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.

i can't even

here's the reference, if you don't get it.

so like this past week i've had like ten people tell me how cool i am.

no.

stop that.

listen:  i almost deleted this and my tumblr, and my everything i could think of, on wednesday.  i was pretty sure i was going to figure out which kitchen knife was sharp enough, and end it.

which, yeah, ok.  that's fucked up, and i should go to therapy.

i know that.  if you've told your boss you need three days off to talk to therapists, let me know how that worked for you.  because i know i need therapy.  duh.  i'm suicidal pretty much all the time.

"but, sammy, we love you and your stories!"

stop it.  seriously.  you don't help when you say things like this.  i know it's dumb, and it sounds stupid to normal people.  i can't deal with positive feedback.  stop it.  my brain is kind of constantly pumping out goads to tell me that i should kill myself because i'm stupid and useless.

having people respond and be "i love you sammy!" makes me even more depressed, because i have to live in the world i actually live in, and my apartment is full of trash, and i think everyone is mocking me.

so

ok.

i have like nine messages i need to respond to with "please, no, sorry, i'm a fuckup.  sorry!"

can i ask this, instead?

if you want to be supportive, or like, "i like your shit.  it's not terrible shit.  decent enough shit, i guess".

tell me a fact about an animal.

i don't care what it is, or which animal.  like, i look at cat videos, or tiger videos, or alpaca videos, and i really calm down.  otter videos!

that fucker doesn't care that i kind of want to eat an asshole while it's shitting.  it just wants to eat yummy food and do what it thinks is right, and doesn't want to be a jerk about it.

that would be so easy.  fucking animals and their "sorry, didn't make civilization because even if it makes disease less likely, it's kind of a pain in the ass."


i'm really super sorry.  i wish i could put up a good position so people could enjoy me, but that doesn't work.  i'm not blaming you at all, so don't get worried about that.  i know this is me being a jerk about other people.  i'm bad at this.

sorry again.

i will try to respond to messages.  i'm just.  here.  there.  not being able to.  this.

<me.  gesturing at everything everywhere.>

this?

sorry.

(a lot.  sorry)

"Because only squares eat square pizza, and only fags eat dicks, so your both."

point 1) i've had square pizza, and although it's usually breadier than the triangle-arc style, i never felt weird about it.

point 2) i'm pretty sure girls eat dicks too, otherwise getting a blowjob would be some sort of magic that people wouldn't know about.  "did you know you could come if someone sucks on it?  how does that even happen."

point 3) your.  sigh.  even if this guy is like 12, he should know homophones.  please, everyone, make sure people know about homophones.

also have this, which i just don't even.

have i told this new story?

read this first.

i'm visiting my friend again, who's now on the west coast, so it's all new and exciting to visit a new place.  but hawaii to mainland flights are scheduled at "impossible o'clock," so i get in at like 5am.

since she's super smart and loves sleep, she sends her husband to pick me up.  but at some point, he needs something from the glove box.

i legitimately can't remember what it was.  phone charger?  maybe?

whatever it was, it doesn't matter, because sitting next to the car book thing is my knife.

again.

it's super dirty, and the one rubber "stabby grip" that was always loose is gone, but when you've known a knife like i have, you'd recognize it anywhere.

"Yeah, that's it," he says as he grabs whatever it was and then the box is closed and i'm sitting there half stunned fighting jetlag as we drive home.


i kind of want to send her a note and ask that she take my knife out and drop it in the ocean.  give it to the whales to sort out.  whales are smart, right?  they'll do the right thing.

