I honestly had one of the most beautiful dreams I have ever experienced.

It’s been a rough two weeks, but I’m still happy. It’s strange how being exactly where you’re meant to be affects your ability to react to the little things that are shitty, but happen when you least expect it.

Last night was a night of insomnia. It wasn’t bad. I wasn’t upset about it. I do, however, have a tendency of forcing myself to stay in bed when I am having a bout because I’m very much like a child and will pass out eventually.

And I did.

In my dream, I was living in a house with a bunch of friends from the west coast. It honestly had the feel of a commune. There were always people around and they were talking to each other and I didn’t understand any of the words coming out of their mouth. I think a part of me knew that they were speaking English because I stared in abject horror and wondered what was wrong with me.

A few people talked to me and I could feel the reverberation of my jaw and hear the timbre of my voice, but I had absolutely no idea what I had said. I think that I may have excused myself and walked to what I could only assume was my room. For some reason there was a sink and mirror against a wall (like they do in hotel rooms sometimes). I leaned against the chilled porcelain and it felt like an eternity before I could look up at myself.

I saw the saddest flicker of light in my eyes. I even spent time looking at them. Icy blue iris with almost gold flecks around the pupil. It’s jarring to think of how many muscles were at work while I stood there trying to change my expression. I would shift to a smile, frown, make a monster face… but the sadness still remained in the coloring of my eyes. It was like a filter had been applied to them to dull their brilliance, but it was only appearance. It wasn’t my vision that was clouded.

I could hear people talking through paper thin walls and couldn’t understand anything that was being said. It was as if I was a character in the Sims that didn’t belong in the game. I grabbed a set of headphones and put them on.

They weren’t plugged into anything, but as soon as they settled over my ears I heard Calexico – Frank’s Tavern. Before I realized it, I was dancing with my back to the door. My movement was fluid and almost ballet-inspired. I closed my eyes and danced for a little bit until I felt pressure against my right palm.

I lifted my lids and found myself falling into my eyes again, only to realize that they didn’t have the flecks of gold mine did. I pulled back slightly and recognized the face of the man that was leading me along. He pulled back with my hands in his, allowing my legs to stretch. He pulled me back into a tight almost-waltz and finally spun me out. When I stopped spinning and the music ended I smiled and bowed.

I took the headphones off, but music continued. It was the voices of all of the friends I have made on the west coast. One-by-one, each of them danced with me and after each time I found myself understanding their words.

I have no idea what any of it meant, but I woke up wanting to thank that first friend. Without his help, it would have been a different dream. A terrifying dream.

Obligatory Thankful Post for Thanksgiving

I made the foolhardy attempt to blog something I was thankful for every hour last Thanksgiving. This year, I am keeping it simple.
– I am thankful for my family. Not just the family I was born into. The family that my parents added in and the family that I have added in myself.

– I am thankful for people that have never given up on me, even though I have done quite a few shitty things in my life. I am even thankful for those that HAVE given up on me. I do not regret the friendship, even though some days it’s bittersweet.

– I am thankful for my new friends that have embraced me into the fold and have shown me nothing but love and warmth. For me to feel safe after only being here four months is staggering. I love my PDX dragons, Cuddlahs, and Bettie.

– I am thankful for my bestie, and always look forward to whiskeying with him on Sundays.

– I am thankful for podcasts, podcasting, and all recordings of every type.

– I am thankful that I got to attend the LA Podcast Festival this year. So many memories jam packed into a three day period.

– I am thankful for music, musicians, and being able to use my voice in a melodic fashion.

– I am thankful for my ability to write. I haven’t done it in quite some time, but my palms itch.

– I am thankful that I have grown to appreciate my body and that I have a tattoo parlor here that I love enough to call it my own. (Come visit. We’ll get tattoos together!)

– I am thankful for taking a huge risk and moving across the country. Though I miss my family terribly (today and every other day), I feel more like who I was meant to be here.


