Days of Kay

Once Upon A Time...

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Mon, 14 Oct 2013 03:43:00 +0000

... let's say, twenty seven years ago to the day, a baby boy was brought into the world. This boy, despite being daft (or maybe because of it), lived a charmed life. Until one day he stumbled into the world a girl named Kay.

For a time, this boy imbued his charm into the life he built with the girl named Kay, who had suffered a lifetime of strife - sometimes at her own hand. But somehow, just by being there, the boy seemed to make all the troubles and pain in Kay's life disappear. He taught her to stress less, to trust more, and above all else, he taught her how to love and be loved.

But the charm was not to last. For, you see, while Kay may have been able to turn a blind eye to her past and her problems, they never truly disappeared. They waited in the shadows and reared out their ugly heads whenever the chance arose, looking to cause yet more strife. And each time they did so, Kay's faith in the boys blessing cracked just a bit. And by simply losing faith, the boys blessing started to shatter, too.

Little by little, the bliss and serenity the boy brought with him where ever he went started to crumble until it was simply no longer there. Kay and the boy tried to ignore it at first, and later they tried to fix it. But no matter what they did to put back the pieces of the charmed life they had once led, nothing worked. And the boy slowly started to realize that the reason his charm had deserted them was Kay and the strife that followed her.

So, once upon a time... let's say two years ago today, the charmed boy made the smartest decision he ever made, and ever will make. In order to continue leading his blessed life, the boy turned Kay out of it altogether, leaving her to battle the strife on her own.

And, like magic, his charm returned to him and he lived happily ever after. The end.

Well, "the end" for the boy, that is.

Is there a moral to this story? I hope not, because if I were an outsider looking in, I'd think the moral is "it's better to never experience bliss than to have a taste of happiness and then lose it." Or maybe it's "some people have all the good luck, and others get nothing but shit, so just deal with it." And that's just too damned depressing to consider.

So, what is the point of the story?

Maybe the point is that Kay needs to find her own charm in order to lead a blessed life of her own. Maybe the daft, charmed boy's decision was more to her benefit in the end than to his.

Or maybe I should just man up and finish this whiskey.

The Funny One

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Mon, 15 Jul 2013 01:22:00 +0000

My special brand of slightly self-deprecating humor draws directly from pain I have felt at one time or another. My experiences make for a well balanced blend of fat girl problems, sex-deprived singlehood, and mild to moderate alcohol abuse.

"On a scale of 1 to 10 cats, how single would you say you are?"

"How many calories do you burn rocking back and forth in the fetal position, gently sobbing? I'm asking for a friend."

"Who needs a life when there's Youtube, pizza and sex? ... Well there's Youtube and pizza, anyway."

"Stare all you want with your judge-y face: I'm going to eat the fuck out this whiskey & cookie dough ice cream float"

Often, I don't even have to wait for the pain to ease before I start cracking jokes. Making people think on common struggles from a different perspective and - more importantly - making them laugh about it is healing for every one involved. And from there, whatever heartache I may have been feeling starts to dissipate.

They don't call laughter the best medicine for no reason.

Too Much Time On My Hands

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 03 Jul 2013 06:42:00 +0000

Before you read any furher, please know that I am in the process of getting Charles made into a t-shirt on threadless.com - Please be a dear and vote for us?

An e-mail sent to Cuppy Cake earlier today...

"You may be happy to know that, after numerous trials, I’ve started over and our mythical hybrid beast is coming along nicely. It’s green and purple. I should have a finished Unicornus Rex by tomorrow, at which time we can commence the cultivation of more ridiculous and slightly insane ideas… I tried to explain to Bro what I was working on. It went a little like this:

B: What are you up to?

K: I don’t wanna say. It’s kind of embarrassing…

B: Oh come on, I won’t judge.

K: Ok. I’m creating a…. unicorn/t-rex hybrid. On my Photoshop, that is. It’d be silly to attempt that in real life. Too big, you see? The mess would be ridiculous. Anyways, Cuppy helped me come up with the idea and I’m trying to bring it to life. On my computer.

B:…

K: So there’s that.

B: I’m happy you and Cuppy found each other.

K: Tell me about it! Who else would understand the magestical appeal of a Unicornus Rex??

Back to my troll cave for now, Precious!

