Everything Feels Shitty

Not to be a downer or anything but.

I'm going to be a downer.

For the one hundred millionth time. I know I seem like I have a mental breakdown every month, but the truth is, it is just an ongoing thing.

I have sad news.  My last post wasn't my 100th post. I apparently have made 100 posts + drafts, but only 84 of those have actually made it out to you.

Ok but really.

Yes. My shit is purple. 

This is the only picture I could bring myself to draw, and honestly, it's just so there is something attached to my Facebook link. I'm sorry. I just don't have the heart for anything more.

I don't have the heart for anything lately. If I could, I'd melt into my bed and become a sullen little Meri monster that exists in the abstract time and space between the rusting springs of the mattress I've owned since I was three years old. I'd only come out to mingle with dust bunnies and pretend to the boogeyman for small and vulnerable children.

Or maybe I could just be nothing.

I think I might prefer that, actually.



It all started with community college.

When I was in high school, I always thought of community college as the dumping ground for students who failed to live up to basic academic standards. Since I was always reassured I was smart by every grown-up who was relatively familiar with my writing and reading comprehension scores, I scoffed at the thought of ever going to such a place. I was in mother-fucking Gifted and Talented when I was 13, yo, community college had no place in my life. I would much rather expand my horizons by going to an out of state college where everything was so miserable that I would never leave my apartment. That was definitely a better life path.

I mean, being as insanely intelligent as I was, I knew community college really was more than just that. It is also an economically logical school for attending and useful for people who want a new or different start, not just a place where all those kids who smoked cigarettes by the road in front of my high school went once they finally realized the horrible life choices they'd made. But it still had that stigma in my mind when I stepped foot inside for the beginning of the spring 2014 semester one month ago.

I felt like a failure and it did not help that everyone around me in the hallways looked like kids I used to know in high school, AKA not weird looking art students. Oh and the fact that there were actually people in the hallways. Like a normal school. Haven't seen that in awhile. On my first day I passed two people talking seriously in the hallway and this is the actual conversation I overheard:

Boy: Well, what can you do?
Girl: Die.
Boy: ...Yea. True.

It was like they were speaking to me. It was a sign. Because I wanted to die right then very much.

I did not feel right about being in the whole place until a series of other shitty events made me dead in the eyes just enough to fit in with everyone else. Now I can walk with my head lowered in defeat like the rest of the student population. I even bombed my first math exam like a real high school failure.

The first math exam of the semester should be the easiest, since in theory it mostly covers review material, but it was not so easy for me. I spent the entire 2 hours and 15 minutes to work on it and bullshitted at least 8 out of the 42 questions because I ran out of time, writing down equations and random answers hoping I'd get some partial credit for "showing my work" (I did). By some miracle I managed an 80%, which is the very bottom rung of "acceptable" in my universe, but that did not mean I didn't want to burst into tears during the test because I could remember anything about the difference quotient. Which I first learned about when I was 15. Eight whole years ago.

I know I can be a good student. I've done it before. So why am I seriously fucking things up so much for the first time ever?

It's not that I didn't study. I studied for hours. I studied my little anxiety-ridden student heart out, the way a girl who always haughtily thought she was above community college would. In theory I should have nailed it. I am chalking it up to the fact that last week, a day before the exam, I was dumped for the first time ever.*

As it turns out studying through a literal veil of tears isn't quite so effective.

Well alright, that is not 100% accurate. I've been dumped before. But I've never been dumped by someone I didn't already want to break up with. Hey, I wasn't very mature about communication in high school, alright?

This time around it really stung however, and on top of watching another dream job fall into pieces in front of me during the same week, I haven't been doing so well ever since. I don't even know what I want to say in words-- my precious words that I usually have so many of-- because I feel so hurt. There simply aren't any words for it, just memories in my head that I run through over and over again wondering where I could have done better and stupid pointless hopes lingering in the back of my head like hungry stray dogs waiting outside of a restaurant that already know there aren't any scraps to spare. And the desire to melt into my bedsheets of course, of which my face is working very hard to achieve.

On the whole, I am unsure of how I am processing. This is what I do know:

1. My feelings towards the universe change every six seconds, with the default being my standard "I hate everything" and at best things are "Maybe one day somehow things will get sort of kind of ok. Maybe." 

2. I almost got through a whole day yesterday without crying (almost).

3. When I hit a mood of "I want to go out in my badass ponytail and yoga pants and fuck some shit up," I felt like I was making a breakthrough. 

4. I can't tell if I am overreacting or not. I probably am. I overreact to my whole life. In a very quiet, unassuming way. Somehow. 