And to end this small post, I want to tell anyone reading this that I am thankful that you are reading my blog. You may be a new visitor, you may be a regular. It means the world to me that people actually enjoy what it is I’m doing.


Oh… and I didn’t win the powerball so if you shop Amazon this holiday season, can you start through my link on the right hand side of my site? It costs you nothing, but maybe I’ll get a penny or two for referring you. Every little bit, loveys!

Everything Counts

My friend posted this on a private forum a few days ago and I asked her for permission to post this and she accepted. The thing is, this is a woman that I feel incredibly honored and blessed to have met. Anyone that helped her in her darkest days immediately has a fan in me. 

Sadly, I do not have the money I would like to donate. That is why I am asking you. I rarely seriously ask for things, but if you enjoy this blog, please stop by the link at the end of this post and donate what you can or RT the crap outta this post. It would mean the world to me.

“In 2002, I left my husband after taking years of abuse from him. He kept everything. I moved into an apartment with my bed and my radio, and one of our two cars. That was later repossessed and I found out that he had been pocketing or spending the payments for over six months. (We used money orders for everything.)

After a month of that empty apartment, I got depressed. Then, I started thinking that it would be very easy for someone to clean out my apartment if I was dead in there, since I had no furniture.

One night, I sat on my living room floor and filled about half the pages of a dollar store spiral notebook with goodbye letters for everyone I could think of. I wrote each person a note because I am thoughtful that way.

The next day, I went to work with a plan to pick up refills of my prescription drugs and swallow all of them when I got home. I was not afraid or sad. I felt fine. Numb, maybe.

I worked in a tiny office. We shared long folding tables instead of having desks. There were about ten of us in one room. My boss had to take the employees outside to talk to any one of us privately. Which is what she did to me around 10:00 that morning.

She knew. She knew something was up, and she was the only person in my life who said a word about it. She put me in her car, and we drove up to Fountain Hills, north of Scottsdale, and sat by the fountain at this little park and had a beer. We smoked cigarettes and she got me to tell her everything. She said she thought about suicide before, but she couldn’t stand the idea of leaving her dogs behind. She made me promise that I would never do a thing like that without calling her first.

That little bit of caring made a huge difference. We had not been friends at all up to that point. Now, we have been very close friends for over ten years. I moved to Utah, and she has no one to be there with her.

Which brings me to the begging. She’s been in the hospital and back out, and had to miss time at work. She’s gone back to work (at Home Depot–impressive for a woman missing a bunch of connective tissue in her shoulder, thanks to Lupus) but the bills have gotten too far out of hand.

She has help coming in a month, so she needs help for one month. Her car is broken down and she needs help with the deductible. I am not good at this kind of thing, but I have to try for her sake. $5 would be awesome. More, better. I don’t have it to give to her, so I’m begging on her behalf.

I appreciate anything you can do. The despair and hopelessness is eating her up.

Thanks.  Colleen’s GoFundMe page

All The Candy In The World

My friend Molly posted this on her Facebook in regards to going trick-or-treating tonight with her four year old daughter, Boo.

“So – took Boo trick-or-treating to the neighborhood behind us this year. I think she’s the ONLY child who, after filling her bucket about 3/4 of the way, peered into it, nodded her head, and then told me and Ali in no uncertain terms that she was done…
“But… There are other houses – we could trick or treat on the way back home…”
“No thanks. I have all the candy in the world.”
…walking down the road…
“Hey, Boo! There’s one. What about this one? Want to do just one more house?”
“I already TOLD you – I’m done. Thanks!”


To expand a little (because I am verbose. You know this. You read this blog), I hastily invited myself to Halloween festivities with Molly and Fred. Obviously, this seems like a strange thing for me to do, but I have never felt unwelcome at inviting myself to hang out with Molly. I am very blessed to have her.

So I asked her what she was doing tonight with the wee one, and she invited me to come out trick or treating with her. I haven’t been trick-or-treating in forever, so I was thrilled to be able to witness the event from a different angle.