updates on thingsn

1. did you know if you lazy press keys to make your browser autocorrect to "sammytriesagain", you might end up just pressing s enough times to spell ss, which is apparently a nazi thing.  oops.  please don't think i'm a nazi, google.
2. did you know if you stop drinking when you've been drinking to treat the crazy that kind of consumes your brain when it isn't doing other things, then your brain kind of just channels that crazy into horrible anxiety about everything?
1. so i maybe ignored your email if you sent me one, because i can't deal with conversations right now.
2. and if you posted comments that i read, didn't understand, and then panicked about, i also probably couldn't deal with that either, so i just ignored them instead of trying to respond to all the comments.
3. or if you follow my tumblr, you'll notice that it all kind of stopped about wednesday, because that was when my sanity broke a bit, and i woke up in the middle of a conversation with imaginary people.
3. speaking of imaginary people, i have a new random story to finish.  i had a dream thing, and then because alarms are made by the devil, my alarm went off before it could finish, leaving me in the purgatory that is the world outside of your dreams.  i've plastered over the main plot hole with pizza, because that's how i cope right now.
4. pizza is awesome.
1. so that's why i reblog pizza porn when i see it.
2. and why i follow a pizza porn blog.
3. and i keep wondering what the most efficient money/pizza frozen thing is.
1. those shitty totinos party pizzas that aren't enough for one person?
2. pizza rolls, which at least attack with flaming guts when you try to eat them.
3. french bread pizzas, which seem like they're trying to be fancier than they are
4. hot pockets?  they're kind of gross, but also kind of a calzone.
5. are the pizza bagels you buy as good as making them yourself?
1. note that my fridge is kind of a horrorshow of mold.  i need to gather enough sanity to clean it out, i think.
5. i will try to pull myself together this long weekend to respond and be social and pretend i'm human inside.  i hope everyone here understands that i'm not, and i have to struggle to do normal things.  i know i'm not that great of a writer, so i'm grateful for people for doing that understanding.
1. butt.
2. not butt.
3. really.  putting together a "what's wrong with me" thing is super painful.  i guess imagine having to tell someone you're sick, but like you have to stab your arm in five places so your boss knows your arm doesn't work.  or you keep coughing, but you have to have a lung removed and sent through a scanner for it to count.  that's how i feel most days.  like my brain is going to object to stupid shit just because it can.  at least at work now i just have to claim i'm sick and not prove things.  i'm "whatever the word is where it means you're not being oppressed by those who run the means of production for their own personal enrichment at the expense of all other concerns."  i want to say proletariat, but i don't work in a factory, so that seems wrong.  i am a bad communist.
4. like, that's probably not even communism bad.
5. sorry.
1. super sorry.
6. did you know getting automatic numbers is bad for things?
7. because you then come up with reasons to make more.
1. more is cool.
2. more is better.
3. people like things that come in threes.
4. you can avoid complicates mental health issues by diverting the topic along a tangential sub point.
1. like this one about puppies and how cute they are
5. and avoid the trouble you might expect from that divergence.
6. six.
7. seven.
8. ate.
9. nine.
10. but, really
1. there's a new shit story from a dream that's going up this weekend.
1. it's half written
2. it's not been done in my usual
1. notes
2. first copy
3. rewrite copy
4. reread for sanity
5. post
3. style.
4. it's the
1. write a copy.
2. make sure the copy isn't just the word "poop" a bunch of times.
5. version.
2. it's not really that bad, i could probably make it better if i could focus why my brain chose her and that topic and that location.
3. new thought?
1. i have two exhibition parts planned still.  
1. "illness" has been dragging out for four months or so.  
2. i know how it goes down because i have the notes sheet.
3. it still doesn't have any sex, but i really think it sorts out a lot of the social aspects of the story.
1. "office" is the next next, and i have it half planned right now
1. with the second half fake planned in my head.
4. i don't know how to finish this story, so it may just drag on forever.
1. it's not a "happily ever after, the end" thing
2. or a "you see how they fuck shit up, and it closes just before it all comes tumbling down."
3. how does macbeth...romeo and...caesar...
1. do they all end with everyone stabbed and dead?
2. fuck.
1. i'll need to write something new, then
1. i guess.
2. poop.
1. probably not poop.
11. ok.
1. i'm tired.
1. so it's sleep time.
2. good night.
3. sleep tight.
4. bedbugs are jerks.
1. stab them in their face.
2. bye.
12. blog.
1. a post.

i wish i knew how to have real human conversations.

instead of just freezing up and avoiding all the time.

it'd probably make me seem like less of a freak and more of a normal person.

oh well, time to avoid some more conversations and not go on a date.  yay!  go me!

i think i'm sick or getting sick

i've been shivery and either too cold or too hot all day.  my tummy is all grumpy, and i threw up lunch.

i think if i feel like this tomorrow morning, i'm just going to call in sick and go eat soup.  grumble.

i guess then i'd have time to sit down and actually write the next chapter instead of outlining a new one.  like i did for a bit this evening before i got distracted and stopped.

that moment

where you wake up (like really, or the similar youtbe thing)

and just shiver forever, because it's a cold weather thing i guess.

and then curse that shitty cold weather we had for more than a week.


some of us don't wear clothes to bed, the weather.  try not to  be such a dick, ok?

i am tired of crying

today i've been crying.  a lot.  for stupid reasons.

i saw a video with a puppy and a kitten being friends.

tears.

i looked up something on wikipedia and ended up reading about space missions to mars.

tears.

