15 Rants, One Post

Image result for doctor cox
Dr. Cox, the king of rants.

1

I get that a lot of bad things happened in 2016, but this whole “Fuck 2016,” meme is getting old. (It’s been old since at least November, I think.) And really, does anyone believe 2017 is going to be any better? If you consider Trump getting elected to be horrible, do you really think you’re going to hate a Trump presidency any less? And with the baby boomer generation dying off, celebrity deaths are only going to become increasingly common. It’s sad, but so is life, so get used to it.

2

We’re at that time where bloggers are listing their favorite ____s of the year, and I keep seeing posts where people refuse to give an explanation for their choices. For example, I’ll see a post like, “My Five Favorite Books I’ve Read this Year!” and it’ll go:

  1. Book I’ve never heard of.
  2. Book I’ve never heard of.
  3. Book I’ve never heard of.
  4. Book I’ve never heard of.
  5. Book I’ve never heard of.

This list means nothing to me unless you can tell me what the books are about, or at the very least, explain why you liked it. Otherwise, this post is a giant waste of time, and you should be ashamed. 

3

I hate how my interest in politics has slowly turned me into a bitter, resentful person, so much so that I even find myself hating Bernie Sanders, who I used to love. Like, I hear in the news that Bernie’s going to “fight back,” against a Trump presidency, and I hear him saying stuff like, “the revolution is stronger than ever.” And I’m like, “fuck off, Bernie. You’ve accomplished nothing. Go back to naming post offices in your tiny little state of Vermont.” I admit this isn’t fair, but I’m so burnt out that I have no interest in being fair until at least 2018.

(Oh who I am I kidding? I’m not burnt out at all, and I will always love Bernie. May his days be long upon this earth.)

4

Also, why the hell does my candidate never win? In 2008 I wanted McCain to win, in 2012 I wanted Romney to win, (although by that point I was gradually starting to transition into the kale-eating* liberal I am today, so I wasn’t too upset), and in 2016 I wanted Bernie and when he lost I started rooting for Hillary, who cramped up just five yards from the finish line. That 0 for 4. Now what are the odds of that? I did the math and it’s one in sixteen, or 6.3%, which is outrageous. Is this punishment for that time I accidentally ran over a raccoon? I think it is.

* Just want to clarify that I’ve never actually eaten kale in my life.

5

I hate when people use the word “indescribable” to describe something. It’s the ultimate cop-out for writers who are too lazy to put together a decent description. Especially bloggers. Oh, your delicious sandwich had a taste that was indescribable, you say? Well I can’t even begin to describe how angry that sentence made me. Now excuse me while I unfollow your blog and never think of you again. 

(As you can tell, I’m in a bitter mood.)

6

Why does time fly when you’re having fun? That seems like the least convenient time for such a phenomenon to occur. Why can’t it speed up during car rides? Or when I’m at the dentist? Now that I think of it, why does it speed up at all? Time should just stay consistent, alright?

7

Why the hell does Dunkin Donuts keep putting cheese on my bacon egg croissants? I always ask for no cheese, and while the cashier always gets it right, (“no cheese” always shows up on the receipt), the guy making it rarely does. As someone who works in fast food, I must ask, why is Dunkin Donuts in particular so bad at this? Is my order so uncommon that is throws them off? Or do they just not like me because I seem like the type of person who’d bash them on my blog? The world may never know.

8

I’m gonna call bullshit on the idea that if McDonalds’ had to pay their employees fifteen bucks an hour, they’d just replace most of their workers with robots. If they could do that, they’d have done it a long time ago. Twenty years from now, this might be a legitimate concern, and even then, I doubt it; people would boycott the store, the robots would be malfunctioning constantly, and all it takes is one murderous robot rampage to stop the whole thing in its tracks. Trust me, this isn’t going to be an issue.

9

Speaking of McDonalds’, creepy guys everywhere should know that the girl at the drive-thru window does not want to give you her phone number. Just take your food, say thank you, and drive away like a normal person.

