Thoughts, Nonsense, Neurosis, Boom

Sunday, December 29, 2019

resolutions. plural.

Lots of resolutions...I'm feeling ambitious. Hold my beer, I got this.

1. Be patient, kind, and understanding... even with those who I don't think deserve it. It's not my place to judge. Everyone needs more kindness and less snark. I want to be the sort of person that I would look up to. Above all the pettiness.

2. Put down my phone and read more books -- ones I already own. I've got way too many unread books on my shelves.

3. Paint more and experiment with different styles.

4. Listen to new music -- a new album (as in one I've never heard all the way through) every few days.

5. Be kind to myself. This includes eating healthier, drinking less alcohol, getting more exercise, and taking mental health days (from work and/or everything) when I need them. It also includes dragging myself to the doctor when I need to.

Tuesday, October 08, 2019

Time is a missed bus

No matter what good happens, there's always moments where I wake up and just feel buried under every single thing. I look at everything I've done wrong, or the things I shoud be doing or should have done. My stomach is tied in knots. It's raining and gray and I feel like this gross lazy thing that adds nothing to anything. Like I'm wasting my life and everyone else's time.

I know time is an illusion. But it's a very convincing illusion. It takes everyone with it when it speeds on past me. It feels like the rest of the world is on a bus that I just missed and am too tired to catch up with.

Wednesday, July 31, 2019


Making a list of things that I find exciting and worth it, for the times that I find nothing exciting or worth it.

A Jenny Jump Start, if you will.

1. Discovering new (or, new to me) music by artists I've never heard of, in a different genre than what I've recently been listening to
2. Reading relatable poetry
3. Furious kitchen dancing
4. Painting something lovely
5. Lighting incense and sitting around listening to records during a thunderstorm
6. Walking through trees (meaning a bunch of trees... not, like... THROUGH A TREE)
7. Playing piano with headphones on and imagining a rapt audience
8. Ghost stories in the dark
9. Writing haikus about fun things
10. Backfloating in the sun
11. Writing lists about things that make me happy

Stopping here for now, until I think of more.

Peace & Love

Saturday, May 25, 2019

Still doing this

I'm alive.

I don't feel like it sometimes, but I'm here.

Something feels off. Something's missing. I don't know. I feel a little lost. Daydreamy and surreal. Isolated. Even around people. It's like I'm not connecting. I'm in a parallel dimension where I can still see people. Speak. Hear. But I'm not really there. They're not really there. Everything's empty.

I spent a half hour outside talking to my cat tonight.

I'm losing my fucking mind.

Wednesday, October 04, 2017


Let's start by listing everything I'm angry about.

1. Dishes not done.
2. Trash overflowing.
3. No one else in the house caring about the first two items on this list.
4. Pants. They're never fucking comfortable.
5. My phone has amnesia and has recently started autocorrecting all my texts to bizarre shit.
7. I'm angry and I don't want to be angry and that makes me ANGRY!
8. I'm too tired to do anything cool but I don't want to be in this bed.
9. Elderly people in large groups. Ugh.
10. Having to wait for someone to get off their billionth goddamn personal call at work to talk to them. You are at work. Act like it. Also, I'm telling on you. Fuck that shit.
11. Know it all holier than thou types. I will eat whatever seafood I fucking want. And like it.
12. The word "thou."

Okay, I think that helped. I've gone off my antidepressants and I'm experiencing random anger again. But it's stuff that should be bitched about. So there.

Also realized that my meds were effecting my sleep quality. Maybe just thyroid supplements for awhile. Trying to not be a zombie. I'm bored with my medicated state of mind. I need my mind back. My brain fog had gotten terrible. I couldn't remember simple words. And how much have I even written over the past year? Yeah, fucking nothing. Okay, I think I'm no longer too angry to sleep so...

Uhh...my throat is making a weird popcorn sound. Popopop pop pop. What in the world. Huh.

Tuesday, May 09, 2017

Letting the empty void know, I'm still alive.

Okay, so I don't, in fact, have cancer. That I know of ( the hypochondriac in me will always think I have some undetected form of cancer). But after much testing and racking up much doctor bills, it amounts to "cat scratch disease" and is now done with. I also found out I have an under active thyroid, Hashimoto's Disease, which explains my depression and weight gain and a million other symptoms. But I can't afford the doctor visits and medications for it (no more insurance), so knowing about it is about it. I'm on OTC thyroid supplements, that's better than nothing I guess. The good thing that came out of all of this: I went back on antidepressants. Which is my explanation for the gap in depressing blog posts this year. I've gone from hell to being mildly content, with a tinge of maybe not very content sometimes. Basically, all of my emotions are dulled down to the point where I can live with them. Which does nothing for my creativity, but whatever.

I just had a horrifying dream this morning after the kids left for school. I dreamed that my brother came very close to shooting me in the face and killing me. I haven't spoken to my brother for months. We had a falling out over his stupid backwards worldview (pro Trump, anti-gay/trans/nonreligious/basically everyone interesting). But...the fuck was up with that dream? It's upset my afternoon. It's a beautiful sunny day and I just want to pull all the curtains and drink until I'm unconscious. Stupid dream.

I'm going to try to force myself to write. Hopefully inspiration is not only tied to depression for me. I want to write shitty haiku about nature. Or whatever. This is going to be awesome. More to come. From MILDLY CONTENT JENNY. BOOM.

Sunday, October 02, 2016


I can't feel much at the moment. I have a lump in my neck, which OF COURSE I've googled and Web MD'ed to death, so I'm sure I'm dying. I have a doctor appointment in two days, and I know that's only a start. I won't find out anything about it straight away. There will be labs, tests, whatever. In the meantime, I'm as much of a wreck as someone who is mostly numb to emotions can be. Wondering if I should plug on like normal, or whip out my bucket list. Which I haven't really even made yet. What do I want from life? I don't even know.

Details, coming soon.

Saturday, July 16, 2016

I'm clearly not good at being human

I'm roaming around in a mind fog. My days are all blurring together. I can't think clearly. I'm no fun. I'm just tired of all social interaction. I have the urge to just gather up my stuff and go camping by myself for a week. I'd probably be eaten by something, but at this point that almost sounds nice. Can't come in to work, sorry, I'm being eaten by a motherfucking bear. *sigh* I just can't anymore, but still have to anyway.

Friday, June 10, 2016

Drunk and watching Waking Life

Things are too real. Or unreal. Reality is oppressive. Or nothing is happening. Pain is real, as I slap my face, cheek and cheek until my skin is singing. Awake is pointless movement in space. Dream is worlds in worlds in worlds, too few, far between and forgotten, devoid of routine and full with everything. I am so done with reality.

Wednesday, February 17, 2016


So today is unicorns and fucking rainbows. One day I'm stuck in a gray and blue mental auschwitz, the next I wake up as a happy hot pink tiger cub on a Lisa Fucking Frank notebook. Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with me.

Tuesday, February 16, 2016

How am I doing

So I'm not okay. Again. I'm a broken fucking record. Nobody wants to hear that I'm not doing okay. Even when they ask, "You okay?" when I say no, all I get is silence, or an, "...okay..." "No," is never the acceptable reply. I'm supposed to say yes by reflex whether it's true or not, because no one knows how to respond to, "Actually, it feels like all of reality is breaking apart and I've no idea how to cope with it."

I don't know. I don't know what to do. I don't know how to fix it. I don't know what anyone could do to help. I don't even know how to word it so it can be understood. It's not one single thing. It's everything at once. It's everyday everything suddenly bigger and badder and more intimidating. It's dread. It's paralyzing emptiness. I don't know what triggered it. I have no clues or reasons. I'm empty handed. The only thing I can do is write it, roll it up in this bloggy bottle, and toss it out there.

Monday, February 15, 2016

Invisible cook

I'm making the dinner. I'm listening to my music. Last night I was the only person alive. Now I'm invisible. Invisible. But they'll still get their fucking dinner.

Saturday, January 30, 2016

The Manatee: A Romantic Comedy

The Year was 2009. My son, Dave, was 9 years old at the time, and into the things most boys that age are into: Legos, Transformers, Nerf, Star Wars, Ninja Turtles...pretty much half of the Walmart toy aisle. And he loved all the movies that went with them.

My best friend, Mandy, was visiting one day, and wanted to go out to the movies. We had decided to go see Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen, and bring Dave with us. Only we wanted to keep it a surprise. So I told him he had to come along with us to run errands. He was not happy about it.

We said nothing in the car of our movie-going plans. Since the theater is on the way to most stores we frequent, he never caught on until we turned into the theater parking lot. And still, we kept the movie a secret. Well, at least the name of the movie.

"Sorry, Dave, we tricked you into seeing a romantic comedy with us. Hope you don't get too bored."

The stupid trip to run errands became an ever STUPIDER trip to see a chick flick. Poor kid. He didn't really complain, but you could tell he was NOT impressed with our choice of movie genre.

