Making Fine Messes

He gave a reading out of Freedom at my school.

I hadn’t even really heard of him before that. I went in having been told by some people that he was a great, great writer.

I hated him. I thought his attitude was too stuffy and smug and arrogant. I thought the writing was overly complex as a way of showing off. And the scene he chose to read from his book not only bored me, it made me roll my eyes.

I bought the book anyway and got it signed, because how often do I have the opportunity to get something signed?

I get up to his table and I’m like, “I’ve never read anything by you.”

And I think that really threw him off. He was like, “Oh.”

And I was like, “Do I need to give you my name?”

And he goes, “Some people like that. But no, you don’t have to. And if you don’t like the book, this way you can give it to someone else.”

I liked him a little bit for that. 

But not enough to read the book.

a memoir/devolution into barely readable and incoherent anxious babble

by me.

behind-the-onstreaming:

eatthechickenfrommyhat:

Ok, there’s thing on tumblr where people are like “Other people need to get better at how they treat people suffering from depression.”  And ok, I’ve been majoring dangerously depressed before.  Not like “Oh I’m sad”  but like “I’m actually delusional now and I think I’m dead and just don’t realize it yet like Bruce Willis in the 6th sense and I actually haven’t gotten out of bed in a month.”  It’s cool, I got on meds, I’m doing much better now.  So let me speak about this from my experience.

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Actually, the more we dispel myths about mental illness, the more likely we’ll be treated with more respect and dignity from the mentally non-ill. 

We fucking deserve that.

No, we can’t force people to be compassionate human beings.

But I don’t see how trying to spread some good information is something that should be stopped? 

I don’t get why you feel this need to police sound, solid advice, information, experience-sharing.

When my best friend was diagnosed with cancer, I had no idea how to act, what I should or shouldn’t say, but I wanted to be the best possible friend. So I did some googling and I found the answers I wanted- that not avoiding her or the hospital, listening without spouting false cliches like “I understand” or “I know what you mean”- I found a lot of things that helped me be a good friend to her in the last year of her life.

And yeah, I’m going to get upset because it’s actually not that hard to sit down and read an infographic, to watch a three minute video, like, there’s so much information out there dispelling myths about mental illness for those who don’t really understand, it’s disgusting that people are content to put down, alienate, isolate, abandon, and invalidate those of us with mental illness.

It’s actually really fucked up.

sassycybermen:

“I’m a woman and I’m not offended by this, clearly it isn’t sexist!”

wow I didn’t realise you were the singular spokesperson for 3.5 billion people of different ages, races, religions, backgrounds, sexual orientations, social classes, and cultures, I’m so sorry

gyzym:

two millennials are barreling towards adulthood at 95 miles per hour. one of them has been coated with the most extravagant paint money can buy, but their steering apparatus is locked up until that coat’s paid off; the other’s breaks have been ripped out mid-trip, the thief yelling, “what, did you think you were entitled to these?” over their shoulder. half the tracks have been torn away to build second, third, and fifth garages for trains that are no longer running. solve for x. 

tell me again how the song goes — i’m so inadequate i might forget. if we’re not informed enough then we’re apathetic morons, but if we’re too informed we’re oversensitive reactionaries; if we think we deserve more then we’re narcissistic cutthroats, but if we’re happy where we are then we’re passionless layabouts. if we’re making money then we’re materialistic automatons who only care about stuff and don’t value the important things in life, but if we’re broke then we’re disgusting, spoiled children who expect everything in life to be a handout. if we spend too much time with technology then we’re antisocial, soulless zombies who spell the end for human interaction as we know it, but if we spend too much time together we’re a dangerous, unstable element who should get real jobs already. we’re a disgrace; we’re a embarrassment; we’re a mistake; we’re a disappointment; we’re not what you wanted, however you slice it, and all of it’s our fault, right? right? oh, god, am i getting the melody wrong?

here’s what i propose, everyone who wants to open their twenty-four-hour news cycles or their pork-barrel mouths, who wants to use their filthy fucking hands to tear this generation a new one: you try it. you come up with a picture of the generation you seem to want: one that’s neither apathetic nor engaged, one that’s neither ambitious nor content, one that’s neither rich nor poor, one that’s neither technologically connected nor interpersonally involved. don’t forget to factor in the variables — the years of economic instability; the globalization of everything from communication to art; the hugely stratified individual experiences we’ve had based on things like race, sexuality, gender, and socioeconomics, on things that come with whole histories of systemic bullshit; the overwhelming burden of student debt that so many of us face; the fact that hindsight is 20/20. you write the formula for the millennial that will shut you the fuck up about all the things we should be and aren’t, about all the ways we’ve failed you, and then you bring it to me. i promise you, i will try it. anything for a little peace and quiet, right? anything to stop hearing it everywhere i go: that voice saying that, at twenty-three, i might already have flunked out of life. 

(both millennials crash, spectacularly and yelling for help, into the station that never built a platform for them to pull into. onlookers stand by and shake their heads, wondering about the deplorable state of trains today. that’s what happens when nobody does the fucking math.) 

themongooseandthesnake:

“yeah im a lesbian trapped inside a man’s body” the cishet male laughs as he highfives one of his dudebros. suddenly he gives off a look of pure terror and a piercing shriek as his skin is ripped apart, much to the horror of his crew. his skin falls to the floor and a woman is left standing where he once was. “FINALLY” she roars, kicking one of the dudebros in the dick before running into the sunset in search of some hella fine ladies.

markovmodel:

the other day my friend told me he’d broken six bones while doing a kickflip on his skateboard. isn’t that amazing? he did a great trick AND beat up some skeletons! i hate skeletons 

for my lover’s birthday next week, I’m making a scrap book type thing with my poetry and some pictures. This way I can add to it for every holiday. I am really enjoying doing this.

I got some pretty “designer paper” that was on sale, I cut some into photo sized pieces and filled them in 1 x 3 photo pages. Next, I’m going to hand write some poems (I might print some of the longer ones) on clean white paper and then add some pictures of us I printed off.

I will post pics of the project when it’s more finished.