just in case it isn't blindingly clear to everyone

1. i have severe mental illness.  i should be going to therapy, but i'm so overworked at work that i don't have the time to take off to go to see a therapist.
1. because therapists have to work normal hours too, because we're not so horrible to make them deal with crazy people when they should be with their families.
2. and no, i can't just take time off from work.  because i have to have money for food, duh.
2. i promise i'll go to therapy in the next six months.  i think i can schedule things out so that that all works.  i really hate where i'm at right now, and it's a bad place.
1. partially because there are really only two options at this point:
1. i kill myself in a probably messy manner, and ignore everything after that.
2. i keep drinking and eating badly until my heart just decides to stab my brain with fat cells.
3. i drink too much, because you can't just buy xanax at the store, but you can buy vodka, and for a short, fleeting moment, vodka can replicate the results of xanax, if you don't mind puking the next morning.
1. if you drink propel water in the morning, you get to taste the super sweet not-sugar they use when you puke it up.
1. it's kind of the best way to puke, if you're going to puke.
1. but you probably shouldn't puke if you can, because that's kind of gross.
1. and not a lot of fun to do, anyway.
2. "oh!  this puke tastes like fake grapes! Yummy!"
4. i do have more stories i'd like to tell.  i want to put them in order and send them out.  i can't.  see point 1 if you're confused why this is the case.
1. it's this whole thing of wanting to write, and then doing so, and then hating everything i've written, and then there's a battle of trying to rewrite the bad things, and write new not-bad things, and then just giving up and deleting everything except for the notes, and going back three weeks later.
2. over and over and over again.
3. do you want spoilers?
1. the next part is essential to the over-arching love story i bolted on after i wrote the first part.
2. but it's zero sex, and kind of feels super contrived at points
3. so i'm not sure people will like or care about it
4. so i have to make sure it works, right?
5. because if it doesn't, then no one will want to read the next-next part, which does have sex.
1. right?
2. checking....
3. ok, no, not actual sex, but that's totally got the kink going on, so maybe it's ok?
4. crap.  i hit backspace and fucked up the numbers.  how do i fix this?  return?
5. nope.
6. fuck
7. 
   
8. shit.
9. 
   
10. go backwards, you jerks!
11. pretend this is now 4.4.  
1. but why does this matter?  i don't really know any of you.  i'd be sad if Mr. Christopher or Mr. Veterinarian or Key (title unknown) didn't like it, but most of the other hundreds of people who show up in my "blog view count" thingy i don't know.
1. so maybe i shouldn't care? and just do my own thing?
2. but maybe you do care?  and you're just as concerned as me?
3. and don't forget the Jesse who comments, who's Jesse as in Jesse from Sammy's Blog.
4. Pikachu.
1. why are you talking about pokemon, sammy?
1. because sometimes i find pokemon pictures on tumblr and i forget that i'm old and gross and not like 12 again.
2. and because i edited this post, so for this point to be at all relevant, i have to add something else.
1. deal with it.
12. but getting to the point, if i'm writing for me, why does anyone else's opinion matter?  it shouldn't, because i really just want to say what makes me happy.  because if i can't be happy with my own thoughts, what's going to happen to me?
13. point 1.  point 4.1.
14. so
4. i want to write more stories.
5. i'm really sorry i'm so fucked up.  i wish i were better at pulling my brain together and dealing with things like everyone else.  i wish i didn't immediately see the worst things that could ever happen if i do what i think is best.
1. when you can only see horrors for all of your actions, it's hard to choose an action to take.
2. i'm sorry if you sent me a message, and i saw it while so super super drunk, and then i responded with absolute nonsense.  i've been better at not responding drunk recently, but this past week has been hard.
3. i wish i had a secret backup story i could pull out so people would be happy.
1. i don't.
2. sorry.
6. i know some people will say nice things in the comments.  that's great, but you don't really need to.  pretty much any comment is fine for me.  i know that "did you know that orangutans are threatened by habitat loss brought on by the deforestation caused by palm oil farming?" is functionally the same as "i don't hate you, sammy.  i know you'll get better and write cool stuff again."
1. but seriously, i'm so sad about the orangutans, but i can't call girl scouts "fucking monsters" because their cookies use palm oil.
1. especially when i'm buying like 9 boxes.
1. and because you shouldn't swear at little kids, because then it's all "you're the jerk" and you try to explain about the orangutans, but no one really wants to listen, and seriously, this is probably a bit advanced for even the parents you're shouting at.
1. so.
1. :(
2. and thanks.  i'm trying my best, and i know i'm failing right now, but maybe next week, next month, next year, i'll sort shit out, and get into a better place, and we can all just perv out together.
1. that'd probably be weird.
2. we could just all apologize a bit, and then go have pizza or something.
1. or, you know.  pizza.
1. mandatory pizza.
1. for everyone.
1. everywhere.
1. PIZZA
2. now i kind of want pizza.

