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 |   My 2nd blog. My spot for sharing my life, music, and writing with my friends. |
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Hello, Hello. Fancy seeing you here. I'll work on making this nice and pretty later. *  I also have a poetry blog, for those who dig poetry:
AND I have a mental health group with a monthly challenge:
[Embed For Use By Upgraded+] Lay my hands on Heaven and the sun and the moon and the stars While the devil wants to fuck me in the back of his car ♡ * I will never make this pretty. |
Artist: Tool Song: The Pot [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] When I turn my head left, the room lags behind like dropped frames. This life is not lossless. My vision is off. I’m seeing everything through a film of rice paper. The only sense I can rely on is smell, as in the wet concrete smell of this room. As in that god awful Elizabeth Taylor White Diamonds perfume that is permeating everything. Margaret or Marge or Maggie is saying that she'll name her daughter Taran or Terrin or Taryn or Terran or Augustine for reasons that will never be known because I've lost several minutes to an Unidentified Flying Insect in the fluorescent track lighting. Margaret/Marge/Maggie says this is progress so everyone has to quickly clap now because Margaret/Marge/Maggie says Margaret/Marge/Maggie is improving. The plus side is that everyone is so eager to discuss whatever's eating away at them, it's easy to let 90 minutes pass while saying hardly anything beyond the initial check-in phase. The non-plus side is that they refuse to interrupt someone who has the floor, even when we exceed the 100 minute mark and Margaret/Marge/Maggie is still telling us the genealogy of potential names for her baby that we'll never meet and don't care about. My head feels like a lead weight. It's difficult to even hold it upright, and I have 6 hours of lectures to follow. The severe window drought is making me claustrophobic and Liz Taylor isn't helping. I'm silently begging for a diversion. I even consider creating one myself. Anything to keep from hearing about the postpartum summer or PPS as I've been affectionately calling it. As in PPS, we've heard about it so much it's sending me into a postpartum winter. I cross my ankles. Uncross them. Bounce my knees. Look for my UFI in the rafters but he's gone. My chest hurts. My head hurts. I'm nauseous. I rub my eyes with the palms of my hands. I press and unpress my fingers against my ears so M/M/M's voice becomes a Charlie Brown adult's "wah wah wah." I feel like physically melting onto the floor, but I don't think it would go over well. The guy next to me has long fingernails and he drags them against the plastic of his seat, trying to physically claw his way out of this situation. M/M/M has both arms turned up, shoulders shrugged, and is aggressively (and mostly rhetorically) demanding, "Is that too much to ask? Is that really too much to ask because I really don't think it is?!!?" Several people emphatically answer anyway. No, you're not asking too much at all! I want to ask if letting us all leave is asking too much, but I think I already know the answer. I blearily watch M/M/M and a couple others talk about how their husbands just do not understand the weight, the toll... the visceral carnage? One of the guys gets randomly pissed off and starts ranting about his ex wife at increasing volume until the leaders have to step in and remind us about the R in G.R.O.U.P. which stands for "respect" because, as adults, acronyms must guide our principles. The group leaders encourage the offender to explore why the conversation had been so triggering and it's clear that we're in an actual gridlock here. The guy next to me crosses his arms and silently prays to my UFI, his eyes rolling upward. He sighs and looks in my direction. We simultaneously shake our heads 'no' like, are you seeing this shit? I check my watch and we aren't even close to the maximum cutoff time of 150 minutes. I shuffle my feet on the floor just for something to do. Loll my head from side to side. Try to recite a poem to myself, but mix up the opening lines with the final lines of a different poem. I blink heavily, my eyes refusing to open without an uncomfortable amount of effort. I pop my knuckles and let my hands drop on either side. I see how far I have to slide down in my chair to touch the floor. I'm practicing patience. Please clap. Liar, lawyer - mirror, for you what's the difference? |
Artist: Michael Jackson Song: Smooth Criminal [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] Oct. 7 Prompt: This week is focused on National Days.  Starting with today, which is National Frappe Day! Do you prefer your drinks hot or cold? What kind of blended drinks do you like?  Via
