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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: Nine Inch Nails Song: Down In It [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] Prompt: Tell us what annoys you most about yourself. Via
I'm sitting in the passenger seat and we're going to the grocery store. The sun is bright, too bright. I try not to look at it because I saw a news article about someone going blind from looking at the sun. Well, I didn't read the news article, but I saw the headline while researching for a paper. Or maybe it wasn't a news article, maybe it was an ad. I can't remember. Kira says we need dish soap and cat food. Or did she say cat food and dish soap? I can't remember the order, and even though I know it doesn't matter, I want to ask her to repeat. But it's too late because I just looked up and caught a glimpse of the sun. I squeeze my eyes closed and see all the dancing colors behind my eyelids. This is the first sign of blindness, I think. I saw a poster at the doctor's office. Or maybe that was an ad. I can't remember. But was it dish soap and cat food or cat food and dish soap? I get a wave of nausea and start drumming my fingers on the knee of my jeans. I realize that my fingertips are numb, or tingling or something. Something doesn't feel right. I'm sure I've read about this symptom before, but I can't remember where. My throat feels weird and I clear it. I'm now manually breathing. I start to ask about the dish soap/cat food dilemma and realize that Kira is mid-sentence. But it's even worse-- she's mid-paragraph. And the only thing I catch is, "...Or Thursday is fine too, but you need to decide as soon as possible." I tell her that she can decide for me and she says that it's not up to her. I want to ask her to repeat everything she said, but I don't want to admit that her words got lost again while I was in my head. Plus, there are more pressing matters. We have a quick exchange like: Me- You said we need cat food and dish soap, or dish soap and cat food or something...? Her- Both, yeah. Oh, and we should get some of that wine my parents had! Me- Ha, okay, yeah. But was it dish soap first, or...? Her- Does it matter? It's going in the same cart. Me- ....... Her- Uh, it was dish soap first, yeah. But now that she's said it, I know that's not right. I know she's just picking one because she knows it's bothering me. I start thinking about Alzheimer's. My great grandfather died from it. It's cold. Really cold. And I start thinking about things like frostbite. Then I start remembering this documentary I saw years ago about a group of friends climbing in the mountains somewhere in Europe. They were all experienced mountain climbers, but all ran in different directions away from their campsite in various states of dress in the middle of the night. They all died from hypothermia or other fatal injuries and no one ever found out what scared them into running to their deaths. My brain is trying to recall the location of the incident, but it can't. Instead it gets stuck on the letter 'Y' and I can't remember if that's the first letter of the location or the first letter of one of the hiker's names. I start listing Europea sounding names and places that start with a 'Y'. Yugoslavia, Yalta, Yezhov, Yashnik, Yerevan, Ukraine. I immediately panic at the possibility of brain damage because Ukraine most certainly does not start with a 'Y' and none of these names sound correct anyway. In the midst of the panic, I start seeing flashing images of the rotten corpses shown in the documentary. Most of their bodies were frozen, suspended in time forever in defensive positions. Hands curled at their chests. Some reached out from the snow-covered ground, fingers denied of rescue. Mouths frozen open in twisted cries. Vague words that scare me start assaulting my brain like diphtheria, leprosy, malaria. My legs start bouncing and I instinctively reach for my hand sanitizer. Kira puts her hand on my leg and says something mildly comforting like, "We're almost there." Which drives me into another wild internal monologue like, Holy fuck, Charlie. Calm down. You're not going blind. You don't have diphtheria, whatever that is. No, you don't need to google it. You're less than a ten minute drive from home getting groceries with your wife. Everything is okay. Please stop thinking. You don't need Xanax. Please just be a normal person for an hour. We stop at a light and I can feel her eyeing me from the driver’s seat. Probably measuring the severity of the anxiety to determine the best course of action. She asks me what I’m thinking about and I start laughing. It feels good to laugh, but then a car pulls up next to us and I’m afraid the driver is going to shoot me for some reason, so I sink really low in the seat. And then I realize that my brain basically just said, “No, shoot her, not me!” and feel guilty until the light turns green for us to go again. I briefly completely detach and start dreaming up the easiest ways to kill myself so that I don't have to worry about dying. Ironically, it helps. The next thing I know, we’re already parked and I’m supposed to get out of the car. I fumble with the door handle. My legs are shaking when I stand. There are a lot of cars and I’m afraid I’m going to see someone get hit by one. I feel bad all over again because I’m not worried about someone getting hit by a car, I’m worried about ME having to witness someone getting hit by a car. No one gets hit, but I picture it happening anyway. So, what annoys me about myself? The fact that every moment in my life is like the one above. Every interaction, every conversation, every time I want to do something. My mind is always spinning, racing faster than I can keep up with. When people talk to me, I lose most of the conversation because I got caught up on something during the first ten seconds and didn't hear the rest. You can only ask someone to repeat themselves so many times before it's like, can you not pay attention for more than a few words? I don't even ask people to repeat most of the time because I'm going to lose it the second time too. My mental health issues annoy the fuck out of me, and I know I'm genuinely annoying because of them. I know this because the people who have to deal with me on a regular basis have told me what a mental drain it is on them. I can’t imagine trying to do simple, normal things with me—like going to the grocery store. Let alone things that take actual time and planning. I honestly feel terrible for anyone who has to endure me in real life. What I used to think was me is just a fading memory |
