Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Just Wow

So last night I stayed up at least an hour and a half later than I should have so I could finish reading The Evolution of Ethan Poe by Robin Reardon. Today I am stupid tired, but it was TOTALLY WORTH IT. Observe:

"Bats are special to you, right?"
"They're supposed to be my power animal."
He nods. "I wondered if you knew that. Who told you?"
"Heidi. Etta's friend."
"Friend?" His voice gives the word an odd inflection I can't interpret. And then he says, "Heidi Wolcott. Of course."
I don't know what this means, either. "Yeah. She's into, you know, energy, and power animals, that sort of thing. But what's the bat got to do with this?"
Shane's laugh is friendly, gentle. "Ethan, your power animal has to do with everything. But that's another topic. I was just trying to find out if you'd heard about the concept. Because the dog is a power animal, too. And the powers it brings have to do with healing emotional wounds, and with unconditional love." He takes a sip of coffee. "I'm going to say that last bit again, because I want it to sink in." He pauses and makes sure my eyes are on his. "Unconditional love. Do you have any concept of what that is?"
It's a term I've heard before, sure, but any deep meaning isn't all that clear to me. "I guess not really."
"It means there is no condition, no situation whatsoever in which that love would go away. There is nothing you could do to lose it. There's nothing you can do to get it, either; it comes to you or it doesn't. And you are one lucky son of a bitch. You had it in that dog. And the fact that that particular dog could just as easily have ripped your throat out is huge. So you were given unconditional love from an animal with healing powers who could have had you for breakfast. Most people never get it anywhere. You were damn lucky to have it, but that makes the loss just about the worst thing in the universe."
He shrugs. "Lots of parents think they give it to their kids, and I'm sure many of them come damn close. Still . . ." He shakes his head and sips again, and in the silence I hear my mother's words: Can't say I'd be happy about it. And I can't even imagine what my dad would say if I told him I'm gay.
I fill my mouth with bitter coffee and swallow hard. "I sure as hell don't get it from Max."
"Oh, you'll never get it from a lover."
This stuns me. "Why not?"
His empty mug makes a loud thud on the wooden table. "You're not giving it to him, either. All he has to do is not sit with you on the bus and you don't love him as much. And when he expresses confusion over why Two's death is so hurtful for you, instead of telling him why, you fly into a rage because he doesn't know you well enough. Lovers make lots of demands on each other. That makes it conditional. And that's the opposite of unconditional love."


". . . love spends so much time between sweetness and pain that sometimes they feel like the same thing."

So, yeah, thoroughly enjoyed. More later. Still digesting.

Friday, November 4, 2011


My name is Ryan Timothy Bish. I am exactly twenty-four years and one month old. This is some of the stuff I've learned in that time:

1. "The truth is important, but so are your friends. And if you can have them both, then it's a good life." - Harriet M. Welsch

2. I am a lot smarter than anybody gives me credit for (which, in all fairness, is already a lot).

3. My dad died in a really nasty car accident -- over and over and over into a ditch, miles and miles and miles away from anywhere near home -- when I was seven, AND THAT WAS NOT MY FAULT.
     Okay, it wasn't my fault. If that sounds like just a big "duh," you've probably never dealt with depression. To which I can only say, fucking congratulations.

4. Spelling is important.

5. "Fall down seven times, get up eight." - Marco the Animorph
      He got that from a fortune cookie.

6. Here's the thing to remember about high school: Unless you are either unusually pathetic or unusually lucky (or, you know, Buffy and Xander and Willow, who were unusually pathetic and unusually lucky -- oh yeah, and I suppose they were also, um, fictional characters), you and your best friends are inevitably going to start drifting apart within two and a half years of graduation.
      College is another story.

7. Life is a lot less scary if you have a sister.

8. Never go anywhere without your camera.

9. Give yourself a pat on the back, and not just for "the big things."

10. Lying is wrong.
      But people do it.

11. Listen to your instincts.

12. If your boyfriend is able to look you in the eye and say, in full-on Serious Face, "I wish I had Ke$ha's life," that's probably a sign that THIS IS NOT GOING TO END WELL.

13. Forgiving is easy. Forgetting is hard freaking work.

14. Once upon a time, I flat-out saw the future -- or, rather, felt it (refer to Lesson #11). Despite taking three pictures to try and get myself to see what I was feeling, I didn't put the pieces together in a way that made sense (or, rather, didn't -- seeing the future doesn't make sense) until fourteen months later.
     So . . . that happened. Believe it or not, but I got the better deal. I learned things and I took notes and I am stronger now. The other guy? Not so much.

15. Real friends tell you the things you don't want to hear.

16. Subtlety is for other people.

17. Sleep is important, but it's not that important.

18. "Fall in love whenever you can." - Alice Hoffman

19. If you "just can't stand the thought of" gay sex, don't have gay sex.
      Why is this so difficult for some people?

20. Winter is awesome. I like being cold because it reminds me that I'll get warm again later. (And yes, I adapted that from Granny Weatherwax's opinion on rain.)

21. Escalators are stupid when you think about it. "Man, the stairs could be so much more convenient if we didn't have to freakin' walk." BITCH, PLEASE.

22. Almost everything is hilarious.

23. Writing is hard. But worth it.

24. "You are not consumed by the darkness because you are full of light." - Robin McKinley
      Interpret that as you will.

Monday, October 17, 2011

"You'll Think of Something"

Harriet the Spy, by Louise Fitzhugh, is my favorite book of all time.

I've loved it for so long now that I can barely remember a time when I didn't love it -- although that's crap, because I perfectly remember the summer when my cousins and I (who were all staying with our grandparents) were so psyched to see the first Nickelodeon movie.

(That's right. I found out about my favorite book of all time because Nickelodeon turned it into a movie.

Shut up, okay? I was eight. And I went to a church-school where I had a lot of "Jesus fiction" thrown at me. And the local librarians were not all that friendly. And I was painfully shy. And it had barely been a year since Dad died.

So I was somewhat sheltered.

Anyway, the movie is excellent even though the Robinsons aren't in it.)

Honestly, I don't remember precisely how old I was the first time I read the book. What I do remember is that, at 297 pages, it actually seemed long. (I was mostly reading Animorphs and The Hardy Boys, which tended to weigh in at a max of 150.) Since that first time, I have read it at least once a year.

When I was in third grade, I took the VHS to class and we all loved it. For a hot minute, everyone in Mrs. Judson's class had a composition book full of notes about each other. After a while, we were all forbidden to bring our notebooks to school unless we wrote nothing but nice things (this was a very wise decision on her part, since she had seen the movie) -- so I, the trendsetter, started leaving my notebook at home and racing to fill it at the end of every day. Not that I was full of not-nice things to say about my classmates, but I was determined to write the truth, since I had seen the movie.

I was twenty when I accidentally found out that the author, who died in 1974, was sort of well-known among the lesbian community of the day. Which, it being the seventies, was not a particularly well-known community.

It's not nearly my favorite of all time, but one movie I like rather a lot (somewhat in spite of myself) is Definitely, Maybe. A scene that stands out is the one where April explains why she loves Jane Eyre (which I have never read) so much, and that she rereads it every year because "every time it's different; it teaches me new things." For me, Harriet the Spy is exactly the same way.

