Sunday, August 9, 2015

My Summer Crush is Gay (& other fun facts)

Still working the same summer job.
Not complaining, though.
Seems like my bosses are starting to realize I'm a decent worker/person, & I'm getting along with the majority of my co-workers, which is really nice & refreshing.
I've threatened to quit so many fucking times, it's a wonder they didn't just fire me.

On to my most recent issue failure endeavor.
We'll call him "Felicia".
Since learning the phrase 'Bye Felicia', he's decided that's what he wants to be called.
Felicia is the science specialist at my camp.
To make an incredibly long, boring story short:
  • I had a crush on him.
  • He flirted with me.
  • While talking about coffee with him one day, I got the feeling, out of nowhere, that he wasn't straight 
  • Decided to be brave & tell a co-worker I was feeling him
  • His response: "She's barking up the wrong tree, if you know what I mean. But I'll still flirt with her, if it makes her happy."
So, in a matter of a day, I went from having a perspective boyfriend to having another girlfriend whom I can randomly yell "Bye Felicia" & "Yasss!" at.
That's cool too.
He's still sexy as shit.

Other than Felicia, I've had a hard time taking any of the other guys at my job seriously.
There's the dude I take the ten minute walk from the employee lot to work every morning with.
I thought I liked him before I realized he believed he was God's gift to the motherfucking universe.
I can't say I don't still enjoy him being the first person I see/talk to every morning, but you would think I'm walking with Jesus Christ himself.

I've really just been standing back & trying to play matchmaker with all my other co-workers.
There's way too many of us for no one to get laid.
It just wouldn't make sense.
So, if nothing is going to happen with me, I'll be damned if it doesn't happen to someone.
For shit's sake.

It's been roughly 2.5 months since I randomly took myself off my anxiety/depression meds.
I don't recommend anyone to do the same.
Trust me, it could really fuck you up & it's not worth it.
But I did it because my previous meds weren't working anymore, so my doctor prescribed me something stronger that gave me nightmares & didn't help me any more than the last meds.
So I just cold-turkeyed everything.
Even my allergy meds. (They didn't work either)
I don't think I've been this happy in years.
And it's so nice.

There's always the possibility that all these good vibes are simply because the weather here in New York has been unbelievably beautiful after suffering through easily the worst winter I've ever seen (let alone had to drive through every day).
That's totally likely.
It really may have nothing to do with me or my brain chemistry.
But I've been so fucking chill lately.

Another virginal, hard-worked summer is almost in the books.
But, at least I'm still respecting the shit out of myself, & at least I'm making money.
Let me end this post before I think of something to complain about.
See ya.

Monday, July 13, 2015

This Summer...so far

I'd hate to say I'm having a quarter-life crisis.
Cause I'm fucking not.
I'm not even 25.

Here's the deal:
A couple months ago, I finally cut two of the closest things I had to friends permanently out of my life...
And it's literally the best thing that has happened to me since my 20's began.
This post isn't about either one of them.
However, if anyone constantly makes you feel insecure about being yourself, for any stupid reason, all the nice things they do for you at any other point should be cancelled out.
Some people are fucking mangled on the inside.
And that's not your fucking problem.

Anyway, it's been nice getting back to being me again.
I feel like I haven't been myself in years, & that's probably because I really haven't.
I forgot what a good friend I've always been to myself.
Even in my shittiest, most depressed moments, I've been the one to pick myself back up.
Let's face it, this site is the perfect example of that.
I feel like I've been ignoring my best friend for the last few years as she patiently waited for me to come to my senses.

I never in a million years dreamed I'd be 24, working a summer job at a day camp.
The same day camp I went to as a child.
I've only been working there for 3 days, but between me starting about 2 weeks late, working 9.5 hours a day, 5 days a week, & driving 25 minutes to work every day, I can't say I really love it.
I feel like I'm either too on-edge about things or I'm just too laid back.
Probably the social anxiety thing speaking for me, but that's the honest to god truth.

So here's where the quarter-life crises comes in.
Some of the other camp counselors.
I'm considered a "Senior Counselor" which basically just means I'm over 18 & I'm in charge of my assigned Junior counselors.
Big deal.
Some of these male counselors, though, remind me so much of the counselors I used be in love with when I was the kids' ages.