Artist: Eyedea & Abilities Song: Burn Fetish [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] Prompt: In lieu of the traditional Motivational Monday prompt, welcome to your first curveball of 2018  . Tell us about a New Years' Resolution you're glad you didn't stick to.Via
Had a sorta, kinda non-verbal 2017 resolution to get a 4.0 GPA in the spring, summer, and fall semesters at uni. Got a 4.0 in spring. Got a 4.0 in summer. Didn't even come close in fall. It was like this... Spring: Got sick after the first day of classes, vomited for days. Was too scared to go back to school. Thought everyone was diseased. Missed all first assignments and quizzes. Started failing. Dropped all in-person classes so I wouldn't have to go to school. Kept taking online classes. Thought about dropping out. Didn't. Changed majors while drinking at an Applebee's bar. Worked with longtime tutor. Ended up with an A in the classes I stayed in. Summer: Spent hours a day cleaning and washing my hands. Got diagnosed with OCD. Started in person classes again. Had panic attacks during almost every class. Stopped eating because food was contaminated. Longtime tutor grew more distant. Thought it was because he wanted to fuck. Therapist said I should lose 4.0 GPA because it was a negative obsession. Couldn't do it because classes were easy as fuck. Fall: Full-time classes in person. Met new classmates. Became friends. Didn't care when people watched me clean my desk. Got disability accommodations at school for being mentally ill. Tried to get help from tutor. Still distant. Thought he wanted to hook up. Offered to hook up for cash. Turns out he was just mildly handsy for years. Didn't want to fuck. Especially didn't want to pay for it. Offended tutor. Lost longtime tutor. Relapsed. Was okay. Relapsed harder. Was not okay. Stopped going to classes because disability accommodations said I didn't have to. Didn't do assignments. Didn't study. Spent time at bdsm club with my Top. Didn't write. Started drawing. Stopped drawing. Couldn't clean up. Forgot about school. School friends were confused. Early November realized I was failing out. Needed 75% or higher in all 6 classes to start next set of classes in spring. Didn't care. Slept a lot. Mid-November panicked almost 24/7. Didn't sleep. End of November started attending classes again. Talked to professors. Some were empathetic. Some were not. Made up assignments where I could. Tried to get help from tutor again. Got denied. Started studying with school friends. They were patient. Early December studied 12-15 hours a day. Went through a lot of paper. Started taking finals. Did pretty well. Final exam grades worth up to 40% of total grades offset awful semester. Ended up scraping by with 75% + in all 6 classes. So... yeah. I've kept a 4.0 GPA for years. It was sort of a silent agreement with myself every year to keep it. I'm not even pissed about not keeping that resolution though because now I don't have to fuckin' worry about it when I start the spring 2018 semester next week. It wasn't good for my OCD. I'd constantly be calculating the weighted percentage I'd lost in a class (or could lose) to keep the 4.0. It was stressful af, and I'm fully aware that it doesn't even matter. So, whatever, got into my spring classes and that's all that matters... I guess. My worst habit's waking up at least once a day Balance barefoot on a needle heaven's just a jump away |
Artist: Ride Song: Kaleidoscope [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] You always said you were destined for greater things. Even after finding out that every single other person feels the exact same way about themselves, you didn’t falter. I wasn’t sure if it was an admirable quality or a gross overestimation. I chose to believe the former for my own sake. Maybe I even believed it. For a while. I can see you sitting in a picturesque living room, decorated Christmas tree in a huge bay window, more for the benefit of passersby than anyone actually living in the house. I can hear it now. A heavy, wet snow blanketing the ground outside. But the kind of snow you appreciate for the duration of the holidays. A welcome snow. For the duration of its pureness before tire tracks grind it into an icy brown sludge anyway. I can see you with multi-color c9 lights decorating the shingles, opaque and flashing softly in sync with a Christmas carol. I can see it as a Sunday event, a family affair. Christmas decorating day with no scoffing at the wasted time, no poring over imaginary astronomic electricity bills that never materialize. I imagine there were stockings hanging over a wood-burning fireplace, your names sewn in brush script, and arranged by age. I can see you there, warming your back against the fire, hands gripping a mug of hot cocoa, extra marshmallows. Parents taking up resident on a sectional, leaning against each other, wrapped in a crocheted afghan from Great Aunt Whoever. Siblings and distant cousins splayed about the room, some sleeping, some reading. Most invested in a Christmas classic. A family tradition. Probably A Christmas Story. Miracle on 34th Street. It's a Wonderful Life. Maybe a marathon that lasts well past the established bedtime. The holidays are time of breaking norms. Of lying on the carpeted floors as opposed to sitting on couches. Of endless baking- cookies, pies, roasts. Of decorating, sprinkling. A touch more of everything. Spinning senses, flashing