Probably the most annoying thing about Depression is that, for longer than I'd care to admit, I stopped reading. Being a lifelong bookworm, this made me feel rather out of sorts. Once I did start to deal with things and feel like myself again, I was eager to get back into books. Naturally, this one was my first choice.

Okay. I'm not really sure what my point is. I had a dream about the book and the movie last night, but it wasn't very clear (my dream also included The Incredibles 2 -- which could have been called Violet to the Rescue! -- and Ponies and boys and boys with Ponies and guacamole and fingerless gloves).

I guess what I'm getting at is this one scene in the movie that's always resonated with me. It does not appear in the book, because in the book Ole Golly just sends Harriet a letter (at her parents' request; personally, I don't think Harriet put two and two together until years later), which . . . isn't all that interesting to watch . . . so, in the movie, she physically comes back for a visit and they have a chat and she says (note: this isn't quite verbatim),

"You're an individual, and that scares people."

Harriet, bless her, wants to know, "So what am I supposed to do?"

"You stay true to Harriet and accept the cost."

Ole Golly then admonishes that Harriet is eleven, so it's time for her to start writing something other than notes.

"Like what?"

"You'll think of something."

So . . . that was my point, I guess. Kind of.

Also, in case you missed it, I just stumbled upon the answer to every social quirk that's been getting on my nerves lately: I'm an individual, and that scares people.

"People" can suck it. I'm AWESOME.

Thursday, October 13, 2011

So I Read The Hunger Games

NOTE: This post is going to be 100% spoiler-free!


I've been interested in this trilogy for a while, so I was pretty hyped when I got book one from the library. When I actually read it, though, I really only started out of boredom.

Several hours later, I finished it. (Seriously, it's that difficult to put down.)

I thought, Now I feel bored out of my mind again.

I thought, I should've got all three books from the library at the same time. Really could've planned that a little better.

The next day, I went to the library's website and requested books two and three. They each had about fifty requests ahead of mine, but I figured that maybe, just maybe, all of those people were tearing through them as quickly as I had torn through the first.

The day after that, neither list had gotten any smaller, and both books had been requested by at least four more people after me.

"Alright," I said, "this is why Amazon exists."

So I had the entire trilogy delivered to my mailbox for about $30.00.

Honestly, I'm still kind of in shock. It's been less than twenty-four hours since I finished the final book (which, like the first, I read cover to cover almost without stopping).

First off, I can't believe this series is marketed to children. I mean, okay, the main character is "only" sixteen years old, but the story is set in a post-apocalyptic world where twenty-four children -- twelve boys and twelve girls -- aged twelve to eighteen are selected at random to be thrown into an arena. Where they fight to the death. On TV. The goriest bits of the "Games" are mandatory viewing. Our hero volunteers -- not because she has any desire to be killed or any desire to kill, but to take the place of her younger sister, the one person in the whole world who she's sure that she loves.

In the arena, as I said, the kids kill each other. They snap each other's necks and throw spears into each other's stomachs and shoot each other with arrows.

Clearly, this is the sort of fare kids should be reading.

I don't know, though. I mean, I'm not saying NO kids anywhere should ever read any of the books -- I'm living proof of the fact that, when parents do forbid their kids to read a certain series, that just makes the kids want to read that certain series even more -- I'm just saying that they are aimed at middle-schoolers. The oldest of whom are two years younger than Katniss. Who is plagued by nightmares even before she enters the Games. Because Panem, which used to be North America, is a police state and things are THAT bad. (Note: Katniss is one of the most badass characters in the entire series, and she still has nightmares.)

I'm just saying, if you're thinking of giving the books to your son/daughter/grandson/granddaughter/niece/nephew/godchild for the holidays because you know for a fact that he or she likes books, you should REALLY do a little research before wrapping them (you might even want to read them yourself) and ask yourself if the kid in question can handle them.

(I was reminded a lot of Animorphs, actually -- which, interestingly, was also published by Scholastic -- although I have to say that The Hunger Games are even worse, since the war that the characters find themselves caught up in is not against aliens. It's chilling because it could actually happen.)

The names are quite fun. If you know a bit more about etymology and/or ancient Rome than I do, you'll no doubt be amused. For example, the Capitol slaves who can't talk because they've had their tongues ripped out? They're called "Avox."

There is a love triangle, because of course there's a love triangle (actually, now that I think of it, that might have something to do with why Scholastic chose to market the books as "children's" literature). Now, normally, love triangles piss me off by default -- my reaction is usually something along the lines of YOU STUPID BITCH YOU HAVE TWO HOT GUYS WHO ARE BOTH COMPLETELY IN LOVE WITH YOU AND YOU CAN'T JUST SHUT UP AND PICK ONE?! UGH I HOPE YOU GET EATEN BY PANTHERS OR SOMETHING -- but this one was actually very intriguing. Also, it was resolved the way I hoped it would be.

Even though Josh Hutcherson (swoon) is playing Peeta, I'm not sure if I'll be seeing the movie. I mean, I'm sure it'll be amazing, but . . . the books really are so violent -- the second is worse than the first, and the third is worse than the second -- that there's no way the movie can possibly get any rating lighter than PG-13 purely for violence and disturbing images (and possibly even gore). Which, you know, is good because it means they're staying true to the source material, but my point is that, while I enjoyed the story and wanted to see it through to the end, I was simultaneously seriously disturbed (see above, re: children killing each other on national TV). And that was bad enough to read about, you know? I'm quite a fan of action and violence and girls with axes and all that, but . . . humans killing other humans? Yeah, that tends to make me a bit squeamish.

That said, I haven't been reading any interviews in-depth or anything, but even from the little that I have absorbed, it sounds like everyone involved in the movie is going to be amazing. Particularly Jennifer Lawrence as Katniss.

I won't go into too much detail because it's painful for me to talk about, but the books are set in a world where most people are starving and it's not uncommon to grow up and live and die without ever having enough food. So I kind of felt guilty about going to the grocery store.

There was one more point I wanted to make, but it escapes me now. Maybe it'll come to me in the middle of the night.

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

"A Friend is Someone Who Knows Your Secrets and Loves You Anyway"

So I finally wrote Jeremy another letter (it's only been a little more than a week since the last time, but trust me - it felt longer).

I feel better than I've felt since Friday.

Monday, October 10, 2011

Sunday, October 2, 2011

"He Lives in You"

Every single year (except for last year, which I think we can all agree was just a little bit weird -- although, at the time, it seemed to be weird in a good way), I write my dad a letter for my birthday.

It makes sense in my head, okay?

This year, for the first time in a good long while, the bittersweet exercise is going to be quite a bit less "bitter" and quite a lot more "sweet."

I have this image in my head of him giving me an empty box with a note that says:

Hey, Bud --

24, wow. That makes your mom and me pretty much decrepit! Please be sure to find her a nursing home with a decent cafeteria when the time comes, probably tomorrow.

I couldn't decide what to get you (nothing seemed just right), so I figured I'd just remind you of something yet again because, even though you've finally figured it out, I know it's something you still need to hear occasionally:


I hope it fits.