Wait, I thought yesterday was the coffee prompt. "Invalid Entry"  I'm living in the future.  I'm a simple person. I like cold drinks during summer and hot drinks during winter. So, winter is coffee and hot tea. Summer is iced coffee and iced tea.  As far as blended drinks go, I like a lot of frozen cocktails. Like strawberry daiquiris, margaritas.I mean, really, you can turn any frozen drink into a frozen cocktail. Just dump some rum in and you're good to go. *drink5* Prompt: What are your favourite swear words or creative insults? Via
One of my favorite things to say, in general, is "get off my jock." Like, when someone is hassling you and needs to back off. If someone starts interrogating me about something, I'll always respond with that or "get off my dick." Just depending on my mood. I like stringing together random curse words. Actually, any hard consonant words coupled with curse words works well. Donnie Darko has some of my favorites:"You are such a fuck ass." "Did you just call me a fuck ass? You can go suck a fuck."  I grew up with two older brothers, so we got pretty creative. Thundercunt, douche nozzle, jizzjuggler, fucknugget. What you need though are insults that you can say in the real world with impunity. Those are the best insults. "I hope your day is as pleasant as you are" is a really good one when you're working with difficult people that can't call a jockstrap. Really though, my professors have some of the meanest insults. It must be built up from years of teaching stupid people. I don't even bring anything negative up to my teachers for fear of the comebacks. I'm scarred from the exchanges I've heard. Like: student: How did I get an F on this? professor: Oh, yeah, an F was the lowest grade available. professor: Oh, I'm sorry, is my lecture interrupting your conversation? student: When am I ever going to use this in real life? professor: You might not use it, but the smart people probably will. Also, telling people that McDonald's is hiring when they fail an exam or do something stupid. Professors are scary af.  The best possible comeback when someone insults you though is to just say, "No you" and then moonwalk away from them. You've been hit by— You've been struck by— A Smooth Criminal |
Artist: David Bowie Song: Suffragette City [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] Oct. 6 Prompt: Write about a memorable encounter with a stranger. Via
Man, I'm having trouble with this prompt for some reason. I think I used all my writing ability for the week on yesterday's entry. I guess the concept of encountering a stranger is weird for me because isn't everyone we meet a strange at some point? I'm pretty much the most friendly person when meeting someone new. I'm very dog-like, like, hi, are we best friends now? Most people I meet aren't strangers for very long and I feel like I've known someone forever within a few minutes of talking to them. They'll remind me of someone else I know or knew at some point, and then it just feels like I'm talking to an old friend. Not everyone is receptive to my friendly tendencies. If someone doesn't take to me fairly quickly, I'll just assume that they're not my kind of person, or I'm not theirs. I won't push to get to know them any further and I'll pretty much just pretend they don't exist from thereon. Anyone who has met me here on WDC knows that I'm pretty much like, "hi, I love you " As for random encounters with strangers... I have them all the time. I meet people on campus, on public transit, just out walking around. I'll talk to anyone. One encounter that I'm somewhat fond of happened during one of my first jobs. I was working at this privately owned cafe/hookah bar. I was sitting on the counter reading a magazine one afternoon. No customers, no other workers. This exhausted-looking woman throws open the cafe doors and shouts at me in the most British accent possible, "MAKE ME A DRINK THAT MAKES ME FAT JUST BY LOOKING AT IT." One of my favorite customers ever.  Oh don't lean on me man Cause you can't afford the ticket Back from Suffragette City |
Artist: La Dispute Song: Andria [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] Oct. 5 Prompt: Write about the person that has had the biggest impact on your life. Via
Your apartment makes me sad. Wait, no. Your mom's apartment makes me sad. All glass cherub knick-knacks, snow globes from places no one cares to visit like Tulsa or Boise. Great Potatoes! I walk through the entrance into the living room so gingerly, as though I'm in an antique shop with the constant threat of bumping into a $3000 vase. I pick up a decorative abalone thimble and thumb the pearlescent design while you dig through a 3-ring cd binder rambling about some band I've never heard of. "Don't touch that. The Cunt will notice if anything is out of place." You find the prized cd and hold it up like a trophy. When I tell you I've never heard of the band, you remind me that I'm lucky to have you around to teach me things. It's one of those haunting fall evenings. On the way over, dead leaves formed a small tornado ahead of our steps. The crisp air was biting so you offered me your leather jacket. The one with the army patches all over it, even though I'm nearly positive you hate war. The Cunt, your affectionate name for the woman who spent 22 agonizing hours in labor with you (yes, she