It's so odd trying to explain this without sounding like a fucking pedophile.
None of these guys are under 18.
And it's not really a sexual attraction.
Just a tiny bit.
It's more like an incessant reminder of all the things I didn't at least take a shot at when I was a late teen or even in my early, early 20's.
I find myself wondering if I could've gotten one of these guys if I had just tried back then.
If I hadn't cared so much about my boobs or my hair or my teeth.
If I 'd uncovered some of this confidence that I'm just now beginning to dig up.
Part of me hates the fact that my teenage years are totally & completely over, & I did fuckall with them.
Not that any of these guys are necessarily doing anything with their time, but at least they're working & flirting with girls their age.

I almost wish I'd been more of a slut.
Regretting something you didn't do is way worse than regretting something you did.
At least, that's how I feel.
I always wanted a summer fling.
But every fucking summer I ended up in summer school for math, with a bunch of unmotivated, uncaring morons.
I just suck at math.

My teenage years are gone & I know that.
I accept that.
I just want to get this all figured out.

I feel like I should've been somewhere else by now.
Not working with people who really don't need me.
Not worrying about stupid shit like my adolescence being gone.
Not having awkward conversations with one of the lifeguards (who I've nicknamed 1D because he might as well be Harry fucking Styles), & then wanting to punch myself in the face when he mentions being 18 years old.

I'm not my mom & I'm not my brother.
I suck at a lot.
I don't think I was ever meant to go to college.
I don't think I'm meant to go next semester.
I think I'm wasting my life.
I'm pretty sure I'm wasting my life.
And that sucks a lot too.

This job fucking blows.
I'm not having fun.
I just want to figure out how I can live happily, without the government up my ass for any certain reason.
If someone could promise college would get me there, I'd stay another semester.

But I'm bored & tired as shit.
And all I have is me.
I gotta make sure I'm happy.

Fuck.

I'm going to bed.

Wednesday, June 3, 2015

Get Hurt / Have Mercy

So, I guess I married The Gaslight Anthem about a month ago, in one way or another.
If I sat here long enough, I could probably explain this tattoo in gross detail, ad nauseum.
But I won't.
There's really no point.

The short of it is:
The Gaslight Anthem is the only band that has never let me down.
The only band who actually I'd feel guilty about not buying their new album, the day it comes out.
Since I started college about 89 years ago, TGA has helped me through everything.
Every.Single.Thing.
I don't know how or why.
I just really, really, really love this band.

The heart is semi-fucked up & the placement is way off, but I guess that just gives it character.
Anyone who didn't like Get Hurt, didn't understand it.
And the first time I heard the song "Have Mercy", I knew I was getting it tattooed to me.
That's never happened before.
But I'm so glad it did.

It's been 5 years since my last tattoo, but it's safe to say I'm back in the game.
I hope my body & bank account are ready.

Thursday, May 14, 2015

On Being a Witness & Facing the Disconnect

I hated myself today, & tonight was pretty much the worst.
So, I figured this was the perfect time to immortalize this memory.

I went to a show about a month & a half ago.
A hardcore show.
Mind you, while I used to eat, breathe & shit in the unsafe confines of mosh pits during my teenage years, I haven't been to any sort of "rock concert" in the last few years.
A certain band has been giving me life for the past year or so, & when I found out they'd be playing 20 mins from my house, nothing could've stopped me from going...
Not even the person I planned on going with / bought a ticket for, who bailed on me the day of.
All good.

The show was amazing.
It brought me back to why I got into extreme music in the first place.
Basically, even though I was technically alone at the show, I didn't feel like it.
I felt like I was finally back where I belonged, with my crowd of losers & weirdos.

For whatever stupid reason, my goal for the night was to hug the singer of this band.
It sounds really weird, even to myself, in retrospect, but that was definitely my M.O.
I just wanted to hug him, know he was real, & tell him how much his lyrics have helped me with my depression & loneliness.

I pussied out for about 9/10ths of the night.
The dude literally walked past me at least 10 times before their set, & another 5 times after.
I do that shit.
I pussy out.
The second he got off the stage, everyone was running up to him with seemingly the same idea I had.
He gave out like 30 hugs to random dudes who said everything I'd planned on saying but better, then he went backstage & disappeared for a while.

