Self Diagnosing

Yesterday I decided to diagnose myself with dyslexia.  I had been curious about some issues I have with concentration and words moving around on the screen/page when I'm trying to read.  After much online research I decided I most definitely must be dyslexic. I also probably have skin cancer, male pattern baldness, and vampire syndrome.  The internet is very helpful with discovering these things. Incidentally, after diagnosing myself I noticed that my coworker keeps changing around the numbers when saying addresses and my boss keeps typing words out of order. Everyone has dyslexia!

Or maybe it's side effects from my seizure meds. That makes a lot more sense.

Ode to Joy

A peculiar and fascinating thing happened to me yesterday. Now, you all might think I'm crazy and trust me, I thought more than twice about if I should share this but I figure what the hell. It's my blog. I'll share what I want. On with the story.

Yesterday I was reading one of the various blogs I skim on occasion. This particular blog has several writers and posts random things they find interesting. I often skip most of it. For some reason yesterday I hit play on a video that said Flash Mob. The ever so familiar tune of Ode to Joy started to play. For some reason, I became overwhelmed with, well, Joy as the song suggests and thoughts of my Uncle Tom. You see, this was my Uncle's favorite song. I don't know why I remember that. He died tragically in 1994 when I was ten years old. Unfortunately that is still pretty young and although I remember bits and pieces about his house, work, personality, it's not a whole lot. Yet I remember it's his favorite song.

Ode to Joy is not an uncommon song. You all know the tune. It's the first song I learned to play on any instrument. I know I hear it frequently. Why this particular time I was flooded with thoughts of my uncle made me a little curious. They were all happy thoughts and I was glad to be thinking of him, but it surprised me a little. I started to wonder, wouldn't it be strange if I found out today somehow related to him? I figured I could probably find his name in an old news article being that he was prominent in the community. His obituary has to be somewhere. I didn't think of the fact that my last name plus obituary is sort of flooding the news at the moment with the movie massacre and all. I didn't get anywhere. I let it go.

Later in the day I found myself on the phone with my father. When I asked him when Tom's birthday was he was genuinely shocked. He knows there was no way I had any clue what day of the year it was. I don't consider myself a religious person or anything along those lines but it's times like this when I think maybe the universe is trying to tell me something. Today is the day. Happy Birthday Uncle Tom! I have a feeling you would have enjoyed this video. Love you.

Liquid Break

Today is day one.

I've decided to stop consuming alcohol for a little while.
Why would you do such a thing? One might ask. Well, for several reasons.  First of all, I'm not feeling all that great and I think considering my health over social acceptance would be the obviously responsible thing to do.  I can't imagine removing alcohol from my system for a couple weeks will harm me. Although, I've been wrong before. Plus, I want to do a liver cleanse and it's probably best to try that on a slightly healthy liver.

Another reason that this sounds like a super awesome idea right about now is because I think it will save me a ton of money. I spend way too much at the bar month to month. Having that extra cash in pocket could pay for so many fun things, like a visit to the gynecologist!

I'm betting after a good amount of time passes and the liver cleanse is complete, I will be one hell of a lightweight. One drink will do me just fine. Oh yeah, I imagine I might actually lose some weight as well. That would be nice.

So, good luck body. This will be weird but we can do it.


(Picture of me passed out in the woods with beer in hand. Obviously missing all the fun.)

Lunchroom Anxiety

Earlier today I saw an advertisement for lunch meat. I hardly ever pay attention to commercials and I honestly don’t remember the brand or anything that could help me link it here. Obviously this wasn’t a very effective commercial in that sense but it did move me enough within ten seconds to remember it.  Basically it shows a school cafeteria and a little girl sitting by herself wondering if anyone is going to sit with her. Within seconds all my childhood lunchroom anxiety was back.

You would think something like that would leave your mind as an adult but apparently it still bothers me on some level. Maybe because I don’t think I’ve ever talked about it before.  See it’s crap like this that reminds me I need to get back into therapy. In lieu of speaking with a therapist I’ll just talk to myself here.