We trudged outside, umbrellas in hand, and Boo held her little pink pail for candy. She skipped and sang and chortled with excitement. Her first house, she forgot what to say when the door opened. We had to remind her a few times to thank the people opening their doors and handing out candies. “364 days a year, we teach our children NOT to take candy from strangers…” Molly mused. We then burst into hysterical laughter as Sticky Hands McGee (Boo) took FOUR HANDFULS from someone’s bowl.

Because she can totally work the sweet, they smiled and said “no worries” as we shouted apologies.

Boo’s unbridled laughter is like a drug for me. She laughs loudly, with abandon, and has yet to feel self-conscious about the volume she can project. To me, it is the sweetest symphony. It is that last drag on a cigarette where you expected to suck filter and instead get a sweet pull. It is my west coast version of Vicki and Seth’s corny num nums (cornbread with jalapeno).

The sounds of her merriment traveled through the air as ghouls, ghosts, and goblins traversed Suburbia. Not even a ninja hip checking her into a brick wall took her happiness away. She was in the moment and that moment was GLORIOUS.

After a while, she looked into her pail, and the conversation we had (mentioned above) occurred. We strolled past houses we hadn’t visited and she shrugged them off, saying that she had plenty. We got back to the house and Molly relayed the story to Fred and he chuckled.

As I was driving home, I was hit with the thought “I wish I could have a moment like that”. It’s amazing to think that 75% is good enough (considering how hard I am on myself). I remember as a child mapping out the neighborhood to ensure maximum candy retrieval. I was methodical. I was organized. Hell, I separated my candy not only into brand, but flavor spectrum.

The idea that a four year old could see a bunch of porch lights on and have a bucket not filled to the brim and be CONTENT with what she had was so foreign to me. But… I want that. I want the moment where I am completely present and not trying to figure out contingencies. I long for the moment where I don’t think to open my phone to plan for the future and instead live blissfully happy in the present.

Getting a life lesson from a four year old is remarkable.

I Got Dumped

Now I bet you’re thinking “But Ali, I didn’t think you were dating anyone.” And you would be correct. So I was a bit blindsided today when a long-time friend called me and told me that she was having a hard time with the direction she felt her life was going in. She mentioned that friends were moving away, friends were getting married, and friends were having babies. She fell into an introspective mindset where she came to the decision that she needed to spend more time with God – learning more about Him, reading the Bible, thinking about Him… Dedicating all of her free time to her faith.

She said that she didn’t want to find herself resenting the people she surrounded herself with for their life choices and also for the history that she shared with them. She felt guilty and shameless of some of the decisions of her past, and associated the friends from that time period with that guilt and shame. She didn’t want to be alone and friendless – so she decided to break ties with her friends.

First off, I know that some of my readers are going to be angry for me. Truthfully? I don’t want you to be mad at her. Honestly, what kind of person would I be if I didn’t accept that she needed to be alone?

Her: “I just wanted to let you know that I’m going to need some time away from you.”

Me: “… NO!”

See? That wouldn’t work. I’m not the type of person that will force someone to be my friend. I think that everyone is welcome to their opinions, and I can love them even if they DO have differing values/opinions/structure than me. In fact, I have found that some of my most stimulating conversations have been with an articulate friend who has a differing opinion.

Am I hurt? Yes. There really is no way around that. It would do both of us (and our decade-long friendship) disservice to lie about feeling a little hollow. She has been a part of my life during a lot of hard times – and I certainly hope that is a reciprocal feeling.  We have had our differences in the past, but we had always been able to talk about things… at least I thought we did. There were certain topics that I shied away from because I typically do that with everyone. (I don’t talk about politics or religion.)

Am I worried? Absolutely. I am so terrified that she is going to experience an upset so jarring and painful and she won’t think she can call me. I worry that she won’t find someone to confide in, be it a therapist or another friend she makes that she considers less morally ambiguous than I am.

