April 2019

I’m getting pretty aggressive with my political posts but it’s only because I know how much they’ll bug Auntie Bernie and Whitney. I did this for you, you guys. When am I ever going to have a chill personality? I don’t understand people who don’t live with a constant undercurrent of simmering rage. Do not attempt to fight the Witch of Azkaban.

Jess says I come off as confident. I was like, really? I thought I came across as a bundle of anxiety and nervousness wrapped in a human skin bag. She says it’s because I just don’t give a shit. I was like…well…I think I would…if that was…if that was my thing. It’s a coping mechanism. I’m just pre-rejecting everybody all the time. Until I’m like, hey, they are nice and will not stab me in my feelings. But sometimes people seem nice and then stab you in your feelings anyway. Plus…it seems like caring what everybody else thinks or wants is just….exhausting. Aren’t we exhausted? Isn’t everyone?

Sarah says I can lose weight if I stop snacking at night. God. Jesus take this wheel.

I think I have sad feelings right now but I don’t know what they are from. I have sad feelings so rarely now that when I do have them I’m like oh what is this? Which is so weird because it used to be the opposite.

I remember the estrangement between my mind and my body, I remember it all. I was a displaced person. But it just seems like another lifetime, a different person, a different planet, a bad dream. I feel just fine emotionally right now. But I feel like I’m just keeping ahead of it by a few paces. That it could catch up to me at any moment, and what I have right now is just borrowed time. That it has a mind of its own, and it let me go just for the time being, but ultimately I’m not in control.

My darkest suspicion is that the way I’m feeling right now isn’t something I get to have long-term. I don’t get to be normal. I don’t get to be happy. I don’t get those things. Those things aren’t for me. I get breaks, that’s all.

Maybe I have a lot of rage because I have a lot of fear.

Maybe this is why I wasn’t writing in here because when I introspect it just gets depressing as hell.

Steph doesn’t like to look ahead. She said today, “Why are you thinking about Christmas already!” Because it’s fun. I like to imagine how it will be.

My family has zero chill.

Skyler also said last group “I feel way less guilty this time than I did after we discussed White Fragility.” And I felt personally responsible, like I had made him feel guilty. But I hadn’t. In a way, I had, but in a way, none of what anyone is feeling has anything to do with me. It has to do with White Supremacy and social conditioning. But I still feel responsible.

It just felt good to be doing something. To not just watch the latest horrible thing White Christianity has done and feel despair and a sense of hopelessness. Nothing’s ever going to change, I keep saying to myself, and this group isn’t changing the world at large, but it is changing how I see things, how I engage with people of colour, and I think that’s good enough for now.

I’m still going to write a scathing google review (oh god I’m turning into an old hag, I DON’T EVEN CARE)

Speaking of Kait, I officially booked a week off for when I’m going to Maine this summer. Brad replied to my email saying “Go for it Megan, it will be beautiful!” Hahahahhaah Brad. Oh, Brad.

I didn’t think it was possible for someone to be as nice and as good-looking as Joy. I was like…what’s the catch. There’s gotta be some catch. There isn’t one yet, but I’ll keep waiting for the other shoe to drop anyway.

I’m tired of asking people to like me.

Like…can we please…GET. YOUR LIFE. TOGETHER. It is NOT rocket science. She just kind of annoys me. She pretends that she doesn’t know how to handle details like that so that she doesn’t have to handle details like that. I was expecting like a “Yep I’ll get [redacted] to do it” but I had to spend like five minutes explaining the process to her, and I know she’s not that stupid. It was like, why are you pretending to be an idiot? To punish me?

Anyway, non-complainy items are : there is a really cute old muslim man who gardens with us. He is so adorable. I just…I need….I need there to be Christians and Muslims hanging out together and growing stuff and shit. I need that. That’s the kind of world I want to live in.

Whoa Megan Biggs, check your heart! I checked it. It’s black. And a little shriveled around the edges.

Okay so, first of all, I just watched Season 2 of The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina and Hot Satan is making me question my morals! RUDE.

when I rolled up into church Sammy took one look at me and was like, “What’s wrong?!” Haha. I was like…nothing’s wrong, I just…I’m tired. I lay down on the chairs in the middle of Amy’s sermon. Like I just cannot get it together. I feel like I’m always just going to be tired.

I’m gonna do with the silent withdraw thing. I KNOW it’s dysfunctional, but…I think I convince myself that the other person doesn’t deserve to have me tell them that that’s what I’m doing. Explanations have been cancelled. I just feel like…why should I? Why should I have to do that extra “emotional labour”?

He told me I had a prophetic voice. I burst out laughing and he was like nah bro I’m serious for serious. I was like wait what.

Still disturbed by how sexually attractive Satan is in the Chilling Adventures of Sabrina. I literally can’t stop thinking about it. Jesus, be my hedge of protection.


Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

March 2019

Brunch at Kim and Lee’s this morning. I lasted for about an hour and a half. Then I was like Thank y’all for the good times. David was like What!!! Where are you going!!! Why are you leaving!!! I was like, David. Have you ever even met me.

Hazel is at the best age right now. I love it when they get older and I also hate it.

Conveniently, I had a container of mint mojito sugar scrub that I just hadn’t used yet because I didn’t really get what its point was. I used it tonight and it feels like I rubbed my face with sandpaper…but in a nice way? She says it’s to scrub the dead skin cells off. Why can’t they just fall off by themselves? AFTER EVERYTHING I’VE BEEN THROUGH.

He was giving me looks. Not like “looks” but like….twinkly eyed looks. When I would say something. And you know what? I saw love for me in those eyes.

We should say, You can’t leave. You belong with us. That feels a little too aggressive for me. I don’t know if J belongs. Jesse alone determines that. But Jesse belongs with me. And I belong with Jesse. One time he said, “Wherever Kate and I are, you are always welcome there.” And it is the same, for me, in my heart, Jesse will always, always, always have a place there. I couldn’t bear to be part of anything that hurt him or pushed him away, and I said that. I said, my loyalty is with Jesse. He is in my heart and soul. He drove me to the psych ward. He laid on the floor of that tiny bathroom with me and listened to the call of the wild loon on my cell phone with me. I said, go away, go away, I want to be alone, I don’t want you to see me like this. And he said, I don’t care, I just want to be in there with you. I just want to be in there with you. And I don’t care that we don’t talk like we used to, that we don’t spend time together like we used to, I don’t care, I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. It will always be like that, for me, with him. The love between us is the same.

Confused by the term “glow up.” Perhaps Young Aamanda can explain it to me.

I guess that would mean that she is King Triton, and Ariel is our friendship, and Ursula is….a Sea Witch.

I hadn’t realized before that you need physical energy in order to have emotional energy, but you do. The body remembers.

I’m just not that nice, really. That’s why everyone cries when they have to be friends with me.

Things have really been happening in the past few days. Including, but not limited to, that I am now into colouring, but I forgot to get all the crayons out of my bed before I went to sleep, and I accidentally rolled over them in the night and they broke and the colours got on my new sheets. (“New” sheets) I immediately snapped awake thinking it was my glasses. I’m relieved it was the crayons and not the glasses, but I feel subversively guilty every time I look at the floor and see the broken crayons. I’m sorry, crayons! I loved you too much. That was my crime.

I can imagine it, but I don’t like looking at the picture that my imagination creates. It’s like the X-Files in Megan’s brain.

Are all my dreams about to come true? Because that’s what the last few days have felt like.

I don’t know how, but I lost two pork chops.

I just hope to GOD we don’t end up talking about politics or the oil industry. I don’t have enough energy to care about the oil industry. Like, either side of it. I don’t care.

Last night at table group I asked if anyone had brought dessert and then [redacted] was like “Oh, Megan, we’re in the Lent season, I don’t think we need extra sugar right now, it’s a season for doing without, etc. etc.” I fixed him with a cold, beady-eyed stare and said, very sarcastically, “Okay, thanks, Dad” and then realized that calling him Dad is just too close to “Daddy” for me to be comfortable with. But everyone else laughed. Then I told him I was going to have ice cream when I got home anyway. I can’t believe he tried to lecture me about I shouldn’t be having dessert during Lent. The sheer AUDACITY.

I was, as JVN would say, totally dev. Dev is short for devastated. I cried a little bit when I got home because I just felt so sad that anyone would be mean to her?!!? What is this world even coming to? Who are these bitches? I feel like Snoop Dogg when he’s narrating animal planet and he says, out of nowhere, “What is these animals?” And he sounds genuinely perplexed.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me, if I’m really turning into a cantankerous old crone, but when babies cry it REALLY gets on my nerves. Like I can feel my adrenaline spike. It’s so awful. And then I just get annoyed, like, why do babies have to CRY all the time, what’s WRONG with them, why can’t they just SHUT UP. I’m awful, really. I’m really awful. But that is my burning confession for today. And also maybe my tolerance for annoying loud noises has just gone downhill super fast ever since I got brain damage. Almost typed that as “bran damage.” Lol.







Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

February 2019

I know I’ve said this before, but there’s literally nothing I like more than being tucked into bed with my cozy clothes on.