-- Dad

P.S. Enjoy the empty box, sucker!

That's my dad.

I love him.

Monday, September 26, 2011

Something to Think About

"I believe that everything happens for a reason. People change so that you can learn to let go, things go wrong so that you can appreciate them when they're right, you believe less so you eventually learn to trust no one but yourself, and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together."


P.S. I'll be 24 a week from tomorrow.

Saturday, September 24, 2011

So Today I Went to the Funeral

Someone sang a mash-up of "Over the Rainbow" and "What a Wonderful World."

I cried like the little girl I am.

We got food afterward and that was nice.

I need a nap.

Friday, September 23, 2011

This is Getting Old

I've had the same dream every night for the past ten (?) days. It's not the only dream I've had, but I keep having it.

Every. Single. Night.

It involves fighting for my life. The person trying to kill me used to be one of my best friends, but hasn't been capable of saying a single nice thing about me for almost a month (Calvin was on to something when he said, "I wish I had more friends, but people are such jerks"). She (or he - we don't need to delve into specifics) is commanding a small army of zombies, who are also trying to kill me.

I don't have any weapons.

But I'm still me, so I fight.

I kill all the zombies (because, in my dreams, I always have insane fighting skills), and then it comes down to a showdown between me and my former friend.

My former friend has a weapon and knows how to use it.

Fine, I think. This sucks and I really wish you had a clue what forgiveness really means . . . but, if this is where we are, then fine. So be it. Me or you. If that's the choice you're forcing me to make, guess what? I pick me.

And then I wake up.

Interpret that as you will.

Note: I'm almost positive that my former friend isn't a necromancer in real life.

Thursday, September 22, 2011

Think of Something Profound and Pretend I Said It

I've been sitting here for half an hour trying to figure out where to start.

So far, I still haven't come up with anything brilliant.

There are two things going on this weekend -- one of them is more or less the best thing that ever could've happened right now, the other is . . . not.

Obviously, I'm not going to tell you anything about the first thing except that it's still sort of up in the air and I really hope it does happen and that's why I'm not going to tell you anything else about it. (Wow, that was possibly the most redundant thing I've ever said. You know, because I've never said anything else that was so redundant before saying that thing. Sorry.)

The second thing is a funeral.

We didn't know each other well at all, but she's been more of a mom to me than my actual mom since early 2010. Comedy was the reason we met, and she never thought I'd have even the slightest bit of trouble taking it as far as I wanted to. She told me on more than one occasion that I was her favorite comic and she couldn't wait to watch me on TV someday. That wasn't a sure thing, obviously -- did I ever really want to pursue comedy as a way to make a living?* -- but now she never will.

It was cancer, if you're wondering. She had been battling it for months. She lost.

I can't believe she's dead. Logically, of course, that's total bullshit -- she had been battling cancer for months; if anything, I should be saying I can't believe she lasted as long as she did -- but logic can blow me. I always figured it was a given that she would kick its ass in the end. Her body was failing, but her spirit was unbreakable. You know?

I have no idea how I'm going to make it through the funeral (even though I'm going with a friend who was even closer to her than me). I've always hated them, and this one packs more of a punch than any I've been to since Dad's.** That being said, I feel like I'm going to make it through okay. Well, okay-ish. I'm still doing an exemplary job of taking care of myself emotionally, and I have plenty of distractions to take my mind off of it.

So, yeah. It sucks, and I really wish it hadn't happened, but I'll make it through.

Just in case, though, I'm going to have just a bit of alcohol.

As usual, I'm reminded of a Buffy quote. For a bit of a change, this one's from Anya, and it's not funny at all:

"But I don't understand! I don't understand how this all happens. How we go through this. I mean, I knew her, and then she's . . . there's just a body, and I don't understand why she just can't get back in it and not be dead anymore. It's stupid. It's mortal and stupid. And, and Xander's crying and not talking, and, and I was having fruit punch, and I thought, well, Joyce will never have any more fruit punch . . . ever, and she'll never have eggs, or yawn, or brush her hair, not ever, and no one will explain to me why."

*Still not sure about that one, but I have been itching to get onstage again sometime soon. We'll see if that happens. No, actually, not IF. When.

**Both of my mom's parents died when I was in high school, but they had pretty much been on their way since before I started kindergarten.

Monday, September 19, 2011

Yeah, I Know it's a Virtue

Hey, you know what sucks almost as much as depression?


P.S. I feel compelled to write something more substantial, buuuut I'm operating on that perfect mix of too much caffeine and not enough sleep, soooo I'm having many too many thoughts to sit still (mentally) long enough to string a sentence together. Seriously, that sentence had at least two things wrong with it.

OH, AND ALSO - Unless you absolutely hate either reading or fantasy, go read Fablehaven. Like right now.

EDIT: So, uh, yeah. Patience really pays off! (Go figure.)

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

An Actual Update (. . . ish)

Oy vey, this is like pulling teeth.

Believe it or not, but I'm really not all that keen to talk about myself lately. When I do feel like it, I either a) actually talk about myself in person or b) write a letter and send it to my friend Jeremy. He's a godsend, and not just because he introduced me to Kiki, the big sister I never wanted (but God must've known I needed). Also, my new apartment doesn't have Internet (yet?). Which is just as well, since I'm pretty sick of the Internet lately. I mean, sure, it's super useful, but I just have this overwhelming sense that I could be doing other things with my time.

. . . So, if you're wondering why I've been so quiet, the answer is somewhere between those three things.

Alright. Bullet points. Let's just get this over with.

* Finally transferred. Thank the Lord.

* I still think about . . . something I'm really not supposed to be thinking about anymore . . . kind of an awful lot. But worry not! I always always always have the presence of mind to tell myself, "We don't have time for this. This is just Depression talking. He's not even being creative anymore. Oh, and also? He's not allowed to talk to us anymore! What did we do with that axe?"

* Fablehaven is seriously addictive. Three more books until I'm done.

* My Asian Friend is not going to visit for my birthday. I'm trying very hard not to be mad at her about this.

* I'm having really strange dreams almost every night. I don't remember them after I wake up, but I'm fairly certain they're not nightmares.

* I'm getting sort of obsessed with being as skinny as possible. This may or may not be cause for concern. We don't really need to talk about how much (or how little) I'm eating at the moment.

* Speaking of eating, I'm already planning my birthday dinner. Me, four of my best friends in the world, and wine. It's gonna be a good time.

* I've been writing a lot of stuff that I don't feel compelled to share with anybody. But the process of writing still feels great, you know?

* I'd really like to talk to my dad about something. So maybe I will. Even though he can't respond, it would at least be mildly cathartic to-- oh, never mind.

* Absolutely everyone who knows exactly what I'm up to (I know, I know, could this be any more vague?) is excited for me and firmly emphatically believes that I'm doing the right thing. And I know I am -- arguably not the right thing in general, but definitely the right thing for me -- but it really seems like I'm sett-- oh, never mind. Sorry.

* "People want to know the future, but life would never be perfect if that could happen."
- Vicki Grove, The Starplace
   She's right, of course. I can see the future (all the g.d. time) (frankly, it's starting to become a nuisance), but I can't see WHEN, and it's sort of driving me crazy.