PLEASE NOTE – I fully acknowledge that my morals are skewed. Whether I am completely bankrupt is a matter of debate, but she did admit that we don’t share some of her core values. I believe that we were both guilty of being judgmental. It was rarely spoken, but it was there. It always is with everyone, and if someone says that they don’t judge, they are a friggin liar. They DO judge, they just don’t comment.

I guess when I was hoping for some sort of artistic inspiration for writing, this phone call wasn’t something that I was expecting. I’ve also been incredibly self-involved as of late. I haven’t posted much because… I’ve just been meh. I still keep waiting for the panic attacks to happen, but I haven’t had one since I left my previous employer.

That being said, I have been crying on and off for the majority of the day. I have so many things here that remind me of her. Pictures, toys, gifts, things that bring back memories. I just looked to my right and in five seconds I was able to locate ten things that made me think of her. I remember trips we took together. The friends we made together. The parties, the bonfires, swimming, fighting, arguing, singing, laughing, confiding. The support, the tears, the patience, the changes, the various stages in our friendship.

Do I regret any of it? Not for one moment.

So, as much as this is a goodbye… This is also a thank you.

Thank you for caring about me when I couldn’t be bothered to care about myself.

I love you, and if I never hear from you again… Please know that I wish you nothing but happiness.


Speaking of happiness, I posted on Facebook earlier today a request for people to share videos that never failed to make them laugh (because I really needed it).

Here’s a playlist of all of the suggestions.

Oh Hai. Long Time…

It’s been a really long time since I made a post. I’m sure I could have written something awhile ago, but I needed some time to unplug and relax. The last 2-3 weeks have been both hectic and wonderful. I’ll have to bullet it all to get it in.

– My friends Jackie and Nick hosted a farewell shindig for me* and I was amazed at how many of my friends were able to attend.
– I finally reserved an apartment in Oregon and have put down a deposit.
– I gave my letter of resignation to my employer well in advance so I would be able to train my replacement.
– My parents hosted a gathering of family and friends as a Bon Voyage for me*.
– I went to Foxwoods with my Dad and Aunt and we stayed overnight. I left $50 richer, so that was great.
– We took a trip up to the Ben and Jerry’s factory in Vermont, AKA: THE LONGEST DRIVE FOR ICECREAM EVER, followed by a similarly long drive to a chateau and spent a night by the fire, reading and talking to each other. It was lovely.
– Went to the Yankee Candle factory in Massachusetts and made a candle to bring with me that my Aunt, Mom, Dad, and Cousin helped to make.
– We returned home on my birthday and my brother and sister-in-law had cooked dinner and it was delicious and wonderful.
– I had my last appointment with my therapist. Then it sunk it that this was happening soon and I got really worried. But, I know that as long as I stay proactive with my mental health I will find someone on the West coast.
– We celebrated my mom’s birthday and father’s day (which is shitty, but we had to do it that way because they were so close).
– Had a great dinner with some of my friends from my hometown and talked into the wee hours of the evening. I didn’t look at my phone once.
– Went to see Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter and Brave in a double feature day followed by Karaoke at the Corner Pocket in Orange.
– Banked a few episodes of podcasts.

I completely apologize for not posting podcasts the last few weeks for Memoirs of a Gamer. I’ve been incredibly busy and still have so much more that I need to do prior to my move, but it WILL be back!

Hopefully everyone is having a fantastic month. June has been great to me. I hope it has to all of you.

*It was great to have a bunch of people attend, but it’s strange being the guest of honor to things. It’s hard to divide the time to appreciate everyone when you want to hang out with all of them. It’s not like you can shout “OKAY! EVERYBODY IN A CIRCLE!” and then force them to all converse in the same room so you can absorb bits and pieces.

A Love Note to My Self on My Birthday




Well, first off… Happy Birthday! You’re 29 (Yes, you are. I just had to use a calculator to figure it out. I guess you stopped counting after 21.) and you are so close to your moving day I’m sure that you’re probably freaking out.


So… I just wanted to remind you of a few things, because you tend to get really sad around your birthday.


