I’m sorry I have not been a very good personal internet journalist lately. There has been a lot going on. Namely work and struggling to leave my room. And being in the city for work. I’m going to post things soon. probably tonight and over the next couple days.
Look forward to my opinion on why I don’t have a facebook, co-dependent texting, games you can play at The Javits Center, and roller blades.
That title isn’t true. I’m just mad at the world right now, like a fifteen year old girl who can’t go to the cute guys party. I met a new psychiatrist today, dished out the cool $450 for the initial visit, and then found out my insurance would not be reimbursing me for it. I would be able to tamper that into okayness in my head if they were going to reimburse me in the future for future visits, but I need to spend $600 more before they will cover anything. WHO HAS THAT MONEY.
Even if I do have savings, it’s called savings for a reason, I’m saving for SOMETHING. I’m not sure what yet, but something. Like if I loose my job, or get to move out of my parents basement.
Regardless, I’m going to tell my new psychiatrist (that I really liked) that I cannot see her because I cannot afford to see her and I don’t know whether to be angry with her or my insurance company. Because I don’t know who I am mad at. I guess I’m also mad at myself for even needing a stupid expensive psychiatrist.
I’m really just sad because I thought maybe this one was going to work out well for me, and obviously it isn’t and that is incredibly disheartening. I think a most people who suffer from depression are waiting for someone to say the magic words that would make it go away. This is obviously something that will never happen. I also know there is no magic pill that makes it go away, even if there are a million that claim to work.
So, what do you do when your crap insurance doesn’t help with mental health?
I’ve already emotionally ate and cried for a little bit.
THIS COMMERCIAL IS AMAZING. And so is the pledge and everything else they want to do. I signed because everyday when I wake up the forecast says 90% chance of books today.
For some reason a good amount of people simply do not understand how to use a book stand. They get incredibly creative with it, and it is one of my favorite things to watch. I never, ever, correct someone when they are in the middle of replacing a book- it is far too entertaining. I think when the person replaced this he felt very similar to both book titles.
Ignore my horrible MSPaint censoring.
Being a college English major and book seller means that I am constantly reading books for work and play, and sometimes when I am lucky, both. This past semester was not a very “both” one. It has left my brain part stew and hoping to never endure Henry James again. I am a self-described horrible English major. I hate all the writers that everyone else loves. I’d rather get a face tattoo than read anything by Nathaniel Hawthorne aka that guy who wrote The Scarlet Letter. A FACE TATTOO. Like Mike Tyson. But I’d probably opt for something a little more feminine.
The Modern English Student at my school is not one breed, but many different species of horrible monster. What they share is the steadfast belief that they all are the next great american novelist. These creatures all believe they are infallible in their knowledge which has been almost completely shaped by what their professors tell them. And worse off, their writing is incomprehensible to anyone except stoic seasoned collegiate professionals. They are truly just machines that parrot back information while using proper MLA formatting and large words. And maybe this is not an issue of just The Modern English Student, but it is as though nothing is truly learned, yet instead these facts are simply filed in order to be pulled at appropriate times. There is no greater grasp of knowledge or reach outside the bounds of what the department gives them.
I once had a boy argue with me that Harper Lee was a man. Yes, HARPER LEE, the one who wrote To Kill A Mockingbird. A novel that is pretty much required in all high schools across this nation. This was not one of those conspiracy theory arguments where he believed that a man had actually wrote it, he truly believed that Nelle Harper Lee was a man. And we argued this even after another person had joined the argument stating in fact that Harper Lee had ALWAYS been a woman. While this is an extreme case of the disease that these students face, mild or not- it is not a fun time being around them.
It is a special kind of stupid that is sprinkled across college campuses. This stupid that is tinged with “we are the future of this country”. It also has hints of “I DESERVE THIS” and “I earn this education by paying for it, not by passing anything”.
It is not all horrible, among this breed is a small group of normal’s that I like to consider the friends I have made. They embrace our radically different tastes in reading, allow me to tie ribbons in their hair, and laugh in my face when I make these gigantic generalizations that I am notorious for. This small select oft view the monsters in similar taste but also know how to properly be a Modern English Student. I peer edit with them, and wonder how they could possibly formulate essays the way they do; they wonder who could possibly regard my writing style as acceptable.