* Is it too hot to be wearing a shirt, or am I just that attractive?

Sunday, September 11, 2011

Why I'm Loving Fablehaven

"The magic inside you is dazzling. By comparison, he is like a faint star next to the noonday sun."
"I don't know how to use it," Kendra said.
"Don't ask me," the fairy said. "You're the gifted luminary our Queen chose to honor. I can't show you how to unlock your magic any more than you can teach me how to use mine."
-- from the second book in the series, Rise of the Evening Star by Brandon Mull

Friday, September 9, 2011

The Scariest Things There Are - Part 1

"You are not consumed by the darkness because you are full of light."
- Robin McKinley

I wake up covered in sweat that burns like ice, and everything is dark.
   Dark? No, that doesn't quite cover it. This is beyond the dark you'd get at midnight on the winter solstice, during a thunderstorm with no lightning, or in the middle of an abandoned cemetery on a starless night. This is more than a simple matter of lights and shadows and rods and corneas. This is a dark you can feel.
   You can even taste it.
   Naturally, my first reaction to something so strange and so foreboding is to get out of bed and go for a run.
   So that's what I do.

There's a certain something about running at night that I can't really describe, but it's nothing short of magical. Sure, it's just as exhausting as it is during the day, but . . . I don't know. The night air is colder, crisper, and I can breathe it in and out easier. I am faster and I am stronger than ever when I can't see where I'm going.
   It makes no sense, but who ever heard of magic making sense?

After running and running and running through the forest for who knows how long (this is surely much farther than any of my usual paths, but the thought of stopping hasn't even begun to occur to me), I trip over nothing and skin both knees.
   My glasses go flying as I fall, because of course my glasses go flying. On a night like this, it's a wonder that they haven't already gone flying (not to put too fine a point on it, but I am sweating an awful lot). For a few moments, I madly scramble about, trying to find them by feel . . .
   . . . until it hits me: What's the point? I can't see a thing anyway, not a blessed thing. Besides, I keep a spare pair at home for precisely this purpose. If I can even find my way home tonight.
   Well, golly.
   Isn't that a pleasant thought?

Seriously, though, where in the world am I?

I crawl over to a sturdy tree and lean into it and just breathe.
   Since I left home (running, in retrospect, was a spectacularly stupid idea -- you'd think, at the very least, I might have had the sense to bring my phone), the palpable dark has increased. Tenfold.
   I begin to worry.
   In. Out. In, out, in again, out again.
   Shut up and breathe.
   Don't panic.

A minute passes, or maybe it's an hour.

Alright, enough of this.
   Calm down.
   I do have four other senses, after all. Taste is fairly useless at this juncture (all I can taste is the dark -- yes, I know how crazy that sounds), but surely the other three can at least point me in the direction of----
   Hey! Direction! I can just turn around and go home!
   . . . No, I can't. I have no idea where I am and no idea how I got here and no idea where home is. I don't even know how much time has passed since I fell. Plus, I'm tired. I'm so very tired.
   (You know, it's weird. Before I fell, I was perfectly content with having no idea where I was or where I was going. I knew I couldn't see anything even when it was right in front of me, but that didn't seem like such a big deal.)
   Okay, focus. Touch, smell, listen. You can figure this out.

   I don't hear anything other than my own anxious heartbeat.
   Or, rather, I don't hear anything other than my own anxious heartbeat until I think, I don't hear anything other than my own anxious heartbeat. The realization inexplicably perks up my ears, and I hear . . .
   . . . a spooky owl,
   . . . wind rushing through the trees,
   . . . something chuckling in the distance, which is surely just my imagination, and
   . . .
     . . .
       . . . somebody somewhere (everywhere? nowhere?) trying to get my attention.
   Who the hell was that?

Thursday, September 8, 2011

An Update (Except Not)

"I'm still alive
That much is true
I've never lied
Well, I guess I've told a few"

- Relient K,
"Softer to Me"

. . . Yeah, I'm not really sure what else to say. I'll try to share more of an actual update on Saturday. I would do it tomorrow, but I'm pretty much gonna be tied up all day. Not in a kinky way.


Saturday, September 3, 2011

Logic or Something Like It

Yesterday I had a really annoying thought.

I have this friend who is (usually, mostly) a really good person.

He's a terrible liar. Even when he tries to put effort into it (which is rare), the truth is always written all over his face.

If you think about it, this only makes sense. Good person, bad liar. 'Cause lying is bad, right? Transitive property or what-have-you.

I, on the other hand, am a really good liar.

Does this make me a bad person? (If good person = bad liar, then good liar = bad person. Right?)

Or am I just too much of a storyteller?


Oh, hey, here's something else to consider: Maybe he's not even that bad at lying. Maybe I'm just that perceptive.

I guess I have a lot to think about.


All I wanna do right now is get some Mexican food.

Friday, September 2, 2011


I always feel weird about writing godawful poetry (note: I rarely write poetry that is not godawful) and sharing it with someone. On the one hand, things must be bleak if I'm writing poetry, godawful or otherwise. Then again, things must not be too terribly horribly no good very bad if I'm able to deal with them by taking a second to write poetry, godawful or otherwise.

Last night I did five hundred pushups and one hundred situps. That sounds like a lot, but they were all pretty much necessary. I had another panic attack. Or almost had one. For more than two hours. I don't know exactly what happened, but it sucked out loud. After the twenty-fifth pushup, it stopped sucking or doing anything else because all I could feel was my body.
And then I took a hot bath. Incidentally, exercise and hot baths go together really well, as long as you make sure to do them in that order.

"I think I had a point, but I just got distracted."

I'm going to have some sort of Shopping Emergency in the next two and a half weeks. But don't worry, I'm already planning how to deal with it.

My allergies have been kicking my ass since Sunday night.

The moral of the story is that Depression is a jerk and I'm tired of fighting him. I wish I could just be normal.

I Swear I'm Not Schizophrenic or Anything

In one second,
I am having one thousand ideas
That's a thousand different voices in my poor little head
Shouting over each other and through each other
When they could easily wait their turn

A thousand different voices
Are they all me?
Are they all even real?

Never mind, I know who to listen to

Tuesday, August 30, 2011


A little less than two weeks ago, I had a bad day that I didn't want to talk about.

The way I saw it then, there were six things I needed to do ASAP.

Let's see how I've been doing, shall we?

1. Move.
Literally in the process right now. The cool thing is, I'll be moving to the neighborhood I've had my heart set on for more than two years.

2. Transfer.
My first day at my new store is September 12th - that's right, a mere two weeks from now. Again, the cool thing is, I've had my heart set on this store for more than two years. Not gonna lie, I'm pretty effin' proud of myself.

3. Start hanging out with my friends a thousand times more regularly than I do at the moment.
Yup. Go me.

4. Read without ceasing.
"Without ceasing" is perhaps a bit of a stretch, but I am definitely pulling out of my initial post-therapy book slump.