5.Other than that I have thus far resisted the temptation to surprise my family with a new dog. I've been missing my ex-boyfriend's previous male friend with whom I spent most of my free time and went out on dates on a regular basis and was intimate with's** dog and I realize I can no longer stand to live vicariously though other people's pets. So it's probably only a matter of time. 

6. I went on a date on Sunday hoping it would help me deal with things or at least distract me. It was alright until the guy kissed me goodnight and I nearly lost my shit. He hasn't contacted me since. Yup. Definitely way too soon. 

7. My only consolation prizes are that I am saving a fuck-load on gas money not driving to Denver multiple times a week and I no longer have to sleep on the world's shittiest bed.

8. I made a tiramisu for a date night awhile back (think Superbowl time) and brought it back home with me after things ended thinking it might still be ok and maybe someone in my family would want it. It has sat untouched in my fridge for a week but I refuse to throw it out until I feel more emotionally capable of letting go… I am pretty certain it will rot in there. 


It was a lucky coincidence that the day after shit hitting the fan I started therapy, something I have long avoided. Everyone kept telling me to do it and feeling trapped in a corner, I foresaw a shitty future, so for once in my life I was on the ball about my emotional health.

And then I went and wrote this super personal post and we can all see I'm turning into a train wreck. So that undid all the good steps I've made so far.

Anyway. Take me setting foot in community college, losing a job I've been working to have for months, getting dumped by the first person that made me feel genuine happiness and gave me chronic nausea at the same time, having a severe reaction to that, therapy, and well... All of these events have made me begin to face the fact that I ended up in community college not because I am an academic failure but because I have mental health issues.

There. I said it.

A lot of things in my life are because I just don't know how to deal with people or with my own emotions. It is not because I am not smart or good at the things I do. There is just some bridge in my brain that got knocked out somewhere down the line…. y'know, the whole "social intelligence" bridge.

So here I am. Everything feels shitty. Nothing anyone has said to me in the past two weeks has made me feel even remotely better. When I turn off my lights and lay down at night I feel like I'm being strangled in the chest, if that makes any sense, which is why is almost 1 AM and I persist onwards in writing.


I dunno. "Everything feels shitty." That is just all there is right now. And that is probably all there will be for awhile. Maybe hopefully one day it kind of sort will be ok. If I'm lucky. I don't have any choice but to wait and see, do I?


I'm going to try to write a lighter take on this next week that will hopefully make the both of us laugh.



*Not to mention two days before valentines day and two weeks before my pole competition, of which the latter makes me more upset because now I have no focus and seriously decreased motivation to care. 
**Because apparently that doesn't make someone your boyfriend. Also sorry if I don't know how to properly use "whom" in a sentence. I can never remember the rule. And frankly, I don't give a fuck because you know what I meant. So actually no. I'm not sorry. 
***Hooray for passive aggressive footnotes! 

Walls (100th Post Go Me!)

Sometimes in life, we decide we want to do things and stuff.

But while going down the merry path of things and stuff,

we run into walls.

The walls, being walls, stand in our way from going down the merry things and stuff path.

They're not usually very nice about it, either.

That is when we come to a point where we have to make a decision.

We can try and do something about this wall, or we can turn around and go back down the merry path of things and stuff and find a different things and different stuff path.

Often this is a difficult decision. I've chosen both before.

I once ran into a wall I've so aptly named "getting rejected to my dream school."

It made me sad.

But I decided to sit at the wall and work on my foundational art skills for a year. Then I turned back to the wall and tried to hurl myself over it.

I ran into it again. I was rejected the second time.

So I decided to get creative, since art school taught me about that shit.

I went to a different art school. And so I was back skipping down the merry path of becoming an artist.

Then I encountered another big wall. This wall was called "competence crisis."

It was a bitch of a wall.

I contemplated for awhile. I could try to overcome this wall, but because it was so big, I had no idea what would be on the other side. Perhaps even bigger walls.

And so I considered what would happen if I turned away.

This can be difficult, especially when you've put so much effort and time into going over the previous walls. It can be heart-breaking, too. However sometimes, you just have to be realistic about the outcomes. If I climbed this wall and became "the artist," or "the animator," I may be broke and forever in debt with no job security for the rest of my life, which could obstruct my abilities to explore other paths I wanted to see, like world travel, having a nice home, or having a family. I may be able to find great success on the other side, but with this I knew, again, I would also sacrifice my entire life.

And so I turned around and found other paths for myself.

It was a really, really difficult thing to do.

Maybe one day, I'll be able to find a new way around this wall. When I undoubtedly approach it in other realms, I will learn new tactics to deal with it.

Walls are just problems for us to solve. They challenge and test us, and our responsibility is to learn and grow from them.

But sometimes when we run into walls, they just topple right over us.

