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