lights, enticing aromas. Just one more bite. Just one more round of gin rummy. Just one more hour, minute, second. I can see you there. So clearly I can feel the warmth, the love. I can see you smiling, tearing open your special "Christmas Eve" gift, complete with pointless ribbons and themed paper. Little customized gift tags with reindeer and douglas firs. To: You, Love: Santa. I can see you believing in things like that. Scurrying to bed, feet sliding across a wooden staircase in a cotton onesie. Racing to not see Him, because every child knows He doesn't show up if you're still awake. I can see you cuddled with a stuffed animal, probably a little lion, freshly washed and spruced mane smelling just like home. You wouldn't know. Nose blind from oversaturation. A thousand miles away though, you'd know, and bury your little face there for comfort. I can see you squeezing your eyes closed so tightly, pretending to be asleep, and wishing you were-- if only to force dawn's appearance. You'd wake up before everyone else, the only day of the year, of course. You'd scurry to your parents' bedroom just down the hall. You wouldn't be afraid to open the door, to jump into bed with them, to shake them awake with joy only a truly innocent child can muster. I can see them prolonging your wait, reveling in your excitement. I can see them first having to make a pot of coffee. Slowly, deliberately. You and your siblings seated around the Christmas tree. Your toes wiggling, too eager to stay still. I can even see you before this. Four weeks prior, diligently writing out your Christmas list, in descending order of importance, of course. I know your first bicycle would top your list, so they'd save that for last, making you think you'd only gotten Power Rangers action figures and those lame gifts, like socks and new pajamas. They'd pretend the gift opening was done and move on to cleaning up the shredded packaging. You'd watch your siblings tearing open their plentiful gifts, only understanding value in terms of quantity over quality. And even then, feeling terribly disappointed in your missing top pick. That's when dad would slip out through the kitchen into the garage. Mom would have the video camera in hand, capturing the before and after. Dad would return boisterously claiming they'd forgotten one more gift, and your eyes would become saucers of admiration. A real big boy bike, wrapped in a red bow, naturally. You'd scream, too ecstatic to contain yourself. Any extra hours your parents clocked at work would be infinitely worth that one moment of bliss. Throughout a massive Christmas breakfast, you'd be too excited to actually enjoy the food, devouring pancakes like they were sand dollar size and guzzling orange juice as though you were on dehydration's doorstep. You'd proudly proclaim "done!" before everyone else had even started really digging in. I can see the end of a cul-de-sac where your dad would teach you, running alongside to make sure you didn't get hurt. I can see you both slipping on ice, holding onto each other for support, laughing until your sides hurt. I can see you both waving to neighbors, and family of neighbors, arriving for holiday celebrations. I can see everyone being nice, even when you almost ran headlong into the side of their minivan. I can see understanding. I know you had it. I know you did. I saw it when I took up residence in the center of your everything. And now, what dystopia has set upon you? Where were the defects? Which walls caved in first? I mean, really, what the fuck happened? When I'm gone you will see so clear That I left some words unspoken here |
Artist: Nick Drake Song: Road [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] Those mornings when the sun doesn’t peek through anything, it’s easy to relapse, collapse, whatever. Sink in. Imprint yourself on anything. Evidence that you existed, ya know, for later. Your heart flutters here against broken springs. Against its better judgement. Flutters like a precordial catch, like a palpitation, like your trembling hands. Start living life in bite-size pieces. Not like ‘in a couple years’. Not like ‘next year’. Not like ‘next month’. Not like ‘tomorrow’ or even ‘today’. But, like, 3 seconds in advance. Like ‘finish this sentence’. Add a period. Sip water. Inhale. Exhale. Feel your core shake. Like a precariously balanced nest quivering on the thinnest branch. That steady. Inhale again. Everything has become self-operated. If your body feels broken, that’s because it is. You are the automation now. Exhale again. Don’t even attempt to walk. Knees jutting out too far with each step. Robotic. Like a staircase. That flexible. Get used to the stages of grief with no specific loss. Bargaining. Collapse, relax. Please just relax. Anger. What is automatic living? Turn into a child. It isn’t fair. That isn’t fair. Just breathe. It’s okay to laugh. You know they want to. Pitiful whimper breaths have that effect. Be impulsive. Violent. Explain later. You can always explain later. You can always refuse to explain later. Your collarbones become those quivering twigs. Body uprooted. Stop quantifying. Analyzing. Stop trying to explain. Learn a new language so speaking will be semi-productive. They don’t get it. Don’t care. Who would care? “Huh, yeah, that’s cool. Wait, no. I meant, that sucks. Yeah, that’s it.” Rub your ankles together until they’re raw. Open old wounds like that. Peel back layers of nothing. Like opening an old can. There’s no fizz. No spark. Drink it down anyway. Oh, did you forget how to swallow? Don’t worry. That’s common. That’s a side effect of a side effect. Yes, common. Not like, ‘you aren’t alone’. But like, ‘please kindly shut the fuck up about it’. Or like, ‘you aren’t special’. ‘You don’t matter’. Because I have errands to run. And a life to live. And that’s unfortunate about your layers. And where.the.fuck.is.the.exit. Those nights when the moon doesn’t reach your window, and the only thing you can taste is bitter, it’s easy to relapse, collapse, whatever. Tongue the pill’s imprint. Remember how to swallow. It looks like this. Like freediving. Like involuntary spinning, tangled up in the sheets with raw ankles. Like a heart fluttering outside your chest, pounding through the mattress. Sink in. This is as good as it gets. Let that sink in. You can say the sun is shining if you really want to I can see the moon and it seems so clear |
Artist: The White Stripes Song: Black Math [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] Prompt: What is the most obvious sign that someone is smart? On the flip side, what is the most obvious sign that someone is stupid? Purple Celebrates  and Kit of House Lannister  did this prompt and made me wanna do it too. I've not blogged since September and I've been so disconnected from WDC that I've managed to forget people's handles.  I used to know everyone's by heart, but I guess you lose some things if you don't use them. I'm still knee deep in the semester from hell, but it will be over in mid-December and I can breathe for a few weeks before having to do it all over again.  So... Obviously smart: I can tell how smart a professor is by their level of willingness to admit what they don't know within their own subject. When a professor knows their topic well, they are able to succinctly summarize information in an extremely simplified way that will make sense to a layman. I'm sure Cinn  and other people who have been to university can attest to this as well.If a question is asked during a lecture and the professor responds with something like, "That's too complicated to get into right now" or "You wouldn't understand the answer to that right now", I immediately question their level of knowledge on the subject. While what they're saying could very well be correct (and usually is), if you know a subject well, you're able to summarize it very briefly in an understandable way. For example, people ask my economics professor things all the time that I know are beyond complicated. I know that we aren't going to get a fully detailed answer in the middle of the lecture. He handles it very well though. He usually prefaces with something like, "That's a really good question. Economics is very complicated and we may not ever know the full effect of that situation; however, here is an extremely oversimplified sentence that sums up what is generally accepted on that topic within the world of economics currently." And then he usually pushes people to sign up for his next economics class so they can learn more about it. But I have mad respect for that! I'm like, okay, this dude knows his shit. He just took some economical theory that has thousands of different implications and summed up the conclusion in a way that was understandable to a bunch of newbies. If a professor can't do that, I don't trust them. They're either too lazy to attempt to sate their students' curiosity, or they don't understand the subject well enough themselves to answer the question. My accounting professor falls into the latter of those two. People will ask her questions all the time in class and she'll say that it's too complicated to answer. Then a student will say, "Well, isn't it just X?" And she'll say, "It's just really complicated." It's just really complicated does nothing for me. My brother does law and can explain complicated tax codes with a couple sentences. He'll always punctuate it by saying there's more to it than that, but the takeaway is sound. If you're teaching a subject and you can't answer your students questions on the subject, you aren't obviously smart. You might be smart, but not obviously. Constantly deflecting from the questions makes you look incompetent. Obviously stupid: Similarly, I can tell how stupid a person is based on their unwillingness to admit what they don't know. We've seen it again and again in the past year and a half or so. Yes, I'm referring to politics. I've seen it on every side of the political mayhem. Over and over, keyboard warriors who don't even have a basic understanding of economics, politics, and law... but definitely have a solution for every problem! These things that people say are so painfully oblivious that it makes me physically cringe. Just as a very basic example, I've seen many people on news websites (and possibly even one or two here on WDC) saying that the Constitution gives the president the right to declare war. This is fundamentally false. No, President Trump cannot declare war because "he's the goddamn president!" If you do not know that Congress holds power in declaring war, then you need to go educate yourself and not speak another word about politics until you've done so. It's honestly embarrassing. I don't know everything about politics. Not even fucking close. But I do know how limited my knowledge is and how much I can comfortably say/not say. With this limited knowledge, I know some things, like:  No, we cannot just print more money to lower our country's deficit. No, the government can't just give everyone money. I don't even know where to start with this one. Government can only give money from further taxing or borrowing... both of which eventually lead to further taxing. Not to mention the loss of currency value. Freedom of speech and freedom of assembly do not grant you the right to go onto private property and disrupt the business. Like, I'm not sure where people got that from. Yes, the security of the mall you're screaming in can ask you to leave. Yes, they can call the police and you can be arrested if you refuse to leave. Oh, and while we're at it... Yes, your employer can fire you for hate speech, you fucking weirdo.I could go on forever, and I'm sure you guys could too, because what the fuck? This shit is so pervasive and so constant. I don't care about what someone's politics are, if you're saying something that is just blatantly false, you are a fucking moron. When you are presented with the proof that what you're saying is false and continue to rage against it, you look like even more of a fucking moron. And this is not limited to political things. It's just the best example because there are so many armchair professionals with "opinions" that are just so wrong. If you don't even have 101-level knowledge of the topic you're so desperately passionate about, you are obviously stupid. I can't tell you how proud I am I'm writing down things that I don't understand Well, maybe I'll put my love on ice And teach myself, maybe that'll be nice |