told me later in grueling detail), is working her second shift of the day. Her presence is still suffocating, so I say, "She's here in spirit" and you say, "What?" This obviously isn't a college pad. It isn't what I had in mind when you said you "basically live alone" because of your mother being away at work all the time. No posters haphazardly stapled to cheap wood-paneled walls, no pizza boxes with stale crusts, no empty beer cans, no video game systems in the living room. But what do I know about college except what I've seen in cliche Hollywood movies? There's a decidedly gaudy apricot-colored sofa with a plastic slipcover that makes my jeans slide when I try to sit down. I ask if you guys have any pets, but of course, you don't. "Stay here," you tell me, and disappear through the kitchen into a dark hallway. As soon as you're gone, I walk over to the living room window and let the vertical blinds dance between my fingers. "You have a trick balcony," I tell you when you return. "A trick balcony?" "It's not really a balcony, but it acts like a balcony." "Oh, a juliet balcony," you tell me. "You know, like Romeo & Juliet." I don't know, but I act like I do because I don't want you to get sick of having to teach me things. In a couple years, it will click during a high school literature unit on Shakespeare. You pull a chair out at the kitchen table and tap the wooden back. "Come sit." It's one of those generic wooden spindle back dining chairs with a sea foam green cushion tied down to keep it in place. One of the chair legs is off just a little bit so the whole thing is wobbly. I sit with my legs crossed in my lap and rock the chair from side to side. You walk to the refrigerator and ask if I want anything to drink. You rattle off a list of potential beverages, even after I tell you I'm okay. "Water? Iced tea? Juice? Coffee? Do you drink coffee? Oh, I have some Coke. You want Coke?" I politely decline again. There's a bedazzled chandelier hanging too low over the dining room table and you bump your head on it while pulling another chair out to face me. I laugh and you say, "I do that all the fucking time." You bat at the golden chandelier and a teardrop-shaped plastic piece falls off. It lands on one of the tablecloth's embroidered cornucopias. I have a mini panic and hold the offending shard up to the light. I say something like, "Oh no, The C... your mom is gonna be mad!" You take it from me and toss it over your shoulder. It lands in or around the sink with a small clatter. You sit down and tap my leg with a free hand while holding something up with your other hand. "Sit up. I want to show you something." You ask if I know what it is. I don't, but I really want to. I examine it. It's smooth glass with explosions of color, like a contained kaleidoscope. I reach for it, hoping that getting a better look will tip me off, but you hold it above my head. "No touching. You don't know what this is?" The way you say it makes me feel even worse. As though I definitely should know what it is and I'm the biggest loser ever if I don't. I say I do know what it is, but of course, you immediately follow up with, "What is it then?" You hold it at eye level between us again. "Okay, I don't know what it is," I finally admit. You do this sort of high-pitched laugh and I can't tell if you're laughing at me in a mean way or if you're just getting ready to launch into another lesson. It doesn't occur to me that it could be both. "It's a pipe," you say, matter-of-factly. "To smoke weed out of." You ask if I've ever smoked before and I say yes for some reason and then immediately change it to no. "Can I see it?" I ask, reaching for it again. You oblige this time, and let me run my fingers across the surface's dancing colors that change when they catch the light. When I try to take it though, you pull it away and tell me that it's handblown glass, whatever that means. "Very expensive," you add. I know what weed looks like. I saw it during a D.A.R.E. presentation at school, along with other drugs. My heart races a little bit while I watch you pack the pipe. It's as though you can hear it, even over the music, because you look up and say something like, "You don't have to smoke, Charlie. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do." I've always dealt poorly in these situations. Only if you want to. As if I'm supposed to walk around with my own opinions. My own wants and needs. As if I'm supposed to know what I want to do and don't want to do. I remind you about your mom. Deflection. Diversion. Distraction. These are my specialties. "Pssh, that bitch won't be home until at least 11." I look at the stove clock and it's almost 8:30. On a normal day, I would have been home from school by 4 o'clock. But today, I was sneaky. I'd made plans to work on a science project with one of my friends after school. The assignment was to recreate all 9 planets (before Pluto got the cut), using various sized styrofoam balls and paint. And I did do that. With newspapers spread across the floor of my friend's garage, we looked at