Long story shy, I was sitting at the bar, mad at myself as always, & I finally saw him talking to someone near the merch table.
I jumped off my bar stool, completely interrupted his conversation, & asked him for a hug before my anxiety could kick in & ask me what the fuck I thought I was doing.
He opened his arms to me & he smelled good & it felt amazing.
Like I finally found someone who knows exactly how I'm feeling.
Who doesn't glorify or sugarcoat how fucking frustrating it is to constantly have to fight yourself every single day.
I found him & proved to myself he was actually real.
I tried to tell him what I'd planned on telling him.
It came out similarly to diarrhea, but he somehow understood what I was trying to say & was super grateful.

It's all difficult to put into words.
It was just a really good night.
I was proud of myself for going to the show alone, giving my second ticket to a random guy in line, knowing all the lyrics, and not being a fucking baby when it came to doing what I said I'd do.

I don't hug my friends or my family.
I never really have.
But his hug meant the world to me.
It really did.
It was one of the most comforting moments I've had all year, & I'm glad I can go back to it on days like this.

Monday, April 20, 2015

[Insert Random Emo Song Title Here]

So good news...
I'm an English major again.

I don't know what I was thinking by changing my major so many fucking times.
Well, I was thinking about money.
Money & what other people thought.
Everyone told me English degrees are pointless if you don't want to teach (I don't).
So, I switched to social work after visiting a career counselor.
Then everyone told me social work sucks, it doesn't pay, & I'll be miserable & burned out within a year of working.
So, I switched to psychology.
Then I realized what a fucking moron I am.
So, I went back to social work again.

My depression has been off the chain lately.
After going back to majoring in sociology, I was constantly on the edge of having a psychotic break.
I didn't show up to half of my classes.
I didn't pay attention in the classes I did show up to.
And I didn't give a shit if I passed or failed.

Truth be told, I'm gonna be 24 next week, & I'm so physically & mentally exhausted by college, at this point, I'd probably be willing to turn tricks for a degree.
The only thing that I've ever felt good about is my writing.
Seriously, the only thing.
Why I thought I could get away with doing anything else for the rest of my life, I have no idea.
I was trying to fool myself.
And I failed.
Pretty miserably, actually.
Thank God.

So, next semester, I'm back to doing what I love more than anything.
My excitement is unreal.
I can go back to being the person people envy in class.
The person who everyone wants to partner up with rather than avoid because I don't know what the hell is going on.
Literally, the only thing I want to do with the rest of my life is write & go to shows.
And eat.
That's it.

If I drop the ball on this one, I'm dropping out of college, moving to Oregon & changing my name to some sort of flower.
I could work in a coffee shop out there, or something.
Hell, I'd probably fuck that up too.

This is the last time I ever switch majors.
This is the last time I ever second guess my ability to make a living doing something I actually enjoy.

If I can just make it through this final semester of being a soc major, I'll be home free.
This is gonna work out.
It has to.

Wednesday, April 1, 2015

Random Daily Haiku:

This is tomorrow.
It's finally here, and you're
just sitting around.

Note to Self:


Glorifying depression is one of the foulest tricks my mind is able to pull.
When you really get down to it, there's nothing sexy or enviable about being completely miserable for seemingly no apparent reason.
I also need to shake the idea that being in a relationship will magically cure these issues I've been dealing with for almost 15 years.
Not sure where that bullshit idea stemmed from.
Truth be told, if this constant hurricane in my head could've been so easily calmed by keeping myself in a relationship with someone, that'd make me even more broken than I'd thought.
Okay, so maybe I'm not "broken".
I still kind of work. Right?

And I gotta stop assuming that people who are in happy relationships can't possibly be depressed.
That's another total fallacy I'm always buying into.
People can be totally satisfied with their relationship, but still have days (or weeks) where they feel like hell is living within them.
Depression isn't pretty.
It isn't something to be ashamed of, but it sure ain't pretty.
It's ignorant of me to not be able to see past other's depression, but it's also ignorant of me to deny someone else's depression.

I used to think I'd have an easier time dating someone else who dealt with the same problems, because then we'd be able to relate to one another in our darker moments.
Then I met this kid who I thought I liked until I really got know him.
Maybe he opened up to me too soon, or maybe I'm just an asshole.
I couldn't handle his issues & it freaked me out.
He didn't shower.
He rarely changed clothes.
And when it comes down to it, I know that was all just a manifestation of his depression & anxiety.

I don't tell people about my issues because I don't want people to start noticing little things I do & automatically start equating them to the fact I have some sort of "chemical imbalance".
Sometimes I just do things.
Sometimes I have good reasons to be upset, & sad, & murderous.

