I Come Off Better In Writing

Do you know how the song “Hey Jude” ends? Of course, you do. It’s iconic and also cannot be avoided. It’s MINUTES of “Nahnahnahnah”’s and they make you feel so empowered when belting them to the top of your longs. Often in combination with alcohol or SoulCycle. Now here’s a better one for you; “The Boxer” by Simon and Garfunkle gave me the fucking feels tonight. It doesn’t go on nearly as long as “Hey Jude” does but nevertheless it’s over a minute of that repetition and it keeps that head nod going. We are also going to see “Lovin’, Touchin’, Squeezin’” on this list because..duh.  I’m absolutely in love with a good “belt out your goddamn soul” kind of song. I mean, isn’t that why we all love “Livin’ On A Prayer”? (one of my original favorites from when I was just a kiddie discovering my voice). Tell me you’ve passed up the opportunity to scream “I never knew I cared until I met you”, and you can go to boring land where you belong. So I’ve decided to compile a list of the songs t...

I wrote something last night that was rather negative and quite abrasive. I don’t have as many bad days anymore but the ones I do have consist of me calling my mother and losing my shit pretty hard. I have to say since last May, where this was a daily occurrence and she would stay with me on the weekends to save herself from late-night calls, I’ve come pretty far. Most people who know me know I’m a classic rock fan. I’m not saying that I don’t enjoy anything written in the 21st century but it’s never my first pick. HOWEVER, last the summer after shit hit the fan, Lizzo became super popular. If you can’t get down to Lizzo, you should really talk to someone. “Good as Hell” was the first time I danced again. I would play it on repeat while in the shower. My best friend, Jon, would crack up every single time I “checked my nails” because I did my little dance EVERY SINGLE TIME I heard the song. I think the reality is that good music and a dance party pulls me out of a funk and it works...

PREFACE: I did not change Christopher's name in this. He doesn't deserve the anonymity I was not put on this earth to impress anyone and that is never my goal. I don’t walk around saying “I work a lot of jobs and go to school” because I’m looking to sound like a badass. Maybe if I were doing a little better at handling it all I’d feel proud enough to brag a bit but most days it’s all going up in flames and I’m crying into a pile of clean laundry. Or dirty laundry. But always in a pile and never put away because WHO THE FUCK HAS THE TIME. Why on earth do I have so much laundry? I retail therapy’d my ass off last summer. The one and ONLY good thing (If you’ll call it good) about a “break up” is getting my size 2 back. You all think I’m sick because my goal is a 2. Get over it. I’m rather vain and it’s real genetic folks. Anyway, I was tiny and I got myself all cute outfits and basically bought out Lulus entire website. So that on top of collecting sweatpants and rando...

I’ve started doing something in the past year (post “trauma”) that I like to call “word vomit”. It’s when my brain is manic and I’m trying to sort out my thoughts and I cannot stop talking. In situations where I had nobody to speak to, I’d write things in the notes on my phone. It’s a way of telling myself that these thoughts, while seemingly insane and overwhelming sometimes, are also very important. People who stood by me in the past 9 months are all too familiar with my word vomit and would be wealthy if they were able to bill me for the hours they spent on the other line listening to me go off. When I was given a whole pharmacy of prescriptions that were going to help me through that time, one was a seizure medication that’s purpose was to slow my brain the fuck down. It made me sick and I couldn’t take it, which the doctor somewhat expected but thought it would be worth a shot. Manic. Never in my 25 years had my brain functioned at such a manic state. It’s what keeps you up at ni...