Most of you have probably been beside yourselves wondering where I have been for the past few months. But not worry, contrary to popular belief, I did not actually cease to exist just because I wasn’t posting anything online.
On July 22, I found out I was pregnant and spent the next few months sicker than a dog who ate roadkill that baked in the sun for two weeks. Looking at my computer screen or my phone screen could have me praying to the porcelain god within seconds. And I was just in general really miserable and not feeling very sharey.
Also, there was a part of me that was unsure if I was comfortable talking about this part of my life with people I don’t actually know. But after sending a text message to my step-mother today that said, “I could probably work a second job in the amount of time it takes me to poop these days.” I realized I was robbing you guys of some quality* stuff.
So, for better or worse, I am back to posting every inane thought that pops into my head. Mostly because the text to my step-mom got advice instead of a laugh. Bitch.
*In this case, I am taking creative liberty with the meaning of quality. Extreme creative liberty.
We all know catchphrases that just make us batshit crazy when we hear them. There are those phrases like “Get ‘er done” or anything ending in “izzle” that makes any non-mouthbreather’s skin crawl. But there are also those sayings and platitudes that flip a person’s internal bitch switch faster than a fat kid can eat an ill-gotten Twinkie.
I once got grounded for agreeing with my mother by saying “no joke.” I knew a guy who would go on a five minute tirade about how same things can’t be different every time he heard someone say “same difference.” I had a teacher who didn’t allow us to say something “sucked” so we got around it by saying a particular something “inhaled deeply through a straw.” I am sorry to say I was the one who came up with that particular gem. And I’m sorrier still for sharing that story with strangers.
Anyway, the point is, we all hear seemingly innocuous catchphrases, sayings, and clichés that make us want to smack the speaker in the mouth (with a ball-peen hammer) for being dismissive, idiotic, or just plain rude. The following are a few of those small-talk filler statements that tempt me to test the legal flexibility of justifiable homicide.
#5 “You Look like You’re Sick/Tired.”
People who say this insensitive sentence to other human beings should be sexually assaulted by a rabid gorilla so they can see, first-hand, what tired and unwell really looks like. Oh sure, you meant it to sound as though you’re concerned for my well-being, but what you actually said was, “Whoa. Did somebody beat the shit out of you with the ugly stick this morning? And then perhaps drag you behind their car for a country mile? I only ask because I care. And because you look like something David Lynch might have nightmares about.”
I’m not trying to say someone who appears to be under the weather or overly tired should be ignored. I’m just saying if they are already obviously not at their best, kicking them when they’re down is probably not the best way to show how much you care. A simple “How are you today?” works just fine. People, in general, love to talk about themselves, especially when in need of sympathy. It takes very little prompting for most people to blather on incessantly about how they got sick from the snot-nosed barista at Starbucks who sneezed in their mocha latte, or how they weren’t able to sleep the night before due to some disturbing fears about gorilla rape. There is no need for such a direct and rude observation. Most people can’t wait to complain about how they feel anyway.
#4 “You’re So Skinny You Make Me Sick.”
Before you decide this is me gloating by using this phrase as an example of horrible things people say regularly with no thought as to what they are actually communicating, just hear me out. “You are so skinny you make me sick” is not the polite commentary people pretend it is.
It’s probably the most back-handed compliment I’ve ever heard. It is passive aggressive and mean-spirited. It’s said to build someone up and knock them down at the same time. It allows the speaker to say something cruel, guilt-free, by covering it in a cheap layer of nice. You might as well just say “I can’t stomach the sight of you, but that’s a lovely blouse.” There is no difference.
By using this phrase, you’ve just told me something about my physical appearance causes your gag reflex to go into panic mode. If you don’t believe me, change the adjective. Does “You’re so fat you make me sick.” seem like the right thing to say to someone you don’t want punching you in the face? It’s horrible to claim disgust over anyone’s physical attributes, whether these are desired characteristics or not. But it is worse that people actually need this to be explained to them.
#3 “This Will Only Hurt a Little.”
Horseshit. I believe that little lie told by every doctor on the planet (it’s probably taught on the first day of med school, right after they learn how to make a speculum frostbite cold) is the foundation behind so many people’s fear of the doctor. We know it’s a lie when you tell us, and if we can’t trust our doctor to be honest with us, who can we trust? Patients should be able to file and win a malpractice lawsuit against any doctor who says it.