10

I loved The Catcher in the Rye, but I find it unnerving when people praise Holden as a rebel; as someone who calls people out on their “phoniness.” This was what I was told about Holden, and after reading the book, I found myself wondering just how the hell anyone got that impression. For one thing, Holden’s an idiot, (that stuck out to me from page one) and his criticisms of other people are almost always shallow and hypocritical. Holden is whiny, stupid and spoiled, but the beauty of the book is that you empathize with him regardless of his many, many flaws. If you read the book and think, “Wow, that Holden kid is a real hero,” then there is something seriously wrong with you.

11

I hate when children are used as props to further someone’s agenda, whatever that agenda may be. Like this photo:

Image result for we need diverse books because I'm beautiful

Now, I am very much in favor of having more diverse books for kids to read, but there is no way in hell that picture is in any way authentic. You just know for a fact that an adult handed the kid that paper and told him to smile for the camera. Hell, I doubt that’s even the kid’s handwriting.

I’m not sure why this bothers me as much it does. I guess it just feels … cheap? Unfair to the kid? Manipulative? I don’t know, but I’m still OUTRAGED.

12

Why do people try to talk all authoritatively over things they don’t know anything about? In high school I took a college-level course in Environmental Studies, and while that hardly makes me an expert on the subject, whenever someone tries to lecture me on how climate change isn’t actually that big of a deal, it becomes immediately and startlingly obvious how uninformed they are. (“But we just had a really cold winter!”)

The same is true for the conflicts going on in the middle east. I don’t really understand what’s going on over there, and I can guarantee you that 95% of Americans don’t either. But that doesn’t stop some people from becoming sudden experts on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict whenever the topic arises. Unless you actually know what you’re talking about, don’t pretend that you do. Instead you might learn something.

13

What’s up with old people and drinking from the hose? (Bear with me on this one.)

As a kid, I’d often hear adults complain about how spoiled and pampered my generation is, and bragging about how, “when I was a kid, we drank water from the hose!” And I’d be like, “Cool. Would you like a medal, sir?” 

Because there is literally nothing impressive at all about drinking from a hose. As someone who did often drink water out of a hose during my childhood summers, I must say that it tasted no different than regular tap water. Albeit, a bit grassier. Did I think I was cool for doing this? No. Will I be bragging to my kids one day for it? Possibly. Either way, this whole thing is stupid, and now I’m thirsty.

14

I hate grass. It’s the most useless plant. Flowers look pretty and smell nice, trees provide shade and comfort, but what does grass do? It just sits there, like a total bum. Go away, grass, no one wants you.

15

I support Colin Kaepernick’s decision to take a knee during the national anthem, but I have one question that has yet to be answered.

Let’s say that America listens to his message, and we collectively take initiatives to stop systematic racism and police brutality and bam! Everything is fixed. My question is: how would he know? It’s going to take at least a couple months for the statistics to come back to show that his protest was successful, which I could imagine being a bit embarrassing for him when he finds out. “So for the last month or so, I’ve been kneeling for no reason? Damn. And my knee is so sore now.”

(This has got to be the dumbest perspective anyone’s ever taken on this topic. Whatever, I’m tired, and I because of my relative obscurity, I can afford to say stupid things.)

That’s all for me. I gotta say, this wasn’t nearly as good as my last 15 rants post.

 

More Than I Can Chew: A Look Back

Image result for gum cartoon

For those who don’t know, two years ago I started writing an interactive blog story about two identical twins, one of whom had made a business out of selling gum to his fellow high school students. When one of his gum-selling employees decides to go rogue, a series of insane, potentially life-ruining events go down. No one is the same.

At the end of each chapter, there’d be poll that would allow the reader to decide which direction they wanted the story to go in. It was a good writing exercise: to write a cohesive story while staying true to the characters, despite having little to no control over the plot.

It had been a long time since I’d so much as thought about More Than I Can Chew, and what reading it over, a few things surprised me. So I decided to write a post about my thoughts on the project, almost two years after it ended, partly for nostalgic purposes but mostly for shameless self-promotion.

Click here if you want to read it!!!

1) Kathy is still cool.

