ok.” So I guess this is my way of doing that.

My way of fixing the plate.

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