i tried to figure out if i could go to the arbys in the navy exchange in pearl harbor even though i'm not in the military, i just want the arbys that i can't get since they closed at ala moana.

tears.


these are stupid reasons for crying.  i don't want to read "the rover stopped working 904 days into the mission, 901 longer than expected" and then start bawling.  it's stupid and wasteful.  yes, i know i personify my computers more than i should.  i know i called my old phone, a "stupid useless old dried up cunt."  i know i called my new phone "sexy master ass-bot".  to be honest, though, my new phone is so super much better than that stupid useless old dried-up cunt.

but like, i didn't sleep with space rovers.  or a puppy and kitten.  or arbys.  i regret like two of those.

i think i'm just random sad in weird ways.   which totally sucks.

a bunch.

and here we go.  no tears now, not when it's for sammy.

you're such a jerk, brain.

new year, new post, same old crazy

hey.

i wonder if anyone else feels like they've just stepped onto a stage in some sort of bar or club or restaurant or someplace like that, but seriously i've never really been to a place with a stage, so i'm making things up. when they write a blog post.  ok.  so i fucked that joke up.  i'm off to a great start at this.

i have a bunch of things i want to say, and although i've been coping well this past week, it's always easier to wait until the weekend when i can drink and let myself be free to do so.  because that joke i fucked up.  right?  you get what i'm going with?

ok, thing 1:  i did more doctor stuffs, and the doctor sent me an email with the instructions "avoid alcohol, eat healthy, exercise more."  so, i'm lying here in bed, kind of drunk, and i have a sleeve of poptarts that i'm totally going to eat in a few minutes.  you're not the boss of me, doctor jerkface.

thing 2:  i need to go back to therapy.  this leads to point 3, so

point 3:  going on vacation for the holidays was super healthy.  ish.  things that were good: three year olds are kind of 50/50 jerks and super cute.  she punched me in the face, and was sent to the corner, prompting her to cry and scream.  she was told she had to apologize to me, and so she fell to the floor to cry and scream some more.  "do you want to watch your animal show?"  "yes."  ANIMAL SHOW TIME.  "i'm sorry i punched you."

and then your heart melts and you just want to give huggy squeezes to that tiny jerk.  it's this kind of moment that makes me regret my "maybe let's not have kids, ok?" plan.  not that i have partners for a kid plan anyway, but whatever.  little kids are cute when you don't have to clean up after them.

things that were less good:  "yeah, so if he doesn't shape up, i think i'm just going to divorce him.  she'll live with me, since i'm more capable than him.  i figure i'll just find a sex friend and that'll replace him."  not what i was expecting.  is he a kind of lazy unemployed dude?  yes.  does he not shower as much as i think people should shower?  yes, but he totally did that before they married too.  do i feel super weird when she's not there and it's just the two of us, and we have to try and pretend we're friends independently, when we both know we're not?  duh.  still, i don't htink them getting divorced is the best strategy (which is, obviously, him not being dumb and getting a job and being productive and shit).  "couldn't you be the sex friend, sammy?"  ew.  ick.  no.  she's like my sister, you creepo.  "sammy, you're totally on the elsanna ship, and they're sisters."  but not like my sister.

it's like i shoot ice into the hearts of everyone around me, and i'm afraid i'd do that to people i care about if we had a relationship.  does that make sense?

things that were unexpected: "so...yeah, i think i might see about going back to therapy.  i've kind of felt depressed recently."  "oh?  really?  you think?  which part of 'i'm a grumpy muffin about everything that doesn't involve puppies' tipped you off?"  i guess i put off depressed vibes in real life too.

"should we call your people now and set up an appointment for you?"  "uh...no...i'll do it when i get home."  "are you sure?  we could do it now, we're not doing anything else."  "yeah, it's ok."  "ok, but let me know when you've done it, so i can stop reminding you."  i'm...i'm really not used to having someone point out my mental issues, kindly assure me that they're on my side, and then try to get me to sign up with a therapist while they can watch and help.  this is weird to me.  i still haven't made the appointment, but she keeps reminding me, and isn't going to stop until i do it.

honestly, i've been so long without friends who are helpful and interested in helping me not be crazy, that having someone come out and do that is weird.  i wish i could fix my social anxiety enough to make this a common occurrence.


but really, who calls someone a "grumpy muffin"?  really.  that was what she called me.  "grumpy muffin."