I’m going to be honest: I had no intention of writing an older sister into the story for the first three chapters. The thought hadn’t even occurred to me until I realized that Wyatt was only 15, and he’d need someone to drive him around for this story to work. So I created Kathy, who was technically a plot device, but ended up being the heart of the story. (Or at least, I thought she was the heart of the story. Remember when she took the blame for something Wyatt did, even though she didn’t have to? That was sweet.)

2) A lot of the writing needed work.

There was a bit more telling than there should’ve been, and too many adverbs. I kind of want to go back to those posts and just revise everything, but I won’t. Because the past is the past, and it should stay that way. (Could I sell it as an ebook?)

3) Adrien wasn’t particularly likable in the beginning, was he?

He kept going on about how much he hated his brother, and I was like, “Damn, Adrien. Wyatt barely thinks about you at all. Move on. Get your own hobby.”

Adrien’s unlikeability can be boiled down to two problems:

  1. He was a big ol’ Mopey Gus in the beginning.
  2. He didn’t really do anything, at first. He just went to the bathroom, then got captured. I think Past Me realized this, because Past Me started giving him as much agency as the circumstances would allow, and I think it helped a lot.

4) Things went by a lot faster than I remembered.

So they were both in school, then Adrien gets kidnapped, now Wyatt and Kathy are driving to a park to pick him up. Now Adrien’s in the ER, Wyatt’s smashing furniture, and now Kathy’s managing to drive home, to the hospital, to the furniture store, and back home in record time. The whole story would’ve been about sixty pages long in book form, which is crazy considering just how much went down.

I’m not sure if this was a problem for anyone else, or if it only felt this way because I was reading it in on my phone, but things definitely felt like they were going by way too fast. Maybe that’s just my old age speaking. *shrugs*

5) The ending wasn’t as bad as I remembered.

It was a little abrupt, but not gonna lie, I think I’d be okay with this ending if I were just an unknowing reader. However, I’m a fan of ambiguous endings and most people aren’t, so I understand why some people may have been frustrated, and asking me questions like, “What happened to Diesel?” or “Was the money really counterfeit?” and “Is anyone going to jail? I feel someone should be thrown in jail.”

To which, I finally answer those questions, for those of you who are still around.

  1. Diesel was lying about his name the whole time. When he met Wyatt outside that hockey game back in ninth grade, he told him his name was Diesel because he wanted to see if Wyatt was dumb enough to believe it. Wyatt was. For several weeks prior to the start of this story, Diesel was quietly scheming his way to get the $10,000.
    • You may remember how, at the end, the characters decided to blame everything on Diesel? Well, the police were never able to find a Diesel, because no one in that high school had that name.
      • Basically, Diesel got away with everything.
  2. The money was not counterfeit. That was just Diesel being a criminal mastermind. It worked.
  3. Chances are, Fiona and Conner are going to have to do some community service. Fiona’s probably getting expelled, what with the whole, “organizing a kidnapping on school grounds” thing. I think James might be going to jail, because in order for Adrien not to get in trouble for almost killing him, he’d have to press charges on him for assault, and maybe kidnapping. The American legal system’s tricky, y’all.

All in all, I’m glad I wrote it; I just wish I had finished it within a reasonable amount of time. But hey, that’s my biggest flaw as a writer. I can’t finish. Even when I have the ending planned out, I end up losing interest and moving on to another project. Which, yeah, is a bad idea.

So I’ll end this post with some advice to all those beginner writers out there: finish your damn manuscripts. I don’t care how bad your first draft is, or if you just came up with a better story and you want to write that instead. Get it doneor you will be a failure, and you will die sad and alone in a tiny house in New Hampshire while everyone you ever loved will have nothing but contempt for you. Or your writing just won’t improve. Whichever’s worse.

Something that Happened Years Ago That I Need to Get Off My Chest

Okay, so this is something that I never really talk about, because no one ever believes me when I tell them. I’m starting to doubt if everything went down exactly as I remember it, but I know that something definitely happened and I can’t quite explain what it was. Even all these years later, I still think about it at night when I’m lying in bed. I keep trying to make sense of it all; to find a rational, scientific explanation for what happened to me, and every single time I fail.