I asked her what aura I had today and she said a lot of things that were painfully true. She said : “I’m not gonna tell you anything you don’t really know. I would say a little erratic…and probably a fair amount of underlying pain that you maybe aren’t sure how to address, slash you don’t know how to address without causing yourself more damage. But I also think think you’re really forgiving in a lot of ways, and that forgiveness stems from a place of self-understanding and a place of understanding of the absurdity of life and the universe. I think you understand other people way better than I do, with a lot more clarity. And you don’t think you understand them very well but you do.”

Uhhhh…..thanks – but also…I THOUGHT I WAS HIDING THAT STUFF! Panic. Panic at the disco. She also said, when I stated that my therapist said I deflect with humor, she was like “Oh, we all do that, I do that too, maybe not to the extent that you do, but I do that” and I was like…The…extent…that I do? Goddamn. Goddamn it. She also said my voice goes higher when I’m being serious and lower when I’m joking around. I did not know, when I became friends with her, that she was going to be able to see through to my soul. I might have thought twice about it, if I had known.

I also was texting with Kait today. I realize I spend a lot of time texting/messaging people who don’t live in the same city as me. Like, I spend more time texting my long distance lovers than I do texting people…who I live in the vicinity of. I’m wondering if that’s because I’m good at keeping in touch or because I’m always trying to put a buffer between me and being fully present. I’m always trying to take the edge off. Always. I wonder if being fully present in my life will always be slightly painful for me, or if that’s something that therapy was supposed to fix and didn’t. Like, it’s not painful so’s that you’d really notice. I’m not like “OH GOD I’M BEING PRESENT IT BURRRRNS” I just constantly feel the discomfort or a little bit of melancholy because of that discomfort – I see it, I acknowledge it, I dismiss it.  I said little bitch, you can’t fuck with me if you wanted to!

Sometimes I don’t acknowledge it though, I just subconsciously do little things to take the edge off – I play with my phone, I retreat inside my head, I lapse into silence, I curl up in bed, I hum to myself. Whatever. There’s word for that. It’s called self-soothing. I’m self-soothing myself, bitch! Don’t you EVER tell me not to hum under my breath!

She said, regarding that, “I don’t have it in me at this time. All I can do is send love. Love is easy to send.” Love IS easy to send. It doesn’t cost me anything extra.

I do not need to feel guilty that I can’t engage.

I don’t feel as nervous now. I feel peace about it. I was preparing myself for the worst. But maybe I don’t need to do that. Maybe everyone will stay alive. I hope [redacted] is still planning to stay on the planet. I can only deal with one suicidal loved one AT A TIME. GOD, people! I HAVE A CONCUSSION! Can we just all cut me some slack and save the suicide notes for a later time.

Last night M had some ladies over to her parents house. J was there and was saying how she likes being nice to people. I laughed. She said, “you’re nice too!” I was like uh no and she goes “You’re nice in a mean way!” Wow ok. These insights from other people in regards to myself are really coming in hard and fast these days.

He posted a photo on Instagram with the caption “Glad to be in the rockies again” which means he’s in Banff but decided not to let me know because he does NOT CARE ABOUT ME.

Skyler said his favourite person besides Sarah and his family was me. ME! I was the NEXT in line! Me and Skyler are besties now! I will not accept anything less!

We stole their land and tried to murder their culture and language and in fact did actually literally murder their people. All in the name of God. Not sure it had much to do with him, though.

He took a moment to say that God was beyond gender but that Jesus had chosen to refer to himself in the masculine, which we can’t ignore and blah blah blah, so the idea of father is important. I was like yes but son you’re treading on dangerous territory here now, in a room full of rabid feminists. BE CAREFUL I DON’T WANT TO SEE YOU GET LYNCHED.

He asked me if the study group was faith-based. I was like….yep. But in my head I was like WHY WOULD HE ASSUME THAT THOSE TWO ARE SEPARATE THINGS. It’s because of modernity’s wager. I keep seeing modernity’s wager everywhere now that I know about it. Goddammit, Alan Roxburgh! You’ve ruined my life.

Discussed sex (casual sex, not so casual sex, etc.) with the Puffed Sleeves committee tonight. Tracy makes me laugh so much. “That’s why God invented safe words.”

Was over at the Cripps to help Jeff lead a bible study for the youths and we watched a Francis Chan video and I was SO SALTY about it but that’s just because I had watched Boy Erased today which is about gay conversion therapy and I was like ugh the church is so horrible how do we stop it and then Francis Chan was being Francis Chan and I was like okay, stop, stop, stop, STOP. But Jeff said he didn’t mind that I am such a Negative Nancy. Such an Opinionated Octavia. It’s good to talk about these things! He said. I was like oh man. Who am I. Why am I.

I was so goddamn tired today. I didn’t fall asleep until 4 am AND I was just…knackered from going to Michael’s yesterday. It was literally only a 15 minute drive away. I just…when is this going to be over?

I was too tired to move so I just lied the couch and prayed for God to SEND THE REVIVAL. Kate was telling us all the things she doesn’t like about Maren’s preschool and I asked Maren what do you think about preschool – she goes “I pretty much LOVE it.” Hahahahah pretty much? Where did she learn the phrase pretty much from? I can’t even with these babies. Sometimes when Kate asks Hazel how her diaper is, she says “It’s all good.” I told Sammy I’m sorry that I’m so boring and she said “I love being with you!” Now, that’s the kind of critical reception I like.

If I could have anything on earth – anything at all – it would be the ability to fall asleep easy when I’m supposed to. That is my greatest wish. And for enough money to pay my bills. And a nice man friend. But the man cub MUST go back to the VILLAGE! There’s a Disney quote for every situation.

Can I just be honest? I smoked some weed with Jay-Z (Jason Zelling) tonight and it was like….woof. I always think I can handle more than I can handle. I vastly overestimate my marijuana tolerance every SINGLE TIME. We played Ticket to Ride and I got last place but I was like, you guys. I am honestly impressed with myself that I’m even forming coherent sentences right now, let alone completing routes.

I still can’t really leave my house and am too exhausted to say boo to a goose. I DO NOT KNOW HOW I AM GOING TO GO TO VANCOUVER. Well, getting there is fine. It’s just…what I’ll be able to do once I GET there…is the concern. Poor Sophie. I might have to ruin her dreams by being like, “I can do one thing per day. And maybe not even that.” This is such a new, and weird, experience for me. I’m not loving it 100%.

Jason says he thinks that the government should legalize EVERY drug. Like, not just weed. Crystal meth & Heroin and & coke and let the good times roll. I was like…….I don’t think you should do that. But I don’t know why I think the government should not do that. Something to ponder.

I feel like Fred from Scooby Doo whenever I end a sentence with the word “gang”.

It seems…a little audacious. To be like, “Yes we are racist and yes we should do something about it!” I just…I’m tired of everyone ignoring the shit in the corner and everyone pretending it doesn’t stink. But I really, really, really, really, really don’t want to do the thing where I get self-congratulatory. I just have to be extra mean to myself to offset it. Lol jk jk but actually. Wish there was like a device that would give me an electric shock anytime I started to get complacent or smug. Not that I think I’m smug about this (yet) but I could go there. I could get there. And the realization that I could do that makes me feel like UGH EW NO. Is everyone human horrible on their insides or just me?

I’m going to get everyone drunk and make them get in a fight. Then I’m gonna record it and put it on my instastories. Hahahahahahaha kidding. But in a perfect world, yes. I would do that.

I also accidentally stepped in some cat poop and as a direct result have been withholding my physical attentions from Wes. YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID, WES. She is such a little witch. I literally changed her cat litter YESTERDAY. And this is how she repays me? Well, from now on, you can just change your OWN cat litter, Wes. How do you LIKE ME NOW. She came up to my bed and meowed at me. And I said to her, “I am not snuggling with you until tomorrow because you pooped on the rug.” And then she turned around and went back downstairs. I think she understands me now. I CAN COMMUNICATE WITH ANIMALS! Or, Wes has learned English. If she can learn English why can’t she learn to be a good roommate and poop in her fucking litter box? I ask you this.

Further adventures in Outlander. Claire is a straight up ridiculous character because she is literally ALWAYS ready and raring to go. Sexually. She can be like, delirious and half dead and almost frozen to death and beaten up or have scarlet fever and she’s literally like “JAMIE I AM SO TURNED ON RIGHT NOW TAKE ME TO BONETOWN” – like, excuse me? No. Or Jamie will be an inch from death and she’s like “Hey I bet a blow job would make you feel better” – like, what? Claire. Slow your roll. Now is the not the time. I’m sorry, but it’s just not realistic. If she barely brushes his arm in passing she pretty much has an instantaneous orgasm. Sometimes I just wanna be like, CLAIRE,  GET YOUR ACT TOGETHER. IT’S TIME TO GET TO WORK. You can’t just be out here homesteading in the wilderness and having sex all day. There are chores that got to get done. Arching your back and moaning has been cancelled until further notice.