• numbered
• or bulleted lists
• are kind of
• cool
• useful
• fun to write.
• sorry.
• :(

just in case:

i made a new blog which will hopefully be clean in the purge.

http://sammyiscrazysorry.blogspot.com/2015/02/hey.html

hopefully i've sanitized this enough that google won't burn it all down.  if google does burn it all down, send me a message, and i'll try to see if sending you the thing i got from google makes sense to you.

i have no clue how to make a sammy808.atom file make sense.  it's like text, but all i seem to find is comments, and not my stuff?  if you want the google thing, you probably want the image links i can't have anymore.  are they there?  who knows?  not me, anyway.

so, hey, great job google/blogger. you got me to make three blogs to talk about how fucked up i am.  congratulations?

anyone else get that "last days of the world" apocalypse feeling, where you kind of don't care what you say or do, because this is all going up in flames tomorrow?

well

not tomorrow.

march 23, i guess, because google has no sense of style.

"He is a dreamer; let us leave him: pass."

i mean, it's right fucking there.  "let's close shit up in march, when should we do it?"

"we could do an allegory to julius-"

"MARCH 23! THAT IS BEST DATE EVER!"

"ok, march 23.  let's do that."


so...

what should we talk about, knowing that less than thirty days from now, all this will be wiped out forever.  condemned to the dust?

"are you out of vodka, sammy?"

yes.  totally out of vodka.  no gin, no vodka, no jack.  is jack a valid liquor?  i have no whiskey now, not even the jack daniels.  i like this taste in my tea.  i should buy more of the jack daniels to put into tea to drink whilst pretending i'm totally not the alcoholic i was a few months ago.

SPOILER!

i'm totally the same alocoholic.  i'm just better at not posting drunken rants.

"oh, but what's this you're doing?"

whatever.  fuck you.  like, seriously.  take something, and go fuck yourself with it, in whichever hole is appropriate.  like i ever cared about you.  you're just some jerks on the internet, trying to coax me into sending me nudes.  i'm gross now, dumbasses.  i'm all fat and i don't shave much, and it's all just gross on top of gross.  want nudes?  want to puke?

ok, that's a bit harsh.  i should not treat the end of the world quite so harshly.  i mean, it's not like people are going to die or anything.  we're just going to have blogs that are read by no one, and no one will ever care about people named sammy.

which, honestly, is probably the best thing.  i'm a bad person, and i do dumb things.  i'm not someone you should look up to.  i'm the warning you should have seen in high school:

"Here we see a decadent woman.  She's lost her sense of control.  Now, all she can think about is her own carnal desires."

whatever.

i saw a thing today that was like, "the horrors of communist lesbian bondage."

my thought: "OMG: HOW CAN I GET THAT?"

i mean, you're going to tie me up, force me to be super friendly with cool chicks, and then, when we're done, we're going to topple the patriarchal bourgeoisie so we can eat waffles and mac&cheese forever?

how...

how is this not a thing i can do right now?

i am so glad i found some xanax from last time i had a prescription.

my heart no longer feels like it's going to shoot out of me, and my brain is delightfully less concerned with everything.

i hate having panic attacks all the time.

:(

seven left.  i need to go talk to a doctor soon.

