Fail Fail Fail...AKA Rawr I am a Drama Queen I am Going to Eat Your Happiness

I am going to warn you, this is going to sound kind of dramatic and petty, coming from someone like me. Or at least someone that pretends to be cool, which is me.

I feel like nothing but a big, stupid failure in just about every aspect of my life right now. I don't feel like I can do anything right. I hate myself...a lot. 

I can't believe I said that. I can't believe I feel that way. I thought becoming a badass and being cynical meant not caring--even about myself. But apparently I haven't reached that stage yet. Which makes me feel like even more of a failure. And so the cycle continues. Dun dun dun.

Let me rewind for a second, and explain a few things. 

I have not written in nearly 3 weeks because not only have I been busy and maybe kind of forgot about this blog for a bit (whoops), but also because I have had some serious writer's block, both mentally and physically. I sat down two nights ago with some ideas that had been floating around in my head for a few days, prepared to win over all my Facebook friends with some hilariously witty material that probably went into way too many details about my personal life, as per usual of course, but I found that writing was much more difficult than normal that night. Not only could I barely string together a sentence that made any sense at all, let alone be funny or entertaining in any way, but my keyboard decided this was the time....the time to rise up, to rebel, to be abused no more! My keyboard became mutinous. Things went wrong. Very wrong.

And it has only gotten worse since then. My "i" key randomly decides not to work for 30-60 seconds every few minutes and then saves up all those times I try to press it for later, when I am in the middle of typing something else that doesn't require its vowel-y services. My delete key, which hasn't been connected to my computer for months now and only stays in place by the mighty power of my keyboard condom, has decided every now and then to take a break and just not work at all, even when it is in it's rightful place in the top right-hand corner... the prick. My shift button sticks, so every time I need a capitalized letter, I have to wait a few seconds before I begin typing again. OTHERwise I STart looking like some asshole n00b trolling on youtube, or possibly some website a little more retro than that like Gaia or Neopets. Worst of all, my space bar has started to become schizophrenic. It won't stop pressing space. I had to rip the key off and placate it by literally rubbing my fingers inside the computer in the hole where the space bar is supposed to sit. It's like my keyboard is trying to get me to have sexual relations with it, like some crazy guy that won't take no for an answer....oh wait, I wouldn't know about that would I? I've never really had that problem before. Well, let's just assume then, that this is kind of what that is like. I feel so abused!

I type to you now from a dell keyboard I stole from our family PC in the basement, a sad, sorry old beast that only gets use from me blasting highly sexual and inappropriate music while I have dance sessions (inappropriate because some of it is rap and I am way too white to rightfully listen to it). That's all it's really good for anyway, the poor thing. Actually, to be honest, I haven't had a keyboard so cooperative since before my little accident several months ago, and it feels really reaaallyyy good to type at my regular pace. So it isn't too bad, actually. I was advised to use a USB connected keyboard by the man at the genius bar in the Apple  Store this evening. This is the same man who, after inspection of my bitchy computer keyboard, told me that the only option I had with them was to pay a flat fee of $1,280 to send it out and get all the parts that were affected by my olive oil spill replaced. They could not just replace the keyboard... something about warranting bad parts or whatever. I dunno. After the words "your only option is to pay $1,280" everything kind of blurred together. 

The unfortunate part of the story is that I will probably have no choice but to pay the price sooner or later. I could resort to another repair place that would just put in a new keyboard, however, I am sure eventually the oil will take it's toll on the logic board and disc drive and anything else that hasn't broken yet (so far my hard drive and keyboard are the only things to go), and then I will have to pay bit by bit for that, thus spending probably the same amount of money. Or I could just buy a new computer for about the same price. Of course, if I did that then what would I do with this hunk of aluminum? ...Other than just bash my head against it repeatedly. Whatever, I've already dropped it a couple of times anyway. No wonder it hates me so much. 

I am trapped in a corner, feeling like some terrorist has kidnapped my child and is holding them hostage for ransom. (P.S. remind me to never have children) This is only making me reflect upon the rest of my life, which, in light of everything, is looking like a big, stupid failure and I hate it. This computer thing is all my fault and so is everything else. I have no one to blame but myself. This is some sort of nightmare, I think. 

I haven't drawn or done anything artsy all summer really. I started a sculpture and drew a few doodles. One finished comic. Considering that I am an art student and this is supposed to be my "passion" and my future, you think this sort of activity would come naturally as a habit and that I would be excited to do it, like all my peers from school, but it hasn't. To be honest-- and I have a very hard time admitting this to people-- I actually feel relieved to not have to draw, a sign which says loud and clear to me "YOU ARE DOING SOMETHING WRONG HERE" like an obnoxious relative with no tact. So it could be that I am just really worn out, having a huge artist's block, or am doing the completely wrong thing with my life. You know, no biggie. I've only invested thousands of dollars and a couple years of my life into this. Whatever. 

Speaking of my career, my job isn't going so great either. I plan to go into depth about my summer work experience later once it is all over, so I'll be brief. I work with kids in an environment where I have to be very creative, quick thinking, and energetic. I know what you are thinking, because I think it too, why on Earth would I take a job like that? I am possibly one of the most passive, preparation-oriented, and quiet people that could possibly exist without imploding. But believe it or not, I like kids. I know. This might be a sign of the apocalypse, who knows. And yet even weirder-- if that is even possible-- I truly want to make them happy. I want to be good at my job. Because I like my job. When it goes well, it can be really awesome.