I smoke marijuana.
I prefer to refer to it as weed.
So, I smoke weed.
I also feel like every time I admit to someone that I do smoke weed, they imagine that I do it often. That really when my eyes are all squinty from pollen, I’m actually probably stoned. Yes with my elders, but mostly with my peers, I’ve found that admitting to smoking weed drums up negative images as well as connotations.
The first and foremost is that for one to admit to smoking weed, it means they are doing it quite often. When I say that I smoke weed, it is the same as when I say “oh yes, I eat sword fish”. Like how often do I actually eat sword fish? Maybe twice a year, depending on the circumstance. Yes, I smoke weed more than twice a year, but probably less than twenty-five times. To me, circumstance is key when it comes to smoking. When I was younger, I would smoke with anyone, at anytime. (I’m hoping you imagine young me, in an alley, wearing tattered clothes, shaking, waiting for my next fix.) Probably for the past 5 years I only smoke will a small group of my friends, and only when we can all convene from our various life places. I once had a real stoner call me “The Benjamin Button of Weed”, as if I digressed in marijuana status because I didn’t smoke a lot anymore.
Or maybe he said it because I am an english major and he was stoned.
My second issue with the judging of my marjiuana intake is that I also feel that when people think I am smoking my butt off all the time, they are thinking I am being lazy and irresponsible. Well to you all, the answer is yes, yes I am. But locked in my own house for a singular night. For that one night I will be lazy and irresponsible and watch The Labyrinth, sing along, and eat an entire bag of Dorito’s (the red kind, which are far superior). That night, when the high is wearing off, I will then proceed to go to bed (too full to sleep on my back or stomach) and wake up the next morning as if the event never happened! Besides the faint orange tint of my fingers, and a note that reads something like “Rope Swings Gone Bad”, my marijuana usage impacts nothing but the caloric intake and genius scale for less then 5 hours.
Finally, I believe that this little area of the world has a pretty lax view on smoking. I have to say, I don’t know many people who don’t smoke out here. But smoke like I do. Circumstantially depending on occasion and attendants. The lifestyle out here, marijuana included or not, is unlike most others. So I mostly do not tell people from other parts of the island that I smoke. Because I don’t like to be judged. Because I want everyone to think that I’m really smart and cool and shit.
Either way, I’m quitting for a while, I had a near death experience the other night. I choked because I was drinking my Arizona Green Tea tall boy and my best friend ate a Twizzler and Cheetos at the same time. I was laughing and choking so intensely my body made weird noises and I almost spit green tea EVERYWHERE. Weed Kills, you know?
I’ve decided to be candid about a couple things on here, the foremost being my depression. This year has been really difficult for many different reasons, but mostly due to not being able to get my depression under control since early fall. This obviously has not been an advantage going into the holiday season. Regardless, with only New Years to combat, I’m plugging away. I really did try my best to enjoy Christmas this year, and sometimes that works. Here are some wonderful/funny/quirky things I did enjoy.
The little grey is a special Christmas gift without me forcing her.
Our company was not able to make it, the green beans made phenomenal eyebrows.
My siblings are currently in a small battle. It isn’t not safe to sleep. Michele got nativitied. That isn’t a word but I don’t care.
My mom received this text from a number she didn’t know. I posted it on instagram, my cousin received the same text. We didn’t get Scooby about it. I think it’s funnier that way.
It’s like a meme and a hashtag situation all bundled with a slightly funny picture of me. Every time that I’m sarcastically not impressed or actually not impressed, I will use this.
You may or not have a previous knowledge of me while reading this. Either or is an acceptable reason for being here. This is my first post, post deciding that I was going to be a blogger (or the more acceptable title; personal online journalist).
After much research (aka sitting on the computer and working in a bookstore) I have come to realize that the one thing that you really need in order to blog efficiently is to write as though you believe everything you are saying is a completely valid thing to talk about. For instance if I want to talk about the effects of humidity on my hair, in order to do so properly I must sound an adequate amount convincing and entertaining at the same time.
The trick is to just find a group of people who enjoy the weird things you do. Cultivate some type of following of people who think you are worthy of listening to. This blog is my full attempt, do or do not judge, this will not see the light of day until multiple posts in.
I'd Rather be in Bed 