I don’t really hang out with Sarah’s upbeat friends because I’m like…I’m Sarah’s Eeyore. I can’t be part of the “Good-Looking and Positive About LIFE!” crowd. They’re all so sporty and nice and clean and happy. I’m like listen guys I just got done watching a docudrama about Ted Bundy’s life and that’s all I want to talk about right now. Also, my back is killing me and I need to take eight naps and I want to be alone.

He will only hang out with me if I have something I need help with. If I’m like “Hey lets just chill and go get McDonalds!” He’s like “I caaaan’t I’m too busyyyy” but if I’m like “Help me, my car” He’s literally like “Ok be there in five.” Why is he like this. Why can he not be enticed with McDonald’s? Ugh I wish I was eating McDonald’s right now.

If I have to see one more engagement photo – that isn’t Sarah & Skyler’s – I’m going to barf. On my cat. She deserves to be barfed on.

I need to talk to Kate and Jesse. We have to get started on our mini commune. Hunter, party of five. I’m gonna change my last name to Hunter. Really become one of the gang.

Tomorrow they are going to announce the SERVICE TIME CHANGE at church! Get ready for copious amounts of whining and withering glares from me if we change to a morning service. I’m not doing it. I’m not going. Brian was like “Just show up for the post-service snacks. They won’t happen until noon anyway.” Here For the Snacks and not the Sermon : The Megan Biggs Story?

I don’t understand how people fall in love and get married and stay married. I also don’t understand how they get divorced. Or cheat on each other. Basically, I don’t understand.

I am into Ariana Grande now.

Finished the Ted Bundy documentaries. Holy. Fuck. The scariest part – of it for me – was this guy, who was either a priest or a cop or I forgot who exactly in Bundy’s life he was – but at the end of the fourth episode, he bows his head and with the utmost look of shame and sadness, said when Ted Bundy died, after going to the electric chair, that he had never been so elated by the death of another human being in his life, and he hoped to never be elated by the death of another person in that way again. Like he’d scared himself by the amount of joy he got from Bundy being killed. Basically, anyone who ever spent a large amount of time with him has PTSD. The journalist who interviewed him – he said after some sessions, he would be physically sick afterwards. And that he was relieved after his last interview. Ted Bundy told someone that he couldn’t feel guilt or love. I don’t think that matters though. He knew what he was doing. He just wanted what he wanted. Nowadays he probably would get the verdict Not Criminally Responsible because he is like….clearly psychotic. But it seems like nobody around him got that vibe. He could charm anyone. Literally anyone. Girls were passing notes to him in the courtroom being like “Call me!” Like. What. He also proposed to his key witness during a trial. And she said yes. The only girls who didn’t like him were the ones that he murdered. There was one girl that got away and she said “I can still see those black, beady, lifeless little eyes.” That scared the shit out of me. Actually, the scariest part was when he fully confessed to the murders – because before then he was like “No way, I didn’t do that.” But he had this microphone and was whispering into it all these gruesome things that he had done to these females – and you could tell he was just loving reliving all the details. He loved it. He was proud of what he had done. The details were what gave him life. It seems like the most important thing to him was being seen as smart, or at least him believing that he could outwit anyone. That was what he cared about the most. And he was smart. I can’t deny it. The fact that somebody like that could be born and just exist is weird. I think it was right for him to die. Not in the sense of justice or vengeance. I just think life must have been very confusing for him, and he must have been consistently in torment to be on the outside of the human experience. Because he couldn’t feel love. He was on the outside. He knew that. He knew he wasn’t like other people. And to always feel something driving you to rape and murder – he called it “the entity.” And when he was talking about himself in the third person, he was like, “The individual feels that the next murder will fulfill him. Then he says to himself, the next one will work, I just have to do it one more time and then I’ll feel fulfilled. And the next one, and the next one.” Plus, he couldn’t live or be in society because he’s a danger to everyone. Whatever was wrong with him internally, it wasn’t fixable. I don’t think anybody’s really broken beyond repair, but I think Ted Bundy was. They could have kept him in jail until he died, but I don’t know if I think there’s any point to keeping someone alive in jail. He couldn’t grow or learn. Plus, knowing him, he would have charmed his way out of jail at some point. It’s better for him to just go. He should just go. But I wasn’t like “OH HERE’S SOME MORE VIOLENCE AGAINST WOMEN, SURPRISE SURPRISE, CRUSH THE PATRIARCHY” – it wasn’t that he hated women at all. In fact, he quite seemed to like them – females always took to him, at least. In a way, it wasn’t personal. It’s just what he did. You don’t get mad at a bear for mauling someone to death and expect them to feel remorse. The bear did what bears do. And he prayed to God for forgiveness at the end. So I think Ted Bundy is…with Jesus. It’s weird to say that. But I think he probably is. There was someone at the end of the fourth episode who was like, “I hope he’s burning in hell right now.” But, like – he’s probably not. The Christian hope is that nobody would burn in hell, I thought. I’ve never hoped anyone would burn in hell. Even Ted Bundy. If anything, I hope some people will burn for a little bit, but forever? Even for longer than 30 seconds? I can’t get on board with that. I’m for a 30 second hell detour and then you can go to heaven. Which is why I’m NOT in charge of things. But I do think he should be with Jesus and not with people. Jesus could fix him. Ted Bundy as he should have been. Jesus could put some things back. Some things that were missing. Because there are clearly things missing. But then I’m like, God created him. He knew he was going to turn out like that. Why would God create a sociopath? If his hand is on everything? What was the point? Was he like “ooh fun science experiment.” If someone can’t feel love, then they can’t feel God. Why would God create someone who couldn’t be in relationship with him? Ted Bundy was part of a church, the Mormon church. But I think that was for cover. He didn’t want anyone to suspect him so he tried like hell to play the part of a normal person. That’s what sociopaths do. They go through the motions so that they can remain undetected. But I think that must have been pretty lonely at times. But then again, it must have felt lonely for those women he raped and murdered. I do think he could have chosen not to. You can still be a sociopath and understand the stipulations of the social contract you are placed under and adhere to those stipulations. Not an enduring moral code, but a moral code just the same. But, as many people said, he decided to go his own way.

Then, after that, to restore my faith in humanity, I watched the Mr. Rogers documentary. I get why Steph thinks he’s creepy. But it’s just because that slow and even tone, the close facial proximity, that is how children talk to people. He was just trying to be accessible to his audience, really. It was oddly soothing to have someone in the background, as I was knitting, telling me that they like me just the way I am. You’re not a fake. You’re my friend. Is it trite and oversimplified? Sure. But I still felt soothed.

It’s nice that I’m not being steam rollered by the house right now. I can do other things now. I can be involved in other areas. My life force is now being channeled into different avenues.

I guess I understand. White people hate being called racist. Myself included. Coming to this workshop would mean they would have to admit that there is a problem. I get the same kind of reaction when I talk about the church’s shortcomings. A few, like me, are like GIRL AMEN but most people don’t want to admit that there’s any problems at all. There is shit in the corner, but we are going to pretend that we can’t see it or smell it. I don’t understand why. Admitting a problem out loud doesn’t make it worse.

Went to the doctor today. I walked there. I was seeing Dr. Robinson, and I mentioned how I was looking forward to going back to work because I had missed my co-workers and she was like, “Oh, do you want to go back sooner?” I sort of jumped and half-shouted “NO!!!” And then I was like Ahem. No. No, I’m good. I need this week for napping. So. And you can tell Rolling Stone I said that.

J texted me tonight asking what enneagram number he and Amy were. Then he said, “Thank you for your expertise and I hope you feel flattered by our interest.” Aahahahhahahahahahaha

Went with Sarah to get ice cream from Village tonight. We got out of her car and Sarah was like, “Watch out for that car!” And for some reason I jumped about a foot in the year and shrieked hysterically and then threw myself at Sarah. The person in the car was noticeably concerned and disturbed. I am so afraid of getting in another car accident. I DON’T WANT IT. W sent me a birthday card and it said “Stop getting into car accidents, woman!!!!!” I was like, oh, my sweet angel. I wish I could.

Me and Dad’s emails have basically devolved to me telling him that Mr. Rogers needs to replace Jordan Peterson in the public discourse and WE NEED MR. ROGERS BACK. GIVE HIM BACK TO US

Why do people care…..if two ladies or two dudes are having sex? Isn’t it none of anyone else’s business?

The choices I’ve made are fine. I’m not an unnatural aberration. There are people who think I’m nice to look at. I think. It’s like the party invitation thing. You may not want to go to the party, but it’s a different thing altogether to never receive an invitation.

Someone on facebook just posted something about how the “situation in Haiti is critical.” It certainly looks critical, but I’m just like, it is exhausting to care about everything so much. Plus, me caring about Haiti isn’t going to help Haiti. It’s doubtless even whether money would help Haiti, and besides, I don’t have any money. So what am I supposed to do? Should I pray? And then, the ever-present cynical Megan that resides inside me says, And what good is that going to do. I’m such a jerk to God and he’s never been anything but nice to me. I feel like our relationship is just me constantly stamping my foot and saying “YOU SAID YOU WOULD TAKE CARE OF THIS WHY AREN’T YOU DOING ANYTHING.” When I imagine God’s response to me, I think he says, I am doing something.