pictures of all the planets and tried to replicate their size and colors to the best of our ability. I managed to get paint all over my hands and clothes. I'd accidentally colored my Venus ball blue because I'd gotten it confused with Neptune, but otherwise, it was a success. My friend's parents offered me dinner and a ride home, but I told them that I was staying the night with another friend who lived just up the street (he really did), and they sent me on my merry way. You ask if I'm worried about my parents, if I'm in trouble. I have a feeling I am, but I try to play it off casual cool, like, "When am I not in trouble?" I immediately regret it because you pull this concerned™ face and start asking me questions. The usual ones. How my week went, how church went, school... You ask how my parents are doing, you ask where they think I am. Inconspicuous questions, but we both know what you're getting at. I say, "I'm fine. Hey, I do want to smoke." Deflection, diversion, distraction. "But I don't know how." I feel guilty because you still look sad. It works though because you clear your throat and say, "It's okay, I'll show you." I held your name inside my heart But it got buried in my fear It tore the wiring of my brain I did my best to keep it clear |
Artist: Death Cab For Cutie Song: No Sunlight [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] Oct. 4 Prompt: Write about a lesson you’ve learned the hard way. Via
At the risk of sounding pedantic, every lesson I learn is learned the hard way. That's not a knock on the prompt- that's a knock on myself. I don't learn lessons until I've fucked a situation up so badly that I get smacked across the face with the lesson. Even when I do learn a lesson, it takes forever for it to actually stick. I find myself in the exact same conundrum later on and it's like, wow, I've really learned nothing. I was extremely naive as a kid. Like, next level naivety. I always thought that everyone had my best interest at heart when dealing with me. Even if I didn't understand the methods someone was using in order to deal with me, to the best of my knowledge, whatever they were doing was definitely somehow for my benefit. I could always spin someone's behavior to seem like their intentions were good. It took so so soooo long for me to realize that some people just straight up suck. Even when presented with irrefutable evidence that someone was just not a good person, I still wouldn't let myself believe it. Instead of them talking their way out of it, I'd talk their way out of it for them... to myself. Like, this person would never do that if it weren't for <insert any plausible reason here>. I think I didn't want to believe that someone could just be bad without any explanation or excuse. It's easier to just think that, from that person's perspective, what they did makes sense. You don't know what you'd do in their shoes. One of the things I'd always think is, like, oh, their childhood was really bad. Kind of like, they've been through a lot... They're struggling with such and such. And those things may have been totally valid (sometimes), but I guess I didn't understand that even if someone had been through a lot, it didn't excuse current behavior. You know, your past doesn't justify hurting people in the present. Continuing cycles of abuse and all that. But, I really held onto that for a long time, and I still struggle with it probably. My mind almost immediately jumps to some sort of 'sound' conclusion when something bad happens. Their mental health, their past, their stress, whatever... If something bad happens to me, I'll almost instinctively excuse it without the person even being apologetic. So, I guess that's the first or longest lesson I've been trying to learn the hard way since forever. The other, which is almost the antithesis of that, is you can do everything right and still fail. This is a lesson I should have learned a long time ago. I mean, how often do you hear as a kid that life isn't fair? I'm still trying to understand that when I do fail at something, compiling a mental checklist of all the things I did right isn't super helpful. Like, yeah, it's cool that you did everything by the book the way you were told to, but that isn't really a predictor for an outcome. I think that's such an important lesson, but such a difficult one. You see people all the time who just put in so little effort and are somehow rewarded with the things you've been working way harder to achieve. It annoys me that my brain even goes there. It's so petulant. This idea of deserving something because you've gone through all the pre-written motions you were supposed to go through to earn that thing. I don't like that at all. I've really been trying to steer myself away from that kind of circular thinking, but trying to steer myself away in a positive way and not in a self-depreciating "you deserve NOTHING" kind of way, which I'm so prone to doing. I don't just do it with myself either. I have the same thoughts about other people, even when something does go my way. I'm like, that person worked way harder than I did, I feel bad. If someone tells me about all the effort they've put into something and it doesn't work out, it's just shitty. I kind of catch myself listening to them and trying to think of where they went wrong, when in reality, they probably did nothing at all wrong and things just didn't play out in their favor. Of course, the implication of that is there's a narcissistic fear that I'm also gonna do everything right and still get bent.  Maybe those are two lessons I'm still learning the hard way rather than ones I've already learned the hard way. You disappeared at the same speed as the idealistic things I believed and the optimist died inside of me |
