29 January, 2011

Writer’s Block/ A.K.A. : Creative Block Wisdom from the Ages

I am not that into myself that I can’t admit when I'm having problems… AKA an internal beat down and a resolution that suggests crying in my closet for an hour wondering “What is wrong with me?”

I can admit I have issues with Writer’s Block commonly referred to as Creative Block, or Why-can’t-I-do-anything-right-with-my-life Syndrome. The Creatives will tell you that sometimes this is normal, to feel a sense of wordlessness over duration of time with which you are experiencing stress, change, or mad drama. This happens to me ALL THE TIME. “Oh hey, deadline, what’s that? You don’t accept ‘I can’t write shit all’ as an excuse? Well damn!”

This has made me relive some of the most glorious wisdom I have come across given to me by my teachers as I flew through school. I have recently admitted that I have a problem with Writer’s Block (Before you ask me about it, I capitalized this phrase because it’s a big fucking deal). I am finding out now that the stuff teachers told me in school that I haphazardly if at all listened to would have a profound effect on how I write, and how to escape the forcefully insertion of Writer’s Block.

1. Quality not Quantity

How it affected me then

This goes back to the unsolicited mass pages of shit I churned out in grade 1 for a 1 page story assignment. My teacher used to tell my parents that I had a vivid imagination but I needed to learn that quality is better than quantity.

How it affects me now

This is probably the first rule for writers. No one wants a long piece of shit. It’s better to write something good then to just write for the sake of writing something that you know will suck. I try to update my blog when I have something on my mind, and not have dumb shit pointlessly strewn on it just so it looks like I visit it. This rule is for everyone’s sake, because the main goal here is you’re writing for other people, and if those other people can’t make it to the end of your piece it’s either too fucking long, or too fucking boring. Either way you fucked up and you need to go back and write something better. If only this rule were more widely used nowadays.

2. Write until you’re done

How it affected me then

This was an infuriating mantra of new-aged college professors when it came to writing papers. Most of these utterings came from classes I took in relation to modern ideas: Hypertext, Digital Lives, Research practicums… You’d never hear a science prof tell you to write until you were done, or else you might get a 6lb stack of papers bound with twine on your desk on Monday writing about fucking black holes or some shit. Modern profs teaching modern subjects (non-traditional classes) used to hand out the paper requirements, and it wouldn’t specify a length. There was always some asshole who took this class as an elective from a more structured discipline - like business - who didn’t know what the fuck was going on that would raise his dumb hand and be like “Uhh, how long does it have to be?” And the modern students would groan as the prof would tell us “Just write until you’re done.” Then Gulliver would ask “Ya but… How long does it have to be?” The prof would never waver – oh no – but reply that we should make sure we argued our points, and stop only when we felt we had. One time someone handed in a one page paper, and got an A. Wait that was me.

How it affects me now

Even thought there are always suggest limits, such as fantasy novels are generally longer than a traditional fiction novel, or how 700,000 page monstrosities - although amazing – would never make it to print, it’s easier to follow your own guidelines. When I was a little younger than now, I planned to write a novel. I researched for days how long novels should be (as I had yet to encounter this handy University mantra), and I could never find an actual “Here is how long a novel should be: 20,000 words, etc” which is what I was looking for. Later on, I realized you need to map out your plot, flesh your characters, fulfil your story lines, and wrap up the actions. When that’s done, then you’re done. It’s maddening and crazy but it’s true. You can plan creativity around a set standard, you just need to write until you feel that you’re done; it really is that easy, and it goes for any medium.

3. Do it. Do it all. Do it now.

How it affected me then

This lovely pint of wisdom resonated with me most of my high school life and into my 20’s when it came to writing. It came about from one of my favourite teachers (English and writing), who I ended up having 4 times in 2 years. It was such a profound way of thinking for me, that it literally affected all areas of my life, not just writing. She used to tell us when writing a story, or a paper, it is best not to plan, just write (which goes against what a lot of scholarly sources say). She’d make us get out a piece of paper and told us we had 5 minutes to write, and fill the paper up without stopping to think, just write down whatever crap came into our head. This is a way to reach subconscious levels also I found out, when my paper was full of fears I had never admitted to myself before. Almost cleansing. She also explained that when you “Do it. Do it all. Do it now”, you don’t leave pieces of your story to save for later down the road in your writing, you use them now, and this makes way for your story to naturally progress, instead of wasting time and creating filler in-between now and when you wanted to use your idea.