I feel like tonight is a good night for the Kardashians. I’ve been thinking about them all day today because when I was at the mall I asked the sales associate at Shoppers Drug Mart to help me find the right shade of burts bees foundation and I was like “Yo just out of curiosity how much make-up do the Kardashians put on” and she was like Oh, HONEY. A POUND. At LEAST. She told me their whole process. I was like………Are their natural faces really that bad to look at? That is like some next level Queen Levana shit right there (LITERARY REFERENCE) Okay I just googled it. There are 44 different products, AND a professional expert comes over to each of their houses every day and puts their make-up on for them. EVERY DAY. Well, maybe I’d look that good if someone would lure me out of my bed with delicious food and then was like Surprise Bitch we’re putting makeup on you so you’ll look totally gorge and no one will ever guess that you’re a feral raccoon in the form of a human being with a disturbing predilection for doughnuts. I opened a graphic novel today and was like “Omg is that a doughnut?” IT WAS THE EYE OF A VILLAIN. I need PROFESSIONAL HELP. Crying out for a 12 step program.

I participated in the Stay at Home Moms Club today. Me, Kim, Tanis (and respective babies) went to Leanne’s house for lunch. I asked young Lydia what she did today and she said “I made two new friends at the bouncy castle.” I said oh yeah, who? and she said, “Maren and one other girl.” I said….”You just made friends with Maren….today?” And she said, yep. I was like wow. What a…what a milestone. I’m glad they’ve decided to take their relationship to the next level.

After I was so tired that I just lied in bed and watched that new movie about Freddie Mercury’s life. Rami Malek is a curiously good actor. The craziest thing about Freddie Mercury’s life – for me – was that he never loved anyone like he loved his first girlfriend, who was his fiancée before he was like oops I’m gay and she was like take your ring back then (except emotionally) and he was like No. We’re still married. Don’t take the ring off, you promised me you wouldn’t, we’re still married. And at the end of his life he gave this interview where he said, “The only friend I’ve got is Mary, and I don’t want anybody else. To me, she was my common-law wife. We believe in each other, that’s enough for me.” And when he died he left everything to her, even though she wasn’t his partner. His partner Brian Hutton nursed him all through his AIDs illness to the end of his life and he didn’t get jack shit. And he also bought her an apartment building across from his own when they were living in the same city, after the break-up. He just liked her the best. She was his favourite human. He never loved anybody like he loved her. He just wasn’t attracted to her. So he partied and had sex with all those guys – he was like, wildly promiscuous, which they don’t really show in the movie – but he only ever loved Mary. To me it’s just weird how he compartmentalized. Love is for Mary. Sex is for everyone else. But I also think it’s kind of sweet, in a devastating kind of way.

I experienced multiple moments of deep and intense rage on ebay today. I am just not aggressive enough for an ebay lifestyle, and I fucking hate all those assholes who outbid me at the last moment.

I can’t believe there was a time when I thought not doing a Daily Feelings Review was fine. When I don’t do it now, I fucking notice. I’m like, “I haven’t talked to myself about that yet and that’s why I’m still feeling it.” It burrows into my skin, like a parasite, taking up room, cutting my breath off.

That doesn’t matter. Glennon Doyle says You Did Not Waste Your Love Ever. I just feel a queer sense of loss. Every time I say goodbye. Who’s tethering you, I want to ask. Who’s keeping you connected to the earth. Looking at his picture makes me feel seasick.

It’s the exact same feeling I get when I have a dream that one of my family members have died. I know they’re not actually dead. It was just a dream. But I just…I need to hear their voice, because I know what it felt like when they did die, and I don’t ever want to feel like that again. It’s not even for them. The reassurance is for me. As if the sound of their voice could somehow heal me.

It kind of broke my heart a little bit, that I just turned around and all of a sudden…there she was. Not grown up, or anything like that. She just…metamorphosed before my eyes and it was hard to comprehend. I just wish things could have been better for her. I feel like she got something taken from her. But, you know, she’s still here. And she just is so beautiful and rare. But she deserved better than that. We all did.

But I don’t understand how anybody has friends that they aren’t completely obsessed with. It could have something to do with the fact that I have zero chill. Most of her friends that she’s had are just like, activity pals that never talked about feelings and didn’t have a lot of existential angst. I think I tried to be an activity pal that doesn’t talk about feelings. But then I just gave up on that idea because that isn’t my way. I think I knew that the quicker I realized that, the better off I would be. Trying to make myself something that I’m not is exhausting and inefficient. I just have to be like how I am and if other people don’t like it then they don’t have to like it.

I need to stop getting drunk in the hot tub and verbalizing things that should remain unuttered.

It’s so weird how all our lives have turned out. Thank God we’re not celebrities. I don’t think I could handle a televised “Where Are They Now?” segment.

I made friends with the murder dog Clara. They muzzle her whenever I come over because she gets scared and bites people. She used to live in a car with a meth addict and got beaten a lot. Anyway, she settled down and was lying on the floor morosely, and Dany said I could pet her and she wouldn’t freak out. So I sat down and petted her for so long and then she snuggled up to me and I took off her muzzle and she didn’t bite me. She just put her head in my lap and I just sat there rubbing her little furry head and telling her that she was a good girl. I don’t know why that almost made me cry but it did. Goddamn, this PMS bullshit is killing me so hard. It just made me sad to think that an innocent animal was being abused for no reason and that she’ll never understand that she didn’t deserve it. And that she still has the capacity to trust humans and she just wants to be loved. I mean, she’s just a dog, or whatever. And I’m turning into a horribly sentimental old marshmallow. Be that as it may. It squeezed my heart.

Went over to Kate’s and Maren said, “Would like to stay for bedtime snack? And maybe a bedtime story?” Hahahaha she is just the most. The most of everything. I said yes Maren I would. If the Hunters ever move away I’ll die. Or I’ll just follow them. You can’t get rid of me that easily.

Tried to watch A Star Is Born. But I got a headache. I like how Lady Gaga looks…when she’s pretending to be normal. I don’t think her nose is too big. Mr. Rogers says she’s lovable just the way she is.

She didn’t deserve to hear that. I know she doesn’t believe in God. But it still hurts me to think that someone would say that to her. God isn’t going to love you. Imagine hearing that. Not just once, but many times. She is so warm and open and funny…it hurts my feels to think that someone wouldn’t recognize that.

Kardashian drama has been filling up my news feed and I’m not even mad about it. Honestly, I’m just glad that someone else’s family has constant drama, it makes us look good by comparison. It’s like how Justin Pio used to watch Trailer Park Boys when he felt bad about his life. I think the Kardashians are completely removed from reality and the middle class and they’re so vain and insecure it defies belief but….I like them. I think they’re basically good. I mean, they’re horrible, but they’re good. Whenever I watch an episode of the Kardashians I always think of that one line that Chuck Klosterman said about Britney Spears when he interviewed her : “For some reason, I really want to love this person.” Probably they’re not my particular tribe of monkeys, but that’s why I like watching them. I just like looking at them. In the same way I like looking at butterflies or hippopotamuses. Or jellyfish. Just like….what is this. What is it doing. I am fascinated but kind of bored at the same time.

I am starting to think maybe I don’t think evangelizing is a good idea. But if I think that…then what am I even doing with my life. It’s all very confusing. I think I just want someone…I just want someone…in my circle….to think Christianity is awesome. I mean someone unexpected. I want someone like Jess or Jesse or Janice to be like “This is awesome. Look at how awesome this is. Jesus is the best. He loves us so much. He is so good at taking care of us.” I feel like if someone could just say that. Even if they didn’t mean it. As long as I didn’t know they didn’t mean it. I just want to believe that. I wish someone believed that enough to say it out loud to me. I just want to be cushioned by certainty. For some reason, I really want to love this person.

But I do not like Francis Chan.

And I just need…I need to see Steph. It’s not like, I miss her. It’s not like, I wish you were here. It’s a need. I need her to be in the same room as me. I don’t know when it was that we crept into each other souls, but we did, so when we are apart…I do feel a displacement, I do feel as if I’m not quite together, as if a part of me is….somewhere else. So when we are together, it’s almost a feeling or relief or rest…because I’m together again. For the moment.

I found some HOC quotes in an old journal today :

Steph : There was a hot arab that you weren’t here to be as tall as.

Lee : I have a story.
Steph : Is it about poo?
Lee : No.
Steph : I have to fart.
Lee : Once there was – (Steph farts)
Lee : You’re making me gay. Gayer by the day.

Lee : Let’s watch Bottle Rocket!
Steph : Megan is not pleased.
Lee : There’s no pleasing Megan.

Kim : There is crappy mini-golf, and it’s pervasive.

Jesse : Spare me the eschatological fear!

Micah : Let’s make THOSE people be our friends.
Me : Yeah, cause they’ll so want to be friends with us.
Jesse : They will after they learn how much we like apple juice.

Micah : ALL black girls HATE birds! I don’t know why!

Me : I can’t take this anymore! I have a confession to make!
Dave : You like my tight pants.

She snuggled up to me last night and was like “Is it okay if I spoon you?” I was like, girl. You’re ALREADY spooning me. Perhaps she is the type that likes to ask for forgiveness and not permission.