I don’t remember how old I was when this happened. It could’ve been anywhere from five to eight. It’s strange how I remember that night so well but I can never quite place it within a specific year of my life. Memory is weird like that.

Up until I was twelve or so, my family didn’t have an upstairs bathroom. If I ever needed to go in the middle of the night, I’d have to walk downstairs, through the dark, empty kitchen and into the dark, empty living room. 

There was a glass door in the living room I’d always have to walk by, that lead out to the side of the house. Usually the curtains were covering it but sometimes they weren’t, and because I always turned the lights on with every room I walked into, I could never see if anyone was outside, peering in through the glass door. All I could see was the reflection.

Those walks to the bathroom in the middle of the night were some of the most nerve-wracking moments of my childhood. I rarely heard noises, but I always had this feeling that someone was downstairs with me, like someone would be hiding behind the couch in the living room, or someone would be waiting outside the bathroom door when I came out.

When I was finished I’d have to walk all the way back, turning the lights off behind me as I went. I’d try to keep calm but once I reached the staircase I’d always break into a sprint, and I wouldn’t feel safe again until I was back in my bedroom with the door closed shut.

The walk got easier during the Christmas season, because that was when the decorations were always up. We had a Christmas Tree covered in lights in the living room with stockings set up around the fireplace. We had this weird toy with a foot-tall plastic Santa Clause, whose head moved around when you pressed the button on his leg. I think he was supposed to talk, too, but he never did.

It was the night before Christmas Eve when I woke up again, needing to pee. I turned on the lights as I went downstairs and walked into the bathroom in the living room. The curtains to the side door were closed this time, so I didn’t have to worry about anyone looking in. 

The bathroom had a fan that turned on automatically with the lights, making it so it you couldn’t hear anything going on outside. That’s the only good explanation I can think of for why I didn’t notice any noise. If it wasn’t for the fan I probably would’ve locked myself in that bathroom for rest of the night.

Instead I walked out of it, as usual, and I immediately noticed a few things were off. It seemed colder than it had been just a minute ago, and the curtains to the side door were no longer drawn. They’d been shoved to the side, away from the handle, and in the reflection of the door I saw something moving around in the kitchen. I saw the light of the refrigerator turn on and heard the sound of glass clinking, and when I looked in closer I saw a man in a large red suit.

I thought I’d be excited to see something like this. I’d been one of those kids that loved the Christmas season and whole-heartedly believed in Santa, but seeing his back as he rummaged through the fridge sent nothing but doubts down my spine. I think it’s because, for all my willingness to believe in him and for all the arguments I’d gotten in with classmates over his existence, deep down I knew that Santa Clause wasn’t supposed to be real. At the very least, you weren’t supposed to see him. 

I watched as he took some orange juice out of the fridge and chugged it straight from the carton. He gasped for air when he was finished and wiped his mouth, and when he walked over to the trash to toss it out he glanced at the side door and stopped in his tracks, and I realized right there that he had seen me through the reflection. It was the longest moment of my life. He stared at me through the door and I stared at him. He lifted his finger to his mouth and smiled.

He continued searching through the fridge and eating our food. As I watched I realized he wasn’t as old as Santa Clause was supposed to be. From his face he seemed younger than my parents, now that I think of it, and his eyebrows didn’t match his beard or his hair.

After a couple minutes he walked into the hallway, out of view. I heard a door close, and footsteps going downstairs into the basement. 

I ran back to my room. I wanted to wake my parents and tell them what happened, but I didn’t know what I’d say. I didn’t think they’d believe me. And most of all, I didn’t know what to think of the man who’d just rummaged through our kitchen. I kept going back and forth from ‘he’s Santa, he’d never harm anyone,’ to ‘he’s an intruder dressed up as Santa and he’s going to rob us and kill us in our sleep.’

I don’t remember sleeping that night. I remember sitting up in my bed and listening to the noises from downstairs. Occasional bumps and mutters, the creak of the side door sliding open and closed, and at one point I heard the sound of slow, heavy footsteps making its way up the stairs to the upper floor. The steps grew closer and closer, until I saw the shadow of the man from the light under my door.

