Keep It Hopeful or Funny

Sometimes I wonder if people really know the effect they have on others over the internet. I can flat out tell you that I don’t. If I do, I don’t know if it is positive or negative. I hope it’s positive.
Recently, I’ve been blogging around. I’ve nerdsourced with a bunch of girls who can relate to me when I accidentally spend gas money on a graphic novel set. With this new development, I find myself randomly searching through blogs on different sites. Some of the blogs I have visited, I will never visit again.
Within them lie the darkest most disturbing thoughts imaginable. Most of them are creepy inner looks into the psyche of a random person. What I have found is that when someone writes about a tragedy or self esteem issues or something like that they are searching for someone to say its okay. If you happen upon this post, yes it is okay. Everything will turn out for the best.

There is so much nasty stuff on the internet, and I’m not even talking about porn.

I’m talking about the posts about how the world would be better if you weren’t in it. Blogging is in a sense masturbatory, as you write to relieve some tension in your life. However, there needs to be an upside. There needs to be a glimmer of hope. The amount of readers you have or friends on the internet is not important if you have no hope.

Why am I promising that I will never visit those blogs again? Because what I read AFFECTS me. Because I believe someone is capable of hurting themselves. Hell, I did it when I was young.

I understand. Depression is all over the place. There are days when I am depressed, but I’d like to think that the personal posts that I’ve contributed contain a bit of levity, a glimmer of hope, or some sort of inspiration.

The only advice that I can give is that depression doesn’t go away, but you start to recognize when it’s happening. If you do not learn from your pain, you are destined to live with that pain for the rest of your life. I am definitely more realistic now than I was. I think that when I was at my worst, I created this ridiculous paranoia that everyone was out to get me. I probably did it because I wanted to feel important. Maybe I figured that if because there was someone plotting against me I had a reason for living. I had once been the naive blogger, posting all of my anguish on the screen. I try to steer away from that now.

Sifting through a continually depressing blog with no reprieve from the bad is painful. If three posts in a row are about how you hate something or how you wish you were better… You’ve lost my interest. I should probably apologize for feeling that way, but I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one.

It is not the responsibility of the collective internet to make you feel better. Yes, the internet exists for the purpose of communication. If all you communicate is the vile toxins swishing around in your grey matter, there is something wrong. Look back at your posts. Recognize that there is an issue and take action to resolve the situation. Don’t assume that someone on the internet will ride to your rescue on their shining white 8-bit Pegasus.

Whatever you write, will be read. Remember that.

Since this is a heavier type of post, I will leave you with a picture of a shark car. Originally I had google image searched “Shark on a trampoline”, but it didn’t come up with a picture.  Oh well


Smear Campaigns

November 2nd is voting day and I have to say that I am sick of the smear campaigns going on. Watching live television has become practically unbearable. Some politicians have taken to mud-slinging and name calling. It’s so very highschool.

It is not an effective means of campaigning if it completely turns the collective stomachs of the masses. Using funding to point out the negative of the competitors doesn’t immediately make me think they will do anything different. In fact, it makes me think that certain policitians have nothing to offer, so they have to drag down the name of their competition. It is petty and overly malicious.
Don’t tell me about the faults of others. Tell me what you as a candidate have to offer. It is a far better marketing tool and helps build trust that you CAN make a difference.

Personal: Am I A Punchline?

When starting a relationship or evaluating the possibility of a relationship, why do things have to be so complicated?
I know that I went part Carrie Bradshaw there, and I’d like to apologize for that. It’s been brought to my attention that a crush that I have had for quite some time has been a topic of discussion throughout my circle of friends. I have to admit, it hurts that I was so obvious and completely oblivious to it. 
I don’t get it. I feel like I’m a punchline in a long running joke. I guess I am afraid that when I’m introduced, “oh, this is the Ali I was telling you about” may be followed by the unmentioned “she’s the one who’s had a huge crush on so and so.” It is a large step back in mental progress.
It has been years since I realized that I had feelings for someone. For the most part, I felt that I was undeserving of the advances of someone else. I was also terrified of admitting my feelings and getting the “awww how cute” brush off.
So yes, That’s a heavy question. I think that things are so complicated because humans (in general) are inherently self involved and most are terrified of rejection. Crushes occur and never progress into relationships because one or both people are afraid to admit their feelings.
At least when you’re nursing a crush, you get the lottery ticket feeling. Let me explain what I mean. When I buy a lottery ticket, it is more the 24-48 hours prior to the drawing that I buy it for. The “what if” factor is extremely appealing. “What would I do with $240 million dollars?”
That is close to the mentality of a crush for me. “What if things worked out with so and so?” I think a lot of people feel that the daydreaming can be so much better than the reality that they don’t want to ruin it. Sometimes, the fantasy is what the reality can be.  Most times, it never is. I think the fear of the answer makes you focus more on the question that you’ll never ask.
Sorry this is all jumbled. I’m just trying to work some shit out.