Why don’t you just tell us the truth, Doc? Something like “Everyone’s pain threshold is different. So this might hurt like the fire of 1,000 suns, or it may be like your wedding night and you won’t feel a thing. Possible somewhere in the middle.” Or just tell us you don’t fucking know. Tell us to shut up and stop crying like a baby in a two-day-old diaper. At least you’re being honest with us. That honesty won’t change the pain level, but thinking about what a dick you are might serve as a small distraction.
#2 “I’ll be There in Just a Sec.”
Yeah, no you won’t. Not unless you have harnessed the power of teleportation, or you are already right next to me and I’m an oblivious fucking moron who doesn’t notice people standing beside me.
This is such a bullshit throwaway phrase that positively everyone seems to use. It’s completely meaningless, and it gives the impression that you don’t really care about the person waiting on you. If that’s not the case, then uttering this statement of dismissal is probably not the best use of your words. Be at your destination when you say you’re going to be there, and if that’s not possible, have the maturity to give an actual time frame for your arrival.
If you are the kind of person who expects everyone else to do things according to your timetable, then swap that nonsense phrase for “I’ll be there when I get there.” This way, you won’t continue to be a dismissive liar, and people will no longer curse you for the irresponsible shitbag you actually are. They’ll just curse you for the asshole you also are.
#1 “I’m So Wasted.”
Ummm…no fucking duh. I do not actually need you to inform me of your sobriety level. I can pretty well guess it since this sentence is being slurred at me while you look between your legs at me, from the floor, because you fell off your barstool onto your head. Also, the way you provocatively danced with the aforementioned barstool, until you were asked to stop because “Applebee’s is a family place,” was also a bit of a tip off.
I feel it also behooves me to mention, the part where you asked everyone you saw, and some people more than once, if they wanted to help you build a human pyramid in the bathroom, was kind of a giveaway. And if that hadn’t already clued me in, I would have been convinced of your intoxication when you were sobbing into your margarita, completely inconsolable, and thirty seconds later you were pumping your fist to “Sweet Caroline” like you hadn’t just drunk dialed your ex-boyfriend.
There’s no need for a play-by-play of your liver damage. I know you’re drunk. EVERYONE knows you’re drunk. By the way, I think that family you “gifted” with lap dances may press charges.
On average, how much would you say you sleep? Have you ever really thought about it? If you suffer from chronic insomnia like Travis Besecker, you have.
On your sleepless nights, what keeps you awake? Worries about money, or how you could have handled a previous interaction better? Is it ever a fear of infinity, and the vast nothingness that surrounds us and looks down from the night sky? If you suffer from apeirophobia like Travis Besecker, it is.
Besecker’s new novel, Lost in Infinity is a chronicle of his life-long battle with insomnia and the ugly, and often times, dangerous side effects that can occur due to extreme sleep deprivation. He tells his story of pain, frustration, and fear of the unknown. His tale is sad, funny, extremely moving, and also, at times, deeply unsettling. Besecker is a person that almost everyone can relate to, in one way or another, which makes his story all the more powerful.
Lost in Infinity follows Travis Besecker on a sometimes sporadic timeline from early childhood to the present as he deals with his inability to “sleep like a normal kid,” and his boundless fear. Besecker’s journey takes us to him as a small boy, sitting in the visiting area of a mental institution reminiscent of One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest, and to the night more than 20 years in the future, when he slams his car into a guardrail after falling asleep at the wheel. He tells of his well-meaning parents who tried to help a child they loved but didn’t understand. He explains his constant need to be involved in numerous projects and his fight to succeed at everything he does as an attempt to silence the Shadow Man.
I received and read Lost in Infinity in the same day. That was in part due to the fact that I had agreed to write this review when I was finished with the novel; I don’t like to keep people waiting. But mostly, it was due to the fact that I absolutely couldn’t put the book down.
I don’t want to give away the story of Besecker’s trials but I will give my reaction to it:
My arms were covered in goose bumps for the duration of the first two chapters, a feeling I described as finding Besecker “eerily relatable.” There were so many ways in which I felt a kinship to this person I was reading about. My mind raced with every passing page and my heart pounded with emotion. There was more than one moment where I wanted to hug this scared and frustrated little boy. Two-thirds of the way into Besecker’s work, I realized there were probably 20 different ways his story could end, and no matter what path the novel took, I knew it would be the right one. I don’t think I have ever been so confident of a novel’s genuine goodness since I began reading them at age 7. Lost in Infinity is a book that I will be returning to for another read many, many more times to come.