It is the deepest kind of sacrilege to me that someone would violate her that way. That someone would try to take her beauty for themselves. That someone could be so evil.

Usually that part of me remains untouched, no matter what happens. It’s protected. But hearing what I heard today…it just shattered. And I can’t replace it or fix it.  But I’ll go on. I always do. It’ll take me a moment. But I’ll turn around with a backbone made of steel and eyes like glass. I’ll hold the line. This is my villain origin story. Lol. But truly. “You expect a battle to be fair? A battle will never be fair!”

I do not hate all men. My heart has not turned cold. But I feel like…it could. I feel like I’m looking over the edge of a cliff and gazing into something black and forbidding. Love is a conquest. Love is a war. Here is what I think of love.

But I know A would never agree with me that sex isn’t just for marriage. And I was like, this is what’s wrong with Christianity. We agreed to set of rules that we never should have agreed to. These aren’t God’s rules. We just said they were. We said, here is what God wants. But I don’t think God really had anything to do with it.

Everyone says, the thirties are when you really come into your own. But I feel like the thirties are when you are like, all of my ideas and what I thought life was have turned out to be incorrect and I now I have to revamp the whole system. This is very confusing and I want my mother.

I was like, Kevin, do NOT ruin the family group chat. I will end your life.

Why can’t the feminine aspects of God be celebrated as much as the masculine ones? WHAT ARE WE AFRAID OF

If anyone needs me I’ll be over here getting more militantly feminist by the second.

I texted Sarah tonight “You have to take Wes in the divorce” and she texted back “I audibly laughed out loud.” First of all, I didn’t know she knew the word “audibly.” Secondly, if you think our divorce is a joke, just wait til you’re crying yourself to sleep every night when you don’t have me to come home to. But who am I kidding. It will only be me that’s crying. Thankfully I will have the collective embrace of the Hunters to console me.

Adeyah, Hannah’s daughter, is completely obsessed with nipples. That’s all she talks about. Nipples, nipples, nipples. Tonight at table group she was walking around singing “I see nipples everywhere! Nipples, nipples, nipples!” Hahaha I CAN NOT. I asked her how many people had nipples. She said, “Almost everyone.” Then she asked her mom “Does everyone who comes over to our house has nipples?” Adeyah has two volumes : not talking at all or yelling. She yells everything she says. It is hilarious. And a little unsettling. Tonight during “reflection time” she was like MOM I GOT THIS NICE FUZZY PILLOW FOR YOU HERE MOM I’LL PUT IT IN YOUR LAP IT IS SUCH A NICE PILLOW. Hannah turned red and was like, “Thank you, Adeyah.”

Meera asked me to write a thing for the Lent Devotional and I was like GOD MEERA I’M BUSY YELLING AT MY CAT AND KNITTING EVERYTHING IN SIGHT but then I did it and I think…I think it’s good. I don’t think it’s particularly super exegetical, but I don’t even care anymore.

I have about zero tolerance for anyone’s crap these days, which is going to make being back at work kind of hard.

Saw somebody downtown who I was sure was Skyler. I said “Skyler?” It was NOT. SKYLER. Thankfully he didn’t turn around.

She told us she was thinking of selling pictures of her feet for money. Me and E were like, honey no. Don’t do it. You’re contributing to the objectification of women and also it WILL come back to haunt you. I said, “Look. It’s not an if. It’s a when. It will come back to haunt you. Don’t do it. It’s not worth it.” But L was in favour. He kept saying, but women get objectified every time they go out in public anyway, and if you’re going to be objectified regardless, you might as well get paid for it. What he says was very logical, but I still could not get on board with that. I drove L home and he was like, you know she’s going to do it anyway. She’s post-millennial. I know that she probably will, but I felt like I needed to say what I thought. I stopped by N’s to drop off a book for her and L asked her what she thought, he was like, “What do you think about this” and she was like, “Well, is her face showing?” I was like “Probably just her feet” and she was like “THEN GET PAAAAIIIID!!!!!” God. I shrieked. With laughter.

L also asked me if I would be opposed if it was a dude doing it, and I knew the answer was No…but I didn’t know why the answer was no. I think because historically men have not been objectified in the same way or to the same extent so theoretically I think it couldn’t hurt…but then I’m like…doesn’t objectification of any person contribute to the general peer culture of it being socially acceptable to objectify peoples’ bodies? I don’t know. I think I’m a feminist who doesn’t support sex work. Like, I don’t think sex work is ever good, ever. Even if it’s consensual and even if the woman enjoys her work or whatever…I just can’t get on board with it. I’m an old fuddy duddy and I don’t approve.

I don’t know when it became controversial to state that I don’t think women should sell pictures of their body parts online, but here we are.

He’s got the kind of laugh that can banish sorrows, if only for a little while.

I think unrequited love is my sexual default.

I wish I knew I was skinny when I was skinny.

I’m disappointed about Justin Trudeau but I’m not surprised.

Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

January 2019

The whirlwind that is the Biggs Family took over my life and that was that.

My brother is black balling me on information about the [redacted] conflict. At first I was like “MEN WILL DIE TONIGHT” but now I’m like well, ok. Literally everyone has told me that I can’t fix this and there’s nothing I can do, I just have to let it play out…so I’m like FINE. I’ll LET IT PLAY OUT. But if it was up to me I’d be booking a family counseling session FIRST THING. Then I realized that I was acting like the most counterphobic type 6 in all of time, because counterphobic type 6s, when they perceive a bad outcome, they act aggressively to avoid the bad outcome. Which is what I’m doing. So I was like ok. I’m going to let it go. But I AM NOT HAPPY ABOUT IT!

I am probably going to have to ask to go on modified work hours. I do not want to do this. But also, I do.

Spent the whole day in bed. Again.

Concussions are wild. I feel like a shell of my former self. I can’t remember ever feeling this tired for this long. After my four hour nap today it took me approximately eight years to re-acclimate back to society.

Lily was so cute tonight. She kept putting her little hand on my shoulder. (As if to reassure me…?) And then throwing her arms around Sammy’s neck to give her little hugs. I was like OH MY GOD MY OVARIES ARE ABOUT TO EXPLODE. She was trying to make friends with my boy Raven during church, she kept reaching her hand out to  him. And then Raven eventually reached out his little hand and they had a little baby handshake. I almost died.

I don’t know why I hate introducing myself to people so much, but it is just NOT my jam. I don’t even like it when other people introduce themselves to me. I always have this unassailable urge to mock what’s happening. So I either speak really sarcastically or roll my eyes a lot and whoever I’m meeting either thinks I’m hilarious or a huge bitch.

Liam messaged me today : “When are you hanging out!” Liam talks like an evil baby in his text messages and instant messages. I think it’s because he’s too lazy to correct his sentence structure if he doesn’t have to. I was like Yes, I am hanging out. Not with anybody, but I am, as a point of fact, hanging out. He asked me if I miss communism. I was like, yeah. Sometimes.

More and more it is becoming apparent to me that having a concussion ain’t no day at the beach. Oh, what a world if it were so! I know there were lots of times in history when people didn’t text. I don’t understand how everyone has become so reliant on it. I didn’t text in high school, even. Ten years ago I didn’t text. It’s just like camping really. (Intense like camping!) You don’t look at your phone when you’re camping. You just read and then fall asleep. I always roll my eyes when I hear people talking about how they love to UNPLUG and get so self righteous about it. I just….I need a fix. I need an internet fix. It’s pathetic, and that’s as may be, but this is the way God made me. I mean…it’s just ME out here. I’m bored. And a bit lonely. I mean, if you go from having upwards up 50 voices in your head all day to only your own, I think you’re bound to be. I haven’t looked at any memes in days.

Virgina Woolf was right. Was Virginia Woolf ever wrong about anything? Well, she did commit suicide. That can’t have been a 100% amazing and beneficial idea for all involved. She was a great writer.

She seemed not to mind that I had all the personality of a soggy crouton today.

I wonder if I’ll ever get used to fighting with people, or if other people will ever get used to fighting with me. This was her first time at the OK Corral, I think. We’ve had minor disagreements, but I was never angry during those. Tonight, I was fucking pissed. She kept saying how was I being condescending and I was making her feel like shit and I had a flicker of self-recognition – this is how I fight. I don’t want to scream and start hurling furniture and transform into a literal demon before your eyes, so I just go cold all over and fix my opponent with a steely gaze and remarks that are cutting. But even that isn’t purposeful. I just think, it’s better to roll my eyes than to tell someone that they’re a stupid fucking bitch. Not to her, though. I didn’t know how to say, I’m so angry that if I don’t roll my eyes I will literally shriek at you until the devil himself crawls out of my eyeballs. Sometimes I feel as if I really am possessed.

Does drama happen to me because I’ve got a strong personality, or do I have a strong personality because drama happens to me?

Ember and Maren told me a story about Betsy the Woodpecker. He had a massively tragic and traumatic life, did Betsy. They also had a debate about whether Santa Claus was real.

I went to physio. Hannah the Kinesiologist had to massage my butt. “I am sorry, Hannah,” I said. It is a cruel fate she should never have had to bear. She said it was fine and she touches a lot of butts. “I’ll just bet you do, Hannah,” I said. Classic Hannah.