So we went in. Mandy went in ahead of us and bought the tickets, so he never heard the name of the movie. She handed the tickets for Dave and I to me. Covering the name Transformers with my thumb so only the word MATINEE was visible, I showed him a ticket and said, "See? It's a romantic comedy called The Manatee." He groaned and rolled his eyes, but he TOTALLY bought it.

Already needlessly long story short: He didn't find out we were there to see Transformers until the opening credits started, and a good time was had by all.

But now. Now there needs to actually BE...

...The Manatee: A Romantic Comedy.

Thursday, January 21, 2016

Snow. Is. Bullshit.

Shit. A snow storm is coming this weekend. I guess a big one. It better fucking be huge, since I am going to have to stay overnight at work tomorrow. ON MY DAY OFF, just so I am sure to make it to my shift the next day. I stocked up on essentials this morning. Rum, Coke, beer, snacks. I plan to do my homework, drink until I'm stupid, listen to music, mope, and write some shitty poetry. And maybe a good poem, but that is not likely. At all.

I don't know how to be alone in a hotel room. It's always lonely and uncomfortable. Last time this happened, I brought productive things to do, a book, things I don't have time to do at home, or things that require more concentration than I can muster at home. But did I do anything productive? NO. I drank, sat around feeling mopey, drank more, looked at facebook, drank more, wondered how many of the hotel guests were fapping in their rooms at that very moment, drank more, flipped on the TV, found a stupid movie that I did NOT want to watch, watched it, bawled like an idiot because that's the reaction that movie was designed to induce, fell asleep feeling like the only person alive, and then me and my hangover woke up in the morning to the music of slamming doors.

In a shite mood. My Ethics instructor emailed me this evening, concerned that I'm not participating in class. It's an online class, and far as I know, I have not missed any deadlines. So really. Fuck that guy. I'm doing the best I can. The first real assignment is due on Sunday before midnight. This is, hmm, FUCKING THURSDAY. I appreciate his concern, but...no...no, I actually don't.

I'm on a Depeche Mode kick tonight, so I will leave you with this:

Wednesday, January 20, 2016

New Year, Same Me

I think if I didn't have school or family, I would sleep most of the day, stay perpetually drunk, and do nothing but listen to music and write. I'd finally have the time to write book after book of horrible angst which I keep insisting qualifies as poetry. If I even stayed alive long enough. I had a conversation with my boss the other week about how she thought, minus family and school, I would still find something constructive to do with my time, because I'm just 'that sort of person.' This woman obviously doesn't know me at all. Not that I plan on doing anything to deprive myself of family or school. But I know me. I am, at my core, an alcoholic sloth.

This is the first year I've started in awhile that wasn't tinged with just a smidgen of optimism. I think that's because all my heroes and suddenly dying. Life is letting me know NO ONE IS SAFE. YOU ARE NOT SAFE. I CAN TAKE AWAY EVERYONE YOU LOVE, YOU BETTER WATCH YOURSELF. Bowie, though. That was like a punch in the gut. Really, though, it was just him and Alan Rickman dying within days of each other. They were the top two in my list of Older Men I'm in Love With. I'm afraid to list the others for fear of jinxing them.

Also new: I got an Amazon Echo recently. So now my house is always either full of badass music or my family screaming "ALEXA STOP" over and over.

Saint Jareth

Sunday, November 29, 2015

Sick Sad World

I am sick and it is fucking with my thoughts. I've got a chest cold (is that the same thing as bronchitis? I dunno, I never go to the doctor anymore), I'm losing my voice, and I have a weird itchy and painful rash that started on my arm, and was told by several people that it looked like shingles, it was acting just like shingles, but is now on both arms, hands, and is creeping up my goddamn neck and I am convinced my body has just decided to slowly self-destruct. I am at work, giving less of a shit than normal. Pretty much zero shit. If I were to stay home, I would still have to deal with being alive, but without the perk of being paid for it, so I decided not to call in sick. I'm hoping that I'm contagious.

Guess what? I'm going to bitch about everything, so if you don't want to hear it, quit reading and fuck off. It's that Everything Is Shit time of year. Out come all of the Christmas decorations and my full-blown depression. Traffic, greed, shitty weather, packed stores, religious nonsense, annoying commercials, bad movies, and Elf on the Goddamn Shelf. Somewhere deep down, I do like Christmas...in my own way. I just don't feel like digging that deep at the moment. Fuck It.

Monday, November 16, 2015

So sweepy. Can't function.

