Tag Archives: anxiety

My favorite sign at the Women’s March on Washington thus far just says “I’m Afraid.” Thank you, fellow ladies.

I am not looking forward to the future. It’s hard to have your viewpoint as a depressive person validated so clearly- how am I supposed to tell myself that my brain is tricking me into thinking the future’s not worth it when my country elected someone who insists on trampling everything – Everything (Who needs clean air? Or to be considered a person? Or to be paid properly? Or to have any nature left? Or PBS? Or to get an education? I saw someone mentioning their public library will probably be turned into a taco bowl dispensary, I wouldn’t be surprised at this point if that started happening.) – I care about? Who has done such awful things to women? Who thinks the Violence Against Women Act doesn’t matter? What exactly am I supposed to hope for? Oh right, time travel slash reincarnation so I can go back in time and be born rich and powerful so I don’t have to worry constantly about these things. But that’s not right. And if no one showed up at the inauguration from the past to swipe those Bibles away and yell “Psyche, this can’t happen!”, we’re totally not getting time travel. Damnit.

As always, The Onion is on point

However, I am also inspired by seeing so many women in Washington, DC (Hi, Evelyn!) and so many sister marches. Agitate the fuck out of that illegitimate idiot. Remind him that he and his administration are the worthless ones because they aren’t capable of actually performing any public service. It’s hard to serve the public. It forces you to think that the rest of the country are people too. It forces you to confront our shared humanity and can teach people how to be kind. Elected officials, though, are not kings, are not dictators, are not truly “in charge,” their job is to serve us. Our job is to make them.

Miss Peregrine can look forward and she's one of few reasons I try to.

Miss Peregrine can look forward and she’s one of few reasons I try to.

 

Miss Ozma, about to take down some patriarchal bullshit. As usual.

Miss Ozma, about to take down some patriarchal bullshit. As usual.

I also wanted to announce that since the only things I can contemplate writing about as of yesterday are horror and mental illness, that’s what I’ll be covering for the rest of the year. I’ve read many a horror novel, and I’ve managed to not already “review” some of the books on mental illness that I’ve read. I want to be useful, it’s always been one of my goals. I know that I have been before, so I’ll continue to bring the bitter but usually also funny viewpoint I have as a member of the lost generation until I’m rounded up as Obsolete, along with the satisfyingly calming guinea pig photos.

 

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“Fuckin’ beauty queens blowing chunks everywhere. I-I’ve never seen anything like it before, and I live in L.A.”

53. Beauty Queens – Libba Bray

It’s taken me forever to write about this book because, and I’m sure this comes as a surprise to longtime listeners, first time callers, that I have much more trouble articulating my thoughts on books I like than on books I do not enjoy. Unless the book in question helps me process something specific. I would be hard pressed to find something that Beauty Queens helped me process, perhaps if I had been younger when I read it, because there are several characters I can see would be useful to younger ladies who hadn’t had the chance to read about anyone like themselves yet.

It has served and does serve one peculiar purpose for me that anyone who has had to pitch their work to an editor will be familiar with – it’s one of my comparables. My currently out books fit squarely between Beauty Queens and Jonathan Maberry’s Rot and Ruin series. A group of somewhat skilled, definitely smart ladies stuck in an isolated location (in this case an island) and forced to survive mainly on wits, things learned from pop culture, and sarcastic dialogue while impending doom approaches…that’s one of my wheelhouses and one of my favorite things to read. Especially the doom and sarcasm – I know, it’s so shocking to read that I’m into doom and sarcasm, after all this time I’ve spent posing as Pollyanna.