For a moment, I heard nothing but the man’s breathing. Then he started yanking the door handle. Violently, up and down. I kept expecting the door to swing open at any moment, but it never did. He just kept shaking the handle. I sat perfectly still, terrified to move or to make a sound, and it’s at this point that I should clarify that none of this happened, and I’m just messing with all of you. I know that if I were to come across this post, the first thing I’d do is scroll down to the last paragraph to make sure this wasn’t a joke story, so I’m just going to continue from here as if these last two sentences were never written: after who knows how long, the handle stopped shaking and the shadow disappeared, and I listened through bated breath as the footsteps shrunk in volume and the man descended down the stairs. I heard the side door open and close again, and the house was silent for the rest of the night.

Nothing was missing the next day. Even the orange juice carton was back in its place. The curtains were drawn again, and everything in the basement was exactly how it had been the day before. I told myself the whole thing was just a dream, because I didn’t know how else to deal with what I saw. The whole memory’s been tearing at me ever since, and I’m glad I have an outlet here for me to get this off my chest. If anyone has any similar experiences, or they can think of an explanation for what happened here that would put my mind at ease, please comment below.

Nothing Like an Award to Keep Your Spirits Up…

So throughout the past couple months, I’ve received a bunch of awards. This isn’t surprising, (I mean, have you met me?) but I’m flattered nonetheless. Most of these awards were season-based, so I decided to go with the one nomination that doesn’t belong to a specific time of the year: the Sunshine Blogger Award.

I was nominated by the always snazzy Katie Nichols. She’s only tried to kill me twice this year, so I’m extra thankful.

The rules:

–Thank the person who nominated you in a blog post and link back to their blog. (Check!)

–Answer the 11 questions sent by the person who nominated you. (Yeah, not happening.)

–Nominate 11 new blogs to receive the award and write them 11 new questions. (Also not doing this, because Standards.)

–List the rules and display the Sunshine Blogger Award logo in your post and/or on your blog.

 

1.  If you could only read one fictional book for the rest of your life, what would it be?

It would probably be a really dense book; one where you’ll discover something new each time you read it. So if you’re allowed to pick a series, I’d pick A Song of Ice and Fire, and if you’re allowed to pick just one book, it would be Jonathon Strange and Mr. Norrell. I haven’t read it yet, but I heard it’s good and long, so a reread would probably be rewarding.


2.  What type of computer do you use for blogging?

My chromebook. Bought it over a year ago for 180 bucks and it’s been working like a charm ever since. #quitethebargain


3.  What was the last album you listened to straight through?

Atlas: Year One, by Sleeping at Last. This is one of those albums where every song sounds good, but only handful can give you an actual eargasm. Those three songs were Earth, Saturn, and Neptune. Listen … if you dare.


4.  What is your favorite holiday sweet?

Come to think of it, I don’t really like any food that goes specifically with a certain holiday. I guess I do like the Christmas-themed designs of Coca-Cola cans.

Image result for coca cola cans christmas
Those polar bears would maul you to death if they got the chance.

5.  Are you known for making a signature dish or food?  If so, what is it?

I don’t cook much, but I do make scrambled eggs and toast. I can also make microwavable popcorn with ease. 

6.  Would you consider your handwriting to be sloppy or neat (or somewhere in between)?

Depends on the pen and my current state of mind. That being said, it’s always legible.


7.  What is the awesomest-looking book you own, and why?

Image result for stephen king's It cover
That’s not my hand, by the way. Photo credit goes to MightyGirl.com.

You may not be that impressed, but I think the cover sets the tone for the book perfectly. And it can’t be stressed enough just how good the paperback Stephen King books feel in your hands. The pages feel so clean, the font is so easy on the eyes … in fact just writing this makes me want to buy another King novel.

8.  Name your three biggest fandoms.

Bitch please. I don’t do fandoms. Fandoms are for dweebs and dorks and no-lifes, not for a cool dude like me. I do have a reversible belt, after all.