Love, Kay."

Wuh-BAM.

The creation of this mythical beast was really a no-brainer: I have always been drawn to the magestical whimsy of unicorn farts (AKA: Rainbows) which, balanced with the fierceness and tiny arms of a T-Rex, makes for a magnificent beast that I will now take as my spirit animal and also my steed.

This Unicornus Rex is named Charles and was created by myself using Photoshop. As you can see, Charles still has all the common difficulties presented by T-Rex's tiny arms (or in this case, hoofs) but do not be deceived; Charles will not hesitate to fuck you up if you cross him.

Rediscovered

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 11 Jun 2013 03:55:00 +0000

Just rediscovered an old favorite, perfect & fitting.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c7wH5fNJC-A&feature=youtube_gdata_player

You've got the best of both worlds
You're the kind of girl who can take down a man,
And lift him back up again
You are strong but you're needy,
Humble but you're greedy
And based on your body language,
And shoddy cursive I've been reading
Your style is quite selective,
though your mind is rather reckless
Well I guess it just suggests
that this is just what happiness is

Hey, what a beautiful mess this is
It's like picking up trash in dresses

Well it kind of hurts when the kind of words you write
Kind of turn themselves into knives
And don't mind my nerve you could call it fiction
But I like being submerged in your contradictions, dear
'Cause here we are, here we are

Although you were biased I love your advice
Your comebacks they're quick
And probably have to do with your insecurities
There's no shame in being crazy,
Depending on how you take these
Words that paraphrasing this relationship we're staging

And what a beautiful mess, yes it is
It's like we're picking up trash in dresses

Well it kind of hurts when the kind of words you say
Kind of turn themselves into blades
And "kind and courteous" is a life I've heard
But it's nice to say that we played in the dirt
'Cause here, here we are, here we are

What a beautiful mess this is
It's like taking a guess when the only answer is "Yes"

Through timeless words and priceless pictures
We'll fly like birds not of this earth
And tides they turn and hearts disfigure
But that's no concern when we're wounded together
And we tore our dresses and stained our shirts
But it's nice today. Oh, the wait was so worth it.

(More) On Why I'm Failing Adulthood

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sun, 09 Jun 2013 05:16:00 +0000

Further to my last entry, while there was technical dificulties happening all over with my home service provider, I wasn't actually experiencing them because my account had, in fact, been suspended. Because I have the common sense of a pre-teen and manage to forget to do grown-up things, like pay my bills or buy toilet paper.

But I feel ok about it all because I'm doing my best, and that's what really matters, right?

RIGHT, GUYS?

Dammit.

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sat, 08 Jun 2013 04:41:00 +0000

After having a mental block for god knows how long, I'm ready to write again. But natually, my home service provider is down leaving me wifi-less and I'll be damned if I'm going going to write what's happening inside my train-wreck of a mind on my fucking phone. My thumbs are too fat for that shit.

Sweet Jesus, let me hang onto this inspiration till Telus gets its shit together...

Most assuredly my shittiest post to date.

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Mon, 27 May 2013 04:14:00 +0000

This was the story of my entire weekend. And also, this:

I have been beating myself up for days trying to figure out what I want to write about. It's so hard! And being creative should't be hard work, it's just supposed to flow from your body, an expression of your soul.

I think I may be wasting my efforts on my new twitter addiction. And that's really sad, when you think about it. Or maybe I'm simply not tormented enough to be inspired. Who the fuck knows?

Hey, you ever get that thing where you feel like you could run anyone's life better than your own? I do all the time. I get so frustrated because I can see the obvious choices someone should be making but are simply too blind to see. But then I have to step back and assess whether I actually know what's best, or if I'm trying to serve myself in some way.

I wish I could run my own life as well as I run others' in my imagination.

The Dorkside: The Angry AV Club

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 23 May 2013 03:13:00 +0000

The Dorkside: The Angry AV Club: I was never very popular in school, but nor did I consider myself an outcast. I always had a close group of friends (6 max), and even though...

I adored this mans tweets, and I'm digging his blog now, too!

The oddest thing just happened.

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 17 May 2013 01:17:00 +0000

But I'll start at the beginning.