  1. You’re not invisible: You spent a lot of your childhood sad about feeling like you were always overlooked for the pretty girl (and it still happens more than you’d like it to). Whenever you feel that way, you neglect the people that have been there all along for you. You’re lucky that they understand this part of you. Besides, you’re NOT invisible. You’re oblivious. Remember all of those times your friends pointed out that the person you had just left had been hitting on you?
  2. You’re not the person that you were: That’s not a bad thing at all. You were kind of a shithead. Remember when you were so lost that you thought you would never get out of the labyrinth of your own creation? You got out of it and you have the scars to prove it. It would have been easier to have used a chainsaw to get out of it instead of pruning shears, but you had to summon a strength that you didn’t know you had.
  3. Never stop singing: It makes you so happy, even though it makes you no money. In fact, you do a lot of things you love that make you no money (like this website).
  4. You managed to pare down your life into less than eleven boxes. Considering the fact that you can’t throw things away, that’s pretty fucking stellar.
  5. Baby Monkey Riding Backwards on a Pig: I know you’re singing it right now. You. Are. Welcome.


I’m sure there are more things I would like to say to you on your birthday, but well… We’re the same person (even if I’m just a part of your past).


I’m proud of you.


A Bit of Funny, An Explanation, and a Taste of What’s To Come

A friend and I were talking and I mentioned my friend Dillon making me laugh. Dillon is a friend that I met on the internet and haven’t met in person yet. Probably because if we did, I might rub his moustache like those assholes that rub people’s buzzcuts.

Anyways… What resulted was an incredibly fun discussion that I am sharing with you now.

… No wait… Now!
… … now?
… … … Here ya go. #BlogTease

Ali: HAHAHA! I totally heart Dillon. Hopefully I get to meet him before I leave the East coast (He lives in Lowell, MA)

Elfie: [MIA Friend] met a MAN from the INTERNET once. then she got all stinky and now she’s in a well. DO YOU WANT TO BE IN A WELL?!

Ali: I’ve met several men from the internet. I haven’t had the sexy times with any of them, but I would with some of the ones I’ve met.

Elfie: well that’s fine, but if you cut off contact with me, I am not looking in any wells for you. (but I will totally look for you in wells if you tell me you need me to.)

Ali: If I ever disappear I damn well expect you to burn every well to the ground and I realize that they have water in them and are brick so it will be problematic but you are smart and can probably figure out how to make water catch fire. Not with magic. We lost that after highschool, what with that wicked queen binding our powers. But you can do it with SCIENCE!


Elfie: wait… if you’re IN the well and I burn it….

Ali: I have realized my error, but there is no turning back now. I just hope you can live with burning me to cinders. IT IS FOR THE GOOD OF HUMANITY!
Wait… On second thought… Water is kinda necessary, right? I really don’t want Elfie Water Vengeance to result in the world being turned into a shitty Kevin Costner movie where people have to drink pee.

Elfie: Waterworld was too much water, wasn’t it? Tank Girl was too little.
Or Dances With Wolves was an even weirder movie than I remember…

Ali: Yes, but even though TG was too little water, it had just enough Malcolm MacDowell.

Elfie: and what I was going to say is NSFW so I shan’t make any insinuations about ensuing moisture on your part.

Ali: I really do have irrational crushes on wicked older dudes. Malcolm MacDowell and John Hurt. But it’s more of a “their voices are so lovely I may fall into a healthy 7 hours of sleep” crush.

Elfie: there is nothing wrong with that. I can’t think of anyone we know who would disagree…

Ali: I think the moral of this conversational thread is that I am prone to tantrums due to lack of sleep. And Waterworld was a TERRIBLE movie.

Ali: … and we really need to hunt down that witch to get our powers back. Then there’s no way I would be trapped in a well. NOBODY puts baby in a well.

Elfie: don’t cross the plotlines!

Ali: I don’t know if plotlines work the same as proton packs.

Elfie: let’s not take any chances.

Ali: Yep. Let’s just tell everyone we’re Gods.

Elfie: YES.