How it affects me now

I used to have this saying printed on a piece of paper over my computer, and in my room for almost 10 years. It’s helpful in all aspects of life, when you need to push yourself to not wait, just do it now and let your life progress, instead of stifling your desires until you feel it’s best to unleash them. It’s such a refreshing way to look at things. Also, in writing it’s helped me sit down and just write; no planning, no story mapping, just write and create the story as I go. From that point of my life on, I have never sat down and planned anything out; essays, exams, papers, research, writing of any kind. I have always just sat at my computer and started to write. It’s proved to be very refreshing and honest, as there is no time to create filler; everything you say is what you wanted to say, in the exact moment you wanted to say it.

4. Never downplay the work you’re proud of

How it affected me then

I used to take photography in high school. The class was beside my media arts class, in which my other favourite teacher used to take a look at my photos. She used to give me really good feedback. One time, I shot an amazing roll of film which I was particularly proud of, and processed it. The teacher was impressed and asked me if I would make another copy of a single shot for her, because she liked it. So I did, and when I gave it to her, she was talking to another teacher at the time that ended up looking at the print. They were both art teachers and you could tell they were talking about my shot critically, from an artist’s perspective. I immediately became anxious and full of anxiety as someone might not like something I thought was good, and I had shown this photo to her because I was proud of it. Stupidly, I went over to them and rambled how it wasn’t my best work, and I needed to fix this or that. And she just looked at me and told me never ever, as an artist, or anyone really, to downplay something you are proud of. I immediately felt like a fool, and it always stuck with me.

How it affects me now

When I write something, it’s because I want to write it, and I find it entertaining, cleansing, or meaningful to me in some way. If I'm proud of something and it offends or upsets someone else I should never have to apologize for that. I'm learning not to pretend I could have done better if I think I'm being criticized, and I try not to downplay the quality of my work to someone else in case they don’t like it.

5. Self-Deprecation looks bad on you

How it affected me then

Story of my life. I can’t take compliments, I never could (ironically I can’t take criticism either but that’s another story). Get a compliment on my writing, and I instantly try to pick out flaws. I have no idea why I do this. My whole life I’ve heard this phrase whenever compliments are given, or I over-explain myself and point out the obvious flaws to show the person I'm giving it to that I'm aware it’s not perfect, so maybe they won’t think to themselves later “wow this is shit, and she doesn’t even know!” I don’t want to be totally oblivious to anything, and if I make excuses then I won’t look dumb in case the person thinks I have no idea what I'm doing. I like to think of it as creating a buffer that allows the person to know that I tried, and there are things I can improve on, so I can be pleasantly surprised if they liked it.

How it affects me now

I realize this is called “Lowballing oneself” and is not an attractive quality. It makes people think you hate yourself, or you have no self confidence, self esteem, or pride over your work and it creates tensions because no one wants to hire a writer who thinks her work is shit. Why would you hire someone who admits her work sucks, even though it may not? No one…or an idiot. Also, in my life travels I have found that marketing yourself as dirt makes people treat you as such; no one will respect you if you can’t even respect yourself. Are you guys listening to me? This is deep shit right here.

6. Must use present tense

How it affected me then

I had this scrawled on every paper I ever handed in during high school. “Must use present tense”, “When writing, you must write as if in the present.” Apparently I had papers reminiscent of Back to the Future, for the amount of fucking time traveling going on: “Maria was so scared she is shaking and will cry.” I must have sounded like a fucking RTard. Anyway, my marks were always okay in high school, but once this little tidbit clicked I was getting better grades. I still have to consciously think about writing this way, but it really did make the difference for me between a good job and a paragraph of teachers red pen telling me how awesome my paper was. This opened up a whole new appreciation of writing for me and made my “Ho hum, I need to write this paper” and turned it into "I cannot wait to tear this paper apart.”

How it affects me now

I truly believe getting better grades helped me gain the confidence I needed to realize I'm a pretty good writer. I was always told I was good, but my “your paper would have gotten an A if you used present tense” nightmare spurred me to actually try to do it, and low and behold, I skyrocketed. Confidence is always the best motivator I don’t care what anyone says. Everyone has a point in their life where they found out they were good at something and it normally comes from other people, as you have no way of knowing because you are your own bias.