Artist: Fever Ray Song: If I Had A Heart [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] Oct. 3 Prompt: Do you speak a second language? If so, what inspired you to learn it? If not, what language are you interested in learning? Via
Man, I'm deadass sick of feeling like I'm gonna regret everything I do. When I wake up in the morning, my first thought is, oh, fuck, I fell asleep. As though I've fallen asleep in the middle of the day when I had shit to do. All I can think about is the wasted time I could've been doing this or doing that. I've been fairly consistently staying awake for 36 hours or so and then passing out for 6 hours and redoing it again. Even taking 15 minutes to write a blog entry is like... just this shitty, uneasy feeling. It's like I'm living on borrowed time. Everything I do takes away from other things I have this incessant pressure to do. Feel like I'm gonna be sitting in an exam next week going, Jesus, Charlie, why'd you spend time writing blog entries or having lunch with a friend or watching a movie... I'll even do it with other classes. Like, why'd you spend time on X class when you could've spent it studying for the exam in Y class? I just want to be able to do something for once without beating myself up over it later. But, anyway... See, now I've wasted 5 minutes ranting instead of actually answering the prompt. I do this shit all the time. I don't know why. I had to take a year of foreign language in university, because it's very important in finance to be able to ask where the library is. sarcasm. I chose to take Spanish because I have some friends from school who speak Spanish as their first language. I hear Spanish quite a bit on a regular basis. Still, all I can pretty much do is ask them where the library is. I forgot 90% of the Spanish I learned as soon as I was finished with finals, which is what I do with most classes. College is a test of short-term memory. I guess Spanish has been useful a couple times. Even the limited fluency I have is enough to give/get directions, order food, and have basic small talk conversations. My closest friend at school is an international student from a Spanish-speaking country and we're in all of our classes together this semester. Sometimes she can't think of a word in English, so she'll say it in Spanish to see if I know the Spanish word for it. Our conversations usually devolve into Spanglish pretty quickly. And, of course, I've learned more Spanish that way than I ever did taking Spanish courses. I know it will make me sound like uncultured filth, but I'm not super into learning other languages. It just has never been an interest of mine. I'm also not into international travel though, so it's not really a hinderance in any way to anything I want to do. I'd like to become more fluent in Spanish just for resume-building purposes, but then again, that's just me in academia/career mode. This will never end cause I want more More, give me more, give me more |
Artist: AWOLNATION Song: Sail [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] Via
Pet Peeves, I’ve had a few. But then again, too few to mention. Just kidding. I’m petty af and I’ll take any possible opportunity to bitch about the things that piss me off. I have a lot of basic pet peeves. And by basic, I mean pet peeves that pretty much everyone has. Like…  I hate when people talk in movie theaters I hate when people don’t use turn signals I hate when people chew with their mouths openI hate telemarketers, people who stop in the middle of the aisle at the grocery store, people who get on the train before allowing people time to get off the train, interrupters, loud talkers, slow walkers, litterers, people who let their kids run around like wild animals, “no offense, but…” “not to sound racist, but…” “why are you so quiet” et cetera… I basically have a lot of the common pet peeves that most people claim to have. But I’ve written about those things a few times in my blog, so I’m going to talk about some of my weirder pet peeves that I don’t hear people talk about too frequently, and hopefully I won’t sound weirder than I already know I am. Pet peeves are interesting because they’re often so small and inconsequential, but they still drive you nuts for whatever reason. Here are a few of mine: I may have mentioned this one before, but it’s worth the remention because it drives me absolutely nuts. I’ll