I’m Exhausting but I’m Fairly Pretty-w4m 31
Hi, I’m looking for a man that can meet a few minor qualifications.
These are some guidelines as to what I will be looking for in my next mate. Please be aware that they can change or be added to without notice and you will be expected to comply at all times.
I can’t wait to hear from you!
My dad just seriously asked me if I had “accepted Jesus as my personal savior,” and if I hadn’t, he would be more than happy to say that prayer with me when I was ready…
No punchline. THAT ACTUALLY JUST HAPPENED. Seriously. Just now. I just…I…I don’t even know.
If you want a cigarette and you know it
Stab a dude
If you want a cigarette and you know it
Punch a kid
If you want a cigarette and you know it
Then your rage will surely show it
If you want a cigarette and you know it
Slap a friend
ONE MORE TIME…
It seems that bursting into uncontrollable tears in front of your parents is a really good way to get emergency rushed to the nearest Nicorette dealer. And I got a chocolate bar for promising not to punch any strangers!
I start every morning with somewhere between one and twenty cups of coffee. I also enjoy somewhere between 5 and 15 cigarettes with said coffee. I think I liked this swill better when its flavor had an ashtray undertone.
After 17 years of smoking, I have decided to quit cold turkey. Because I am a little more than 24 hours into this experiment and perfectly willing to go to death row as long as I am allowed to murder fucking EVERYONE, I thought perhaps documenting my struggles might be cathartic. And a lot less electric chair-y.
A little background that might help anyone reading this understand some of the things I am, and will continue to go through, is knowing that I have Borderline Personality Disorder. What is that?, you might ask. To which I would reply: Look it up, you lazy fucks. Seriously, I would recommend actually reading about it if you don’t know what it is, but I will give you the highlights that apply to me.
Like I said, these are just the highlights of the disorder and the things I struggle with the most. There are a lot of other facets to BPD that I struggle with, but these are the key areas where I have the most problems that lead to bigger ones.
Now you are probably wondering what in the filthy fuck any of this has to do with me and the nicotine-stained monkey on my back. It actually has everything to do with quitting smoking. I can already tell that I will not be able to deal with this in the way a “normal” person would. The fact that I just started therapy for my disorder a few weeks ago and am already putting the added stress of dealing with my almost two-decade dependence on smoking is, in all honesty, idiotic. But I decided to do it, and for once, I am going to follow through with something I said I am going to do. (Follow-through is also a real hot-button issue with me. And possibly, over-using hyphens as well.) At times, it will be hard for me to discern whether or not my reactions to a situation are actually valid or if they are due to nicotine deprivation.
Because I am depriving my body of something it has completely become dependent on as a means to cope with every stressful situation that arises, to the point that not being able to smoke creates it’s own stressful situation, this could get ugly. But I am hoping, through writing about it, it will become that much easier for me to deal with.
So for the next…well, however long it takes me to get past all of this, my blog will be devoted to the trials and tribulations of getting to the other side of addiction in my own fucked up way. Hopefully it will make you laugh, sometimes it may make you cry, it’ll probably regularly make you concerned for my sanity, but in the end, I think I will come out on the other side okay because I will have this format to deal with my craziness.
Please feel free to comment or ask questions about anything I say. One thing I have learned is, talking about it really does help. And I’m not really a basket full of crazy, I just have some very strong feelings sometimes, and it will only get worse for a while, but I need a place to release them without making everyone else around me run for the hills. And I don’t really know any of you people anyway so who gives a fuck. Am I right?!
Just for honesty’s sake, I decided to quit yesterday on a whim. There was no plan or thought, I just did it. That was not smart. So about 10 minutes ago, I actually had my last cigarette. And let me tell you, I savored that fucker. Hadn’t had one in 26 hours and it almost made me pass out. It was truly amazing. But I really want to do this, so I hope you all can bear with me while I spend some time blathering on about how much this all sucks and all the crazy shit that goes on in my head while I go through this. One thing I have learned so far is, in my own head, I am as mean as a fucking snake. I am hoping I can keep that locked down to my blog and keep from sending out a Mt. Vesuvius-like burst of rage at the people I deal with on a daily basis. I will be catty, I will be a whiner, and sometimes I will probably be a downright cunt. But with any luck, I will also be amusing enough to keep you guys around for moral support. Oh, and I’ll also be a non-smoker.