5. Take pictures. (I may or may not take a photography class just for fun.)
Ahem. I still haven't done any research about the just-for-fun class, but check this out:

[Note to self: Really? You're gonna make everybody copy and paste? Geez. You need to get a lot more familiar with Blogspot STAT.]

6. Buy some crayons!
I still think this is a wonderful idea, it's just not a priority at the moment.


The cool thing? This the third time a straight girl has given me a Pony since I got out of therapy. This time is super-special, 'cause I received her as a housewarming gift.
Seriously, I am so effing excited. I've got so many amazingly awesome things coming my way in the next couple of months (and the next couple of years) (and the rest of my life). September is going to rock out loud.

Friday, August 26, 2011

The Only Picture I've Taken in Almost a Week

I Have No Memory of Writing This

[Writing stuff like this was a big part of how I managed to get through therapy.]

1. It wasn't my fault.

2. I'm a little bit psychic.
       2a. Which is nice, since I no longer feel any sort of pressing need to prove it when I'm right about something and someone else, well, doesn't see it that way.

3. One simple conversation is going to change my life drastically. For the better, although it will probably hurt at the time.

4. Pain is part of life, and it's perfectly natural . . . but love is stronger: The love I feel for others, the love others feel for me, and the love I feel for myself.

5. Yes, I said the love I feel for myself. Because, dammit, I am awesome. I've spent way too much time (sixteen years) not believing that; to quote Relient K, though, "to go back to where I was would just be wrong."

[At the top of the page, I had written REINS RINSE RESIN RISEN SIREN -- they're all spelled with the same letters arranged in different ways!]

Thursday, August 25, 2011

Something Profound and My Reaction

Something Profound 

Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by
the things you didn't do than by the ones you did.

My Reaction

". . . Hunh."

"Just, uh, OH MY GOD."


"Okay, I know what to do."

"I am so screwed."

"But it's gonna be okay,
even if I don't get what I want." 

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

This Deserves Its Own Post

"When you're alive, people can hurt you. It's easier to crawl into a bone cage or a snowdrift of confusion. It's easier to lock everybody out.
"But it's a lie."
- Laurie Halse Anderson, WINTERGIRLS

Good Months and Bad Months

I've been out of therapy and back at work for a little more than two months.

When I was a freshman in high school (circa 2003), my English teacher had the walls of her classroom covered with "cute" posters. The only one I remember had a picture of Garfield - who, as we all know, is famous for hating Mondays, isn't that just hilarious? - underneath the words, "I HAVE MY GOOD DAYS AND MY BAD WEEKS."

I hated it. (And not just because Garfield has always gotten on my nerves.)

I hate it even more now, because I think it's kind of true.

Sort of.

Despite being introduced to the perfect new roommate and finding the perfect apartment in the perfect location and finally getting approval to transfer to my dream store and successfully confronting my manager at my current store about some stuff that was getting on my nerves (note: she actually thanked me for this), I, Ryan Timothy Bish, have had one "bad day" after another lately. My attitude is great (okay . . . mostly great), my friends are so supportive that it's honestly sort of suffocating sometimes (friends, if you're reading this, PLEASE DO NOT STOP. I promise I will keep demanding that you respect my boundaries and letting you know when I need "me time," so please continue suffocating me. I need you all more than ever right now. Recovery sucks almost as much as depression), things with Mom are as good as they reasonably could be, I have four Laurie Halse Anderson books waiting for me at the library . . . and yet, I am tired all the time (even right after I wake up from a decent night's sleep). And it's not a "being awesome is exhausting" sort of tired, believe me - it's an "I don't give a fuck about anything because I just want to sleep forever because I don't give a fuck about anything; holy cows, is it still Tuesday?" sort of tired.

Which I have not felt since I was still in therapy.

Anyway. The other day, I had a thought: Maybe, while you're still "in recovery" (ugh) (how long does that last, anyway?) (forever?) (longer than forever?) (one day less than forever?) (more or less than six months?), you should stop thinking in terms of "good days" and "bad days." Maybe it would be more - not helpful, exactly, but saying efficient or productive would make you sound like a tool, and I can't think of any other synonyms that aren't pure psychobabble - to start thinking of "good months" and "bad months." After all, last months was pretty much pure awesome from start to finish. This month? Not so much!

Then again, maybe it would be an even better idea to stop thinking in such general terms at all, and just be thankful for the good moments. If you happen to have so many of those that they add up to a good day, well, good for you. If you go through a week or three and you can only remember a tiny handful of good moments, well, oh fucking well. Have some more good moments the next week, or the week after that. Or not.

Either way, don't beat yourself up about anything. Remember, recovery is not easy. It is, in fact, the hardest thing you've ever done. It's so hard that it makes things that seemed like a big deal when you did them (doing stand-up for the first time even though Sho couldn't make it even though she had been the one to push you to do it so soon; coming out to Cara; deciding to ignore how scared you were and just say "yes") feel easy - no, not just easy. It makes them feel mundane. Anybody could do them. Also, when you did them, you were still not doing anything about Depression, so all the hugs and all the kudos to you, bitch!

. . . All of which has been a very, very, very roundabout way of saying that I am just not feeling it today, you guys. I am in a serious funk.

Also! The second I sat down to write this entry, it occurred to me that I have always (?) said, "August is a bad month when bad things happen."

It's nice to know how right I was.


Alright, alright, here's something slightly more upbeat, taken from a conversation I had with my friend/older-sister-from-another-mister Kiki on Google+ about an hour ago: "The important thing, though, is that I love you and I love myself. Compared to that, [everything else is] meaningless."

Thursday, August 18, 2011

Today is . . .

. . . the worst day I've had since the day I tried to kill myself.

We could talk about it, but I'd rather just forget it and move on.

That sounds like a bunch of avoidy crap (because it is), but seriously, here's what I need to do:

1. Move.

2. Transfer.

3. Start hanging out with my friends a thousand times more regularly than I do at the moment.

4. Read without ceasing.

5. Take pictures. (I may or may not take a photography class just for fun.)

6. Buy some crayons!

The thing is, there are only two things on this list that are not already in the process of happening.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Ryan's Rules to Live By

[Note: These are, specifically, Ryan's rules to live by -- if you're anyone else, your results may and probably will vary.]

1. Just because you can see the future doesn't mean anyone else can (even if it is bloody obvious). This is okay. Take a deep breath and let things play out.

2. Just because you can see the future doesn't mean it has to happen. Even if it is the most wonderful thing ever imagined by anyone. That being said, "Don't stop believin'."

3. When in doubt, wear black.

4. Depression only has as much power as you give him.
   4b. Whenever he does start hissing in your general direction, smash him with a really big rock. Every time he starts hissing in your general direction for the rest of your life. You can do it.

5. Ponies make (almost) everything better.

6. SETBACKS HAPPEN. They make you feel worthless and that sucks out loud, but they are a totally natural, completely normal part of recovery.
   Recovery, by the way, is not an easy thing.

7. If patience was easy (refer to Rule 1 and Rule 2), anybody could do it.

8. Never go anywhere without your camera.

9. Knowing what you want and trying to get it is not a bad thing . . . but you do not have to turn into a total dick -- also, turning into a total dick will usually get you the exact opposite of what you want. Duh.