totally lose my shit if someone tells me to do something that I’m about to do. Like, for example, if I’m walking to the kitchen to clean the dishes and someone stops me along the way and reminds me to clean the dishes. It must be leftover childhood angst, but I will invariably get overly angry and say something like, “Jesus, I’m doing it. Get off my jock.” I can’t mentally cope with sticky things. My friend took a sticker off of her new notebook and stuck it on my arm when we were in class. I of course had to go to the bathroom and wash my arm for like ten minutes. I just hate the feel of sticky things. It’s so dirty. When people lick their finger before turning a page in a book or while counting money, it’s legitimately horrifying to me. I hate when people ask questions that have clear answers. I know there are no stupid questions and all that, but there kind of are. One I get all the time when I’m writing is, “Are you left-handed?” I don’t even know how to respond. I kind of look at my hand and then back at the person and I’m like, “Yeah...” I have a friend who I love so dearly, but he pretty much narrates my life through inane questions like this. He’ll come into a room where I’ve got my textbooks out, I’m punching numbers into a calculator, and writing stuff down. And he’ll say, “Are you doing homework?” I love him, but I’d also love to strangle him sometimes. I don’t consider myself a movie buff at all, but I do watch a lot of movies and some of the classic movie tropes totally take me out of the moment. I’m not talking about ridiculous explosions or questionable physics, but just basic shit like not saying hello/goodbye on the telephone. If I was on the phone and the other person said something dramatic and then just hung up, I’d be like, ah, shit, we got disconnected... I better call back. There are so many of those lame cliches. New kid rolls up in town and meets some girl he randomly has a crush on. They have a 15 second conversation and then she says that she’s having a party that night and he should stop by. And he’s like, “okay.” And she’s like, “okay.” And then they both just leave without ever discussing when or where the party is. Like, bro, you didn’t even get her number to call/text later for the address... I say all of this, by the way, with full self-awareness that I do a ton of things that would be on other people’s list of pet peeves. It’s not like I think I’m immune to being annoying as hell. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’d annoy a lot of people because: I constantly bounce my legs, tap my fingers, or otherwise fidget around. I hear, "dude, just sit still" on a regular basis. I say the word "like" more than an 80s valley girl. And while we're on the topic of language, if you have an issue with cursing, I'm gonna drive you bonkers. I regularly zone out during conversations in real life. So if you're fond of people who can focus on a conversation for more than a few seconds, well, you know the drill.That doesn't even begin to touch on the erratic mood swings or repetitive poor decision-making skills. What I'm saying is that pet peeves are all in good fun. We all have idiosyncrasies that are annoying (or beyond annoying). That doesn't mean we can't bitch about others though.  Maybe I'm a different breed Maybe I'm not listening So blame it on my ADD, baby |
Artist: Tool Song: Rosetta Stoned [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] OCT 1 Prompt: What are your goals for October? Personal or professional, big or small...doesn't matter! We want to encourage you! via "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" Suuuuuup. For those of you who aren't part of "Invalid Item" , let me give you a quick rundown on what's been up in Charland lately. Just some preliminary information that will most likely answer the prompt. I'm graduating next fall with a double major in finance and accounting. I'm in school full-time, I have two part-time jobs, and I've been interviewing for finance and accounting internships. And, I just landed an accounting|finance internship last week! So, I put in my two weeks notice for my current internship (because I've also been doing a different internship all summer), and I'm starting my new internship while closing the old one out in the interim. I'd say between work, school, and internships, I'm easily putting in 80-ish hours of work a week. And I'm feeling it. My mind is constantly split between what I'm doing and what I need to be doing. I regularly find myself up at 3 o'clock in the morning thinking do I really need to sleep? My thoughts are entirely disorganized and everyone around me is forever offended that I'm not paying attention or "in the moment" with them, or whatever. Pretty much every conversation I have could be summarized by, "You forgot to do X." Or, "You still need to do Y."  