In the commercial the girl was probably around eight years old or something like that.  In my first through six grade school lunches of life I don’t recall having much lunch anxiety. We were a small school with a big lunchroom and I think I was only pretending to eat my mushed up sandwich in my lunchbox.  We ate as fast as possible so we could go outside to enjoy recess. Life was hard in those days. So many slides. So little time.

The two most awkward years of life were most certainly in Junior High. All the girls are bitches and all the boys are horny little dirtbags. When lunch time came around we were all crammed into a lunchroom over-packed with kids. They had different lunch shifts that eased some of the crowding but it was still horrible. There were cliques and if you weren’t in one you sat alone but being over crowded, there was no place to sit alone. I remember spending more than a few lunch periods hiding in the bathroom.

When high school began it wasn’t any better. Now there are even more kids. My graduating class was 650 so I assume that puts about 2,600 kids all locked in the building and eating lunch in different shifts. Again, too many to fit. They had big circular tables to ensure that you were sitting with whatever clique you were allowed into. If your friends didn’t have the same lunch hour as you, well, you are going to have an awkward time. I spent a lot of time wandering around searching for someone I knew and hoping they might have a seat available at the table. By the end of each semester you would usually have things worked out but all that anxiety came back as soon as they changed it again.

It’s not like I was really unpopular or anything. I was a nice kid. I had friends. The problem was that in my youth I didn’t have the self-confidence to approach strangers or the softball clique and ask to join them. These days I wouldn’t think twice. In retrospect I don’t understand why they had the lunchrooms set up in such a horrible way. I know I wasn’t the only kid who loathed lunch hour. It’s torture. It is forced social time with snotty judgmental kids. I just wanted to eat my Taco Bell in peace.

It’s a wonder I turned out so well adjusted.

Forgot the To-Do List

I’m in a weird state of mind as of late.  Perhaps it’s the heat.  I still don’t have air conditioning. I haven’t had air conditioning in ten years. Living on the 8^th floor in a box of heat isn’t the best for sanity. 

I’m in a little bit of a panic because I’ve come to realize there is SO MUCH I need to do before I die or am forever crippled into bed and unable to do anything.  I can admit that I’m not totally at zero on my to-do list but sometimes that is hard to remember because I forgot to write the to-do list.

What happened to all of us over the years that made us believe it’s in our best interest to spend the large majority of our time doing mundane tasks in order to be able to eat, sleep, and see a doctor? What are we really doing this for? I’m wasting way too much of my life so that I can organize a far more interesting life for a family that manipulates people for financial gain. This doesn’t make me happy.  Making myself an enlightened, ethical, and socially responsible human should be my priority. That’s what I should spend my time doing. 

I have to figure out a way to make this happen. I need to have a life where I can travel, learn, and do something societally beneficial.  I know, I know, I dream big. Then again, if you aren’t dreaming big, what’s the point of dreaming?

I’m crazy about him.

My gorgeous Italian boyfriend left the country 22 days ago. I won’t see him again for another 41 days.

THIS WAS THE WORST IDEA EVER.

I didn’t realize how pathetically crazy in love I am with this man until he cut me off and now I feel like a heroin addict that can only find weed as a replacement. The weed being Facebook and Skype in this scenario. I never imagined I could be separated from someone for 22 days and still think about them every few minutes.  I’ve become a loser.  I have been destroyed. He has ruined me. I’m annoying now. I can’t talk about anything but how much I miss my heroin. I don’t want to be annoying. I just want my fix.

I have fallen really hard. All of a sudden that saying makes sense to me. I feel all bloody and broken. In the most romantic way possible of course.

Realistically I assume this feeling is passing but so far it’s only getting worse. I assume the rabid bats flying around in my chest will eventually calm into contentment but right now they keep waking up and making me nauseous.  That’s a beautiful bit of imagery for a love song. I’m so inspired.

So for the next 41 days I will go on with my life as usual. I will publicly try to not act like a crack addict. He can do whatever he needs to do in Italy and I’ll do whatever keeps me alive in New York.

Yes, I have gone insane.