And crush us underneath their weight. We are trapped inside of them.

It just gets darker and darker as time goes on.

OR YOU COULD JUST BE LIKE THIS MOTHER-FUCKING BUNNY AND GIVE NO FUCKS.

The end.


PS Sorry I can be so dramatic sometimes.

20 Something Girls vs. 30 Something Girls

First off, I am a wizard.

Check out this article about a woman who got drunk six weeks back and broke into the elephant enclosure in the Denver zoo.

Sound familiar?

I wrote about it in a blog last November. Sure, maybe not exactly the elephant enclosure, but pachyderms are pretty close. They're both grey and leathery and gigantic and can totally rip your head off very easily.

This post was made November 9, just a little over a month before someone stole my glory.

I can't decide if I was beaten to the punch or if I possibly inspired and changed the life of an individual.  I like to think the latter, leaving out of my conscience the probable ailments and court date she was assigned.

Just another days work for us at Sexless and Cynical!

Second, today I am taking a break to talk about my meaningless personal life to rant about television again. Yay! I bet you are excited. It is a long overdue post I outlined awhile ago before school hit me like a brick. I've been trying very hard to stay on top of it and prove my worth as an intelligent human being, all while trying to fight the feeling of mediocrity via community college, so blogging hasn't been a priority. You'll hear more about it later. But please excuse the fact that this blog will mostly be other peoples images, because I simply don't have time to draw anything. I'm trying to stay stretchy and also sane right now.

Here is what I'm going to be ranting giving an analytical and open to debate discussion on:
(because that sounds way more intellectual)

Girls vs. Sex and the City

Once upon a time I made a status update on Facebook, as per my usual boring life behavior. This post was about my guilty pleasure and undeniable love for Sex and the City. Someone commented back saying I should just watch Girls, because it is the same thing except with younger women. I scoffed. I didn't care that Sex and the City was an outdated 90s show that applied to literally nothing in my life. It held a special place in my heart.

I started watching Sex and the City on TBS in high school when my mom finally put a TV in my room, mostly because there was nowhere else to put it and it was about 12x12 inches and no one else wanted it. It came on for an hour every night at 10, and I was soon a devotee to the sage-like words of Carrie Bradshaw. It taught me what being a woman was truly all about. Kind of.

The basis of the show is four women with inexplicably endless piles of money* to spend on designer brands of everything and bitch about how men don't like how whiny and needy they are. They search for happiness and true love through sex and marriage all while upholding the true, untouchable "BFF" bond.

I justified my watching of it by claiming that every woman, no matter how "down to earth" she was, had a secret inner need for fabulousness. I'm not the "fabulous" type myself, despite my stunning grace and beauty, but there was a little part of me that always sighed in desire while viewing the show. It filled that tiny space in me that ached for expensive shoes, cosmopolitans, and rich boyfriends in New York City.

Ok. I know. It's basically a complete and total fantasy world. Maybe that is why I liked it. It is not exactly an…empowering show for women. The four main characters, despite what careers they have chosen, act more or less like airheads at least half the time, more for Charlotte, who is more marriage obsessed than the rest. Strangely enough though, she is the only one who ever dresses in relatively normal looking outfits? Their focus on men is a headache at best and screaming at the television screen at worst, along with some really sub-par moments of acting that make even me embarassed. The only character that is bearable is the nymph-o, Samantha, and only because she is crazy. So that is at least fun.

Despite this, I still enjoyed it. It was a romp, I suppose, in a world I'll probably never know. (Unless I get super internet famous and earn piles of money, move to NYC, and can pay people to be my friends).

But the years did pass and eventually I decided it was time to give in and watch Girls, because it clearly wasn't going away and I needed something new to watch. I got over my laziness and scrounged up the links online and sat through all 20 episodes, which was peanuts compared to the nine? seasons of Sex and the City, plus two movies, that I had seen all of which multiple times before. So this might not be the most thorough of comparisons.

Everyone makes this comparison though, right? Girls and Sex and the City. OooOoOh the controversy. I'm sure I'm breaking new ground here.

As stated on the Girls wikipedia page, which I looked up because I'm such a legit writer I do my research. On wikipedia. Apparently Girls was inspired by Sex and the City, mainly by the women striking out and trying to "make it" in NYC thing. Girls aimed to fill the gap in between being the rich teenagers of Gossip Girl and the rich 30 something women of Sex and the City by being broke 20 year olds. How that works, I'm not sure. The point is, the show is aware of the ties. In the very first episode there is a little nod to SatC, both highlighting the comparison but also blatantly trying to separate itself as a production. What it said to me was "We know about Sex and the City. And we know we are similar. But in fact, we are different."