7. “If you have no critics you'll likely have no success.” – Malcom X

How it affected me then

I hate being criticized. My motto was unless I know you can do this better than me you can’t tell me it isn’t good. Getting “a friend” to read over my essay as suggested by my teachers, turned out to be almost dangerous as I found myself saying “good for you, but what do you know” to people after giving me “helpful” criticism. There really are so many types; it’s hard to know what’s helpful, and when someone’s mutilation of red pen on your printed word is just arrogance and self importance. When does criticism become opinions? Writing a paper on Atheism, I had comments in my margin about how evolution didn’t make sense, and how I should edit this portion of my paper. In the “Comments to this Editor” section I remember specifically writing “that’s a good opinion but it has nothing to do with the scientific proof of evolution.” I take criticism as a person attack, which is stupid, but that’s how I see it. Unless Yo Yo Ma tells me my Cello playing was a bit dry and exaggerated, I’ll have to say “Good day” to your opinion on my work.

How it affects me now

It’s hard to want to go somewhere in life without having criticism come up. It’s something I still struggle with, and I somehow take the “I know best” approach. Like this quote suggests, if you never show your work to anyone, you won’t go anywhere. And you won’t be able to please everyone – this is also something I struggle with – and to let some of the negative comments roll off your back. I think even the people who do this are still aware that their work was not well received by someone, and somewhere inside them it keeps them up at night.

8. Go back to the beginning (basics)

How it affected me then

Just talking about this makes me want to throw my computer out the window. Some of you will understand the ways of programming, and the intricacies of debugging. I took programming in high school (Turing, Whaaaat!), and in University (Java/Python/Jython/flash/etc), and coding is the most time consuming thing possible. You don’t just write code and you’re done, you have to write the code (which is limitless in possibility and there is no boundary to what you can create), you have to run the program and find out why your code is creating stupid hacks in your work. One time in second year I took a java class which was my death. However, in the dark and dank tunnels under the school where the computer science dept was located, right by the chains on the walls, and Indiana Jones navigating the Comp Sci labyrinth, there was tiny blonde me in a sea of dirty teen moustaches, and three wolf moon shirts coding Javascript. Whenever I had an issue with my stupid weather machine not outputting the right current temperature (I assumed 800 degrees Celsius might be a little hot for Ontario in February), I would ask my TA for help. In-between consuming crunchy Cheetos and several cans of Mountain Dew, he would tell me to start at the beginning. Translation: Go through 400 lines of code from the start, and you’ll find the error. Infuriating but wise. As a side note, the culprit was always a mistyped % sign, but my weather machine never did work properly.

How it affects me now

As with anything in life, going back to the beginning is an easy way to sort through things. Retracing your steps, remembering lessons, humbling yourself... etc. This lesson actually inspired me to write this blog today, as I was sorting through in my mind why I keep having writing blackout periods. I thought to myself, if I'm having problems writing, maybe I should start from the beginning and try the simple things to job my talents. Such as, writing about my weekend, explain a super power I would have, think up a creative name and make a back-story for that person, take 5 minutes and write without stopping… etc. I still look to these methods as I grow older, once frivolous passing comments ended up being engraved onto my way of life and thinking. And I doubt that the people who told them to me knew how much they would affect me, my talent, or my passion for the thing I love most, but I'm glad they have.

27 January, 2011

Review of RIFT trailer

I decided to watch this trailer to humour a friend of mine's obsession with it. I was met with legit looking graphics, however they're rendered so basically any game past Atari would look like this. Also a pretend Orc and Night Elf and Human, all reminiscent of Warcraft, summon a giant salad from a hole in the sky while a LOTR Uruk-hai jumps out of some poison ivy and ends up dying by getting poked in the back by a stick when a axe wielded by a huge horse-man didn't spilt him in two.

The woman proves useless except for her flimsy powers (hell, nice powers but too bad you can't defend yourself from real threats instead of a flimsy arrow with a shitty ice shield) which reiterates feminine sterotypes in video games, where she needs th man to take car of her, oh wait, he died too. Looks like the lame human gets to live and the badass guys die. Also the crow dies too which i'm sure PETA will notice.

