This is Silly, But: An Update On My Mental Health

All's well and has been for like 3 days. I credit friends and Woody Allen movies. 

It is June. I am tired of being brave.

Well, fine. It’s the end of July but I can never pass up Anne Sexton. And it’ true: I’m tired of being brave.

 It’s a beautiful day, I’m on my deck stretching the wifi. I have nearly finished that story and I don’t hate it, which is rare. I’m seeing my friends in a few hours, and another friend after that. I honestly don’t know why I’m not happy. I felt like this last fall, but back then I had more legitimate reasons, which cleared up when I went abroad. Now I’m afraid it is just the brain chemistry I inherited from my mother. Which is terrifying. It is too soon to say though. I have a feeling that once I am in my own apartment and taking classes I will feel better. So who knows if it’s my location, my lack of serotonin or my situation, but I wake up feeling like I am still asleep. Then once I have a good time with friends (and when did I become this brat who needs constant attention and reassurance?) I am happy again and I feel stupid for ever feeling sad. I used to tell my therapist how guilty I felt for being sad when there were people who had really lost or been through more than I can imagine. I think she said something like “you’re only you. it’s okay to feel what you’re feeling.” Still, I hate that I am such a sensitive baby, I really do.  Like, who cares if my mother is a child and tells me constantly “you don’t love me like you used to,” who cares if I feel left out sometimes, who cares if I hurt someone because I am selfish, who cares if I miss people all the time. It’s not a big deal. Sigh, maybe someone knows what I am saying, because I don’t. Maybe everyone feels like this.

 I follow this girl’s tumblr http://rickahh.tumblr.com/. Her name is Rosey and she is certainly going through a rough time dealing with her depression. I read the following a month ago:

 “i’m afraid to be honest here anymore, but i will be anyway. i’ve spent a good deal of the early afternoon on the kitchen floor, crying until i was about to throw up. it was nice and cool, it’s just so hot today. i am so fucking scared. this is always me, always in this position. i wonder if other people ever feel this way. if they do, they don’t tell me about it. i’m always the one with this look on my face. waiting for someone else to say something. making doe-eyes expectantly. i was screaming in my head, you know. maybe i can’t will things to happen after all.

the thing is, i probably have nothing to worry about. no reason to be so upset. no one’s going anywhere. in all honesty, i will probably read this in 20 minutes and think dear god, who said those things? because i am not this pathetic.

i can’t decide if the realization that it’s difficult to trust yourself or your feelings in love is frightening and sort of depressing, or if it’s empowering and sort of a relief.”

I am not at the point of crying on the kitchen floor, but relate to the rest of what she said. + I do often look back and think “who said those things?”- I am not that person. I don’t know. If only I could swallow the loneliness that lingers even when I'm not alone, if only I could not care that people who should not fuck up are fucking up, if only I could I always trust myself enough to say what I'm thinking aloud...This was uber-confessional. Apologies. Here's a lol-ish picture to even the keel.

how strange it is to be anything at all

Oh No! Oh My!- I have no sister. A fun electronic song I can't stop listening to. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4uNiim2PFYI

you look like Audrey Hepburn
when you get all dressed up
I have seen all your movies 
'cause Audrey's a stone fox

so let's ride bikes into the sea
and catch a bus outside the reef
drive so deep where we can see
thinks that we have to get off
The bus driver laughs and he shakes his head
says, "You're okay, I drive this route everyday"
you're uneasy and you say you're scared
and if I die at least you'll die too 

My Life:

I want to eat/ drink the following two pictures:

Thinking about my apartment. I got white sheets and a white duvet cover and I have really bright pillows. It feels like a cloud. Earlier in the week I hardly left it. I was being emo. I'm happy again though. 

I want this bedspread so bad! Where did those freaks get it?!?!??!

I want those lights too. 

Random Images:

Google Yourself When You Get Home

Plz click on these so that you can enjoy them the way they were meant to be enjoyed.


It things like the above which remind me I'm no more manic or sadder or weirder than the next girl. The best thing I can do is never take anything seriously. I'll stop here and spare you the Almost Famous quote.
I am now reading My Mistress's Sparrow Is Dead, a collection of short stories on love edited by Jeffrey Eugenides. So far I loved a story by Lorrie Moore, read one by Carver, one by Denis Johnson, and saw that one of my favorite Miranda July's was in there. I also took out Lorrie Moore's anthologie on childhood, I know some things.

Haha, my recent google searches:

intervention

tfln

tulsa

split lip

calories in semen

pimp

magnolia buttercream

rainbow cupcakes

dinosaur world route 66

my lyfe= exciting. 
Also: Last night I watching True Life in the dark, like you do, and I thought I heard my phone vibrate. I was so excited and while reaching for it I almost fell out of bed and accidently threw my phone across the room. No one had texted me. It was my dog snoring. not.taking.myself.seriously #44. 

As Planned

After the first glass of vodka
you can accept just about anything
of life even your own mysteriousness
you think it is nice that a box
of matches is purple and brown and is called
La Petite and comes from Sweden
for they are words that you know and that
is all you know words not their feelings
or what they mean and you write because
you know them not because you understand them
because you don't you are stupid and lazy
and will never be great but you do
what you know because what else is there?
-Frank O'Hara

I should just rename this blog "Anything Frank O'Hara Has Done."
I'm writing a story in my backyard right now. I don't know if this happens to anyone else, but when I write I get very nauseous and shaky. Granted I have anxiety (but who doesn't?) so that could be why. These past few weeks I have felt very bi-polar (which I do not have) and I think people are noticing. I'm just telling myself that if the weather stays nice and if I finish this story and if its any good, I will be okay. Even though I do not feel 'okay' and I haven't for a while. It's really fine though. This isn't a cry for attention. I'm almost hitting delete. I'm just trying to be honest.
Currently re-reading:

It Rains A Lot This Time of Year

Wow, Coconut Records, way to have your song lyric completely describe this summer. I'm trying not get too down about it, but I'm a hippie and I need to be among trees & flowers & sunshine. And everyone is dying this week:

Hahaha, I love that. At least there was a Degrassi marathon on this morning. AND two days ago I got to go up north to see a cool kid and it was blissful. By 'blissful' I mean we got belligerent on fboo, stayed up until 5, spent the next day in pain and met some Shakers. I also decided we are just like these two because bitch always gets blackout. 

Awww:

Oh hai. Devendra Banhart and I look the same when we're on our macbooks. So GPOYW: