Category Archives: random bullshit

February 6, 2022

Is Everything in Question?

By Steph

If I post this right now, I will never need to stress about sharing anything because I will have already posted the most irrelevent and ridiculous shit. If I was you? I might skim this one. (But say hi or something, damn.)

I just heard a song called Loner by Maggie Lindemann and seriously, it would be my anthem if it wasn’t so…exposing.

So, here’s what’s up with me, let me know what’s up with you in the comments. I can do that because I expect two people to have accidentally read this far, but it’s also totally possible that tomorrow I won’t remember that I have a blog.

Shit, I just remembered that I came here to write a music review because I have to post something, submit something, do something (but did I really, doubtful) and I want to talk about Our Current Reality? Because what is even happening right now. I cannot with everysinglething. I mean I was more capable when I was publishing things. Now, all the things seem insurmountable. Or are insurmountable. Is it unlikely, or have I convinced myself I’m actually terrible?

There’s a Halsey lyric that doesn’t go “…need someone to come along and tell me ____ all right, is this okay?” That’s not it, but you yeah. (I should probably tell you that I use the wrong words a lot now. If I end a sentence with “so.” then you should know the rest and I gotta conserve my energy, and I don’t know the word.)

I need someone to do that but I don’t trust anyone so I probably wouldn’t believe them anyway.

I have questions.

How was I relatively ok when the kids were little? Was it that everything was so immediate with children that I didn’t have time to have a breakdown? Taking care of them gave me some sort of structure in my life? That’s funny, because I can hear myself saying, “Kids need structure and routine!” Was that part of it?

Well, this fucking pandemic definitely didn’t help anything, right? You’re supposed to stay home, you know, and my body wouldn’t handle a serious illness, so. Also, I don’t drive anymore and live on the edge of the forest.

Shit! My back is killing me, of course my neck always hurts, and I keep getting distracted. This is what happens with anything I try to do, I either get sick or get distracted with something else and then forget what I was doing or I suddenly realize that I’m just sitting here with my head in my hands again.

I initially was going to punish myself for not…being better/submitting literally anything/doing one normal human thing by writing a music review (which isn’t punishment even but it’ll make me feel stupid so). I had to stop and think about what I came here to do.

Okay, so I guess I won’t tell y’all everything right this second. Or even anything.

10 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , , , , , | posted in Blogging, chronic illness, Depression, Mental Illness, never take my advice, random bullshit, thoughts, writing, your health is your wealth and this is why I'm poor

July 10, 2020

My Muchness

By Steph

Hello, is anyone there?

I’ve been pondering my blog-neglect. I worked so hard on this, why would I abandon it? I’m writing, so why aren’t I posting? I’m not writing, why am I not writing?

I found this today, and it’s very good. And definitely a large part of my problem.

That’s not the whole of it, of course.

Partly, I’ve felt like I can’t write about much that’s happened in the past two years. I can write about the things I’ve done, mistakes I’ve made, pain and joy I’ve felt, but I can’t say anything about anyone else or what they did. That’s frustrating because yes, some of this is my fault, but not all of it. So that’s one part–I’ve always been very open here and now I’m limited to half-truths or less.

Then there’s this: Obviously, I started a blog to share my stories. But somewhere along the way, as I learned more about blogging, writing, social media, submitting to places, sharing, groups of bloggers helping each other, the world of bloggers and editors etc., I stopped writing what I wanted to write. I tried to make my posts more general, to appeal to a broader audience. I tried to organize my writing into the proper bunches of words–three or five paragraphs, TITLE, ending. (Titles are the hardest part of writing for me.) And of course, every post had to have one or more images.

I’ve always abhorred the “technical” side of blogging; code, links, images, sharing.

So I think the combination of all the above, and wanting my work to be perfect (in the eyes of editors and other writers, anyway) helped make telling my stories more of a job than a joy.

I hope you read the piece I linked to; it’s really very good, and explained my feelings before I could put them into words.

I don’t know what this blog will be now or in the future. I know it once brought me joy and a sense of accomplishment and community that I miss.

I also know this isn’t formatted in any way, I haven’t read through it even one time, and…I wrote in on my phone in 10 minutes.

Here’s hoping you’re all as okay as you can be right now.

Going hunting for my muchness.

Steph

7 Comments   |  tags: , , , , | posted in random bullshit

January 28, 2020

"You're A Break in The Code"

By Steph

Holy shit.

Wait…you can love the messy parts of yourself?

It should be at like 4:12-4:38. Just listen. (I’m so fucking specific, but not totally committed to the idea that I did that correctly.)

Okay, discuss.

Admittedly, I’m a pretty obsessed Halsey fan and also a bit high. But I’ve listened to that 30-second statement at least six times now and I still don’t know quite what to do with it.