Anyway, all in all looks not horrible for a game made in the late 90s that looks like a clone of EverQuest.

Zing. Jk, it looks somewhat legit.

21 January, 2011

Clover Grade Songs: Stripperized!

I know most of you have heard a song and been like “Yo, if I had a pole or a stripper-load-bearing grade chair, I can totes get down and duuurty with this song.” Or you simply have been searching for an amazing list of songs that are stereotypically pictured with a girl getting flossed with dolla dolla bills by a pole. I have been on such a quest before I am not ashamed to admit, as my cat wanted a more risqué birthday party theme this year. I am happy to announce I have put together the ultimate list of hoo-hoo shaking, and virtual air grinding songs both classic and modern, I even found some songs not normally used for ripping but I know you can make it work, you smooth operator, you.

I have spent too much time researching this, and scouring the depths of the internets to find you some legit songs to awkwardly perform in your mom’s spare room for your boyfriend. I should probably separate them into categories since most of you won’t know what’s going on here.

Ok let’s say 3 categories:

1) Classic Ripping – These are like stripper bibles, the go-tos for a classically known ripping feast for the eyes.

2) Modern Grindz – These are the songs that teen wieners are using as classics, songs that have come out in the past 10 years that you will hear on any 17 year olds V-Dub stereo.

3) Shiver Originals – Basically these are songs not known for Erotic novelty, however they have plenty of ripping potential weight.

Let the baby making begin. Biyaa!

Classic Ripping

• Pour Some Sugar on Me- Def Lepard -

• Closer – Nine Inch Nails -

• You Can Leave Your Hat On – Joe Cocker -

• Sex Bomb – Tom Jones -
(Ok this goes in for comedic value mostly, check out Toms dancing)

• Feel Like Making Love – Bad Company -

• The Passenger – Iggy Pop -

Modern Grindz

• Birthday Sex – Jerimiah/whatever female sings in it -

• Sex and Candy – Marcy Playground -

• Poker Face – Lady GaGa -

• Poison – Alice Cooper (Modernish) -

• Crazy – Gnarls Barkley -

Shiver Originals

• Beast of Burden – Rolling Stones/ (second place goes to Bette Midler. Don’t laugh until you hear this bitch kill it) -

• Do You Love Me – The Contours -

• Back in Black – AC/DC -

• The Stroke – Billy Squier -

• Eric Clapton – Layla -

• Crimson and Clover – Tommy James and the Shondells/ (Also Joan Jett does a fucking badass version)
(<- Joan) • He’s a Dream – Shandi -

15 January, 2011


Once in every passing while, there are these rare instances in which your whole mind is subjected to the tortures of watching other people’s creations. You watch and you learn from it, in hopes that you too will become inspired enough to strive for what you want in life; your calling. You hope and wish so badly that you could be the one who thought of that, could be in the spotlight, could be where you want to be so badly; you have these revelations of intense proportions. You get overwhelmed with emotions you didn’t know you were feeling until they pound at you to be let out, and you can’t help but succumb to them, because the intensity is just so strong you can’t hold it back.

You want something so badly, but you think you’d never be good enough; can’t go there can’t be that, can’t do this well enough; there are too many artists, too many directors, too many actors, chefs, architects... too many of what you want to be for there ever to be enough room for you. Why not you? Why them, why not you. Did they fall into it? Did they happen to get a lucky break? Did they prepare their whole lives for the one defining moment in their own life to shoot them out like a cannon from the cage containing the others, and found themselves plummeting into what they wanted?

Is it all too much? Is it all worth dreaming about? How many people want to ‘be this’ and ‘be that’ and hope and dream their faces off, and know that the chances are slim, know that there is no American dream.. they know that not everyone who tries hard makes it anywhere and they end up being stay at home moms, or dads, with dead end jobs, and no desire to try any harder because there’s no point, did they finally realize what the world is too naïve to see? That even if you subject yourself to the terrors of the industry, there will probably be no reward, and no encouragement.

Do you believe that the world doesn’t give a shit about you, the world is just evolving rapidly, and the societies living in it have created a falsehood, that if you ‘try’ and ‘work’ hard enough at your pitiful life you can make something out of yourself… You can try to beat out the other 100 billion people in this world to the few spots available, you can try as hard as you damned well can, in vain, just to know that you wont make it, but you tried your best and isn’t that all that matters? Isn’t that what everyone is programmed to think?