I came home today, a wreck. The feeble foothold I had on a happier me was utterly crushed. There was, of course, no one to blame but myself, but that doesn't matter. What matters is that over the past few days, the triggers I had tucked away inside where I couldn't register them came trickling out and started to get me down. And today the straw that would inevitably brake me was placed gently on my back and shattered me completely. It hurt so much.

It sounds weird, but in my mind's eye, I could see the pain. Hunched in the middle of my torso there was black mass eating its way through me. What I started doing at that point couldn't even be described as crying. It was more like hyperventilating - not unfamiliar to me, but it was something that hadn't happened in a very long time. The pain grew so intense, I just didn't want to be living any more. I didn't want to kill myself or anything - I just didn't want to have existed in the first place. I started thinking back to my old methods of coping and thought maybe the pain could be eased (or at the very least, I could be distracted) by branding myself, as it had in my youth. Or better yet, maybe there was a way to dig this darkness out.

But I never got that far because, as I sat shaking with my head in my hands, something simply... snapped. Yes, snapping, that's what it felt like, or as though a switch had been flicked. Abruptly, the image of my agony disappeared and a stillness settled over my body. And I sat for what seemed like ages, staring a speck on a wall as I tried to process what was happening, before it registered: I was empty. There was no pain, there was no self-loathing, there was no sense of hopelessness.

I felt nothing.

I sat there for a while, insulating my precarious self with this this blissful nothingness wondering if I should be grateful that my mind took matters into its own hands and simply shut itself down before I did something stupid. Or should I start feeling concerned that what had actually happened was me legitimately loosing my mind? And furthermore, do I care?

I think for now I'll float in this emptiness until I'm capable deciding on any of the above.

My name is...

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 16 May 2013 13:23:00 +0000

so old.

I just learned that Homer wrote the Iliad, where my mum found my name "Kassandra", over 3,500 years ago. It's neat to be part of that kind of legacy.

I think I broke something.

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 14 May 2013 06:02:00 +0000

I don't know what the fuck is going on any more. That fleeting period of contentment has flown the coop, and I'm left feeling like something just crumbled inside. It's different than just sadness or anger. It's despair, complete and all-encompassing, that's settled on my shoulders and wrapped its self around me, squeezing tight. Or rather, it's like a riptide trying to pull me under. For the longest time, I resisted it, I refused to cave. And then, just like that, what strength I had seemed to snap and everything I was holding back came washing over me. I've been swallowed whole by it, and I feel like I'm drowning.

Can I tell you something? It's sick, but just listen: Despite all the brief moments of true happiness I've had over the last year, even knowing that I wasn't where I was supposed to be, I'd give anything to go back to being blissfully unaware. I would take being simply content rather than this despondency.

...When did I become such a pussy??

The Human Condition

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Mon, 13 May 2013 04:44:00 +0000

"Life is an infectious disease. You catch it from your parents and spread it to your kids. It can't be cured, only managed."

- Karen Star

It's a grim view of things, that's for sure. The optimist inside wants to believe that it's nonsense but the realist knows that it's often the truth. For all the charming and admirable qualities humans possess, a lot of them have an incredible knack of fucking things up for themselves.

For every revelation I have, I seem to make a decision that takes me backwards. Every time I'm hit with some truth, some key I can use to better myself, I flout it and blatantly make what can only be described as a mistake. And that's a serious statement, because I never truly believed in mistakes. I thought of them as "life lessons". Well, what good are life lessons if you turn a blind eye and never learn from them?

Truer words were never said.

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 10 May 2013 06:02:00 +0000

"I'm going to make this hair my bitch."

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 10 May 2013 05:02:00 +0000

If you're not into the frivolous chatter of a girl on the topic of hair, this post's not for you. I had a shit day and I don't feel up to delving in at the moment, so I've decided to finish this post I've had on the back burner for too long.

In my constant need for change mixed with my generation's expectation of quick fixes for everything leaves me fairly limited in my options when stagnancy settles in. In a perfect word, I could just get into a car and drive wherever I feel like, or completely overhaul my wardrobe. Unfortunately, a perfect world requires money which I, being a single woman determined to live on her own, rarely have an excess of. That's why I fuck with my hair so much.