Maybe if you were one of the over 1261 people who I noticed (yeah, googling your first self-published book title a few years in wasn’t a good idea… and of course all the seeds are verified and 100% quality – I’m the only one who uploaded a copy and I worked really hard on that file, it has been double checked to hell and back) already illegally downloaded my book, you’d know me better – and I thought I took a screenshot of the person who reviewed it on a message board as being “impossible to put down because it’s so disgusting and irresistible” or the one who asked if the author was “messing with us” – not specifically – but I just have the one who said I changed their life. Or, you’d just be contributing to my inability to pay for things, like those 1261 people who took money directly from my pocket. I cannot wrap my head around why my book would be of interest to people who illegally download books – it’s barely advertised (just on here!) because I’m still trying to figure out a traditional deal or a letterpress so I can print it myself (buying the online version instead of stealing it would help with that, or, you know, a lack of salary stagnation would too, but really, stealing it from me helps nothing and makes me feel anxious and like I’ll have to die soon John Kennedy Toole-style). If I ever get a letterpress sorted I want to make nine haunted copies – haunted by my personal failure and possibly also ghostly guinea pigs (bonus!).

Anyway, back to Beauty Queens, it’s amazing. It’s probably been stolen way more than 1261 times too. But it made it into print first, and for that, among many other things, I salute Libba Bray, one of my favorite authors. Beauty Queens is a glorious mix of wit, pop culture, and explosions. Who knew there was room for another dark and amusing story about pageant girls trying to survive in a post-Drop Dead Gorgeous world?

I thought about entering Danger Crumples in a pageant once. Based on his last vet experience, in which not only the staff, but also the other patients and their owners were very taken with him, he would beat any and all human contestants.

I thought about entering Danger Crumples in a pageant once. Based on his last vet experience, in which not only the staff, but also the other patients and their owners were very taken with him, he would beat any and all human contestants.

And here is the screenshot I did manage.

And here is the screenshot I did manage. “It is worth to read.” Glad you enjoyed it.

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Filed under Books, Dawn of the Interns, Night of the Squirrels, Review

Why am I sticky?

74. Just Checking – Emily Colas

Guinea pigs and I have several things in common – we cannot produce our own vitamin C, we have hair rather than fur, and we are at our best with a consistent routine. I came to this book hoping for some kind of insight into whether or not my personal tics that have occasionally made me seem a bit too particular in situations where I’m apparently not supposed to be so concerned about whether I sit in the exact same chair every time or the fact that someone put some kind of drizzle all over the plate underneath my sandwich when I specifically ordered a sandwich because I didn’t want to use a fork and there shouldn’t be anything sticky underneath a sandwich for fuck’s sake and now I have to leave because my brain is short circuiting are actually OCD. I have decided that they are not, but not based on this book.

I’m basing my “I don’t have full on OCD” armchair-self-diagnosis mostly on the True Life episode about OCD, that one David Sedaris essay where he wants to lick the light switch and has to rock a certain number of times before he goes to sleep, and a mild viewing of an A&E show that I can’t remember the title of. I’ve decided I just have anxiety, which I do, about many things. Don’t drizzle underneath sandwiches. That seems like it should be obvious unless you’re trying to force someone into a meltdown – why would anyone want anything sticky on their hands from underneath the sandwich?! I have eczema, I do not choose things that will deliberately force me to be sticky. That one nearly caused a public scene, and I had no idea it was coming or would seem as bad as it did in person, so it is stuck in my mental craw forever.

Just Checking for me was not an insightful reading experience. It felt like a slice of life with no purpose, no through line, nothing beyond the robotic reciting of events. The praise on the jacket promised much more, but perhaps those reviewers had the same specific concerns that Colas did. I found her to be a mite on the insufferable side even though I have some similar concerns. Really the whole thing disappointed me, because there are so many dude memoirs where their issues are meant to be funny or relatable, and I “just check” and worry about things all the time, but I couldn’t find any common ground here.

Pammy had a lot of beautiful little habits like not eating the parsley until the stalks were placed by her mouth – damn those messy leaves! - and eating celery stalks in little rows like she’s doing in this picture; I believe these were the result of being a pig who perhaps received too many treats and became accustomed to a different level of personal service...not my fault at all.

Pammy had a lot of beautiful little habits like not eating the parsley until the stalks were placed by her mouth – damn those messy leaves! – and eating celery stalks in little rows like she’s doing in this picture; I believe these were the result of being a pig who perhaps received too many treats and became accustomed to a different level of personal service…not my fault at all.

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Filed under Books, Review, Writing