Every individual is different; everyone has different qualities, different fingerprints, different voices… That’s what makes us all the same. We are all the same, but vary in ways that are similar to the slightest degree, not enough to be dramatically different, but enough to call ourselves that? ‘Different’, when we know we are all the same. Mankind tricks you into thinking this philosophy so you can fuel the economy with your dreams of becoming someone, and feed into insecurities so much, that you have no choice but to believe what people tell you is true, because there is no difference anymore, no difference if they are lying to your face or telling the truth... because in the end we believe what we want to hear. That is the tragic downfall of human beings. We have blind faith in humanity, in ourselves.

Religion, faith, god, all of that was a creation of mankind to help us become better people. Because, isn’t that what religion is? Respect and acceptance of others? But when religion ends up defining to you who you can and cannot be, who you can and cannot see, what you can and cannot do... isn’t that just what we are running from? Rules... boundaries... we expect ourselves to be free but give up in our plights to what we never questioned could be wrong. What we never even thought about, that could turn our whole existence upside down. We don’t want to believe religion is a falsehood, because then mankind would rest on even more unstable ground in the world. We as human beings need to be loved and cared for, right from the time we are born up until the time that we die. We think we can be independent but here’s news: we can’t live by ourselves. John Donne said that “no man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent.” This cannot be closer to the truth. Everyone needs something, somebody. Everyone is intermingled and intertwined, even in the vastness of this world and our beliefs. People think they are ‘an island’, they don’t need anyone because no one will be there for them -Which is the point I am trying to establish. Sure it’s easy to believe, and it’s harder to disprove, but isn’t that the whole point of human nature? We thrive on knowing the unknowable, cracking the safest boundaries and going where no man has gone before. Isn’t that which is easy to know, the most daunting, and the most disconcerting thing to accept?

Yes it is. That’s why it is challenged, day in and day out. The simplest answer becomes the most complex dilemma to disprove what is to be 100% true and already accepted throughout the world. We are continually changing and manipulating boundaries given to us and passed down through centuries of matter-of-factly professors that croon to us the significance of their findings only to be begotten by others centuries later. There is no truth to our world, only what is perceived.

And as I sit here with tear soaked truths, one thing I know for sure is that no man is an island, entire of himself; Because everyman is a piece of the continent. Everyone is a part of a jigsaw puzzle that is our lives and even though violence, ignorance and arrogance beget each other, so does love, respect and tolerance. There is hope yet. Our world is not doomed to be tipped eternally downhill, making the human races struggle daily to walk on its surface. Hope begets hope, and that’s what we need to pull our heads up out of the black clouds of metaphorical damnation, and into the light and freshness of new science, ideals, new leaders, new ways to live our lives… new hope.

Faith does not always have to pertain to religion for it to be meaningful. Faith is the belief that we are bigger then this world, it is the belief in what we cannot prove, or see, but know it is there. Faith keeps society afloat in times of flood and keeps us alive in drought. Because if we should believe in anything, have faith or hope in anything, it is ourselves, and the entire human race. We are not living in a world of disaster. With anything, our world has its ups and downs, but we will not succumb to them, we will not bow before them and let it control us, we will not let out lives be controlled by something we perceive as being the only way, and that we can do nothing. Everyone can do something, and everyone can change the world, even the slightest bit, can set of a chain reaction of hope.

Do not sit any longer thinking the world is chaos and it has marinated too long in its negativity to be saved. We are all in this together, as a whole, and although sometimes people stray, the world is a place of hope. We hope for new beginnings, we expect change, but by someone else. Surprisingly society is not conditioned to sit back and watch as other people take what we want. Everyone has a chance in this world, everyone is connected to someone else, be it the same change which argues unity, or the change which divides us from those who stay behind and do not seek their place in this world. Even though we are connected through assimilation, we are still different. Even though we watch in horror at things going on in this world, and come to expect it, it is not so.

Once in every passing wile, there are these rare instances in which your whole mind is subjected to the tortures of watching other people’s creations. Your thoughts, whether pessimistic, optimistic, realistic... In every aspect you choose one of two things. You can come to terms with the fact that people will always tell you that you won’t make it among the legends, the prodigies, the leaders, or the world changers… or you can believe in your own life, your own path and how you make it, and have hope that you will.