I coerced him into listening to one chapter of Harry Potter. He looked honestly distressed. Distressed because you have to listen to the greatest book EVER?! Well, cry me a river.

Janice and the kids brought me dinner. We ate food and played two games and read stories. I cherish my time with them. I showed Janice the Anne of Green Gables frame that Sarah had procured for me and she said, “We just finished reading that, didn’t we?” and proceeded to tell me that Rilla’s favourite part was when Matthew Cuthbert died. What on earth. When I asked Rilla about it she shrugged and said, “Well, he was getting old.” Jeez LOUISE. Put this guy out to pasture! He had a good run, but enough is enough, am I right ladies? I like Gavin and Rilla so much. They are always very excited to see me.

Dear God, I prayed, please just give me the energy to keep up with a type 3 for one weekend. When I go on vacation, it’s essentially the same as a bus full of senior citizens going on vacation. But if I get too worn down, she can just have fun on her own. I think I…like the safety of walls. And quiet, enclosed, cozy spaces. I’m a hobbit. I’m a senior citizen hobbit. I wish I wasn’t, but it’s as the good Lord made me.

I feel like the world is always going to be spinny. Is this concussion ever going to get any better? IS THIS MY LIFE NOW.

If someone really wants to go, isn’t it kinder to just let them? Are we keeping our loved ones here for our own sake?

I don’t know what I believe about praying. There are lots of people in torment that God delivers, and there are lots of people in torment who he does not deliver. I don’t know what to think about God.

I finished the book by Rachel Held Evans. I have often felt indignant that God had the power to use the bible to make everything clearer but just…didn’t. Like he was trying to trick us on purpose, because he either found it amusing or just didn’t care enough. But after reading this book, I think the reason the bible is like it is – is because God was like, “I’ll do them a favour and not make it boring! This will be way cooler.” He was like, they’ll understand it better if I use stories. This will be better. This will be so amazing. I can’t wait for them to read it. And then along came a) assholes who weaponize the bible and b) Megan J. Biggs, who just eeyored all over it. And he was like, these people are so dumb. But this book – the Rachel Held Evans book – has helped me to see it in that light at least. God isn’t a jerk, he just didn’t want us to be bored! Thanks, God! I definitely wasn’t bored! (You’re doing amazing, sweetie!)

Megan’s guide to relationships : a) get in a fight b) withdraw. I am incredibly dysfunctional.

That’s a side of me I normally keep hidden. I’m not proud of that side of me, and I’m embarrassed that anybody else has ever seen it. Hey, I’m sorry you had to meet her! It’s like having an alternate personality. And not a very nice one. That part of me…I find a little scary, a little interesting, a little repulsive, a lot confusing. I am Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I think I also take a little pride in her. No, pride is the wrong words. I’m not proud of her. I think it would be a word like impressed…like when you see a natural disaster. “Holy Shit,” you mutter, wide-eyed. I don’t know what that word is. But I feel it. I feel it, and then I shudder. Lol.

I watched Hazel running around in her pink pants – even her toddle seems vaguely punk rock – and I thought to myself, there will come a day when this will only be a memory. This will only exist in your memory. I spend too much of my time being wistful.

She’s cute, sure. But mostly she just looks cute and shrieks. (Hard same, kiddo.)

I’m on the third book of Outlander. Life in the 18th century wasn’t no joke. I feel like Jamie really doesn’t get any down time. Weirdly, though, I didn’t want him to hurt the English captain’s feelings. I was like, He’s not going to rape you, silly goose, he just LIKES you. There’s really no need to threaten him. You just say, “Thanks but no thanks.” God. Prison life is so dismal. I hope Jamie breaks outta there soon because personally I just don’t know how much more I can take.

I spend so much time listening to Outlander on audiobook that I really feel as if I’ve…as if I haven’t really been here. Especially with zero social media. It’s just me. I go inside my mind. That is where I spend most of my time. It’s occurred to me that I haven’t really had a time like this – cut off from social media and distressing breaking headlines etc. – with only books to keep me company (most of the time) in decades. It’s like a weird…detox. That I didn’t ask for or want. I wouldn’t go so far as to say it’s a blessing in disguise. But I do feel less divided because my attention is less divided. Less distracted. Less fractured. That’s not a bad thing.

Went to see Adam the Physiotherapist today. He said I might have something that had the word vertigo in it. Then he started talking about ear crystals. Apparently everyone has these “ear crystals” and they help you keep your balance and not be dizzy etc., and sometimes after an MVA they can get dislodged. (Startled By My Dislodged Crystals : The Megan Biggs Story.) So anyway, there’s a test you can do to determine if you have this, but it involves moving your head very fast and then staring at things (the floor, your hip, the ceiling, your physiotherapist’s eyes. I am not kidding about that last one. I wish I was.) So he basically would move my head around in an extremely disorienting fashion and then make me stare into his eyes. And this was AFTER a card ride (PSA : I now hate car rides because they make my dizziness worse.) I do not know if my crystals have moved back to their assigned seats (or even if they had left their assigned seats in the first place, tbh. Let’s play a game called Your Crystals : Where Are They Now?) but I did feel a little less dizzy, LATER in the evening. In the immediate,  I was feeling a little green around the gills. Adam, you have wrecked my whole life, I grumbled internally. Adam kept saying how he “hated having to do it” but I was like, Listen here, Sonny Jim. Out of the two of us, I have WAY more license to complain.

Sarah picked me up after and dropped me off at Nikayla’s. I stumbled into their kitchen, feeling as though I had been kidnapped by Blackbeard and forced to sail the seven seas (though hopefully minus any sort of rape scenario.) Nikayla and David were making pizza in the Cobb oven (because of course they were) and they invited the Hunters and me over – and I invited Jason because we had already had plans. I thought he’d enjoy shooting the breeze with Nikayla and David, and he very much did. We got into Jordan Peterson & definitions of masculine & feminine and feminism in general and before I know it I was casually shouting the words “FALSE DICHOTOMY” with emphatic hand movements. Hazel was screaming bloody murder in the  background, and when she wasn’t doing that, she was running around in her birthday suit – I stopped in between vehement rejections of JP’s theories to feed her cherry pie. So, in short, it was an evening that was highly characteristic of my friend group.

Hazel communicates with me by yelling MEGAAAAAN over and over, and then yelling one word in conjunction – like when she’s over at my house, she’ll yell MEGAAAAAN, CAAAAAT because she wants to find Wes and pet him, or because she’s already found Wes and wants to share the joy of discovery with me. Tonight it was “MEGAAAAN, BEE-PING!” because something in the house was beeping. I appreciate that she wants to let me know these things. It’s her way of including me.

I used to hold her in my arms. Does it matter? How is the world so horrible and so wonderful at the same time? The same world that produces sunshine and buttercups also produces murdered and missing indigenous women. How does it do that? How can the world stand to hold both things?

I just…I simultaneously want to know what the precipitating events were and I also know that if someone were to start informing me, I would put my hands over my ears and scream and scream and scream as loud as I could and as long as I could until I was sure that I was safely alone again.

Whew. That got dark.

Kara’s method of parenting is saying “gentle hands – Gentle Hands – GENTLE HANDS!!!!!” It really made me laugh so very much. I was also glad she pulled Wes’s tail because not half an hour earlier that sadistic beast had pooped on the bathroom floor, AGAIN. Ooooh she’s a real stinker, that Wes. Maybe she did it to punish me because I wouldn’t snuggle with her because I wanted to read about my friend Michelle Obama. I’m sorry, Wes. You are now playing second fiddle…to Michelle Obama. You should consider it a great honour.

Michelle Obama describes it perfectly :

“For better or worse, I tend to yell when I’m angry. When something sets me off, the feeling can be intensely physical, a kind of fireball running up my spine and exploding with such force that I sometimes later don’t remember what I said in the moment.”

The cold precision with which I choose my fighting words scares and shocks me, later. At the time, I feel nothing at all but a desperation to keep the fireball locked in my spine. The aftermath of this won’t be as devastating, I think, if I can just make it through without snapping. But there is still devastation. So in the end, who did I really help? Did it really make any difference?

Do you need verbal affirmation? If so, Jason Zelling is here to supply it. Sometimes I feel so lucky to have such lovely friends and such wonderful evenings.

I wanted to know why but I relentless tamped down my curiosity. It’s not a sideshow. They aren’t creatures at the zoo. Stop gawking. Well, easier said than done, especially in my case. I’m more morbidly curious than is decent.

I wish Jonathan Van Ness was somehow…assigned to him. I feel like Jonathan Van Ness could do it. By the sheer magnitude of his life force. He could somehow…reboot him. I mean, I know what’s happened/is happening to him is a little more complicated than a “YAS QUEEN” could fix. But I don’t know…maybe it’s not.

She says he’s only ever going to have a life full of suffering, and sometimes she wonders what the point is. It does seem that way to me also. We can’t do anything for him. Seems like I’m saying that a lot lately. There’s nothing I can do. As Tracy would say, you’re gonna have to sit this one out, champ. I’m relieved. I’m guilty. I’m powerless. I’m hopeful. All those things. At least I still have the Puffed Sleeves group chat. It’s not a group chat – it’s a lifestyle.