Admittedly, I haven’t really been writing a lot on the blog. I’ve been lax in writing because there have been a lot of personal demons I’m trying to work through. It’s not something that I can completely delve into, because it’s an amalgamation of things. A “Voltron of suck” if you will.

Mid May is a really rough time for me. I lost someone that I really admired three years ago and I had forgotten about it until I realized that the date had passed. I can still remember where I was and what I was doing when I got the news. I was at a stop light and got an email. The light turned green and I took a left turn and drove to my parents house to spend time with our old cat. They were in Hawaii, so when I got to the house I called my dad. As soon as he answered I burst into tears.

I don’t do that often. I tend to compartmentalize sadness and push it away. So, of course, I terrified my father. He waited for me to be able to pull myself together and I told him that our friend had passed away and he compartmentalized for me. As I think about it now, I think that my brain knew that something of note was anniversaried this week so it instinctively forced me to retreat.

The downfall of retreating into my own head is that, even though my imagination is vast and entertaining, there are a lot of monsters. After a week of feeling like I’m playing hide and go seek and wondering why no one had found me, I realized that childhood game is only an effective means of escape when someone knows that they need to look for you.
I thought that as long as I had Twitter and Facebook, I couldn’t go too crazy. I spent the time lurking and making minimal comments to things. It was like an out of body experience where you’re not visiting yourself. Escaping from physical reality and losing myself in Netflix and cyber-reality has been a bit perilous.

Dave Anthony tweeted a few days ago “The Borg actually started as a social media site”, and it’s been mulling around my brain ever since. As a society, we have become very similar to the Borg. For those of you that don’t know what the Borg are, they are cybernetic organisms in the Star Trek universe that try to force people to connect to a hive mind.

Tonight I am going to a friend’s house to hang out. Looking back, the last time that I sat in a room with someone and hugged someone was Sunday. It hasn’t felt like I have isolated myself for five days. After all, I have friends in my phone or computer. I Skyped with a friend in the UK and we waved at each other. I have podcasts where I’m not actually involved in them, but feel like I am.

Human interaction is essential. It really is. In late July, I’m going to need to remind myself that I need to get out and do things.

As it is, my weekends for the next month are filling up with human interaction.
– I have family coming in from Georgia to spend some time with us.
– All of my friends are getting together to hang out.
– I’m going to see some of my summer family.
– I’m going to spend a week road tripping across the country with my mom.

The future is looking incredibly bright. I can see it through the darkness, like a thousand stars sparkling on a summer evening.

Time to stop being selfish and start being awesome. Many thanks to everyone that have made me laugh the last few days. I’ve really needed it.

The Lovers, The Dreamers… and me.

Occasionally when I am feeling downright rotten and want to regress into the cavernous recesses of my psyche, I choose to watch cartoons or made for TV movies. It’s not the best side of me, nor is it the healthiest.

To give you an idea of why I have been so distant, here is the best explanation I can give. I have gone through all 76 episodes of X-Men (from the 90’s), all 65 episodes of Spider-Man: The Animated Series (from the 90’s) and pounded through all 13 episodes of the 2003 revamp of Spider-Man (with the voice talents of Neil Patrick Harris and Lisa Loeb).

Last week I had a day that I wrote 5,000 words (about ten pages) of a story that I have been thinking about for over two years. I was so happy to get it out of me. For the longest time I was suffering from “Writer’s Blockage”.

While I don’t suffer from the same Writers Block as many people have described, I do suffer from Writer’s Blockage. The easiest way for me to describe it is in terms of an accident on the highway. There is a lot of information at one point, but it is off in the distance. I can’t quite reach it due to the other cars (or in writing, superfluous information) blocking my way.

It often feels like the story is there, but when I open a blank document and try to write there is so much going on inside my head. I know what I want to say, but it keeps getting stuck in traffic with the other sides of the story that I want to get out. Dialogue, exposition and scenery gather together like an angry Voltron refusing to let anything pass through my fingers.