Artist: Incubus Song: Make Yourself [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] I can't tell if this is real. I can't even tell if it matters either way. But I'd like to know if the paper cutout purity gets folded up when I leave. If the autumn tablecloths get folded up. Not even neatly, but rather sloppily shoved into cabinets, fabric peeking from the door. All orange, red, and yellow after August. The front cover of Better Homes and Gardens would tell you as much, collecting dust on some antique end table that definitely belonged to some dead guy whose name rings vaguely familiar to a fragmental subset of the population. It's still better than I'll have. For my sake, I've convinced myself that you're held up by threads as thin as mine. How much tension can you withstand? And silently hoping that yours aren't made of silk while mine fray out. This scene would be less surreal if you bit into your wineglass. Rim first, of course, and let the shards splinter across your tongue. If you deepthroated the stem like a delicacy before telling us all what pairs best with your blood. My brain would malfunction less under these circumstances. I can't even begin to trace the steps you took between Point A, trampling through my everything, and Point B, absolving yourself. Most likely because you didn't take any. Talk about a slope of zero. It's so painful being stuck in a caustic loop while you continue your life with all the right colors and seasons. Watching you nod and smile, knowing you aren't making the same concessions as me. I can't swallow how unfair it feels. And I know all about William Blake and poison trees. It's no consolation for being so easily forgotten. It's a difficult tightrope balance, naturally, attempting to be happy for you. It's like playing Connect 4 against myself. For every bitter thought, there's an equally awful inner shame that gnaws at the nape of my neck. How could I? For every positive thought, there's an equal but opposite negative thought. Cue shame loop, and we've developed a Newton Law of Logical Fallacy. There's something so petty about watching you tell a wholesome and lighthearted story, while I'm being rocked back by my own circular reasoning. I wonder if you can see it when we briefly make eye contact. I wonder if you notice me forcing my lip to curl up on one side, hoping it resembles something close to a smile. Can you see anything more there? No, of course not. That's more than I've earned. When I make me, I won't be papier-mâché And if I fuck me, I'll fuck me my own way |
Artist: Modest Mouse Song: The Good Times Are Killing Me [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] Prompt: What is the worst parenting technique that sucks but is commonly advised anyway? Via:
I'm not a parent or anything, but I do know bad advice when I hear/see it. My parents were given terrible advice on how to handle me when I was growing up. They shrug it off now and say, "Well, the pastor said that's what we should do. How were we supposed to know?" Don't worry, I'm not going to start knocking religion because I don't have the time/desire to do that shit right now. I just think that people in positions of 'power' to advise parents should be a bit more careful with their suggestions. Here is some of the worst advice I hear people giving parents: "Lay down the law/Show them who's boss/Teach them a lesson" Any variation of the above is just shit advice. To me this method of parenting style says, meh, not sure what to do here... I think I'll just intimidate you into stopping behaviors that I dislike. If your kid is having serious behavioral issues, there's likely an underlying cause for that. Hannah ♫♥♫  talked about things like ADHD in the comment section of my last entry: "Invalid Entry"  . It's really sad when a child has something like ADHD that will affect their ability to sit quietly and their parents are just like, "Yeah, that doesn't exist. Stop being hyper or I'm going to beat you!"This parenting style is also terrible because it's confusing. When I was a kid and got into a fight with another kid at school, I got in trouble. I was super confused because when I pissed my parents off at home, my parents would hit me. Then when someone pissed me off and I hit them, they'd act like it was shocking that I would do such a thing. "What are you thinking, you can't just hit people!" Very disorienting rules for a kid to understand. "I did X to my kid and they turned out fine!" I almost just hate this one on a statistical level. One or two kids is obviously way too small of a sample size to ever prove the validity of a parenting technique, obviously. My sister-in-law is constantly screaming at her kids. Her only method of communication with them is screaming. She says, "That's how I raised my oldest and she turned out fine!" When in reality, her oldest kid (who is 15) has severe social issues. She can barely even talk to people. But, nah, she's fine! Bonus points of annoyance when they say that their parents used that technique and they turned out fine. "My parents hit me growing up and I turned out fine!" Meanwhile, they're extremely aggressive and no one enjoys their company.  "Well, when we were kids..." I fucking hate hearing parents talk to each other when their sentences start this way. "Jamie is upset because I won't let her have a phone. When we were kids, our phone was attached to a cord in the kitchen! She can deal with it! LOL" In this situation, the kid was 16 years old, by the way. I understand that some of these statements can be valid, but they're also undermining your kid's feelings, so it's kinda shitty. Yeah, you didn't have a cell phone back in 1986 because it was 1986. Now, your kid is literally the only kid in her class who doesn't have a phone. This was even more ironic because the parent who said it didn't have a home phone either, just a cell phone. So all of Jamie's friends had to call her mom's cell phone to reach her. Way to isolate your child, weirdo. Plus, it's just a safety thing in 2017 for a 16 year old to have a phone that they can at least reach emergency services on. It's not like there are phone booths up everywhere. "Don't hold them so much/hold them more/just let them cry/don't let them cry" If I'm ever a parent, I'm going to be awful at taking advice. I took care of my niece for the first several months of her life because my brother worked 70 hours a week and the mother wasn't in the picture. I was like 15 and people would always say, "Don't hold her so much, Charlie! Just let her stay in the crib and cry until she falls asleep." I never listened to that advice. If my niece was crying, it was because she was hungry, needed changing, was sick, etc... You have to find a balance between checking on these things and letting go of the 'I'm just a baby and crying because I'm tired' thing that they do sometimes. My dad was especially bad during this time because he'd always tell me that I was spoiling her. It's like, she's 2 months old. She isn't being "spoiled" by me rocking her back to sleep at 3 in the morning. "Eighteen and out" I know a lot of parents that kicked their kids out as soon as they turned 18, or threatened to, at the very least. Obviously, I was kicked out long before that, but it always bothers me when a parent is arguing with their teenager and the parent says, "As soon as you turn 18, you're out of my house!" Basically what they're saying is, "I hate you so much that I'm only going to fulfill my legal obligation to you. After that, you're fucked." If you keep mentioning to your 13 or 14 year old that you're going to kick them out as soon as they're 18, you're making them feel like a burden on you. At the time, they'll probably say that's good because they hate you anyway, but that's most likely just anger as a defense mechanism. It's a shitty thing for parents to say/feel about their children. I've heard other parents say, "Well, you've got 3 more years" when their friend is complaining about their 15 year old. Such a negative way to view a child. "It's your house, your rules!" Generally, this is true. It is your house and a parent has a right/responsibility to set rules therein, but I think people get this advice mixed up. Your house, your rules is fine if you're talking about general things like respecting the cleanliness, curfew, and allowances for what can take place in the house. But I think parents use this to say, "Every single thing in this house belongs to me and I can do whatever I want." I think this is a super negative way of thinking. Yes, the house is yours. You pay the bills. But, your kids need privacy. So if you're using this phrase to mean, "I can go through my kid's room, read their private journal, etc..." you're kinda a dick. Kids need privacy and trust. I always hated coming home from school to find my room rummaged through. My parents would say, "It's not YOUR room. This is MY house. Every room in it is MINE." And it's like, okay, so I have no private space in the world because I'm 13 and own nothing? It also surprises me how other parents rally behind this too. "You go, Denise! It IS your house. You can do whatever you want!" And I'm sitting there thinking, you probably shouldn't have read your daughter's diary, but okay...  Got dirt, got air, got water and I know you can carry on |
Artist: Into it. Over it. Song: Ravenswood [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] Prompt: What do most people not understand even though they act like they do? Via:
I know I'm such a soapbox ranter, but people do not understand mental illness at all. I've been acutely aware of this throughout my life. As a kid, my parents just thought I was weird af. I'm surprised they didn't have me exorcised, to be honest. Now that I'm confronting and treating my OCD, it has gotten even worse. I don't know if OCD is just one of those things that people especially don't get or if I'm just around the wrong people. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Mental illness isn't logical. Especially having contamination OCD, the things people tell me are hilarious. They give these bits of 'knowledge' as though I'm unaware how irrational this anxiety disorder is. For example, saying something like: "Sweetie, your hands are clean now." It's like, well, no shit. This is my 18th time in a row washing them. I'm AWARE that my hands physically don't have ebola on them. My anxiety disorder, however, completely disagrees. I keep having to tell people, "If it was rational, it wouldn't be a disorder." It isn't cute. People for some reason think that some mental health disorders are cute and quirky for some reason. For the life of me, I can't figure out why someone would self-diagnose a serious mental illness when all they have is a preference or a quirk. It's not like having mental illness is fun or a good conversation starter. "Hi, I'm Charlie! It's nice to meet you and I literally cannot shake your hand because I'm afraid I'll get botulism and die! :D" I mean, what kind of first impression is that? It's terribly embarrassing and uncomfortable. Here's a quick list of what IS NOT mental illness: - Getting sad when you have a legitimate reason to be sad/getting in a bad mood != depression - Getting anxious before an interview, big exam, etc... != an anxiety disorder - Liking your things organized by your personal preference != OCD - Preferring to stay at home/being introverted != antisocial personality disorder The list goes on and on, but I'm sure the point is coming across clearly. You can't just stop. Again, if it's a mental illness, you can't just stop having it. I've had people tell me, "I used to have an anxiety disorder, but then I decided to stop." And I'm like, "...  