I’ve realized having people over is really important to me. It’s how I get joy out of life. What a crummy introvert I’ve turned out to be.

I do not understand how almost a whole month has passed me by and I’ve just been indoors reading and taking naps.

In a plot twist that no one saw coming, I am too social. I host too much. It’s like I just got in the habit of it when I lived at the HOC…and an 8 year habit is hard to break.

All this is contributing to this paranoid suspicion that I have that I’m relationally deficient. There is something profoundly and fundamentally wrong with me, and that’s why I always get into fights with literally every person. Everyone says I have a “big personality” – but what does that even mean? That phrase seems to denote an inflexibility in viewpoint or temperament, or it means I take up a lot of emotional space in a room. I’ve never though of myself as that person, but I actually think I am that person. So I’m constantly trying to…tamp myself down, be seen and not heard…but that just…it doesn’t work. All that does is make me feel nervous, and apologetic, for existing. Like maybe I should make her a card that says “Sorry for being a miserable bitch.” I wonder how other people…are able to keep their tempers.

This new book I’m reading says that Christendom was structurally and functionally over in 1648. 1648? Really? Boy, am I behind the times. Or ahead of them, as it were.

None of the literature for youth group leaders prepares you for when your charges grow up and go through adult catastrophes. The just grow up and do their own thing. I don’t know that anything I’ve ever said or done has made any bit of difference. They say you’re influential, but I’ve never really seen any evidence of that. It is like trying to alter the course of history. You can say you were present, that you witnessed it…but that’s about all you can say. History is inexorable, immutable…it does where it goes.

Periods are either the work of the devil or a punishment from God.

But I’m less tough than the average bear. Having good parents has turned me into an emotional wimp.

Who is this God? Where is this God? Kate says she thinks she’s over it now. Christianity, I mean. She said, “I just don’t buy it anymore.” She says she wants…Jesus. I want him, she said. But she can’t get to him. I don’t like Christianity anymore, she said. Everything Rod and Kate said was beautiful and good. But I still felt…other. Everyone seems to keep coming to this conclusion that…Jesus is nice. He was cool. He did good things. He loved everybody. He…he was Jesus. But then it’s like, that’s all he was. Resurrection, atonement, creation, the Messiah, etc….everyone seems to want to…not include that. Rod said he’s at the place where he can “pick and choose” what he wants from the bible and leave the rest. I don’t know why, but I feel strongly that I shouldn’t do that. I don’t feel the way the majority does. I still believe in magic. It feels a little lonely to me.

Young Aamanda was already over visiting. She says “mood” after literally everything I say. I was like, “Look how hairy my legs are” and she was like, “Yeah, MOOD.” Lolol I can’t.

I have transformed into a clingy, insecure girlfriend. God. I can just hear myself. “Are you SURE you’re not mad at me?”

I am eating cornflakes in my bed. My transformation into feral raccoon is almost complete.

I wasn’t even that mean. I was just…cold. Like an evil stepmother. God, I relate to Disney villains more and more in my 30s.

My first, and dominant, emotion was relief. It was palpable. Sarah and I looked at each other. We both knew what the other was feeling. Instant clarity.

Intentional community forces you to keep hanging out with & “doing life” with the person you’re having conflict with. Within the framework of weekly rhythms, you just…you just keep going. You just show up. You show up for each other, despite everything. Because you promised you would do that. You promised you would show up. So you do. Even if the other person is driving you crazy, even if they’ve hurt your feelings, even if it’s uncomfortable. You show up anyway.

I knitted and sang along to the Rankin Family WITH GUSTO. And L really enjoyed that for some reason. I’m pretty sure she knew I was high, but she maybe she didn’t? I sure smelled like it. (Do I smell a discount?)

I’m just gonna get drunk and ignore the social dynamics. It’s a technique that has assisted me greatly in the past.

I keep thinking about Jamie Wright’s son and what everyone said about him. He was a beautiful, complicated boy who lost his fight with mental illness. Could be [redacted] we’re saying that about next. Or [redacted]. Steph says it’s not kinder to let people go. If they’re suicidal. She says, we all must choose life. But I don’t understand what is so great about life.

I think I’m feeling weighed down by the sorrows of others. I feel like I can’t…hold any of them properly. Like I keep dropping them and then noticing them when I’m a few steps ahead. Oh, jeez. I left you behind again. I feel…a bit…not quite all together, you know, as if there’s holes in the fabric of my…mind, my peace, my certainty, my intellect, my trust, just my whole…thing. I feel constantly distracted and disoriented. Physically, but emotionally too. It’s like seeing an accident and then surging forward to help – and then halting in your tracks, “baffled, ghost-like, and useless” when you remember that you don’t possess the tools to help. You’ll only clutter up the scene. There’s nothing you can do. You’re gonna have to sit this one out, champ. But lately it feels like I’m just sitting my whole life out. Sitting in my house, watching out the windows, covering myself with blankets and tucking myself in. Because even when I’m physically well, that’s all I really want to do. I want to be in an enclosed, comfortable space that’s safe and warm. I want to go home, I say. I always want to go home.

Why are all these marriages doomed to fail? Why? I just…I need to understand. Someone needs to help me understand.

I NEED SOCIAL INTERACTION! But also, following conversations I pretty hard work these days. It ain’t no day at the beach, let me tell you.

I just really hope that nobody commits suicide. I just really…I don’t want it. I just want everyone to not do that. I mean, I hate to make everything all about me, but what about ME.

The Smiths for supper tonight. D is in a Human Sexuality class and J made him talk about what they were learning because he’s determined to normalize talk about sex. It was quite funny. J said a lot of nice things to me. SO MANY COMPLIMENTS! But I didn’t mind. It felt nice to be cocooned by their love for an evening. When D prayed for dinner, he was like “thank you for Megan who is just such a wonderful person” – Oh, I snickered at that. It still freaks me out that D’s voice is deepening. I wish he still sounded like a chipmunk.


Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

December 2018

I did end up going to Heritage Park yesterday. I saw a magical Christmas train set and village and we went to the bakery and the candy store. I tried to call in sick but Janice was like “We are so bummed. The kids were squealing they were so excited to hang out with you” and I was like GOD, JANICE. FINE. PICK ME UP. I just couldn’t live with the thought of disappointing an excited Gavin and Rilla. It literally would have killed me. I don’t really understand why anyone, even kids, are excited to hang out with me. I am so boring.

I liked Heather’s man. She introduced him as her “mate” which made me laugh really hard. I told them Laurel was my “friend mate” then I was like No. That came out wrong. Abort. Abort the mission.

I can’t do as much as I used to. I feel like….I’m on a low battery. Like my entire body is a battery that’s low, but like, terminally low, and just needs to recharge more often…like my old cell phone that I had to carry my charger with me or it would die.

Just realized the reason Scott is still in the Kardashians’ lives is because both his parents died and he’s an only child so they’re literally all the family he has. I was like NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MY HEART! SCOTT! I’m watching previous episodes and I’m going through the part where him and Kourtney break up. Scott looks rough, I won’t lie. I think 2015 was a bit of a rough patch for my man Scott. It annoys me how obsessed they all are with being skinny. Why is it so bad to be fat? Kim is pregnant right now and had three beignets in New Orleans and Kris is like, “oh Kim you should watch it” I was like WHAT. I had two doughnuts the other day, one right after each other (not even spaced out like Kim’s had been). Also realized I need to go to New Orleans and eat a beignet before I die. God, I love sugary carbs.

Am I so vacuous that I need to be entertained or else I don’t like the sermon? I don’t know, maybe.

I’m trying to explain to everyone at table group my current disquiet with Christianity and the only thing I can come up is that one line from that Gorillaz song : “Why was it bringing darkness into their lives?”

We have decided not to go to [redacted]. Chances are too high that [redacted] would say something horrible after he gets drunk. In the group chat :
Martin : But are you positive [redacted] would say something offensive?
Martin : ………………
Martin : hahahahahahhahaa
Me : hahahahahahahahhaha

I even told Dad if we do go and he says anything I am going to fight him. “I’m going to fight it, but I’ll let it live.”

I was like, Yes. I already know. I’m going for a raccoon look today. Just let me live.

Why didn’t anybody ELSE get into trouble, that’s what I’d like to know. The weirdest part of it all was when I got back and [redacted] was literally lying in wait for me. Terrifying. [redacted] was like “Megan’s in trouble!” I was like shut your goddamn mouth, don’t make me come in there. Anyway, it gave me such bad anxiety all day today so I think I’ve figured out one of my triggers and I think one of my triggers is when anybody criticizes me. So the good news is : Yay, I’ve finally figured out one of my triggers! The bad news is : That’s a pretty fucking broad trigger. I can’t just avoid being criticized. And I also hate it when people try to be nice about criticizing me. I don’t need you to sugarcoat this for me. Keep it brief, don’t yell, and don’t over-explain. Just get in and get out. That would be my ideal situation. But obviously I can’t tell everyone “Hey, these are my strict parameters for when you have a beef with me. If you don’t follow them I will get very bad anxiety for 3-5 business days.” Like….nope. I just have to “use skills” to cope with my emotions when someone does criticize me. It always comes back to the skills. There’s never any fucking shortcuts. It’s annoying.