09 January, 2011

Vulnerability at its finest!

This is a Dr. Phil blog post so eat it.

When I was a kid all I ever wanted was to be the same as everyone else. As I grew I realized that as much as I tried to blend in, the more I seemed to stand out. It was always something; Too skinny, too foul-mouthed, to sarcastic, too dark, too nerdy or too proud. Every milestone in my life had lead to a realization that I was never going to fit into a norm where no cookie cutter or stereotype would hold me; I was in essence a mosaic of mismatched puzzle pieces from several awesome puzzles that would never quite make sense in the context of my life.

When I was growing, several conversations slapped reality in my face. My gym teacher told me I had a dancer’s neck. I learned that meant I had a long neck; freakishly long. I’ve been told my eyes were huge and look like snake or cat eyes; either one may be a metaphor for something I probably won’t enjoy knowing. I was called anorexic for about 5 years at the pinnacle of my adolescence; later figuring out that looking like Skeletor wasn’t sexy. Not that I could do anything about it, my fast metabolism was fixed to my DNA like a handprint in a suburban sidewalk. Being Irish I never tanned, and practically being an Albino in the summer time is the worst thing possible. I remember I would hate the summer because of it- loathe it - I would wear long pants and shirts and never go outside and everyone would think I was weird or a troll.

As you get older, you learn that the things that set you apart, the things you hated about yourself, are the same things you revel in when you’re an adult; suddenly the things you wished away are the same things you love now.

It’s funny how the life plans you make earlier in life, when looked back upon, make you laugh out loud. Different relationship plans, career goal and aspirations, school and education… All these things have evolved and changed, and your views on things continue to change as you grow even still. They say every 7 years your life you go through a dramatic change of how you see certain things. Every 7 years the bulk of your friends change, the view on your career may change, and maybe you changed the view you had on marriage or family.

7 years ago I was 17; I had great friends, a great outlook on life, and a high turnover dating life. I had moral grey areas and sometimes an annoying level of over confidence. I like to contribute this to being a teenage and not so much my personality as a whole, of who I was.
Ironically now, I have almost none of the same friends, my views on education and career did a 180, and I’ve settled into a relationship. Sometimes I look back on things I’ve done at 17 with envy; the confidence in myself, the unwavering knowledge of who I was as a person, and the drive to do what was fun and not what was always right. There seems to always be a struggle between what we want and what we should have, what we have and what we want, and what we should want and what we don’t want anymore. Sometimes we feel like we owe it to ourselves; we justify our wants with our history, and who we were – discounting who we are now and the choices we’ve made to get us here.

Looking back, it’s scary to think that the person I was at 17 ceases to exist, and as much as I'm the same person, that “17 me” will never come back, as my views and life experiences have shaped who I have become. Recently I questioned myself on how I could get back, how I could try to open myself up to the possibility that maybe 17 year old me, was the real me and with the influx of life crap and jaded experiences I’ve turned into someone who doesn’t take risks or stop to smell the roses. It’s hard to pinpoint the moment you change from who you loved being, to who you don’t, and sometimes it’s hard to remember how to go back.

All I know is that as we age, we take comfort in things we maybe never thought we would; staying in on Friday night watching an old movie, or going out and dancing. Our lives are always in motion, our views are continually changing and if we open ourselves up to the possibility that in some way, who we are now is a direct correlation to who we were then, is it still scary? Maybe we’re not different people but a progression of who we’re going to be. Maybe I’ll get back to the 17 year old me later in life when I'm ready to be her. It’s possibly I'm not ready to evolve into my past, just quite yet.

03 January, 2011


Consider this a lesson in girl stuff.

I'd just like to point out that another reason my holiday sucked is because I dropped my birth control somewhere. Who does that? A 15 year old, that's who. Now I'm sans one month of pills and I'm all messed up because of it. Add that ontop of my super fluidy ears and walking like I'm on a sobriety line and you have a great big fucking cherry ontop of my headcold sundae.

Gross, but real life. That is all.

My Holiday Nightmare

The soundtrack to my holidays has been like Weird Science. Mostly because I love 80’s music but you always feel like maybe there’s a better song out that that wasn’t 80’s. That’s how I felt, it was good but would have been better if I didn’t catch the flu followed by a horrific head cold. Actually my soundtrack would be more like NE-YO’s So Sick, because I was an absolute gross mess.