That being said: 1) Harry Potter. I don’t talk about the series much these days, but it will never not hold a special place in my heart. 2) A Song of Ice and Fire. I could talk about these books for days. 3) No idea. There’s probably a Stephen King fandom I’d get along well with. Maybe The Raven Cycle. Those were good books. Hopefully I’ll write something one day that inspires a fandom;  my dream is to get death threats in the mail after killing off a beloved character.


9.  Favorite childhood movie?

Finding Nemo. It’s funny, and an emotional rollercoaster? But how?

10.  Pizza or tacos?

Sicilian pizza any day of the week. With tacos, the shell always breaks on the first bite.

11.  Name three books that everyone on earth should read.

Keep in mind that I’m not picking these books necessarily because they’re my favorite, but because I like the message behind them.

  1. Mother Night, by Kurt Vonnegut. In part because I think it deserves more attention than Vonnegut’s more famous work, but also because I think it has some really neat things to say regarding morality and whatnot. Plus, in a world where millions of World War II books are published each year, Vonnegut managed to write one with a fresh perspective. (That last point is true for a lot of his books. But this is one is even fresher.)
  2. The Miseducation of Cameron Post, by Emily Danforth. There’s a movie adaptation coming out soon, so the book should be getting a nice boost in popularity, but then again, the movie rarely does the book justice. So just read it already. It’s about a lesbian growing up with a very conservative family in 1990s Montana, who gets sent to a gay conversion camp. Some thoughts:
    • It’s about the importance of understanding people and respecting them for who they are.
    • It’s also sort of glorified pot and normalized shoplifting, but I’m okay with that.
    • I feel like, in most stories like this, you’d expect the conservative relatives and the people running the camp to be demonized — to be written like one-dimensional homophobes taken straight out of an after-school special. But nope, they’re written with just as much humanity as anyone else. It would’ve been so easy for the author to write them off as Evil, but she didn’t, and for that, I salute her.
  3. It, by Stephen King. Sure, it’s violent and scary, and it ends with a bizarre, offensive sex scene that makes it clear the author was snorting coke while writing it. (Apparently he remained high during the editing and revision stage, and so was his editor.) Nevertheless, the things King has to say regarding friendship and childhood are powerful, and should still be relevant for years to come.
    • I also want everyone to be just as scared as clowns as I am.
    • Should note that while it’s been over four years since I read it, I can still remember characters like Stuttering Bill, Bevvy, and Richie “Trashmouth” Tozier, and some scenes — the rock fight, Ben’s first encounter with Henry Bowers, the part where Pennywise takes the form of a security guard with a dog’s head, (that was weird) — are still etched in my mind, and will probably never go away.
  4. Bonus Mention: V for Vendetta, and 1984. I can’t help but feel like these two books, (especially 1984, with its Groupthink and Newspeak) are becoming increasingly relevant.

And that is all! Thank you Katie, and thank you, America. I wont be nominating anyone, because I wouldn’t want to be a bother. Good night. Sweet Dreams. Don’t let the bed bugs eat open your veins and crawl around your circulatory system.

In Which I Reevaluate My Life, My Blog, and Everything in Between

I’m back, motherfuckers, and I’m here to stay.
I’m bringing blogging back in a brand new way.
Yes, I know, it’s been a long time
But that don’t mean I can’t bust a sick rhyme!

…aaaaaaaaaaaaand that’s enough rapping for me. (Did it sound catchy in your head? I hope it sounded in catchy in your head.)

Image result for picture of the sea

So it’s been a few months since I haven’t blogged and I gotta say, it’s been a strange experience. 

Whenever a friend or family member from home would ask me how college was for me, I’d respond with two responses: “So far so good,” and, “it’s #lit,” and while both of those descriptions were accurate, I would never talk about the parts that weren’t so good, because I’m not that sort of person. I don’t talk about the things that truly bother me unless I can say it in a way that comes off as A. humorous, and B. not a big deal.

For the first two weeks or so of college, I had this constant pit of anxiety in my stomach. Sure, things went well — I very quickly found myself in a group of reliable friends, my roommate turned out to be perfectly respectable, and nothing embarrassing happened to me, as far as I can recall — but that feeling was still there. Every moment to myself I’d be reminded of it again.