I mean, like, every personal relationship I have is in shreds because having a conversation with me is like, "Uh huh, uh huh. Yeah, I'm listening. K. Yeah, I'll look up as soon as I send this email."It's not like a want it to be that way, obviously. But when you're going tens of thousands of dollars into debt... you gotta make that shit work out. My motto at the moment is something like at. all. costs. Buuuuut... I do have some goals for October. First and foremost has always been and will always be doing well in school. I have an absolutely atrocious accounting professor this semester, so I'll be spending most of the time praying to the academia gods for mercy. I also really desperately need to get back into writing. It was my only form of expression for the longest time and I still need that, no matter how busy I am. It's so difficult to just sit and write. Even this entry has been written in 2-3 minute sprints between doing other things over the course of 4 hours. Like, it's just not a schedule or mindset that is conducive to creative writing. I could whip up an analysis of a company's financials in no time, but writing a poem? Seems like the most daunting and impossible task right now.  Still, in an effort to keep my tightrope-walking mental health precariously arranged as I do, I'm going to try to get at least somewhat back into writing during October. I miss when Octobers were about horror movies and autumn instead of midterms and recruitment season.  I'm also looking forward to catching up with some old (and new) faces around here. Blogging is the best way to do that, in my experience. So, yeah, I'm gonna try. Just snap your fingers in front of my face if I fall off track. Overwhelmed as one would be, placed in my position |
Artist: Tool Song: Pushit [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] I miss WDC and writing. I wish I had time for it. Between full time school, working, and interning... I basically have zero time for myself or anything that I actually want to do. So, that's... fun. Only 2 semesters left after this one, and I'm nearly 20% of the way through the current semester, I'll have you know. I have the absolute worst professors this semester. I mean, the ones that people whisper about avoiding. Unfortunately, I'm in higher level classes now and they're the only option. I'm talking professors who openly want you to fail because it's, like, super fun(?) Not sure. Anyway, you know I can't pass up on "JAFBG" prompts. Gotta get 'em while they're hot. It's not like they'll be around for the next 5 months or anything, right, Elle - on hiatus? JAFBG prompt: What do you consider the worst traits in a manager or employee? The top 3 worst manager traits are: 1. micromanaging 2. micromanaging 3. micromanaging I cannot stand when someone is over my shoulder constantly telling me what to do. My current boss does this at my internship and it makes my blood boil. Every email I send for the company is met almost immediately with an email from my boss saying, "That was great! Next time, maybe say this instead!" It's a clear cut case of micromanaging because it's not like I'm saying anything absurd in my work emails. I'm not like, "Hey, gargle my balls! ♡ Charlie" It'll be like a one word change. Hey, try signing off with 'cheers' instead of 'best wishes' next time? Or, let's use the word 'enthusiastic' instead of 'avid' next time. Basically, shit that doesn't matter at all either way. It's so tempting to be like, yo, so... you wanna do this for me since you've got so much free time? When you micromanage your employees, you show them that you have zero faith in their ability to do the job. And if you have zero faith in their ability to do the job, you probably should just fire them, to be honest. Like, if you think I can't handle responding to an email appropriately, I shouldn't even be working here. And while I'm here for a quickie, might as well write on one of the "Invalid Item" prompts. I read Dominique  's response to this one, so I figured I'd respond to it too.Task 2: How well do you handle confrontational situations? Do you get emotional? Lose your temper? Shy away entirely? Or something else altogether? I think I handle confrontation fairly poorly. I'm super unpredictable, which is annoying, even to me. I really hate when someone is unpredictable and you have no idea what they're going to say or do. Unfortunately, I am what I eat hate. It partially depends on who the other person is. Like, if it's someone who has already been "blacked out" in my mind, I'll probably overreact to anything they do that my brain has deemed negative. I get into this super toxic frame of mind where I'm like, you're not gonna pull one over on me. Like, you're not gonna fuck me over. It's totally standard for me to lose my temper in that situation. And also just do super weird shit? I won't typically be violent toward anyone else, but I'll get into an argument and start hitting myself in front of them, and they'll be like what.the.actual.fuck. I kicked a door a bunch of times at work and had to pay for a new one. It's just, like, little things like that. Normal for me, but clearly not normal at all because people react in a way that lets me know it's not normal.  