"You cannot modify more than 50 entries at once."

oh come on, you stupid thing.  first you're all "In the coming weeks, we'll no longer allow blogs that contain sexually explicit or graphic nude images or video. We'll still allow nudity presented in artistic, educational, documentary, or scientific contexts, or  where there are other substantial benefits to the public from not taking  action on the content."

so instead of eating dinner, i'm looking through old posts to find which ones have images and video that aren't ok now, and then setting them to draft so you don't delete everything like you did last time.

but i can't change more than 50 at once?  then why even have an option to see 100 posts at a time, blogger?  why is that a possibility if i can't actually do anything?

i think i have everything set to draft mode now, so hopefully i won't have my second blog deleted.  i also had to take down Mr. Sador's art that i've been using as a title thing.  however, i don't know how to change the title text, so it's hidden in the background color.  crap.

i'm guessing my videos are ok, since they're all youtube embeds.  is youtube legal, blogger?

if anyone sees something that looks like i should probably get rid of it, put a comment on it, and i'll fix it that way.

i can't quite figure out if fiction is now illegal too.  i'm going to assume it's ok, as long as there aren't images.  that's what hte email says.  still, everyone should probably remember my tumblr, just in case this all disappears.  i don't want to switch to there completely, because i really don't like the tumblr editor thingy.


so yeah.  thanks for taking an already shitty monday, and making it even shittier, blogger.
:(

so, hey. things.

i have a tumblr.  not that one.  a secret private one for just me.  and i follow a lot of people.  and sometimes i look at it, and wonder why i follow some of the people i do.  so i look at their stuff.  and it's all a lot of sad, depressing things.

i'm sorry you feel that way, tumblr person.  i will never unfollow you, because i'm there with you, trying my best to keep the crazy thoughts in my brain from killing me.

sorry i'm crazy.

drunk jerk sammy was right that i should apologize again.  she's a bitch on a lot of other things.

yes, i went to the emergency room.  yes, it was because i did something stupid.  no, i did not try to kill myself.  and yes, i don't want to talk about it ever again.  i was fine, i could drive myself there, and i apologized to everyone for making them deal with me and my stupid shit.

i am apparently healthy.  i lost five pounds since last time i went to the doctor, and according to the tests i had to do, my liver is "normal" and not "wtf are you doing?"  so drinking tea is a good thing if you have a serious problem with social anxiety and use vodka to deal with that.  even if you sometimes pour vodka into your tea.  you're mostly drinking tea, so it's better than just a bunch of vodka.  yay.

i plan to take the trash out tomorrow.  or organize the trash.  i think i need to do a bag or two each week.  that should keep me out of the bad zone.

i have like 200 things in my tumblr queue now.  i want to try to keep things in it, so there's a stream of things there.  not like my reblogging is important.  it isn't.  i'm just looking at junk and saying, "hey, i like that, too bad my brain is junk."

too bad my brain is junk.

i almost wrote some today.  very nearly got writing accomplished.  i'm afraid it can only happen on three day weekends now.  like that is the only way to destress enough to put my thoughts together.  that's shitty.  i need to work on how much i hate my life.


did you read Mr. Sador's "The Right Track"?  that's the latest, so you should go back and read the other parts.  i've been enjoying that this past week or two.

i have other stories i need to read eventually.  i am bad at this entire aspect of my life.

also responding to people.  is it too late to respond if your brain fucked up for a month between receiving and responding to the message?  please let me know.  i feel like i should respond, but i don't want to look like a jerk.


sorry i'm not as good as i wish i could be.  sorry i have to hide a lot of the time to keep myself me.  sorry i have to apologize for the me i have to be.

sorry.

dear tomorrow sammy,

when you wake up, you're going to have a super gross mouth.  you're going to be all, "wtf, this is like i ate a swamp."  no, sammy, you didn't eat a swamp.

what you did was leave late-night drunk sammy with nothing but calbee nori-shio chips.  so i ate them.  not all of them.  a bunch of them.

so that's why you have gross mouth.  i ate a bunch of delicious chips.  fuck you.