10. When someone gives you a compliment, whether you think you deserve it or not, just smile and say thank you. Particularly if the "someone" in question happens to be a total stranger.

11. You're stronger than you think.

12. Giving or receiving, forgiveness feels good.

13. Your mom is just one person. There are countless people in your life (not to mention all the people you haven't met yet) who either flat-out don't care or love you more because you're gay.
   13a. There are lots of people in the world who think like your mom does, but they are greatly outnumbered by people who . . . know better. It gets better. The future's going to be awesome, because we are all making it that way now.

14. Yes, okay, you screwed up. Big time. That doesn't mean you can't make amends (YOU'VE ALREADY BEEN FORGIVEN, AFTER ALL). That does mean you've learned things since then, and you'll never make the same mistake ever again.
   You're really truly awesome now (finally), and all of your friends are damn lucky to have you in their lives.

15. Depression thinks you're fat.
   This is a great reason to do an inordinate amount of situps and pushups just because it's a day that ends with "y."
   This is a horrible reason to avoid food for days at a time.

16. Try not to take yourself (or anyone else) too seriously.

17. Life is too short to ever be anything but happy.
   You're happier than ever, and good for you -- it was not easy -- but there are a few "simple" ways you could be so happy that people's brains start melting (or, um, something like that). Go get 'em.

18. Listen to your instincts. They're almost always right about everything.

19. Dare to hope.

Monday, August 15, 2011

Spiffy Philosophy

. . . Which reminds me of two quotes from WINTERGIRLS:

"When you're alive, people can hurt you. It's easier to crawl into a bone cage or a snowdrift of confusion. It's easier to lock everybody out.
"But it's a lie."

"The nasty voices are always on call, eager to pull me back down


but I do not let them."

I Didn't Even Ask Her to Say This

"I'm glad [someone] is noticing a change in you. I think everyone is, really. How couldn't they? You're amazing, and all... chipper when you talk. It's weird, but awesomely amazing, or amazingly awesome. Or some other crazy combination of those words and possibly others."
- Leslie Zimmerman

Sunday, August 14, 2011

Magic Incantations

"Adrenaline kicks in when you're starving. That's what nobody understands. Except for being hungry and cold, most of the time I feel like I can do anything. It gives me superhuman powers of smell and hearing. I can see what people are thinking, stay two steps ahead of them. I do enough homework to stay off the radar. Every night I climb thousands of steps into the sky to make me so exhausted that when I fall into bed, I don't notice Cassie.
"Then suddenly it's morning and I leap on the hamster wheel and it starts all over again."
- Laurie Halse Anderson,

NO. No no no no no! I was never this bad, but I came ever so close to beginning to get this bad. I got so good at not eating for days at a time, and weighing myself constantly, and feeling bad for wanting a veggie burger,* because Depression thinks I'm fat.

How did that even happen?

No, stupid question. Meaningless.

The important thing is that I have taught myself how to kick his ass, and I am strong enough to continue kicking his ass for the rest of my life (and maybe even teaching other people how to kick his ass -- 'cause he's a fuckface who'd kill us all if he could, slowly).

The important thing is that I, Ryan Timothy Bish, do not even recognize the person I used to be when he was in control. I am funny, I am brave, I am beautiful, I am intelligent, I am fucking fearless, I am insightful, I am the best big brother Cara or Abigail could ever hope for, I am the little brother Kiki chose as her own even though she already has one, I am confident, I am strong, I am so perceptive I can pretty much see the future, I am a stubbornly loyal friend, I am a total nerd and that is charming, I miss Dad but I'm not stuck in the past, I wish Mom acted like more of a friend but I'm not mad at her (okay . . . not constantly), I know what I want and I'm not afraid to let myself have it, I know what I want and I'm not afraid of not getting it, I read all the time, I pray even though I'm not sure who's listening and rather suspect I'm just talking to myself, I can't sing but that's not stopping me, I lost everything but I'm putting my life back together and it's the most personally enriching thing I've ever done, and he will never have any power over me ever again.

Because I won't give him any.

The power is ALL mine now, and literally anything is possible. Even if I don't actively try to make it happen, awesome stuff just can't stop happening to me.

Who knows what I'll do next?

P.S. Cassie is a ghost. If you want to know what happens to Lia (the narrator), I highly recommend picking up the book. But be careful. The author wrote it "because of the countless readers who wrote and talked to me about their struggles with eating disorders, cutting, and feeling lost." She did a supremely good job (although, um, OF COURSE SHE DID -- this is Laurie Halse Anderson we're talking about), so, even if reading a book about those subjects won't be a trigger for you, it is very . . . heavy. I've read it twice before; even though I know how everything is eventually going to play out, it is extremely difficult to read. Even more difficult than Speak. And that's saying something.

*Yes, I seriously have a "food journal" from November of 2009 where I regularly got mad at myself for wanting and then having a veggie burger. With soy cheese. I wish I were making this up as a really sick joke. But not so much.
I still have it, by the way. No one is allowed to read it, but I keep it to remind myself just how much Depression had encroached his way into every facet of my life -- and to remind myself of just how far I've come.

Friday, August 12, 2011

Just So You Know

I've been kind of quiet for the past few days -- not because I've stopped fighting, but because everything has been so so SO VERY AWESOME that I honestly have no idea where to even start talking about any of it!

I still don't have any idea where to even start, so I'm just gonna go ahead and own the fact that I may never get around to it. Which I'm okay with, because the truth of the matter is that everything is going to be awesome and I'm going to keep fighting to make everything awesome for quite a good long while . . . so, really, there's no need to tell anybody every little awesome thing that happens to me. Particularly not when every single day is so full of so many awesome things, you know?

That being said, there are more than a couple of things I do want to get around to sometime soon, such as:

* Frequently Asked Questions

* The Thing About My Mother

* Happy Tears I Have Cried Lately

* Did therapy truly "change" me that dramatically, or was I always this confident and just really good at hiding it before?

* Exactly What I Want for My Birthday

* "If you want to do something impossible, stop telling yourself that it's impossible." I've done more than one impossible thing in the past six weeks.

* My Instincts Are Almost Always Right -- About EVERYTHING

* IndyFringe and the Fun That Was Had There

* Quotes from Buffy that aptly sum up how (and why) to fight Depression . . .

. . . such as . . .

"There's only one thing on this Earth more powerful than Evil, and that's us."


More later.


Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Taking Pictures is Therapeutic

Lions and Tigers and Metaphors, Oh My

Last night it occurred to me that battling Depression is a bit like The Wizard of Oz (the movie; it's been years and years since I read any of the books): Your entire life gets uprooted by a storm that seems to come out of nowhere, so you have to go on this big long journey -- a journey full of irony and foreshadowing and other such things -- and face your worst fears, and meet all these people who either help you or harm you in some way, just to get home . . . only to discover that, in the end, you had the power to get what you wanted all along.

But you couldn't have taught yourself how to use the power if you hadn't taken the journey.

P.S. Speaking of power, here are two quotes from high school that I've recently gained a new appreciation for.