None of this has been happening in the past few weeks however. I had a problematic group last week which was challenging to say the least, so at the beginning of this week I thought it could really only get better, but oh how I was wrong. The kids I had this week did not pay much attention to me at all. I was not terribly bothered by this at first. From what I could see, they were still having fun even if they weren't sticking to the regular format of the camp, so I let it go. Then, on Wednesday, my supervisor came in to give me a break, spent 10 minutes with them, and the next thing I know they're turning around saying "and that is how you are supposed to do it." They told me things like "it would be better if you made it fun," or "maybe if you actually tried..." and they demanded nothing but more of my supervisor and less of me, saying that the week hadn't been fun at all up to that point. I felt like I had been smacked in the face...it was more astonishing then when one of my kids actually smacked me in the face the week earlier on purpose (I think it was supposed to be a joke...I think...) Needless to say, I cried a lot that night when I got home. It really got to me. I didn't want to come back to work the next day, since I felt like they didn't want me there. There is nothing like a pack of kids you have been desperately trying to win over for several days rejecting you outright. It's worse than being passed over by a cute guy, because at least with a cute guy I know not to try so hard because I probably don't have much of a chance anyway. My coworkers tried to make me feel better, but in the end, it really just comes down to the kids and their experience. It doesn't matter if my coworkers or friends think I do a good job, it matters if the kids do, because that is why we work, as cheesy and stupid as that sounds. The week ended slightly better than that, but I can't help but feel like I have the conflict resolution skills of a jar of mustard. I feel like I am failing my job, because I am failing to meet the expectations of the kids I am in charge of. And surprise! That is not a good feeling.

Along with that bag of goodness this week came today at work, where I wore a costume I picked up in 11th grade that is a little on the short side. (Don't ask why I needed a costume, all you need to know is that my job is very strange) I admittedly bought it from the lingerie section of a retro consignment shop, but it looks more like a jester-like dress than anything else. Nothing is see-through or lacy or anything like that. It is just short. So I wore tights. However, as soon as I walked in the door this morning, the comments cascaded. Or at least the looks, if I am not giving myself too much credit, anyway. Sure, it was slightly risqué and I was wearing my prostitute face (my own personal term for make-up), but it didn't really bother me that I got attention for it. In fact I kind of enjoyed it, being the narcissist that I am, and also having a very damaged ego from the previous few days (darn kids). It did bother me, however, that up until that point, no one had really treated me that way at work. It only reminded me of last weekend, when I went to a party, met someone, hooked up a little bit, and then BAM. The next morning it was like I didn't even exist. We didn't exchange numbers, he didn't speak to me, he barely even looked at me. This is how much my love life is failing these days. People keep asking me how that is going. I have started forgetting to laugh when I get asked, because it is just starting to depress me instead. I am either invisible to men or visible for all the worst reasons. Why can't men just be into me for all the things that make me amazing? Like the fact that I've watched every episode of Community 6 times plus seen all the commentary? Or my fanaticism for female comedians? Or my lack of fear when talking about vaginas AND poop?

...Oh yea. That's why.

And we don't even need to go into the fact that my social life is as lifeless as a raisin (I am pretty sure most of my friends forgot I ever even came back into town), my financial aid for school is in a very precarious position, my phone got cut off several days early, making me feel more naked than actually being naked probably would, and how depressed the news about the shooting in Aurora made me feel this morning. I cried when I heard about it. It was just that upsetting.

So I am sitting here, after hearing the devastating news about my computer, thinking about how wrong everything is going right now, how tired I am, and how easy it would be to just not be alive. 

Yes, I went there. Somehow I have regressed into the terrible being that was my teenage self, which isn't helping the self-hate in any way. When did things get so messed up? What happened to not caring? Where has my badass self gone?? I was doing so well! I had even signed up for parkour classes! Shouldn't my badass self be rocking out right now? How could this happen? I swore an oath that I would never be as melodramatic and whiny as I was in high school, and yet, here we are. 

Something deep inside me tells me I need to be positive, but even my cynical self knows there is barely a positive bone in my body. I may be in too deep to actually try to be-- dare I say it-- happy. Can't someone just fix all my problems so I can go back to being a jerk, like usual? ....What? You mean I have been spoiled and privileged my whole life, and now that I am finally entering the real world I have to deal with my problems on my own? 

Well. This sucks.

(... Have I ever mentioned how I never wanted to leave middle school? I knew all along growing up would be totally overrated)

But for real, I need to get back on the badass track. This is shameful. I am complaining way too much and this blog is way too long and look, here I am complaining about complaining. I told you it was a vicious cycle!! 

I guess the next step is to start brainstorming ways to make things better, other than just pole dancing all the time. Because as much as I love that and wanna do that, I don't think it is really having a direct effect on all the stupid stuff in my life right now, other than being distracting as my only escape and consoling me because that is the one area of my life that is improving. So here's what I am gonna do:

1. Eat something tasty, since I haven't had solid food in about 12 hours now, partly because of work, partly because of stress, partly because no one fucking made me dinner tonight. Goddammit growing up, you suck!!

2. Sleep 

3. Dance

4. No wait--I said I was gonna do something more directly influential

5. No fuck it I am gonna dance. We all know it's gonna happen no matter what.

6. Then I am gonna go to parkour

7. Then if I have time I might try to tackle some of my issues

8. I may run out of time and just go to a party instead

9. Oh yea, problems. Those suck. Blah. Deal with those. 

10. Fail and go back to bed.

11. Start all over again.

Sounds foolproof! 

I'll come back and let you know how things went in a little, while ok? Stay right there.