It's okay to be sad sometimes.
It's okay to admit I have depression.
There's nothing wrong with me.

There's nothing wrong with me.

Thursday, March 12, 2015

Random Daily Haiku:

Outcast. My name since
I was 12 years old. I know
this will never change.

Tuesday, February 24, 2015

Update: Beards, Chai, & Eternal Winter


Reporting live from the school library…
I don't know why I always seem to update this site when I'm away from my house.
It's not like I don't have a computer at home, but it's so much easier to talk about what's going on in my life when I'm surrounded by complete strangers my peers, in a place I really have no business even being in.
So, I'm still in college.
I'm pretty sure this makes it, like, 6 years & I should probably have a doctorate degree or something by now, but I don't.
Life.

So, let's get into this shit.
I just withdrew from a class yesterday.
Not because I didn't like the professor.
I did.
Not because it wasn't interesting enough.
It was.
But because I felt like a fucking moron in the class.
That's basically it, when I really think about it.
To me, there's nothing worse than feeling inferior in your own domain.
I was accepted to this college for a reason, I was able to get into this difficult class for a reason.
But I still couldn't seem to keep my head above water while everyone else was cruising past me in speedboats.
The only really shitty part about it, you know, other than missing out on 3 credits, gaining a world of new knowledge, & not spending an hour looking for parking in the morning, the only really shitty part is not seeing, Jordan, the graduate student I used to sit next to, who looked eerily like Clay Cook from the Zac Brown Band.
So devastating, I know.
That's the one nice thing about being a philosophy minor, you get to spend a lot of time with extremely intelligent, heavily bearded men.
I would've spent 4 hours looking for a parking spot if it meant I got to see that luscious saddle beard, every other day.
But, hey.
The dude is too good for me.
Or at least that's the vibe he put out anyway.
I know damn well he's not too good for me, but between discussing Cartesian dualism, stroking his beard, & staring out the window mindlessly, he made it clear he not only had a girlfriend, but I didn't stand a chance with a young scholar like himself.
That's cool, too.
I bet he can't name one William Elliott Whitmore song.
Pathetic.
On my way to class yesterday, I made a point to blast 'If U C Jordan' by Something Corporate.
I'm probably making him out to be a much worse person than he really is, but I had to kill that crush before it got any worse.

Other than him, I've got a dude in a couple of my classes I've aptly nicknamed Vanilla Chai.
I was originally excited to bring him up in this post, but I realized it's pointless.
He's beyond handsome, super friendly, smart, & funny.
Needless to say, it's a dead end for me.
I've talked to him briefly a few times, but I can't seem to spark any interest in him towards me whatsoever.
I don't get it.
I'm so fucking cute.
A little awkward, sure, but my heart is in the right place.
I have class with him in another hour, & about 86% of the reason I even show up is because he's there…half the time.
The last thing I need is another law lecture.
I'm don't even know why I added the class.
However…
At this point, I think it's safe to say, I'm just about used to not getting my way with my crushes ever working out.
Poor me, I know.

I spent the entire fucking summer breaking my back to get one guy's attention, & his eyes looked everywhere except for at me.
Fucking, Jeff.
I will never do that again.
I'm learning that I may not be the prettiest girl, I'm definitely not the smartest girl, & sometimes I do really, really weird shit.
But no guy has a valid reason to dislike me.
I'm just trying to figure out why every guy seems to.
Vanilla Chai is too young for me by my standards, he does that gross thing guys do when they snort their snot back, & he could've made a better choice in sunglasses.
But it would nice to get some sort reciprocation for once.
I have no plans on wife-ing the dude.

So, other than more failed crushes & schoolwork, I really don't have much else going on.
I've been trying to figure out the difference between not knowing who I am & just being interested in everything.
Still haven't gotten a grasp on that.
I've just been focusing more on the things I'm sure of:
Amos Lee, writing, band t-shirts, & watching copious amounts of documentaries.
So thrilling.
I've also been spending a lot of time in the gym, & if Vanilla Chai can't squat more weight than me,  forget it.

It's been a rough winter here in upstate New York.
All you can do is spend time inside & think about shit you really don't want to think about.
I still think about Poetry Boy.
I still think about DisasterCrush.
Every day.
I don't even remember who I was back then.

Anyway, I'm sitting by the window in here & it's fucking freezing.
Keeping up with this site makes my head a little clearer.
I can't say I'll post on here more often.
But I'll sure as hell think about it.