what?" Sure, you can improve your mental state through various techniques, like meditation, writing, yoga, healthy eating, exercising... but you cannot get rid of a mental illness (especially a severe one) by making lifestyle changes.It annoys me when people are say, "LOL yeah! I had depression so bad and I was like NOPE, not gonna do it. So I started walking in the morning and now I don't have depression anymore, hehe. But I totally did, for like.. 3 weeks." Just, no. You're undermining the struggle of people who have mental illness by saying that you were deeply depressed for 3 weeks after your cat died and then went for a walk and got better. Come on now.A good day/a smile != recovery. It's really disheartening to me when I have a good day followed by a bad day and someone says all disappointed, "Oh no, I thought you were getting over this  " Mental illness doesn't work that way. Also, just because you see someone smiling doesn't mean they're not internally suffering. I don't think anyone I've worked with in school or a job would have any idea that I struggle with mental illness. It's not difficult to put on a brave face when publicly and then go home and have a breakdown.Wait, scratch that. That was before OCD wrecked me. Now it's impossible to hide because I can't, you know, touch doorhandles, shake people's hands, or go more than five minutes without sanitizing myself and the things around me. The point still stands though. We know it's bad and we feel bad. Mental health is one of those interesting things where people talk to you the same way they would at a drug intervention. Like, "Your mental illness has affected my life negatively in the following ways..." Trust me, people with mental illness know that they are insufferable to be around at times (or most of the time). This is unlike other illness because you would never say to someone who was physically ill, "You know, your diabetes is really fucking annoying. We have to plan our meals around your insulin and it's just like, fuck, dude. Can you stop being so selfish?" Yet people think this is a totally acceptable way to talk to someone who has a mental health disorder. It isn't funny. It's extremely awkward to me when people try to joke with me about MY mental state. As in, someone says, "Uh-oh, Charlie, what if the person making that food wasn't wearing gloves?" I already have trouble eating and am very underweight because of it. I think it's super shitty to try to play into my anxieties and try to set them off. Or, "Oops, Charlie! I can't remember if I washed my hands after touching the meat or not! JUST KIDDING! I did." It's not funny to me at all. (And yes, someone did that the last time I was at a family get together) It's frustrating af to me because I'm already paranoid about the food. Why joke that you might've contaminated it? Oh, and then get offended when I refuse to eat it too. That makes sense. Overall, I definitely think that people as a whole try to be understanding and accommodating. I really appreciate the fuck out of anyone who tries to comfort me in any way or tries to reassure my anxiety. I don't know what I'd do without people who just say a few kind or thoughtful words when they know I'm struggling. I know reassurances are something I'll have to stop through therapy, but it really touches me when someone in my real life acknowledges my anxiety in a meaningful way. For example, getting me something to eat/drink while they're out and saying, "Here, I picked this up for you. It expires in January of 2018." It shows that they not only thought of me while buying the item, but also went a step further to check the expiration date. I don't expect people to make specific accommodations for me, but at the very least, I wish people wouldn't make light of the situation. At the very least, look up the DSM-V criteria for mental disorders and understand mental disorders before you talk about them or tell people what do with them. In the lines between what I read and yours see, I don't have it in me anymore |
Artist: ∆ Song: Left Hand Free [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] Prompt: Which double standard pisses you off the most? Via:
I don't know why I made this prompt singular as though there is only one double standard I'm going to write about. I mean, I do have one that pisses me off the most, but I'll just talk about that one first. ***PROBLEM-SOLVER***Dude has sex = Cool. Lady has sex = Slutty. I fucking haaaaate this double standard so passionately. I've talked about this with Kira and other girls I've known a lot, but I still don't really get it. I do something super skanky and it's cool, one of my female friends does something an 8th as bad and is just the biggest whorebag around. I think it's partially society's preoccupation with all women being 'motherly' and sexual pleasure is not something that mothers should do (according to society). Men taking care of children. My brother has full custody of his daughter and the random shit people say to him is infuriating. He's out with his daughter at the park, "Aww, babysitting today while Mommy gets some rest?" No, he's a 24/7 father. The kid's mother is completely uninvolved. Also, if you're spending time with your kid, it isn't called babysitting-- it's called parenting. Sexual assault/domestic violence against men. A dude pushing his girl is, like, the worst thing ever. A woman punching her dude in the face repeatedly is, "LOL. You go girl!" WTF is up with this double standard, for real? Also, "Guys can't be sexually assaulted. Guys just want to have sex all the time so it's not traumatizing or anything, unless he's gay or something, lol."  