Clutch this brazen, tantalizing idea tightly to my chest, hold my breath, picture myself laughing too loudly and talking too much; writing blindfolded or on my skin, in the dark or in a bathroom; dancing because I have a body, singing because I like it, listening, really listening to music all day long, stopping only to make my own?

Or drop it before it burns me, this foreign thought, forgiveness, appreciation even, of a chaotic mind, a rollercoaster ride, a river of tears; give back this moment of not-wrongness that is not mine; apologize (again) for being crazy, broken, volatile, for being at all; try not exist too brightly, feel too hard, want too much?

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is writing-blind.jpg

It took me 40 years to even like most of me. I’ve never thought that I could–maybe should–love the side of me that is impulsive and inappropriate and creative and damaged and yes, passionate, about so many things. The side that cries as easily at the beauty of a sunset as at the coldness that crept into love’s voice. The part that needs to “calm down.” The unreasonable side; the “crazy” that I make jokes about because it’s easier than trying to explain what mental illness feels like. The side that feels everything, all the time.

I can love…my temper, my inability to stop saying, “fuck,” my awful dancing and worse voice, my nervous talking, oversharing, failed parenting, broken heart?

What I really want to know now is:

WHO TOLD ME I COULDN’T?

No piece of me is perfect. But I am not in pieces.

I am not a broken thing to be discarded. I refuse to only love and cherish my shiny best-self, the self that’s seemingly so easy to love. Because THAT me couldn’t exist without THIS me. I don’t get to pick one or the other, and neither do you; it’s all or none, my best and my worst, my past and my present, my heart and my mind, my laughter and my tears, my opinions and my insecurities.

All this, this mess, this disaster, this madness, this me? It’s not what I ever thought I ever should be. It just is. It’s me. The whole damn thing. Brave and fearful, weak and strong, obnoxious and honest, funny and ridiculous, hideous and beautiful.

I don’t see any reason to start using my head now; generally, that fucker is trying to take me out anyway.

5 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , , | posted in Depression, joy, Mental Illness, random bullshit, thoughts, total chaos, writing

April 5, 2018

Mishaps.

By Steph

This is a thing that happened:  We Don’t Chew Glass

So, I haven’t been sleeping well.

Yesterday I maimed a lawn chair.

I just now SET MY FUCKING ROBE ON FIRE WHILE I WAS STILL IN IT.

How are y’all?

I posted the above on my fb page right after it happened, but I need to elaborate on this fuckery. You might need to see this picture I posted a couple days ago to get the full effect of what went down.

cool af

Me, in my usual attire. Notice the two bathrobes.

Okay. So, it was really windy, and I was trying to light a cigarette (Once again, AT LEAST IT’S NOT HEROIN. I’m a work in progress.) so, being the genius that we all know me to be, I ducked my head into my robe to block the wind.

Well. That red robe up there is flammable. I don’t know if you guys know this about bathrobes, but now you do, and you’re welcome. That motherfucker just whooshed, top to bottom, huge flames. I didn’t think I would die, because I was too busy thinking, damn, I didn’t know fire was so fast.

I even put ACTUAL EFFORT into making fire a few days ago, and couldn’t. But accidentally set myself on fire? That I can do without even trying.

So, the inside of the red robe is on literal fucking fire and, incidentally, still on my body. But I was wearing two robes, so I didn’t feel anything.

Remember when I said it was really windy? Okay. So I stood up, trying to decide whether to rip the robe off or stop, drop, and roll. While I’m pondering this, I realize that the wind (and possibly my frantic flailing about, idk) has not helped the situation. Not even a little.

I finally got the thing off, and threw it in the yard, because, hey, it’s not like fucking GRASS AND TREES EVER CATCH ON FIRE.

I tried to figure out how to stop, drop, and roll the robe itself, but for some reason that seemed like maybe not what I should do.

Once the fire stopped, obviously with no assistance from me, I took it inside. Because, much like grass and trees, houses aren’t flammable. ( How have I even survived this long?)

Anyway, I decided the safest place for it was the bathtub.

Don’t ask, because I don’t even know.

Later that night, I was feeling pretty not good and sometimes hot baths help, so that’s where I headed. Lots of times, I’ll lay a towel over my body while I’m in the bath, and it’s like extra heat. But, in this particular case, I already had a burned-ass red robe in the tub, so I didn’t even have try to find a clean towel. *Note: I just realized, the robe wasn’t clean. It was my “outside” robe. Also it had just been on fire. Whatever.

The bath was very relaxing, the robe was super heavy, way better than a towel, so I just leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes, cause my legs weren’t driving me insane for the first time in days.

I guess everybody knows not to wash red clothes in hot water. If not, I’m telling you now. When I opened my eyes, that fucking bathtub looked like I had been bathing in the blood of virgins. It was like a goddamned crime scene.