I remember how much of a struggle it was to get my mother to let me cut my hair short - she wasn't having any of it. I begged, bargained and put chewing gum on my head to no avail. The summer before I turned 15 I went to Ontario to visit family and, because I had no parental supervision, I chopped my then elbow-length hair right off. When I got home with hair cut just below my chin, my mother nearly fainted and I experienced my first rush of transformation. I never looked back.

With the help of the Internet, I've taken to experimenting on myself over the last year - mainly because of the Big "Bad" Breakup. D used to love my hair, provided it stuck to his idea of pretty. Mid-length, strait, and dark. So when we split, I developed a compulsion to succumb to whatever fleeting fancy I had and fuck with my hair. I let it grow like mad. I learned how to cut my own hair and gave myself blunt bangs. I tried my hand (with no great success) at the ombré trend and then hid away my hair drier and hot tools to embrace my natural curly(ish) texture.

Most recently, just to see what would happen, I've gotten on the "no 'poo" train and given up using shampoo... Don't judge! I know it sounds gross, but that's just because when I say I stopped shampooing my hair, you thought I meant I stopped washing it. Not so. Although it's been over 5 weeks since the last time a drop of chemical laden shampoo has touched my head, I still wash my locks quite frequently, usually with baking soda and apple cider vinegar. A surprisingly successful endeavor, all things considered.

I think the reason that I feel the need to keep finding new things to do with my hair is a matter of control. Sometimes, it feels like there's so little I have a handle on it drives me bonkers. I can seem to find balance, I struggle constantly with money, I have zero luck romantically... it feels nice to be able to make a swift and significant change to any aspect of my life at this point. I think to myself "I may not be able to get a grip on the rest of this train-wreck I call life, but goddammit, I'm going to make this hair my bitch."

Refreshing, really.

"We can still be friends..."

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 07 May 2013 01:42:00 +0000

... is like saying "The dog died, but we can still keep it."

I really should have foreseen this.

I finally caved and texted the ex. I had found some of his crap in my storage room months ago but never bothered to return it. I think I was trying to be 100% positive that talking to him wouldn't evoke any negative emotions. I said something generic along lines of "Hey, how's things? I found some stuff I don't want lying around my apartment - can I mail it to your work?" As soon as I hit send, I was overwhelmed with a pulse-racing, stomach-roiling anxiety attack. Like I was scared of something but couldn't figure out why... When he said "sure, you need the address?", I should have said yep and left it at that. But, as we have established, I am a masochist (or just an idiot) and responded with "Or if you feel like catching up, I don't mind meeting up with you..." which led to instant facepalm.

I was feeling really stupid until he unloaded a gem of a text, turning my whole day around.

"I'm not sure," he said, "I'll have to ask Ally if it's ok."

It was so perfectly what I needed to hear, I almost couldn't believe it. Here I am, free as a bird doing whatever the fuck I want whenever the fuck I want, and my ex tells me he needs to ask his woman's permission to meet up for coffee. It was beautiful, and guys.... it only got better from there.

See, one of the most annoying yet slightly endearing traits this poor boy possesses is rather a dull wit. Well, that's putting it mildly. He's actually kind of an idiot (see below for the best example of all time)* which means it's ridiculously easy to make scathing remarks without him realizing. This has the dual benefit of getting your point across in the bitchiest way possible while being amused at how little he understands. This is how the conversation went, verbatim:

K: Or if you feel like catching up, I don't mind meeting you somewhere.

D: As for meeting up. I'm not sure. I'll have to ask Ally if it's ok.

K: You have to ask permission to see people? Save yourself the bother. I"ll just mail your shit over.

D: It's not that Ally. What kind of stuff do you have that you wanna send me

K: I know what you meant, I just thought it was funny/ironic, is all. It's mostly photos from your trip home and some other stuff I don't want taking up space.

D: Right on, you can mail it for sure. What are you up to these days?

K: Work and social activity, writing and traveling. All the things I didn't get to do much of when we were together. Best be careful, though - this may be a little too much like catching up :)

D: Lol

Then we got into how happy we both are. I mean, yes I am happy and I said so, but this guy was just over-the-top about how he's SO HAPPY, EXTREMELY HAPPY, THE HAPPIEST HE'S EVER BEEN. He's gotten his shit together and it's all thanks to Ally. She's amazing, she's perfect, she's everything he ever wanted, and they're engaged. Yes, engaged. Allow me to do the math for you: In September, D came to me begging me to give us one more chance, to please take him back. So that means that he met some one and proposed within seven months of meeting her. To which I responded:

K: Lol, nice - didn't waste any time with this one, eh? She already knocked up or something? :P I'm happy you're finally getting what you always wanted. I'm exactly where I want to be, too. Can you imagine if I had taken you back? Urgh, it would be terrible!