also, you probably should do a "sorry i'm crazy" post, and tell people about how you had to go to the emergency room.  that's a fun story you probably don't want to share.  dummy.

at least you're not dying so fast.  so that's something, jerk.

but yeah, tell everyone about the tumblr queue you're going to try to not fuck up this time.  and the stories you could probably write if you didn't do dumb shit all night long.  and how you're "totally going to keep my apartmnet clean".  the bathroom trash is on the floor again.  good job lasting like less than a week.  keep this up, and you totally won't have 22 bags of trash to take out next time you have to have someone look at your apartment.

ok, time to go to sleep, and wake up tomorrow and feel bad about how much you need to explain because i wrote this now.

i probably should love you more than i do, but i don't, and we probably should go to therapy to work on this.

dumbass.

because i've had the sads all week long. sorry.

because maybe some people don't know they're wrong?

i've decided what i want to be when i grow up.

i want to be the person who pets red pandas all day, so they know that they're the cutest animals in the world.

i hate having to can

when it's clear that i can't.

:(

hey

usual lies go here.


but the main point for today.

how do people deal with the horrors of modern life?  i mean, i see lots of people online who are sad and broken and unhappy with everything.  like me.  and the literally 99 other people i've seen online who say the same things.  this isn't right.  why aren't things less sucky?

and like homeless people.  "again with the homeless people, sammy."  yess.  again with them.  why do we have homeless people?  why do we not just all agree that we shouldn't have homeless people?  why don't we just find some houses, and put the people in the house?  "that'd just encourage people to be homeless, sammy."  what?  like, seriously what?

people are going to be all, "oh, did you hear about legless joe?  he got a brand new free house, so i'm just going to chop off my legs and quit my job to be one of them lucky homeless people"?  who's going to do that?  people aren't going to quit their job to be homeless just to get a job.

unless, obviously, their job sucks, and the standard path to buying a house is so arduous that they don't think that's ever going to happen.  so.  you know.  maybe that should be something to work on as well, right?

so, again, if you're a republican, you should go fuck yourself, and then stop following me, in that order.

but honestly, how do people justify that shit?  "i don't want anyone to get better, because if they're doing badly, then they deserve it?"  what is that?  who wants people to do badly?  shouldn't we all want everyone to be happy and healthy and shit?

"you're stupid, sammy, who's going to pay for that?"  duh, jackass.  rich fuckers.  do you own more than one car?  then you could probably help someone not starve to fucking death on the damn street.  how many cars can you drive at once?  is it one?  yeah.  that's what i thought.

sorry for being grumpy and weird, but when you see this shit like every fucking day, you can't not want to help.  and knowing that i want to help, and i know that i'm only capable of that because the universe is too fucking dumb to see how much worthless garbage i am, makes me so super angry at everything.

sorry again.  i just.  me.  this.  all that.  random gestures you can't see where i point at things you also can't see.

why?

:(

ok. yeah. that's something i remember

that feeling when you wake up to power tools outside fucking up everything, and check your phone, and it's not even 8 yet.

so woo woo dreamy half sleep.

and then panic attacks.  all day.  constant panic attacks making it nearly impossible to pull my brain together to do anything.  so that's fun.  shaky hands and trying heavy breaths to see if that calms things down but knowing it isn't going to.

at least my apartment is "clean."  not regular clean.  just not like there's vomit everywhere or shit like that.

i really hope i can keep myself together to keep it this way.

having a kind of clean apartment is weird.

like, i go to the bathroom, and it's not a disgusting mess.  i go to my bedroom, and there's like space to walk around and shit.  it's like being in someone else's house.

so today i got an email from my boss that was like, "what's up with this asshole?"  so i went to talk to him, and i told him, "oh yeah, he sent that email to me yesterday, but like i don't have time to drop everything i'm doing to magically solve all of his problems."

"i mean, duh, right?  who plans ahead so well that they're like 'i need this next week because reasons'?  that's clearly not a poop-it-out-in-a-day thing."