  1. I have never been to jail.
  2. I am not a drug addict.
  3. I am not a delinquent.

I have a long standing full-time job.
I pay my bills.
I volunteer (not as much as I’d like to).
I am intelligent.

I have noticed that because of my age, people take advantage of me because they think that I am young and stupid. A repair shop will toss unneccessary “repairs” at me because they think that I will fold and assume it is needed. A neighbor will bully me into feeling like I cannot speak or have friends in my own home for fear of a visit from the police.

Ageism goes both ways. A woman in a nursing home was bruised because someone continued tugging her up even when she said she was hurt.

It’s time people just cut through the bullshit and just focus on the important things.

I. Am. Neda.

On June 20, 2010, it will be a year since a young woman was shot down in the streets in Tehran. She had stopped to join in a peaceful protest of the disputed elections in Iran. A militia in plain clothes began to push for the protest to dispurse.

Neda Agha Soltan was shot in the chest and died en route to the hospital.

Her death was videotaped and viewed by millions of people through various media sites.

Now, her name can be heard shout through the streets after lights out in Iran.

Neda would have been 28 in January.

I rarely cut and paste information, but this was an invitation sent to me via Facebook and it has all of the information on how to show your support and solidarity.



Neda Agha-Soltan was a young woman brutally killed last June by a government militiaman as she was peacefully protesting the disputed elections in Iran. Millions of people watched footage of her death on YouTube instantly. In her death on televisions and computer screens around the world, Neda has become a worldwide symbol for human rights.

The Neda Project is a statement of solidarity with the resistance movement in Iran. “I am Neda” is a cry that you can hear in the streets of Iran after lights-out. It means that she is remembered, that any of us could be her, and that there are basic and inviolable human rights.

To learn more about how you can show your solidarity, go to

“Neda” means “voice” in Farsi.

Use yours.

1. Set your status to “I am Neda” on Facebook and Twitter.

2. Take a new profile picture with an “I am Neda” sign.

3. Upload the photo to





Recently, I have read and witnessed some incredibly childish things on and regarding the internet. Cyber-bullying and such.

Frankly, it’s ridiculous.

People, in general, are insecure. Don’t deny it, there is something about yourself that you don’t like or can’t control. It bothers you. I’m sure if I spent about fifteen minutes with you I could locate that one insecurity and point it out. But why would I want to?

Some inflammatory remarks were made about a friend of mine on a very public forum. Let’s call her Lena. Lena had been worried for awhile that she was slowly being edged out of a circle of friends that she had created. Two of the girls in the circle (I’ll name them Terry and Kim as I have no clue who they actually are) starting hanging out exclusively and not inviting Lena along.

Lena thought it was malicious in nature, but I (being uncharacteristically optimistic) told her that sometimes people click in different ways. It didn’t mean that they didn’t like her. They didn’t want to make her feel like they were making her do something she didn’t want to do. I’ve done it, Lena’s done it, and it’s been done to me. So she thanked me for the input and I thought I had heard the last of it.

This morning I come to find out that Terry had posted some negative comments about Lena’s weight on a social site, for everyone to read. Okay, first off? Lena? Not a heavy girl. Secondly, the only person that anyone should listen to about the issue of weight should be at a desk with a fucking doctorate sitting on their god damned wall.

It seems insane to me that people will point out a woman’s deepest insecurities to make themselves feel better. Here are things that you should never say. If you find them coming out of your mouth (or being posted on a public fucking site), smack yourself or find someone to do it for you.
“You’re only pretty with makeup.” 
“You’d be so pretty if you’d only [insert some type of grooming/dressing]”
“You’re such a pig.”
“Us fat girls have to stick together.”  (Yep. I really hate it when someone classifies you in a group to make themselves feel less self conscious.)
Also, if you threaten a woman’s intelligence or their parenting, you’re a fuckface.

