I know how the aliens in War of the Worlds felt

I have spent the past week more sick than I've been in a while. As a kid, my dad would hear me whine about how I HAD to miss school because I felt like shit, and then he would tell me that I could absolutely stay home... if I was missing a limb or had a fever. Well, I never lost a limb, and I almost NEVER had a fever. I can't remember the last time I had an actual fever (aside from my hospital trips due to infected kidneys). However, my entire spring break was spent with a fever of around 102. Bullshit.

I still have all kinds of muck trying to suffocate me by taking up residence in my lungs, but I'm determined to kick its ass the way deathbed cries of, "Hoax!" kicked the ass of the Loch Ness Monster (that poor, prehistoric bastard).

You know what sucks the absolute most about being sick? The awareness that anyone you actually infect is then your responsibility (once you're better and they're sick... like that ancient Chinese code where you have to care for someone once you save their life... right? That does exist, yes?). Because you know that they will always make their illness seem worse than yours (despite the fact that it's the same fucking illness). And you know it'll ALWAYS last longer than your illness (even though you have an immune disorder, and had the same illness they do... because, you know, they probably didn't catch an entirely different disease than the one you had, um, from you).

I guess that I tend to lose that nurturing instinct for a good two to three weeks after getting over being sick.

Okay, I'm going to go rest. You should go rest, too. But, you know, not too much. Because if you're feeling under the weather, fuck you. Suck it up. Quit your bitching.

All this aggression is making my lungs hurt. Mega owies.

xoxo

Death by sleeping poorly

I'm slowly but surely dying (more so than normal, I mean).

My neck and right shoulder are KILLING ME. Why, you ask? Well, I tend to hunch over my work, or my studies, or the canvas I'm working on. On Tuesdays and Thursdays I carry a backpack and a portfolio around on my shoulder. I don't have an in-between in my Honda Fit to rest my arms on. I sleep on my side, in the fetal position.

All of these things are working together to kill me, I'm sure.

So between that and the THREE exams I have this week, I've been short of time/energy/patience to post as of late. Forgive me, find me amusing, and smile. Or, you know, get the fuck over it (because at least your neck/shoulder/back isn't trying to KILL YOU).

xoxo, etc.,

Me. 

Take out your suck it and you SUCK IT! (Suck it!) SUCK IT! (Suck it!)

Do you ever have one of those exhausting days where you feel like everyone is conspiring against you, and that people secretly feel generally annoyed whenever you walk into a room, and no matter what you do in or with your life you'll be wrong? And then, if you even CONSIDER talking to anyone about these odd, unfounded thoughts they choose the moment you approach them to talk about this whiny friend of theirs, or how needy this or that person is, or how busy/irritated/exhausted beyond the point of caring about anything they are? So then you just isolate yourself, feeling bad for doing so but knowing that being around people would make you feel even more upset, despite there being no reason at all for thinking/feeling the way you do?

Well, I never have days like that. And if I did, today most CERTAINLY wouldn't be one of them. And if it were, I would NEVER passive-aggressively moan and groan about it on my blog.***

Anytime I find myself feeling upset about nothing in particular (and, often, when I actually have a reason for being upset) I end up feeling guilty about it. Not the, "I just stabbed and buried a man that I thought was trying to kill me, and then found out he was just coming to give me a hug and tell me I'm awesome" kind of guilty. Just the, "I have a place to live, food, friends and dogs that love me, a cat that has yet to murder me in my sleep, a nice car, and am able to continue going to college full-time, so what the fuck is my problem" kind of guilty.

I suppose I ought to paint a lot and drink a little (wait, reverse that) and try to get out of my head (without the use of hallucinogens, of course).


I've decided to post a list of things that make me feel better when I'm being ridiculous like this. Maybe, hopefully, I can help pull someone else out of a similar, pointless funk.

-I love Bjork. She's hysterical, and an incredible musician. One thing that I love slightly more than Bjork is when people do impressions of Bjork. The best I've seen so far is right here.

-One of my FAVORITE comedians is a man named Dylan Moran. He has some awesome stand up that you can find around the internet, but his best work (in my opinion) is a series he wrote and starred in. It's called Black Books, and it's absolutely hysterical. The first episode isn't the best ever, but every episode has something to offer.

-Web comics make me happy, too. I have two that are my absolute, without a doubt favorites. There's Rock, Paper, Cynic, which is always one panel with brilliant text.  The other is Darwin Carmichael is Going to Hell. It's more story-oriented, so it's best to start at the beginning of that one. But it's awesome. My favorite is Skittles, the manticore.

Okay, that's enough for now. I'm going to listen to some Dylan Moran stand-up and find my art stuff. Though finding the sites for all of my favorite things (in order to link them) has made me feel much better already.

I promise, my next post will be FAR more entertaining than the past two. Happy Wednesday!

***These three statements are entirely untrue.