Other times, I'll have no reaction at all. Someone can say or do whatever they want to me and I feel nothing about it. I just stand there like . I dunno if you've ever had it, but I've had that argument (many times) where someone else is acting completely hysterical and I'm just standing there in silence while they scream, "WHY DON'T YOU CARE ABOUT THIS, YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE!?!?!" And then I have plenty of times where I'm the hysterical one. Something minor or easily fixable is happening and I can't stop hyperventilating and crying about it. The other person is just like, "Whoa, dude, chill out." Isn't it funny how it never matches up? Whenever I'm losing my shit, the other person is always like zen as fuck. They're like zombie'd out on benzos or something while I crawl up the walls. They're making faint swiping motions at me like, hey bud, get down from there... walking on the ceiling isn't going to help... Then when they're freaking out, I literally can't even fathom what could cause such a ruckus. Life is weird as fuck. Rest your trigger on my finger Bang my head upon the fault line |
Artist: Nine Inch Nails Song: Wish [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] Task 6: How did you feel when you got your diagnosis? If you've never received a diagnosis, how would you feel about being diagnosed with a mental health disorder? What are the pros and cons? Via
My brain pretty much doesn't want to do anything. It's actually a struggle to even log into WDC right now. Still trying to force myself to do things. Not because it's extremely important that I log into WDC, but because I start the fall semester in a couple weeks and I'm going to be forcing myself to do much more complicated shit then. I should have gone back on my medication over summer. I knew that, like, last year. I remember thinking over winter that I should use summer break to start back on meds and readjust over summer when I had nothing too pressing to worry about. Because they take like 6-8 works to fully go into effect and get rid of side effects, it's obviously too late for that now. Feeling pretty resigned to the whole thing though. I know I'm going to go back to school in a couple weeks and I know my mental and physical health are going to continue to deteriorate, and that's just kind of house it is. I'll be done with school next fall, so I've pretty much just resigned myself to awfulness until I can get a decent job with health insurance. I've done it for a few years, I can do it for 18 months more. Getting a diagnosis is kind of an emotional rollercoaster for me. Initially when you get a mental health diagnosis, it's vindicating. You're like, "Ah, see, all that crazy shit I did and felt was because I have this diagnosable health issue." And you're kind of on this high for a little while. I don't know how to describe the feeling, it's just... vindication. It's so funny because you walk around like, HA, got you! I mean, to be clear, most people who have mental health issues have people in their lives who are not supportive at all, but are even less supportive before an official diagnosis is made by a doctor. You're always "being a dick" or "making shit up". So yeah, after getting a diagnosis, you are kinda like SEE, YOU'RE THE DICK! Unfortunately, that feeling doesn't last very long. Because it starts to sink in, like, well fuck... yeah, I got vindicated, but now I've got this disorder that (depending on the disorder) is never gonna fucking go away. It's cool to know, of course, but now you've gotta do all kinds of therapy and take a bunch of pills that rarely work (for me). The relief of the initial diagnosis fades so fast and you're left with just, "oh well, that sucks..." I'm the one without a soul I'm the one with this big fucking hole No new tale to tell Twenty-six years, on my way to hell |
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It's great to see you back around. I'm sorry you've been having life issues. I hope you're doing much better now? You know I have a foul mouth. 
People definitely tend to jump straight to the worst conclusion when any problem arises, which is why you so frequently hear, "My computer is broken!" when there's really a simple fix. 
Just why. It's so gross. We need to get you some personal finance help! This is only tangentially related and not a statement on you, but one of the nonprofits I work with consists of me making budget plans for people who were recently homeless and have just gotten back on their feet. A lot of the people I work with have only been at their job for less than a month or been in an apartment for a week or two. My role is to gather all of their financial information and then consult with them on their bills, disposable income, purchases, and stuff like that. It's shocking to see the financial decisions people make after just being homeless. I'm like, dude, you were just homeless 2 weeks ago. 
I have seen so much of the disasters it has caused with some people. I have in the past been unconsciously roped into financial situations that were most unpleasant and having to make sensible plans to unravel them.