D: She truly is amazing. She's everything I can imagine and more. No she isn't knocked up, lol. She's the one for me.... It's nice to hear you're doing good, as well. I can't imagine it either. It'd prolly be pretty bad, lol.

K:Well, all you ever wanted was a biddable wife no matter what the personality, and she was willing to get married to you after 6 months or less, so she must be perfect for you, lol.

Anyways, after having made some plans to chat and exchange goods, he texted me like the coward he is to cancel. He tells me he's really happy and he doesn't want to mar it with our troubled past. At this point, I'm fairly certain that it is, in fact, Ally texting me as D does not have the capacity to verbalize emotions.

K: Listen, if you're still having issues with the breakup, that's on you. I buried the hatched long ago and have now tried to do what you said you wanted - to be amicable. I extended the hand of friendship, but it looks as though you'll never change. And I'm sorry for you.

D:There's no hard feelings. But also no point in becoming friends when the friendship was gone so long ago. I'm happy that you've found happiness as well (Yeah, she's totally talking on his behalf)

K: Fair enough. I'll google your work address and send you your things (selling the diamond ring tho, hope you don't mind, lol). May you have a blissful shotgun wedding, and I'll see you (hopefully) never. Bye:)

Yes. And yes.

*Ok, and now for the funny little anecdote about how dumb this guy was. One day, while driving to meet some people for dinner, D and I got into some playful banter - as couples do, you know. After a few exchanges, I said "Yeah? Well, your face looks like feces!" The remark was greeted by silence and so I felt I had to ask: "You do know what feces is... right?"

"I'm not stupid, K," he said, evidently exasperated. "I know what a dead baby is."

Guys, I almost died that day.

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 07 May 2013 00:27:00 +0000

So I was half-way through (what I thought was) a hilarious post before some douche-bag came along and ruined everybody's fun.

Thanks, ass hole.

I'll try again tomorrow, I guess.

Shrunken Body Syndrome

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 01 May 2013 06:14:00 +0000

You ever get that strange feeling like you're too big for your body? It doesn't matter how you stretch or contort, you're just too vast to be contained in this shell. And I'm not talking metaphorically, I mean you physically can't stand the discomfort. It happens to me every now and again, which only adds to my building frustration. It always dissipates for one reason or another - sometimes all it takes a career change or move, a fling or a trip. More often than not, I'll just settle back into routine and simply forget that anything happened.

I don't know, maybe I am crazy. But I do know that this feeling isn't linked to depression; it isn't marked by the usual hopelessness. All I can do while I search for a solution is try not to explode... god knows it won't be pretty if I do.

One of "those" days

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Mon, 29 Apr 2013 12:01:00 +0000

This morning, I was having a bit of a confab with an old friend. I don't know how we got to this, but we started recounting awkward memories.

"Oh, man - you remember when you biffed it outside of Swig's in from of every one? That was so fucking funny!" Said this old friend. And my first instinct, for virtually no reason, was to counter with "Not as funny as how bad you're bombing life right now."

This is a clear indication that I should probably stay in bed today, because I've been awake for about 20 minutes and I already know it's going to be "one of those days". But my need to pay bills outweighs my desire to spare humanity my bitchiness.

Never Mind the Battle of the Sexes.

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sun, 28 Apr 2013 01:29:00 +0000

We need to address the Battle of Body vs Mind.

I'll start by saying that, even though I haven't brought it up here yet, I'm very passionate about sex. It's one of my favorite topics to discuss because it's a universal exercise and yet uniquely experienced by each individual. While I'm not necessarily all about the recounting of my own experiences, I enjoy getting a feel for how others perceive sex. I like delving into the nature of peoples kinks and fetishes to get different insights on their personalities. And I like to think I'm fairly well-versed on the subject (though there will always be more to learn). But there is one aspect of this matter that eludes me: The ongoing conflict between human sexuality and the ego.

