Tuesday, December 23, 2014

CrashCourse Naps and SugarPlum Dreams

     Groggily waking up from an unplanned nap while watching Crash Course on youtube, I find the majority of my day has escaped me. While this normally would be aggravating and leave me feeling slightly inadequate or like an incredibly lazy bum, waking up to a lit Christmas tree I decorated with my roommate while surrounded by two delightfully warm pooches and a fuzzy kitten gives me a sort of holiday buzz only the Grinch could understand.
     With this peaceful easy feeling a-brewing inside I figure, what better time to make my brother's Christmas ornaments? You see, he has a tree decorating party every year, and everyone must bring an ornament to decorate with. The top three prizes win things from random bowling trophies to bottles of rum. With my brother being a Buffalo cop and sarcastic son-of-a-bitch, what would be more perfect that to make him a new version of the 12 days of Christmas? (And yes, it works in song form. Please sing it.) Without further a-do, I present to you...

The Twelve Drugs of Christmas

On the First Day of Christmas my Dealer gave to me, 
a Hit From an Aerosol Can,
On the Second Day of Christmas my Dealer gave to me,
Two Grams of Pot,
On the Third Day of Christmas my Dealer gave to me,
Three Urine Samples,
On the Fourth Day of Christmas my Dealer gave to me,
Four Half-Smoked Roaches,
On the Fifth Day of Christmas my Dealer gave to me,
Five Rolls on Ex,
On the Sixth Day of Christmas my Dealer gave to me,
Six Wild Mushrooms,
On the Seventh Day of Christmas my Dealer gave to me,
Seven Lines of Coke,
On the Eighth Day of Christmas my Dealer gave to me,
Eight Tabs of Acid,
On the Ninth Day of Christmas my Dealer gave to me,
Nine Rocks from Crack-Whores,
On the Tenth Day of Christmas my Dealer gave to me,
Ten Shards of Meth,
On the Eleventh Day of Christmas my Dealer gave to me,
Eleven Pills of Molly,
On the Twelfth Day of Christmas my Dealer gave to me,
Twelve Scores of Heroine.


*Disclaimer: No real drugs were used in the making of this gag-ornament. 

Thursday, December 18, 2014

Swing Low

Do you ever have those incredibly surreal moments when you realize: This is my life...?

I don't fully know how else to explain it, but pulling into my driveway after dropping off my younger sister, this is the feeling I get. I suppose I feel like this because I hope this is not how she will end up. She had her first string of anxiety attacks today.
That's how it started for me.
Maybe for her if things do get worse, the medications they have will work. Then she can feel a base level of normal instead of going through the manic ups and depressing lows that I do.

This is part of why I don't want children.

I love children, and the majority of my work is with them. Heck, the first book I wrote was a children's book. But biological children? Nope. I don't want them to have to face what I'm going through right now. I don't want them to have the potential of the future that I had from ages 18-24. Parts of it are bright, yes. There are lessons to be learned, yes. I am a stronger and more resourceful person, yes. But the pain of it all...A lot of times I'm not entirely convinced it was worth it.

There are things that I feel I appreciate and enjoy more than others. The smooth touch of keys on a keyboard, a faint cello in the background of a symphony, the look of the stars at night, the feeling of a brush on a canvas and the ability to lose hours and days in a painting, the ability to lose myself completely in a story -- becoming it, feeling it, living it...this is why I am so attached to The Giver by Lois Lowry. A world devoid of color, devoid of music, devoid of true emotion and feelings. A world where babies that are colicky or deformed or different are killed. A world I never would have been able to exist in.

There are other things I feel more than others. Depression, loss, exquisite sadness, weariness, fatigue, failure -- the list goes on and on. There are plenty of days where as I look at my surroundings I envision different ways I might die and be found. So far everything has been too messy, too dirty, and too ugly.

So here I sit. Realizing in a brief moment of clarity exactly where my life is, and hoping I will continue to enjoy living it.

Wednesday, December 17, 2014

When you only cut off the branches, what remains

We are here as omens
     my brothers and me.

We stand here erect 
     dismembered, disemboweled

The quaint view of this peaceful land
     jarred and jolted by our presence.

The master of the house,
     we call him Vlad

He has taken our lives, our limbs,
     our souls

He has put us on display for all others to see.
     A warning 

of what their fate may be.


Tuesday, December 16, 2014

Myself: A Diagnosis

Brazen                                     Dischordant

Impassioned                            Imaginative

Poignant                                  Sensitive

Observant                                Obliging

Lyrical                                      Respectful

Artistic                                     Devious

Ridiculous                               Eccentric

                                                Reserved