Racial double standards. I was with a Mexican girl for a while and everyone around her hated me for being white. Not only did her family threaten to disown her, but her guy friends constantly wanted to beat me up because she was dating out of her race. I thought they'd get over it in time, but they definitely did not and we ended up breaking up. She said it was just her culture. Everyone around me said, "Bro, it's just the culture." The only thing I could think the whole time is that if my white family had reacted the same way, they would've been seen as racist scum. But, nah, it was just her family's 'culture'. Love ALL body types, unless they're skinny, of course. I'll be the first to admit that I'm scrawny af, but the number of comments I get on my weight is just beyond inappropriate. "You're so skinny! Do you even eat anything?" "It's windy out today. Charlie's gonna blow away!" "Are you anorexic or something?" The thing that pisses me off is that I'd be a Hitler-level douche in society's eyes if I responded with, "You're right, it is windy! Can I hold onto your arm so I don't blow away, chubs?" Your assignment is due at 11:59pm on Sunday. No exceptions. I'll grade it in a few weeks, maybe. ~ Signed, every professor ever. I'll work through a migraine attack, vomiting in between paragraphs, in order to submit shit on time because these profs give you zero leeway on deadlines; then they proceed to take a month to even look at the assignment. I get that professors have a shit ton of stuff to grade, but if you can't grade something in a timely fashion, why is the deadline like life or death? Do what you love, unless you love art! This one doesn't really affect me because I'm a finance major, but I hate when people hand out advice like, "Do what you love and you'll never work a day in your life!" Then turn around in the next breath and say, "Oh, you're majoring in fine arts? Hope you enjoy being unemployed!" Whether or not they statistically stand a good chance of finding a job isn't relevant. It's just the negativity of the double standard that is annoying. Tough dude's a boss. Tough chick's a bitch. A guy can be super serious and borderline aggressive in a business situation. Everyone will just think he's a responsible, hardworking, determined dude. If a woman acts the same way in business, she's a powertripping, cold bitch. Again, I think this goes back to society's view of 'motherly' and society's opinion that all women should be it. Government welfare is bad, unless I'm the one receiving it. I've had multiple conversations with people who are self-proclaimed Republicans that hate welfare and all the "stupid, entitled people who are too lazy to get off their fat asses and work" only to find out that they are currently on government assistance as well. Like, wtf?? They think that they are the only ones who are using welfare appropriately. It's mind-boggling. Ain't shady baby I'm hot like the prodigal son |
Artist: ∆ Song: Dissolve Me [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] Prompt: What small, inconsequential things piss you off more than they really should? Via:
In the interest of trying to get more active here before "Game of Thrones" starts next month, I hope to start blogging a little bit more. New prompts are up over at "JAFBG" if you're interested in ranting a bit. Also, I'm just biding time until my next therapy appointment. Let's be real here. I'm super easily annoyed, so this prompt is easy af for me. Here are some totally unimportant things that really fucking irk me: Expiration dates that are not easily locatable. Fucking seriously, man. Companies should be forced to place expiration dates on perishable foods in a designated spot on the product. Like, goddamn, do you know how annoying it is to have to search for an expiration date for 5 minutes and then do it again the next time you consume the product because you have fucking OCD and have to check that shit constantly? Food eating contests. I don't know why, but food eating contests make me irrationally angry. I don't know if it's because it's so gluttonous and unnecessary or if it's just the fact that it fuckin' grosses me out. Curse words censored with symbols when it isn't necessary. This one is really fu*%ing annoying. You already put the g#d da&n word in everyone's motherf&@king head. Own up to your sh#t. I can see if it's in an area with rating controls, but where you can say what you d@mn well fuc!#ng please, why the fu&k are you gonna pull that sh^t? Very obvious common sense "advice". I'm carrying a bunch of shit in my hands. "Dude, careful, don't drop that." Well no fucking duh. As though I'm not aware that I should hang onto the shit I'm carrying. Double rage points if the advice is given after an accident has already occurred. I spill a drink. "Be careful with your drink!" Oh, I'm supposed to be careful? I thought I was supposed to just fling this shit around the room so I could spend time cleaning it up. Why didn't you tell me before? Super loud autoplay ads on websites. Nothing to add. I'll just leave your website forever immediately. References to people I've never met. Friend: Hey, Jason might be going with us on Friday. Me: Jason? Friend: Yeah, but he's not sure if he can go or not. He just found out Lily might have cancer and he's taking her Thursday to get it checked out. Me: Huh? Who? Friend: Jason's dog, Lily Me: Who the fuck is Jason? Friend: He works in the IT department at my job. Me: .............................. Speakerphones in public. I fucking hate when I'm sitting on public transit and someone is loudly having a conversation over speakerphone about their venereal disease. Like, shut the fuck up. No one wants to hear your entire conversation. Obliviousness of any sort. Texting in a doorway that people need to enter, taking up an entire grocery store aisle with your sideways cart, letting your kids run around destroying things, etc... There's an entire world going on around us and everyone is sure they're the center of it. I am see-through soap sliver, you’re so thin As I begin rubbing lathers up your state worsens on my skin |
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I'm still so confused. How did they get to senior-level finance with so little know-how. I don't get it. 
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.