"You believed you were beautiful and so did the rest of the world." - Sarah Dessen, Keeping the Moon

"There's only one thing on this Earth more powerful than evil . . . and that's us." - Buffy Summers

Sunday, August 7, 2011

The Truth

When I was in therapy, I had a lot of anger to deal with (funny how it and depression go together so horribly well) . . . most of which I could not express directly, since confronting my mom is a lot like punching a brick wall (except even more infuriating: if you punch a brick wall, you at least get some bloody knuckles to, you know, show for it) and my dad is dead.

Speaking of my dad being dead, I really believe that that has a lot to do with why I have depression in the first place. I always figured it was my fault that he died. Mom went out of her way to assure me and my sister that it was absolutely not in any way our fault, because she really is a good parent and a fairly stable, capable, competent person in general -- but, you know, depression is a twisted little thing. Even when you've got every possible person silently yelling at you that things are one way, you can very easily convince yourself that they are actually another way. You can very easily believe a lie, no matter how stupid it is.

For sixteen years, if you're me.

Anyway. One (enormously hugely helpful) thing I was able to do to express my anger was write down whatever was pissing me off or making me sad and then BURN IT. Of course, being the anal-retentive dork that I am, I had to first copy it onto my laptop "just in case."

Which is funny, 'cause now I'm glad I did.

This is from June 7th:

It wasn't my fault.
    It wasn't anybody's fault. (If somebody must be blamed -- which is not the case -- it might be a good idea to ask why the fuck he was driving without a seatbelt, or why he took his eyes off the road!)
    It just happened.
    If it hadn't happened that day in that way, it would've happened another way, probably within a week.
    It wasn't my fault that I spent so long thinking it was my fault. The important thing is that I'm learning how to let it go now.
    It wasn't my fault.
    It wasn't my fault it wasn't my fault it wasn't my fault.
    I was just a little kid then, a harmless little stupid innocent seven-year-old human kid.
    Dad was my hero, and it sucks that he died so horribly, but death and grief are parts of life. They are both totally normal and completely natural.
    Dad died too soon, and that was terrible -- but that does not mean that everyone I love is going to die or abandon me sooner or later. I do not need to push them away to protect my heart from breaking.
    In fact, I deserve to be fucking ecstatic at least once a day, EVERY SINGLE DAY. And also make someone else fucking ecstatic. Once a day, EVERY SINGLE DAY. For the rest of my life.
Holy fuck. Realizing this after all these years feels so good. On every possible level.

Saturday, August 6, 2011

Sweet & Short

[NOTE: This turned out just a bit longer than I originally planned. Heh.]

You know . . .

I am really, really, really, really, REALLY glad that I didn't kill myself in April. It seemed like a really great idea at the time (and so easy), but some tiny little indomitable part of me -- the only part that was still Ryan at this point -- wouldn't stand for it. He/I yelled "FUCK THIS FOOLISHNESS!" -- which, in retrospect, was the first time I ever punched Depression (even though I didn't teach myself to think of him as someone I could fight until late June) in his stupid face, and I'm so glad.

I just said that, didn't I? Oh well.

My point is that I am slowly -- seriously, s-l-o-w-l-y -- earning my life back, and it feels so amazing. Everything feels amazing. Even when I'm tired (which is a lot of the time, since I work too much) or pissed off (which is more than I would like, since I have to deal with stupid people quite a lot) or whatever, I am supremely grateful for every single second.

The thought that I came so close to never seeing my little sisters again is seriously scary -- but, at the same time, it just gives me even more inspiration to keep getting better. I want to be awesome for myself, obviously, but I also want them to be proud of me, even though I'm kind of a spaz. I'm always going to be kind of a spaz, honestly.

Also, I dunno. I have three best friends. (Actually, I have a handful -- but there are three in particular who I used to see more than anyone else.) My relationship with all three of them was just sort of spiraling out of control and I couldn't fix it and none of them had any idea how to deal with me -- DEPRESSION IS A STUPID FUCKFACE AND KICKING HIM FEELS GOOD -- and I am so goddamn proud of myself for choosing to stick around and try to fix that. (I'm doing a really great job so far, by the way.)

ALSO, I started seeing the future -- which is a good thing, 'cause when you're suicidally depressed you can't even deal with the thought of, you know, later the same day -- and it's slightly different every time, but it's always bright. I could go to culinary school. I could start writing full-time. I could pursue comedy professionally. I could take some photography classes. I could volunteer with some adult literacy program or other.

I could go to culinary school AND start writing full-time AND pursue comedy professionally AND take some photography classes AND volunteer with some adult literacy program or other.

Whatever I do, it's gonna be awesome.

Because I'm awesome!

I'm doing such a good job at this whole "choosing to be happy, choosing to make other people happy, choosing to telekinetically blow up Depression whenever he starts to whisper in my general direction" thing that, honestly, awesome stuff cannot stop happening to me.

Watch me shine, bitches.

P.S. Thanks, Dad. I love you.

Being Psychic Rocks

Some people are so transparent that it's practically obscene.

Oy Vey

I don't know if this is yet another setback or if I'm "just" feeling like crap, but HOLY COWS I FEEL LIKE CRAP TODAY THIS IS SO STUPID.

Friday, August 5, 2011


Setbacks happen. They're no fun at all, but they are a natural, normal part of recovery (which, by the way, is not an easy thing).

Sometimes they happen every single day for almost a week.

This does not, in any way, make you a total failure, or somehow magically undermine all the progress you made while you were in treatment -- which, again, was a lot. Of progress, that is. You made an extraordinary amount of progress in an extraordinarily short amount of time. That's not just your own opinion, either. People who have said something to the same effect, without being asked, include, but are not limited to, three different therapists, pretty much everyone who was in group with you, one person who left group before you did (good job staying in touch with her), two of your three best friends in the world, and the big sister who is not actually technically related to you.


You know how you've been working so hard to be fucking ecstatic every single day, and make at least one other person fucking ecstatic every single day? You know how you've been working so hard to take care of yourself? You know how you've been working so hard to be as awesome as you've finally seen yourself to be? (You know how you've been making it look easy, even though it's not?)

You know how you've been doing such a good job that awesome stuff just can't stop happening to you even when you aren't trying?

The fact that you've had such a crappy week IS NOT GOING TO CHANGE THAT.

P.S. I'm really proud of you for what you did yesterday. Pretty much everyone in the whole world sucks at expressing anger in a constructive way, but you proved that it's actually fairly easy. That was spiffy.

Wednesday, August 3, 2011


"Blogging is essentially talking to yourself with the windows open."

Even in Australia


It's rapidly getting better, but -- before one p.m., by the way -- today was so horrible that . . .

I had a goddamn cigarette. 

I can't exactly say that it really "helped," but it did last ten full minutes, after which I did feel quite a bit more peaceful.

For about half a second.

An hour later, I had another one.

We should probably talk about it, but I don't wanna.

Monday, August 1, 2011

Simple Ways Hasbro Could Be Making SO MUCH MORE MONEY

Once upon a time in the 1980s, My Little Pony (briefly) sold better than Barbie.

[NOTE: I'm not actually 100% sure if this is true, although I could swear I've read it before several times -- when I tried to find it somewhere to verify it for this post, well, it was nowhere to be found -- but it sounds likely to me, so let's nod and smile and keep going.]