It wasn’t homesickness, I don’t think. It was just this feeling that something was wrong. That I didn’t actually belong here, that this was all a waste of time, a waste of money, and that everything was going to come crashing down on me at any moment.

“But Matt!” you say, “what does this have to do with blogging?”

Well as you’re about to see, I’m going to talk about blogging again, and then try to awkwardly tie it together with my feelings towards college.

“Oh,” you say. “By the way, it’s disappointing that after all this time you’re still using the old, ‘hypothetical-reader-asks-question’ technique in order to transition to a new topic.”

Yeah, well, thanks for the talk.

. . . So during this time off from the blogosphere, I started thinking: why exactly had I started to drift away from my blog so much in the past year or two? I mean, back in 2013 I was able to successfully post every single day for the entirety of November, and as of July of this year, I couldn’t even maintain interest for a week. Why?

Image result for the letter Y

It’s because I’m a different person than I was in 2013, and I’m a different person than I was this July, and these changes will continue until I’m like, forty. Then I’ll just stagnate forever.

How am I different? Well for starters I think I’m becoming a more open person. The outer me and the inner me are becoming increasingly similar in real life, and that change hasn’t extended to this blog. Mostly because I haven’t been here. But also because I only really talk about the positive things in my life.

When I do talk about the negatives, I do it in a way that makes it seem trivial, unimportant, or I leave out the real problems.

Example: Remember how earlier this year I wrote a post about how I was failing Calculus, and cited my poor eyesight as the main reason? Well yeah, I did need those glasses, and getting them helped improve my life a lot. But I never mentioned those long periods of time through the last two years of high school where I couldn’t concentrate on anything; where an easy homework assignment would take me hours to finish, assuming I could even able to motivate myself to start it.

My parents would always see the report cards during these periods and they’d ask me if I was okay, and I’d always say yeah, and I’d get mad at them for assuming there was anything wrong with me to begin with. But of course there was a lot of things going on underneath the surface: I couldn’t stay interested for long in anything but TV and Reddit. I saw my grades falling and my odds of getting into any college shrinking, and I couldn’t bring myself to actually do anything to stop it. I kept thinking about how if I couldn’t handle this, how was I supposed to handle anything?

It would work in a cycle: I’d slowly sink into that mode where I mostly just slept and watched TV, and then something would snap me out of it, I’d try to salvage what I could of my grades by getting all my late work handed in, and I’d tell myself I’d never get that bad again. And for a week or two I’ll be fine, but then I’d feel it slipping and it’ll all come back, just as bad as before.

I probably should’ve seen a therapist, or have gotten some sort of help. That’s on the top of my list of “Things I’ve Never Done, but Probably Should Have.” Instead I read It’s Kind of a Funny Story, a book about a depressed teenager, roughly my age at the time, who almost commits suicide before admitting himself into a mental hospital. And while I was never nearly as bad as he was, I gotta say I was disturbed by how familiar his symptoms were.

I’m lucky in that I haven’t felt this way since high school ended. It went away during the summer, and I was so afraid that it’d come back hard during college, because that’s when depression and anxiety are the most commonly diagnosed. But it didn’t. Or at least it hasn’t yet. *fingers crossed*

You know what would have been nice, though? To have been able to talk about it on here. I certainly could have, and I even wrote a really long, detailed post describing how I felt at the time, but I never posted it because I felt like it was too much. It didn’t quite vibe with anything else I was writing. This is a humor blog, I figured, I can’t just talk about depression all of a sudden.

And during the last few months, I realized that I want to be able to talk about these things on here. I want to be able to write a funny post one day and write a serious one the next, and not feel weird about it. And recently it hit me that there was nothing actually stopping me from doing so; just myself.

So, yeah. I hope to be making the most of Winter Break, and I want to write a blog that has more of an emotional range than just bitter-sarcastic or happy-sarcastic. (Though let’s face it, I’m mostly gonna just joke around.)

There’s a lot of things I want to talk about, after all, so let’s see how it goes.