I always thought that things were supposed to become clearer as we got older. Life would endow us with experiences and a richer understanding of the way the world works. I was, evidently, laboring under a delusion because as I get older, things get more and more confusing. And nothing baffles me more than the clash of the body and the mind.

Separated and picked apart, the two aspects that make up a human are perfect. On the one hand you have your ego, what makes you "you". All of your memories, education, emotions and personality traits combined to create a complex and unique consciousness - the part of you that loves. Your morals and values along with your preferences and plans dictate the choices you make in love and relationships. And while it may not always be rational, you have a certain level control over your "ethereal self".

On the other hand you have this equally complex collection of cells, one that governs itself - your body. Every aspect of this body correlates to another in order to form a vehicle that happens to be ideal for going about your day-to-day life on the physical plane. Keeping your vital organs working, realizing when you need to refuel and recharge, healing itself after injury or illness... It's nothing short of miraculous that the atoms of this form are held together in divine perfection. But don't be fooled. Just about every function of your being is working towards a single goal: Procreation. Even if you don't want kids, everything about sex, from hormones to orgasms, is designed to make you reproduce.

Looking at it from the outside, common sense would tell you that to put this higher consciousness inside a body of base needs could result in chaos. There's as much potential for anguish as there is for euphoria. You might have a love of your life, a match for your soul, and the sex will make you feel complete in every way. But your body could compromise everything when it sees a another body it feels unconsciously compelled to make a baby with. Your significant other could become mad with jealousy and make your life hell when you're caught eyeing up a particularly attractive person. You might have told yourself to have some dignity and stop sleeping around, but the warm-and-fuzzies brought on by a desirable new acquaintance coax you into one more tryst that will leave you feeling shameful.

And yet here we are, two aspects of a divided being, fighting for the upper hand. And judging by the number of times I've had my ego wrecked because I couldn't keep my pants on, I'd say my body's winning this battle.

At least the Universe has a sense of humor.

Wrong Side of the Bed

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 25 Apr 2013 13:58:00 +0000

The insomnia is starting to have a reverse effect on my emotional state. Whereas before, I was too tired to feel anything, now I'm going slightly insane.

It's actually quite astonishing to me that my mind, having only been awake for two and a half minutes, has the capability to go over every shitty detail of my life at light speed and render me immobilized. I knew this new-found positivity was precarious at best (at worst, an illusion) yet I am surprised that I'm having a nervous breakdown right now. I'm trying to hang on to that high of last night and focus only on what's going well - and there is lots to be happy about - but my brain has a mind of its own.

It goes like this:

Oh great, I'm "awake".
Have fun working on three hours sleep again, self.
Fuck me, I forgot about my job. Way to be over-worked and under-paid.
Now I have to get there and smile so I have the semblance of being a pleasant human being.
... even though the office is filled with people I would happily push into traffic.
After that ordeal, I get to come home and have a nice evening of solitude in my shoebox apartment.
I can then reflect on the joys of being single.
I've been over this: just quit the job and get the fuck out of this city for a while.
No, can't do that because I have to be respectful of my friends and think of my future.
Fuck it then, just hide in bed.

Once I've come full circle, I have two choices: I could have a temper tantrum, but since throwing shit and stomping my feet is unbecoming of an adult, I give into the overwhelming urge to give zero fucks.

This Evening II (is Mercury in retrograde, or something?)

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 25 Apr 2013 06:36:00 +0000

Holy fuck, y'all. ~~What is it about our loved ones that drive us bat-shit crazy?~~ Scratch that, I know exactly what it is:

The first bit is that miscommunication is sometimes unavoidable. As friends or family members, you tend to be on the same wavelength most of the time; that's the reason you get on so well and when communication is fully functional, everything is good. But sometimes there's a disconnect that is, in my opinion, one of the most frustrating things in the world to deal with. In your own mind, you're making perfect sense - why, then, is this person who knows you so well having such a hard time understanding what it is you're trying to get across? It feels a little something like this:

- "I care about you a great deal so I feel like I should tell you that some of the choices you've made concern me. Have you ever considered looking at things from another point of view in order to spare yourself grief?"