Once upon a time in 2009, Hasbro clearly had no idea what to do with the franchise. You could tell, because they got it into their heads that it would actually be a good idea to just keep re-releasing the "Core Seven" over and over and over. "But hey, it's okay! We're going to focus on their personalities! That'll make it worth it to buy all seven of them over and over and over! You'll eventually stop noticing that we're not producing any Ponies other than the Core Seven! We promise!"

Once upon a time in 2010, Lauren Faust saved everything. She had quite a bit of help, obviously, but no one involved with the project would have been involved with the project if she hadn't dreamed up a magical little show called My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic.

[NOTE: Interestingly, five of the Core Seven have appeared on the show so far -- two of them as mane characters -- and they've all been vastly improved by it. Particularly Rainbow Dash, who is at least twenty percent cooler now than she was then.]

Because it is just that good, FiM has amassed a huge following of fans who are, well, not little girls.

Which means that we have much more disposable income than fans who ARE little girls.

Which is money that we would love to give to Hasbro in exchange for merchandise.

Unfortunately, Hasbro is still somewhat unsure of how to handle the franchise. A complete list of all the merchandise they've released so far, as well as some that's coming soon, can be found here:

I'm not saying that's not impressive, because it really is. I'm just saying there's so much more that they could be releasing, and they're pretty much sitting on top of a veritable gold mine right now. Just off the top of my head, here are several ways they could be making QUITE A BIT of money off of us:

Season 1 on DVD
The word "duh" seems wholly inadequate all of a sudden. Fortunately, this is apparently on its way!

Non-Brushable Figures
the Mane Six in their "action poses" from "Dragonshy"
the Mane Six wearing the Elements of Harmony
Nightmare Moon
Opalescence, Gummy, Winona, Angel, and Spike
the Mane Six as fillies
the Mane Six after they've been "cursed"
the Mane Six dressed up for the Gala
the Mane Six after going crazy (happens to Applejack in "Applebuck Season," Pinkie Pie in "Party of One," Rarity in "Suited for Success," Twilight Sparkle in "Swarm of the Century" and "Look Before You Sleep," Fluttershy in "The Best Night Ever," and Rainbow Dash in "Sonic Rainboom")
Spike as a hatchling
the Cutie Mark Crusaders (duh)
gift set: the Cutie Mark Crusaders with scooter, helmets, and wagon
every single character who has ever appeared on the show, including but not limited to: Twilight Sparkle, Rarity, Applejack, Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom, Granny Smith, Big Macintosh, Nightmare Moon, Princess Celestia, Princess Luna, Zecora, the Wonderbolts, the hydra, the manticore, the Diamond Dogs, Lyra, Bon Bon, Derpy Hooves, Ditzy Doo, Octavia, the twins, Applejack's entire family, Twilight Sparkle's parents, Mayor Mare, Philomena, Little Strong Heart, THE GREAT AND POWERFUL TRIXIE, the Ursa Minor, Snips and Snails, Prince Charming, Gilda, Mr. and Mrs. Cake, DJ PON-3, Braeburn, Rose, Daisy, Lily, parasprites, Hoity Toity, Photo Finish, the sorrowful serpent, Owlowicious, the Shadowbolts, Cheerilee, Princess Celestia's guards, Pinkie Pie's family, etc. etc. etc.
==> most of whom could be released in MULTIPLE POSES, and seriously, we'd still buy them all

Brushable Figures
Sweetie Belle
Apple Bloom
six gift packs: each of the Mane Six with their pre-Fim counterparts
Nightmare Moon
Princess Celestia -- but make her the right color this time, duh
Derpy Hooves
re-release: Rarity . . . with her hair all one color, and maybe even styled correctly
re-release: Twilight Sparkle . . . twenty percent less pink
re-release: Applejack WITH HAT
gift pack: PARTY OF ONE
gift pack: Fluttershy vs. the cockatrice
gift pack: Fluttershy vs. the dragon
gift pack: Rarity and Sweetie Belle
gift pack: Applejack, Apple Bloom, and Big Macintosh
gift pack: Rainbow Dash and Scootaloo
gift pack: Rarity vs. Applejack
gift pack: Twilight Sparkle and THE GREAT AND POWERFUL TRIXIE
gift pack: Rainbow Dash and Gilda
gift pack: the Cutie Mark Crusaders in costume
Cheerilee with eighties hair
Pinkie Pie in disguise
Pinkie Pie as a Pegasus Pony (what? I'd buy it)
Applejack with Bloomberg
and so on and so forth

Rainbow Dash's House (DUH)
Rarity's Boutique
Sugar Cube Corner
Twilight Sparkle's Library
Sweet Apple Acres
Fluttershy's House

Pinkie Pie
. . . and whoever else ya feel like

Sooo, there you have it.

I'm just saying.

Recent (Non-Pony) Pictures

The forest is so dark that I can hardly see, but I'm not afraid anymore: The scariest thing in here is ME.

Friday, July 29, 2011

"Helpful" Quotes

This morning was very special and somewhat stressful (we don't need to get into the details). To help deal with it, I thought I'd spend the last half of my walk to work thinking up quotes that were, well, helpful. This is what I came up with:

"Please let me get what I want." - The Smiths
==> Another quote by them that was suggested by my friend Kiki (who is one-third of the entire reason I have a Twitter): "You know where you came from, you know where you're going and you know where you belong."

"I hate that there's evil in the world. I hate that I was chosen to fight it." - Buffy Summers

"Make your choice. Are you ready to be strong?" - Buffy Summers

"People say I'm pretty, and I guess I'm okay. People say I'm confident, and I know that's true." - Rachel the Animorph

"Maybe you die, but you never surrender." - Marco the Animorph

ANGELUS: Take all that away, and what's left?

". . . I know you love me, baby." - Lady Gaga

"It's not too late." - Aang

"You already have all the weapons you need. Now fight." - various characters from Sucker Punch

"The truth is important, but so are your friends. And if you can have them both . . . then it's a good life." - Harriet M. Welsch

"The end will justify the pain it took to get us there." - Relient K

"The beauty of grace is that it makes life not fair." - Relient K

"You are now at the hard part of getting better. But keep your head up, kid - you got this." - my friend Emily

(Sooo I clearly need to get my ass to the library sometime soon. Even when I quoted the main character of my favorite book of all time, I lifted a line from the movie.)

I may or may not have more to say about this later, but my whole experience with Depression has made me just slightly jealous of Buffy. Sure, every demon in the world eventually comes after her and her friends, whereas I only have the one to deal with . . . but, when she kills a monster, it (almost always) stays dead.

Depression never goes away forever.

At least, not so far.

But I've only been fighting him for about two and a half months. That's somewhat less than the seventeen years he's been trying to ruin my life.

I guess, when you look at it that way, it's sort of a mixed blessing that he doesn't stay dead.

Because killing him feels good.

Some of My Favorite Pictures from Last Year: Books & Buildings

My favorite book of all time: Harriet the Spy.

Some of My Favorite Pictures from Last Year: Water & Air

Some of My Favorite Pictures from Last Year: Flowers