We had our work pot luck the day before the first day of our holidays, Wednesday the 22nd of December, and I was fine alllllllll day, but somehow as soon as everything was done and I sat back down at my desk around 2pm, my throat felt swollen out of nowhere. Around 2:30pm my head felt dizzy and rivalled a vice grip. Went home early, went to bed at 5pm as soon as I got home, just collapsed in my bed.

All night I couldn’t sleep, I felt like my head was on fire, I was hot and cold every other minute, and just a general feeling of discomfort. [Warning: the following has been rated G for Gross] I also had a fever by this point and was breaking out into cold sweat all night, waking up looking like I jumped in a pool. Uncontrollable shivering and headaches, this went on for about 3 nights until the fever broke.

Like everyone knows, a good head cold comes in waves. First wave you have a sore throat, maybe a little swollen, but a general discomfort. Then you have head pressure, sinus pressure, or dizziness and vertigo. Then the fever, which takes a couple nights of sweating gross mess before it goes away: With that comes chills, bouts of seizure-like shivering that make you feel possessed and like screaming at a priest. Once the fever breaks of course your throat becomes more swollen and sore, accompanied by trouble swallowing your own salvia without cursing the world. I like to think of this as needles-in-throat, and swollen lymph nodes in your neck that make you look like Violet Beauregarde after the 3 course dinner gum.

After this is the stuffy nose in which you can’t even breathe out of so you have to sleep propped up which means you wake up with a kink in your neck and find out that never even did anything anyway because the contents of your nose are now in your throat like glue and no matter how much you blow your nose it’s all over for you buddy, it’s like perma-allergies 24/7. You’re afraid to lay down in case you can never breathe again and fall into some sleep comatose like Rip Van Winkle which I always confuse with Rumpelstiltskin for some reason. Then the debilitating coughing… Oh the coughing. The kind where your lungs feel like pieces of them are being penetrated by ice picks, and which reach the same decibel level as a jackhammer, and ironically that’s what it sounds like. Coughing fits in which you feel like you might as well give up and stuck water instead of air and let your cough live on like that bitch did from The Abyss, giving your life to your cough like Ed Harris.

For almost two whole weeks my life was Tom Cruise grade controlled, and hindered me from actually enjoying my holidays. Things like sleeping past 6am were impossible due to lack of oxygen from multiple mediums explained above (See: coughing, stuffy nose), fatigue made me exhausted and ironically I couldn’t sleep even when I went to bed early or tried to nap, and the worst reason sleeping was a problem was ghosts, but that’s for another post.

Today was the first day I actually slept, and I woke up at 12:30pm which was in itself, glorious and heart wrenching thinking about the fact this was my only holiday day left and the only one I feel normal for. The best part is I take daily vitamins, and immune system bombs which fought off sickness for almost a whole year, and the day before the potluck I was driving home and I thought to myself: “Holy crap, I actually haven’t been sick all year.” And like a pimp’s back hand, I got the bitchslap of my life the next day when I would unknowingly spent almost 14 days to get over the Rosie O’Donnell of what is a usual 5-7 day cold.

Thanks a lot Jack Frost and Santa, for what I assume is a cruel idea of a joke in what I can only suspect was a tag team effort to ruin my holidays and my life for two weeks. Oh yea, Robitussin can kiss my ass, the only thing that works is Buckley’s and it tastes like what I would guess Ke$ha or Keith Richards would taste like it you licked them. I felt like I wanted to gag, and curiously also like Ke$ha and Keith Richards, I have a pretty good gag reflex (Bazinga).

02 January, 2011


My blog took a makeover over the holidays.

This isn't some preteen slumber party shit I'm talking about, I'm talking about fucking Donatella Versace issued: save scalpal, instead used a machette and a pair of fucking industrial grade fishing lures.

My blog now has the face to go out in public again, not like your cousin Pete who peed his pants first year while ripped out of his fucking mind at a bender on the strip, since he was too concerned with not breaking the seal and ended up on youtube borrowing his sisters bikini bottoms to take the bus home in because noone would let him sit in their car.


My style is sporatic, run on, and pure Irish sailor. Let me show you how the Irish do things downtown.

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