- "Totally - I've been meaning to make significant changes to my day-to-day routine so I can live life to the max. "

- "... and that sounds great! But what I was trying to say was that-"

- "Yeah, like hitting the gym more often and getting ripped. Hey, did you know butterflies taste with their feet?"

- "What. The. Fuck?"

You have to come to terms with the fact that you can't make someone understand what's going on in your brain, even though every nerve in your body is resisting the urge to physically force yourself inside of their head and beat your point into it.

Bit two is that you cannot escape your loved ones easily. What I mean by that is this: if you, for example, start a philosophical conversation with a stranger wearing a sandwich board proclaiming the end is nigh and he starts screaming that Jesus in a spaceship is coming to save us all so you better repent, you can simply walk away. Because that person is clearly insane and poses a possible threat to your safety, no one would fault you for hightailing it the fuck out of there.

But your loved ones are entwined in your life. They're in it for the long haul. Because you love them for all their endearing traits as well as their faults, you can't bring yourself to say "Nope, not gonna deal with your crazy ass any more" and walk off into the sunset. You have have to grin and bear it, and pray that the new day will bring better perspective.

It's enough to drive any one banana-sandwich, if you ask me. I'm both baffled and impressed that our species has managed to survive each other, let alone flourish over the years.

This Evening I (I'm in motion!)

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 25 Apr 2013 04:35:00 +0000

To be perfectly honest, I didn't expect the apathy to last long, but it did do the trick. The build-up of crappy situations and the effects they were bound to have one way or another have surfaced and I will simply have to deal with them. But it's all irrelevant because I have a light at the end of my tunnel, a shining beacon pushing me on. I have a force of will and prize to set my eyes on...

Shambhala

For years, this music festival has called to me like a siren song, and for all sorts of reasons I was never able to answer it. The congregation of like-minded people gathered together to get creative and have fun seems like precisely the place I need to be. Imagine it: five days of earth living, music, dancing, fellowship, love, beauty and, above all, liberation.

Maybe I am desperate for something big to happen, but I feel like this would be a life-changing experience for me, one that cannot come too soon and one that I am unwilling to pass up on another year.

My mission (though in essence simple and in practice will likely be a challenge) is to beat my battle with finances and get my ass to Shambhala.

Basics:

$310.00 - Ticket

$80.00 - Early Admission

Depending on number of cohorts:

$100-300 - Campsite

$100 - Gas

$150 - Food & Water

So I'll need roughly $950.00, and at least $400.00 in the next 6 weeks in order to obtain tickets.

Holy fuck, I feel such a rush. I'm finally moving!

Brain, what are you doing?

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 24 Apr 2013 21:54:00 +0000

I thought we had deal: you were going to remain oblivious to all outside stressors in order for me to maintain what sanity I have left. You dropped the ball, Brain, and I am not impressed. I need you to be on your game so we can get through this shit together. I'm counting on you, ok?

You think we can do this? Good! Hands in: 1 - 2 - 3 - GO TEAM ME!

*cue inspirational music and movie montage of Brain and me winning at Life together*

Dear My Brain,

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 24 Apr 2013 04:40:00 +0000

Further to my earlier post, written at the utterly insane hour of 3:30 am, I'd like to give a big shout-out to you, my sleep deprived homey, for taking initiative and getting started on that emotional shut-down today:

In all seriousness, Brain, things could have turned extremely sour if I had had the mental faculties to process stressors today. I feel confident that with another night free of slumber, we can persevere through the impending shit show to come. I would like to express my deepest gratitude to you for allowing to me to see the day through with no physical or spiritual harm done. Your hard-won apathy has brought us to 9,308 murder-free days - let's hope for 9,308 more!

Love,

~Me

Welcome Back, Insomnia!

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 23 Apr 2013 10:30:00 +0000

I've gone and screwed things up for myself again. Will I ever learn? The answer, of course, is a resounding "Nope, probably not."

The hard-sought happiness I've been building over the last few weeks is swiftly crumbling. Or was it only an illusion in the first place? I don't know, but it feels like everything I was scared of happening is threatening to happen. I'm throwing every tool I have at the impending funk in the hopes of negating it before it happens, but I worry it may not be enough. Maybe my brain is addled by the lack of sleep, but it's telling me that complete shutdown is in order - at least until the threat is over.

I would seriously consider committing crimes if it meant I could sleep again.

Dick.