My legs felt better, but from past experience I know that if I don’t fall asleep before the bath-relax magic wears off, I’ll be right back in there. So I left the blood-water in the bath, along with the robe.

I also left my soaking wet shirt, bra, and underwear in the floor, BECAUSE I FORGOT TO TAKE THEM OFF BEFORE I GOT IN THE BATHTUB.

How does a person take a 30-minute bath and not realize they are still dressed? I didn’t even notice I was wearing clothes until I tried to dry off.

Anyhow, I know I’m like the Worst Blogger in the History of Ever, but between writing stuff to hopefully get published and being sick all the time, I’ve just been lazy as fuck and used my Facebook page to share my…mishaps. Let’s call them that. That sounds like maybe shit’s not my fault. I like it.

 

 

 

 

4 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , , | posted in fire, Just Being Awesome, never take my advice, random bullshit, total chaos, writing

July 22, 2017

The title of this post is invisible. Also, nonexistent.

By Steph

grumpy cat no

What is this? *gasp* I’VE WRITTEN AN ACTUAL BLOG POST?!

Well, kind of. Don’t get too excited.

I’ve been pretty busy lately, and by “busy” I mean “trying new antidepressants, being sick as fuck, and lying in bed staring at the wall.” Also, I’m working on a novel, but shhh, because it likely won’t be done until we all own flying cars and I have a robot brain.

I have been posting sporadically on my Facebook page. Which you should all be following by now. Or, if you thought I’d dropped off the face of the earth, you should go follow this instant. This. Very. Instant.

Okay, so anyway, this morning I decided to poke around here on the blog. To my surprise, there are still about 17 people a day reading old posts. This makes me feel both amazed and ashamed at how I’ve abandoned…myself, I guess. I’ve ignored my own blog. God. Maybe one day I will become an actual person. Or I will get that robot brain and it will work much better than this one. (By the way, I had an MRI done and my brain is actually trying to creep down my spine. It hasn’t gotten very far, which is good, because YOU CAN’T JUST JUMP SHIP, MOTHERFUCKER. We’re all in this together.)

I looked to see what people were searching for that brought them here. Most of them were legit searching for We Don’t Chew Glass! THAT was a very pleasant surprise. Of course, next came the pervs and most of them were some variation of…hahaha, I’m not repeating that shit. But they were gross. Super. Fucking. Gross.

(Just in case you don’t know what the hell I’m talking about, my blog shows me what people type into Google that leads them here. So, when a person types “I’m Not That Mom article” into their Google search bar, my blog pops up. The link to We Don’t Chew Glass apparently also comes up when anyone searches for anything containing the words, “pee, sex, prostitute” which is complete bullshit and taken totally out of context. I’m sure those people are extremely disappointed when they click my link. Great, now even “click my link” sounds dirty.)

Here are the latest Top 10 Search Terms, minus anything too disgusting:

  1.  parenting skills and meth

Math? Did you mean math? I’m going to pretend you meant math.

  1. you wont even notic that im jesus

Probably true. I’m not very observant.

  1. something that is not graceful

This is just…not nice. And even worse, there was another one that said, “things that are not graceful.” LISTEN, GOOGLE, I KNOW, OKAY? I KNOW.

  1. am determine to fuck a mummy for money, who is interested?

Not a mummy, I’m pretty sure.

      5. these motherfucking slugs on this motherfuckin porch

This one actually makes sense. I may have even typed those exact words.

  1. I am a shark

This is just the best. I hope the shark liked my blog and is still hanging around. I want to be friends with this shark. It seems bold and confident.

  1. what would happen if we had no glass?

I feel like I’ve put far too much thought into this question. Maybe not as much as the person who searched the internet for the answer, but still, too much. 

      8. do teenagers have to wear jackets in November

Yes. It’s the law. Be sure to film yourself trying to make this happen, because otherwise no one will ever believe you.

  1. will the cleaner fuck my husband

A LOT of people seem concerned about this. From what little I’ve read about people who have maids and nannies, it’s always the nanny. Always.

     10. that is what i want, a perfect prostitue is even better than you, to me, get the point, you are disturbing

There were many, many prostitute searches. This one though. This is a perfect example of how internet searches DO NOT work.

Anyway, I hope you guys are all doing great. I wish I was reliable enough to say I’m going to blog more often, but that would be a big fat lie. Maybe I’ll be “fixed” soon! Right now I’m trying this thing where you only concentrate on the present moment. At this moment, my ass hurts from sitting in this chair and my coffee is cold. So that means…I own a chair, an ass, and a coffee machine. See? Progress!

xoxo,

Steph

 

 

20 Comments | posted in Blogging, Depression, Mental Illness, random bullshit, your health is your wealth and this is why I'm poor

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