Oftentimes I put on the Muppets and for some reason I cannot stop crying when Kermit starts singing “Rainbow Connection”. I guess maybe it never struck me how absolutely sad the song actually is.

I pulled up the lyrics and starting reading them and wondered to myself “Did Kermit not think he was a lover OR a dreamer? He did so many amazing things, put on so many amazing shows, and could play a banjo with froggy palms WHICH IS CRAZY AMAZING AS THERE ARE FAR FEWER FINGERS.”

Perhaps he just felt like he was watching everyone else succeed and it was a little bittersweet. I get it. I see people succeeding everyday. Whether it be a blogger that I absolutely adore getting top billing on the New York Times Best Sellers list for her new book “Let’s Pretend That Never Happened” (Jenny Lawson. Do yourself a favor and buy it.), a friend releasing her new album, a podcast getting planetary recognition, or a friend revealing that they are expecting a child.

The song speaks so strongly to me because I feel like I’m a dreamer that is so terrified of “the sweet song that calls the young sailor” and dooms them to a shipwreck, I keep myself from trying. Self doubt is as much of a self esteem issue as any of the others. It’s absolutely crippling to avoid things because there’s a possibility of failure.

I feel like I have a voice, and while it shows on my site that there is traffic here there isn’t a lot of interaction. Then I wonder if I’m essentially screaming into a black hole. The desire I have to create is directly related to the interest of others. That makes me a shitty writer. I guess that’s why I only have 64 pages of my story out of my head and a universe of story still rustling around my noggin.

For today I remain the “and me” of that supremely bittersweet song. Now to find another cartoon series

Today has been an unwelcome rollercoaster ride.

I know that everyone carries this stigma of the 13th Friday of any month. It’s never been more than a lucky day for me.

Work today was extremely difficult and I felt anxious and overwhelmed, but I soldiered through because I’m not going to let anything I can control beat me. I CAN control a panic attack. I CAN relieve anxiety and depression. The past has taught me that things get shitty, and things get awesome.

So I got home and filled out my rental application for the apartment I want. I was excited and worried at the same time. I, like so many others, have a weird credit history (long story) and I was terrified that it would result in a dismissal of my request. I decided to be proactive and check my credit score. When I saw the number, I felt my eyes well up with tears of joy. I had jumped over a few really crappy hurdles and it was shown in three numbers. I was so excited about applying!

The rollercoaster had reached the peak FAR SOONER than I expected. The drop was also out of the blue.

A few of my friends are having a shitty time and their drop is longer and more perilous than mine. One posted to a private forum that they had a gun and shot themselves. After ten minutes with no reply/confirmation, I called the police station in the town that Facebook said they lived in. The dispatch rep was very calm and asked for any information I could give him. at one point, my voice broke because I realized that I had VERY LITTLE information to provide them. He was able to locate their address and promised to send over someone to make sure everything was okay. He took my name and number. I initially thought he was just making sure it was on the up and up.

He called me back fifteen minutes later to tell me that they were able to contact them and they were okay. That dude… he was amazing. I don’t think he needed to do a followup but he did and it helped IMMENSELY.

I was relieved, but also angry. This was posted in a private group where there really was NO GUARANTEE that anyone would have caught it in time.

I’m not going to tell you that life is worth living. Sometimes, I STILL have those moments where I want to end it all.

Occasionally I won’t even know it. I will be driving and then I will think “I wonder how long it would hurt if I drove into that telephone pole”. Then I remember that it happened to me once (accidentally) and it was no fucking fun. Everyone has dark impulses. It’s your inner shithead trying to poke you into a decision with long term consequences.

So say it with me now. FUCK YOU, inner shithead. You’re not going to fucking win. You might tell me to kill myself sometimes, but I don’t need to listen to you.

Have you ever watched a movie that was so compelling and then the power went out and you were disappointed? Think of your life like that. If you think a movie needs a soundtrack, sing some of your conversations randomly (I do this all the time).

Most importantly? I don’t want you to die. Think of the childr  … me. Think of the me.