thing 5:  you maybe didn't see it, but Key, or the collective known as Key, or the blog with stories you should totally be reading because it's great (if confusing, but still great) did an Eroticas Rehabilitas where she reads stories and fixes how things went wrong at the end.  for me, of the Exhibition stories.  the that me, that's the fiction me.  except not to fix things, because i'm trying really hard to make exhibition not the same lame "and then the cage was welded shut forevers.  FOREVERS!"

first, the erotica rehabilitas stories are brilliant, and if you're here, you should go read them.  unless you wrote them.  then, just, like....bask, i guess.

second, i forgot, but it was probably self deprecating.  i try not to be a jerk about things, which is why i'm so awesome, right?

stuff 5:  i really want to get the last known part written this weekend.  i think i have a clear gap of almost-sanity available to write it, and even though it's kind of zero sex, and the conflict is pretty lame, i want to get it done, and see what my brain comes up with to follow it.

yes, there's that story.

and that one, but you never fleshed it out.  "ON A FARM" isn't an outline, sammy.  that's three fucking words.  put some effort into it.


thanks for reading all this nonsense.  i'm going to try and see if 2015 can be a better year than 2014.  and i'm going to try to write more if i can.  i just want to be better than i feel i am.

hey.

i'm sorry i've been shitty this month.  i went back and read my blog, and felt super sorry for everyone who had to read my shit.

"you're drunk right now."

You're drunk right now!

no...wait, no, you're right.  it's me...i'm drunk right now.  sorry about that.

yeah.  i know i had the bad liver shit, and the "let's try tea instead!" stuff.  i did that, but this last week before christmas has been horrible for my brain, so i went back to drinking, because vodka is the friend that never tells you you're too fucked up to write a blog post.  basically, it's the friend you wish your other friends could be, and that's probably why it's a bad idea to become alcoholic, and also, similarly, why i'm kind of glad i never grew up knowing people who sold heroin, because that sounds like the kind of friend who hugs you until you die.

deep breath.

sorry for getting weird (again) (always).

and sorry, for realsies, for being depressing and useless and junky all month.

i hate when my brain is like this, and i wish i could fix it, but almost everything sets me off in the wrong way.

sorry for that too.

sorry for being sorry all the time.

sorry that that is something i have to say.

here's the thing, ok?

i have problems.  a lot of problems.  you can't fix them, you probably can't help, unless you're one of like three people.  four people.  i do know real people in real life.  four.

i know i'm shitty at life.  i know that we'd all be happier if we could all look at my corpse as a lesson for other people.  i know that at least four people would be horrified and sad of that thought.

so.  i'm trying to keep me alive for you, for them, for me.  too.  i guess.

i hate being this mess, and i hate that i force other people to deal with my shit.  that's not fair, because everyone has to live their own life, and they all have to deal with shit that's probably far worse than i do.

i'm a pretty, pretty, princess who never fucking grew up to accept that no one cares what you do when you get old and fat.

sorry.  sorry for being sorry.  sorry for making you think you need to comment about how i'm not so shit as i think i am.  i'm a jerk for fooling you into making such a lie.

i'm just so sorry for everyone.

sorry.

obligatory "going away" post

going away for new years.  probably won't update or read email or post tumblrs or do anything.

the same joke i always make about maybe my plane exploding and killing me.

i had work today, because i thought that if i took as little vacation now, i could save up my days and take a trip to japan next year.  also: it's super depressing being the only person at work because everyone else has families and friends to hang out with.

but i saw my boss, and he was all like "you're doing great, and i hope you have a great time off, and maybe we'll see about getting you a raise or something like that.  you know, for being cool."

and all i could think about was "i just want to slash my wrists right now because of that."

"whoa, sammy, that's kind of fucked up.  how do you get 'suicidal' from 'here's a fucking compliment'?" you ask?

i really don't know.  i think that the part of me that just wants to die and be dead and not have to deal with shit ever again gets frustrated when people are like, "i don't hate you."  it'd be so much easier if everyone did hate me, so i could just go away and make everyone happy.

i think i probably need to go back to therapy some more.  but that involves playing the tricky game of "i think i'm suicidal, but i want you to think i'm not that suicidal, because you'd have to call the cops or something, and i need to get back to work in an hour."

:-/

i do want to thank everyone for the kind words in comments and emails.  i know listening to somebody ramble on about stupid shit isn't fun.  i know you'd probably like to read new stories, and i do have a new idea of a chapter.  i know it feels like i post these things to kind of vampire leech good feelings.

i'm sorry for being so lame all the time.  maybe i can get help next year and get my brain sorted out again.

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STOP READING MY BRAIN< JERKS!