"plus, this is the same dick who was all 'tell me if i'm doing this right' last year, and when i asked 'like, tell me what you're doing?' he ignored me."

"ok, fine.  cc me on the email you send back, and be like, 'whatever, not going to happen, jerk-face'"

i mean, not really.  those aren't at all the words, but that was totally the vibe i got from it.  and seriously.  if you need something enough to put all sorts of "this is vital" and "URGENT!!!!!!!" in your email, maybe you need to plan more than like three days ahead.



i'm trying to do a post every day this week.  not really sure why, it just seems like the right thing to do.  hopefully this "clean apartment," "chatty kathy" feeling will stick around and i'll be able to respond to all my messages.

hrm. this isn't a good feeling either.

so i've been cleaning my apartment, because my landlord wants to do an inspection thing.  it's been like three years since the last one, but i guess "we need to do one." suddenly.  now.

which means i've learned that i have lots of trash, and under that trash is gross stuff.  ick.  i should clean up more.

but, because i took out a bunch of trash, and vacuumed a bit, and cleaned up some, my apartment isn't an oppressive mess.  which makes me feel better.  not good, right, just not as awful horrible as always.

and then today i got a lot of junk sorted out at work.  just boom boom boom done done done woo woo woo.  except when i looked at the clock, it was almost an hour past when i usually go home, and my brain kept telling me all sorts of other things i could do, and how cool it would be to do those things too.

so, i think when i go back to the brain doctor, i need to ask about manic episodes as well.  i guess it's good to see that my brain can come up with new ways to be crazy.

go me.

dear old dude at the checkout lane,

yeah, i saw how you tried to use your papa john's club card as your grocery club card.  that told me you eat shitty pizza made by that jack ass's company.  that told me a lot about you right there.

"you must like that tea.  is it any good?"  wow.  you're like sherlock fucking holmes here.  i'm buying six bottles of tea.  what made you think that i like it?  is it the six of them sitting there, all together, with me buying it?

and no, it's shitty tea.  that's why i buy it.  because if i'm going to drink something, and drink six of them, i'm going to get something that sucks.  because that's super smart.

"yeah" is what i said.  "meh.  i'm trying to drink tea now instead of vodka so i am less likely to wake up in a puddle of bloody vomit someday.  not that i'm super into not dying, just that if you wake up in a puddle of bloody vomit, you're probably going to have to clean it up, and that's going to suck.  so yeah.  i'm buying six bottles of tea now, because that seems healthier to me" is what i meant.

i thought we had some sort of rule that you're not allowed to talk to people in the checkout lane about what they're buying.  so that means if someone's buying a bunch of toilet paper, you don't say something like, "oh, planning on taking a shit today?"  or if someone's buying the stereotypical condoms and long vegetables, they can just look embarrassed quietly without any weird conversations.

i saw what you were buying guy.  there was nothing for that cheese to go with.  were you planning on working on your night cheese, old dude?

promises i'll likely break

that one dream story.  i'm just going to give up tomorrow and post it.  i know it's not good.  but i've sat on it for like a month, and it's not going to magically get better.

that new dream story that came up last night.  just fucking do it, and get it out.  sure, no one is going to get or care about the ear wax part.  that's weird, sammy.  you're weird.  but if you do it, it's at least done and over.

the rest of everything:  i'm in a bad place right now.  i know that.  i do appreciate people being supportive, but a lot of times that support isn't helpful.  that sounds crazy.  i'm so sorry about this.  i just don't know how to make my emotions make sense to other people when they do something.  i know i have dumb emotions that do stupid things.  i know that that doesn't make sense to people.  i'm just trying the best i can.

if you sent me a message recently, i'm going to try to get to it tomorrow.  animal planet does this puppy bowl thing, and i am far less triggered when i have puppies to watch.  they are cute and stumbley and cute.  i wish i could be cute and cute.

so, again, sorry for being dumb.  i think i can pull together enough sanity for a bit.  sorry that my brain isn't great.  i wish i could be someone who was confident and posted everyday with shit.

sorry i suck.

thanks for sticking with me.