In this day and age, the ability to share your opinions becomes easier. Add in the buffer that you’re typing those thoughts instead of saying them to the person’s face, it is leagues easier to put someone down.

I’ll be the first person to support the First Amendment, but if our forefathers saw the drivel spouting from some people’s lips because they “can”… They’d be ashamed of the warping of something that was meant to support our ability to share VALUABLE opinions.

When you publicly slander someone, you do it with the intention of making them feel bad about themselves. What you don’t realize is that in the process… YOU make yourself the asshole. You seem petty and cruel.

Whether or not you felt you had a purpose in doing something like that, the only thing you effectively do is make yourself the villain. I’m not talking about the cool, calculated villain that attacks someone with a sophisticated plan. I’m talking about Shredder’s Footsoldiers, the nameless Cobra employees, the Kingpin’s henchmen. That’s right. By mounting such an obvious attack, you become the expendable one.

Imagine Kim and Terry’s surprise when they entered a group activity and had people glaring at them like they were diseased. You want to know why they looked at you that way girls? Because you made it obvious to thousands of people on a social site that you have absolutely no discretion.

I’m glad you two found each other. You’re going to be the only friends you have.

Expanding on My Previous Depression Post

Recently, because of the death of Andrew Koenig, I’ve been revisiting old diaries/journals/whatever you want to call them and have been fascinated at how much I have grown in such a seemingly insignificant amount of time. The entries are dark, and I had even mentioned times that I had physically punished myself during the bad times.

During my darkest times, I remember feeling like a porcelain doll. The slightest interruption or offset seemed cataclysmic to me, like I would plummet from my little shelf and crack into a thousand pieces.

I know that feeling isn’t ever going to go away. I’d like to think that I have progressed enough to know when I’m having one of those days. Trust me, if something is going wrong with me… I will look for someone to talk to. I know that a lot of people that suffer from depression feel that they don’t. That, or they have had a bad experience with one person turning them away that they feel like everyone will turn them away or trivialize their emotions.

But you know what?

It’s okay to be sad. Embrace the sadness. Be aware of the sadness. The fact that you can recognize that you’re stressed and disheartened proves that you’re looking at things proactively. Even though you don’t necessarily know how to fix it, you know that they need to be fixed.

One step at a time you can alter your perceptions and work on things and then look back on this day and go “Yeah, things were bleak. I fixed what I could and I’m working on the rest.” That happened to me as I looked at my old “angst-filled” entries.

Life is like the Wheel of Fortune tarot card. Things can change.

Giving up is not an option.

If you are feeling suicidal at all, please check out this site. It offers ways of dealing with suicidal thoughts and desires.

Yes, I consider a thought and desire (in this case) to be separate.

A suicidal thought can be a fleeting “I wonder if anyone would miss me” type thing. A suicidal desire would be the itch to do bodily harm to yourself.

My biggest hope is that someone reads this and realizes that they are not alone in feeling the way they do.

So please… get help if you need it. Even if you’re not sure if you need it, ask someone. Talk it out. Start a blog. It can be anonymous. Sometimes letting out your feelings under a nom de plume helps. Letting something bottle inside results in anxiety, stress, and taking something too far.

Are… You… Kidding… Me…

Well that’s just lovely.
I was driving home from work on route 5 when I hit E. Windsor. I was sitting at the light to turn a left unto 91S and I’m stuck three cars behind the light when I spot something bright to my left. I look over and there is a man in a flourescent yellow jacket lying on the side of the road. There is a forest green jeep right next to him. He gets up, brushes off his pants and checks on his bicycle.
While he is doing this, the woman in the jeep (with a Massachusetts license plate) drives off unto the on ramp for 91N.
I am disgusted by this. This woman HIT the fucking biker and took off. I couldn’t chase after the bitch for her license plate number. I had to sit and just watch in horrified fascination as the older gent scurries across the street to get to sidewalks. He looked shaken up and I wanted to shout to see if he was okay, but he looked like he was ready to jump at the next thing that happens to him.
The woman in the jeep needs to be hit by a car. For realzies.

Regarding Depression

Life is a rollercoaster ride. Enjoy the twists, turns, drops, and elevations. No matter how bleak it can feel at times, there is ALWAYS someone who cares. If ever you feel despair or pain, remember this – pain is important. It reminds you that you are alive.

Send a random email to a friend or family member just letting them know you love and care about them. You’d be surprised how much a one line “I love you” can brighten someone’s day.