That seems to be a central theme surrounding the main character, Hannah, in fact. How different she is. She's overweight and weird and so artsy and writer-y that it makes my head want to explode. She is basically like every illustration major I've ever met. As the show progressed I couldn't help but get that little itch in the back of my mind that there was something I did not like about it. It wasn't the writing. At times it could be very poignant and beautiful, which was a deep contrast to Sex and the City, where the writing was more or less an afterthought between sexual innuendos. The stories were fine, and the characters were complex enough I suppose. And then I hit episode 5 of season 2, where Hannah shacks up with this stranger she randomly meets for a couple of days, and well, obviously it doesn't end in happily ever after. Mainly due to the fact that she gives this long speech that makes the guy think twice about her. I don't blame him, either. It made me pretty irritated.

Here is more or less the transcript, because I couldn't find the scene on youtube: 

"Please don't tell anyone this, but...I want to be happy. ... I didn't think that I did. I made a promise such a long time ago that I was gonna take in experiences, all of those, that I could tell people about them and maybe save them but it gets so. tiring. Trying to take in all the experiences for everybody, letting anyone say anything to me. 

I realize I'm not different. You know. I want what everyone wants, I want what they all want. I want all the things. I just want to be happy. 

...

Something is broken inside of me. 

You know what I think I didn't realize before I met you that I was like, lonely. In such a deep, deep way. You know and I was reaching for all this stuff but all I really needed was to be able to look at a person and be like "oh that person wants to be there after I'm dead," you know?

You think I'm a crazy girl? 

If anything I just think I'm like, too smart and too sensitive and too like, not crazy. So that I'm feeling all these big feelings and containing all this stuff for everybody else and it's like... Ok I read this article about Fiona Apple in New York Magazine and where she said, "Oh everybody acts like I'm nuts. I'm not nuts, I just want to feel it all." It's like that is what I'm like, I just want to feel it all. You know? "

These people, the main character especially, are so wrapped up in themselves. It's all about them. And their needs. Every time they have to be supportive for someone else they complain and say "People just need me all the time and I can't do everything for everyone all the time! Blahblahblah."

This show is clearly aiming to give a more realistic portrayal of the young woman of New York City. I suppose women with less money is honest, sure. And maybe they aren't quite as sex and relationship obsessed, by you know, having conversations not about men once in awhile. But christ! These characters aren't airheads, no, but their heads are still up their asses. "I'm too smart and too sensitive" Please. Just stop. You have people looking to this show and this quote like it's actually a good thing to feel that way. At the end of season one/beginning of season two, Hannah dumps the guy she's been chasing for an entire season because she's "afraid." When he tells her "We're all afraid," she responds, "Yea, but I am more afraid than everyone else."

At least when Sex and the City has it's earnest moments, they have a sort of purity to them. That makes us not want to completely slap characters upside the head. The acting isn't great, but at least she isn't ignorant about other peoples feelings.

THIS is why I don't like the show. The characters are all selfish and unrealistic as human beings. Just LOOK at Shoshanna for goodness sakes, and tell me real people act like that.

Ok but I do kind of love her just like I love Samantha.

Maybe there is a rawness to the lives they live, but that doesn't make it real. Maybe there is some very eloquent and poetic scripting at times, but it all still exists in the magical fantasy land of NYC, where people only move to so that they can be broke and wish for their dreams to come true their whole lives. IF they do, their heads just go right up their asses because somehow they've "made it" in NYC and can afford an apartment bigger than a toenail and that makes them better than the rest of us, who prefer to not follow our dreams and live in homes with room to do cool stuff like make pillow forts and have crazy dance parties to 90s pop.

…

Or perhaps I don't like the selfishness and dysfunction of the characters because it is so realistic, and I don't like facing the truth of reality. The truth that people are self absorbed and sad all the time. Maybe I don't want to admit it displays a reflection of who I am and I just don't like who I am.

Or maybe I just think these 20 something Girls are kind of stupid, just like the 30 something girls of Sex and the City, but with less exciting and romantic plot lines.

So, in conclusion, my overall assertion is that both shows exist is magical fantasy lands where women have inflated heads and are full of shit and care too much about men and wear really weird fucking clothes. Like what the fuck? People don't dress like that.

I prefer the over the top, sickly sweet shows about women and lives so far out of reach we don't have to despise them, but that is just me.

And now this, because I think it's funny:

*Not counting those few episodes where a writer realized that the main character, Carrie, writes a single column in a newspaper for a living in one of the most expensive cities in the world and still manages to live a high end lifestyle, so they put "money problems" in as a plot device, but then forgot about it after a few episodes when the conflict had run its course just like every other relationship Carrie has.