Holy hell, it's almost holiday time. I'm dragging. No energy for it. Or for anything. The thought of having to do anything, be it work or homework or dishes or family stuff or everything that surrounds the holidays (oh, fuck, the tree, the shopping), the thought just exhausts me. Just the thought. I want to sleep through it all.

I think I'm closing in on the bottom of my roller coaster ride this year.

Tuesday, August 11, 2015

Windows 10, writr, and alcoholic beverages.

So I just updated to Windows 10 the other day. I can't really decide whether I like it better than Window 7 (I never had 8, so this is a bigger change for me than for others). I'm still trying to wrap my mind around everything. I poked around in the app store last night while I was at work, looking for journal apps. I found one called Writr that gives prompts to help get the words flowing. The first prompt that I actually found interesting enough to write something on was, "Describe your favorite alcoholic beverage." Simple enough. Yet not. I think I will post some (or all, I haven't decided) of the outcomes of said prompts here, since this really is my JOURNAL-journal.

Describe your favorite alcoholic beverage:

It's waiting for me after a trying day. I can't say I have one specific alcoholic drink that I can call my favorite, much in the same way I don't have a favorite song or favorite band. It is the right adult beverage at the right time. When I return home from work, it's the cold bottle of beer I pull from the fridge after changing into my pajamas. When it's game night with my family, it is a potent rum and coke that loosens the laughter from my belly. On vacation, it is whatever tropical pink or red relaxing concoction with a memorably unique name that strikes my fancy. Sometimes it's wine. It's not often wine, but there are those times that only a chilled glass (or bottle) of wine will do. Red or white, with pasta at dinner or while watching a sad or romantic French movie, reading the blurred English subtitles through my stupid blubbery tears. It's the Malibu Rum in my hot cocoa that warms me while watching a snowstorm. The whiskey that dulls my senses when I feel I could lose my mind completely to depression, slowly becoming inebriated while listening to The Smiths or Tom Waits and typing out poem after drunken poem, channeling what feels at the time to be my inner Bukowski (but which is revealed to be a thirty-something's equivalent to teen angst once I'm sober). I've got an intimate relationship with alcohol, and I'm sure I've got new favorites out there yet to pass my lips, just waiting for the perfect situation to introduce itself.


Thursday, July 30, 2015

Things to be happy about

  1. The family and I are going to the beach in a couple days. And I plan to have a splendid time and drink at every restaurant we eat at. Because vacation.
  2. When we get home from vacation, we are finally getting a cat. A CAT! HOLY HELL YESSSSS. SO MUCH FUZZY ADORABLES, I JUST CANNOT WAIT.
  3. My house is cleaner than it's ever been. So once we adopt said cat, there will now be zero chance of losing it amidst our rubbish. (Listen to me. Rubbish. That sounds so fancy and British).
  4. My hip pain is gone. I can RUN. I can DANCE. But right now I choose to laze on the sofa.
  5. My son's arthritis pain is finally under control. A kid his age should not have to live with constant pain. So, now HE can RUN. And DANCE. But right now he chooses to sit in front of his computer all day. Like mother, like son. Pfft.
  6. Badass air conditioning in the living room. It is the middle of summer and my toes are numb. I approve.
  7. Finally doing something about building actual credit. I am starting to suspect that I may, actually, be a grown-up. Possibly.
  8. My aunt's cancer has shrunk. I have no cutesy smartass comment to add to this, just genuine happiness. I love her and want her to stick around. And now it appears she will.
  9. My parents are healthy and awesome.
  10. My kids are healthy and awesome.
  11. My Charlie is healthy and awesome. Really awesome. How he deals with my moody self every damn day is beyond me. But he's done it for 9 1/2 years with no visible signs of being completely sick of me yet (keeping fingers crossed), so thank you, Cha Cha, I love you. I know I'm a pain in the ass, but we both are. Remember that.
  12. This is the first time I've written something in a long while that isn't depressing or drunken incoherent babbling. I'm writing this SOBER. Point for Jenny!

Thursday, July 16, 2015

Drunk Epiphany

Sometimes I'm drunk and feel things that shouldn't be real. I'm okay with that.  I own a fragile human brain. Maybe it doesn't work the way it should. Maybe it does. I don't know what's real at the moment. I know I feel very good and feel things deeply. I know that once I read this sober, I will be bewildered and possibly embarrassed. Fuck sober Jenny. I know everything.  I'm completely powerless, but I know. I feel like I've tapped into some sort of collective consciousness. I don't want to sober up and laugh off my naivety.