Every time he speaks, I’m just like Not today. Can we just…not.

I’m in this weird space where I think the church is a turd but if anybody else speaks badly of it I’m like No. I don’t want to hear it. It’s like how I vent about my family but nobody else can vent about my family.

But I drove by the other day and for the first time thought to myself, “I’m glad I don’t live there anymore.” That was the first time I had thought that. That feels sort of like a little death too. That the feelings aren’t as big. I can remember what the feelings felt like, but I don’t have any of the feelings themselves. Makes me feel like nothing is permanent.

Am I now healed? And what now? Do I just…forget? Is now the forgetting time?

I need to catch up on my Christmas movies but my level of Kardashian obsession is at defcon 7. I need to know which enneagram type they all are. Kris Jenner is an obvious 3. And Kim is an obvious 8. Like…there’s nobody more 8 than Kim. Unless it was Liam. That’s so weird. Liam Gordon and Kim Kardashian are the same enneagram type. I can’t. Look at the magic of the enneagram. Bringing us all together. But seriously, Kim gets SO aggressive sometimes, I can’t even handle her life. Her ability to bring people alongside is total shit. She’s like “I will motivate this person by completely destroying their self esteem.” Girl. It don’t work like that. WORDS HURT, KIM! But honestly, it’s probably better for their ratings if she….does that. And she probably knows that. I think she’s a LOT smarter than she lets on. She’s a savvy businesswoman. A total shark. But I really like how she is like a bulldog when she feels that one of her sisters is being picked on or disrespected (by someone who’s not her, lol) – that does remind me of Liam. Scott Disick is obviously a 7 with an 8 wing. There have been times when I thought Khloe was a 2, but twos have trouble expressing negative feelings and Khloe – does not. At all. Zero percent.

Anyway. Back to real life. I will NEVER go back to real life! THE KARDASHIANS ARE MY LIFE NOW! Kidding. I’m like sort of kidding. God. I wish I possessed the moral fortitude to forego trashy reality tv. IT’S SOCIOLOGICAL, OKAY. I’m learning things about culture and shit. Never don’t send me a Kris Jenner meme. Those memes are all I’m living for.

I ate like eight pieces of cake at work today. The cake just kept coming in from all corners. Before I went to the all staff meeting I was like “I will not have any cake. I will not have any cake. I will not have any cake.” But they had mango mousse cake. I was like TAKE IT TAKE MY LIFE TAKE MY SOUL I MUST EAT THIS CAKE. I wish I loved anything as much as I loved cake.

It’s annoying that she felt like she had to “smooth things over” in such a passive aggressive way. Like, I’m obviously not MAD at you, I just think you’re an idiot and that your opinions are wrong. And that your way of expressing them is tawdry and gauche. But I’m not mad at you, so you don’t need to send me laughing or smiley emojis. Like just…fucking no. We don’t need to talk about it. Just keep it to yourself. Like, what did she want me to do? Laugh and say “Oh my gosh, we both get so *fired up*! How silly of us! I’m glad we’re still friends lolol” – I am not here for reassurances or to trivialize what I said. A) I am not your emotional support casserole and B) What I said was awesome. I’d rather be right than be liked. Also, I’m sorry you can’t handle the truth.

Sarah’s friend Janelle was over the other night and she said “You are the most angry loving person I’ve ever met.”

Brian Merritt told me I was special in a text message today. I know it sounds cheesy, but it made me feel good about myself. Thanks, Brian!

I love my rental car and the Bluetooth and I don’t want to give it back but I have to. I didn’t know strongly I would feel about Bluetooth. I developed feelings for Bluetooth in an amazingly short period of time and I know it’s going to kill me when we are parted.

Had coffee with Rinus tonight. He said, “I miss you!” I said, “But we’re together!” That’s what Steph always says to me too. I miss you. He urged me to cling to Jesus. He said he struggles with a lot of the same stuff. He says I should try reading psalm a day. He told me about one guy who said, “I used to keep the psalms. Now the Psalms keep me.” Rinus has read one psalm a day of the past ten years. It doesn’t sound good the way I’m writing about it. It sounds like I said I had all these concerns and doubts and he told me to pray and read the bible, but it wasn’t like that. I borrowed some of his…gravitas, his peace. He says we need to hold to our opinions loosely and with humility.  He said, You and I need to pick our battles. He said, you’re asking really difficult and complex questions. But in a way that made me think he admired me for it. He said Christianity has been co-opted by Western modernism. And that Christianity is Gollum trying to wield the one ring. The ring could represent greed or power, anything like that. But it ruined our lives. He also says it’s up to the victim to try to build bridges. Since the people in power don’t care about building bridges. It was a good time. I like Rinus. Those people are my roots – the old guard. Rinus, Alan, Tom, Dwight. These are the men that built me. Who stood me upright until I could stand on my own. I wish everyone could have that.

I just ate an entire container of bruschetta. It’s a gift. I’m not proud of it.

It’s nice that I can take Kate anywhere and everyone is immediately like, “Oh this is a good one. A good human.”

We also stopped by and saw Kevin. I am just exactly like my mom. I was like, maybe I should stay home with Kevin HE’S ALL ALONE GOD I CAN’T HANDLE IT. Kevin’s probably happy and contented with his game of thrones and his rum while I’m crying on the inside thinking of him being at home by himself recovering from surgery. Kevin will always be my baby.

Me and [redacted] are gunning hard for Team Gladys at work. Essentially – we are having a naming contest for our sharepoint site and [redacted] submitted the name “Gladys.” Which is the most hilarious thing I have ever heard in my life, at least in a professional context. Both [redacted] and I tried to submit multiple votes to the Gladys moment until [redacted] sent an angry email that said “YOU CAN ONLY SUBMIT ONE VOTE PER ENTRY!!!!” HAhahahahah and I laughed HARDER THAN EVER. Then I sent [redacted] an email telling her she needed to back us and team Gladys up. If she doesn’t vote I’m going to put her vote in. I have control of the document. They shouldn’t have made me be in charge of the document if they didn’t want GLADYS to win. I will do anything to make this happen.

Was over at Kate and Jesse’s tonight. Goddammit, I love this family too much. I always wanted to be a Tenenbaum.

Maren told me she was not scared to sing Hark the Herald Angels Sing last night. Just excited. Last night at the Christmas play the younger kids were given a mic, but Maren really went to town. She just fucking committed. Starting belting it out like her life depended on it. I was crying half from laughter and half from pride at seeing my baby do so well. I shrieked “GOOD JOB BABY!!!!!” afterwards. I am the most enthusiastic aunt.

She got a text from [redacted] that said [redacted’s redacted] had sent a dick pic to her. But [redacted] referred to it as an “erect member” and [redacted] was like, “I WANNA SEE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!” Ahahahaha I can’t. Me and [redacted] laughed so hard, which then prompted her to follow [redacted] around begging to see this picture. [redacted] was like, “We thought you wouldn’t wanna see it because it’s like a scary monster.” Oh boy, is it ever. She was like “WELL I DO WANNA SEE IT” and he was like “But WE don’t want to see it” and I was like “Not ever. Never, ever, ever”.

it’s just so fucking bizarre. Like…just…why. Just how. What was the thought process. I saw a meme today that was like :
Him : do you wanna see my duck
Me : Yep
Him : *dick
Me : Nope

Rupi Kaur says, I have too much magic happening inside me to be your convenient option. But like when is someone going to let him know that? Does it have to be me?

What if I just allowed myself to believe everything I want to believe about Jesus, and then live as if that’s true? Regardless of whether it’s true or not? What would that be like? Would I treat myself – and others – differently? It might be so freeing, to say to them all, I couldn’t go on, I didn’t want to try anymore, you had no idea. Because I feel like I can’t just keep doing this. I just feel like I need to be done with this now. Thinking of God as a punisher, indifferent, elite, an asshole. Who would wanna be, who would wanna be such a control freak. I also need to be done with the Church’s bullshit. I can’t have that anymore. I have to reject that now. I mean, I was rejecting it before, but in a way that was…not working. I was trying to hold others accountable for their sins as an act of protection for the people they were sinning against. I just thought, if I can stop them, then maybe I wouldn’t be held accountable for their sins. But nobody’s holding me accountable for their sins. It’s not my job to fix this. And it’s so exhausting, so draining, to constantly kick against something that is this immovable. My anger has done nothing. Kait sent me something that said What if your anger is the only way your grief feels safe enough to express itself? So maybe I’m just grieved.

I can’t get over how…happy-go-lucky I feel these days. Like, either it’s the magic of Christmas or the magic of antidepressants. Maybe both.

Tomorrow’s our annual Christmas countertop potluck party. Gonna wear my fat pants. I need to stop being fat. On an episode of the Kardashians I recently watched Khloe talks about “when she was fat.” I was like, oh my sweet angel. You were never fat.

I can’t believe anyone ever thought they were fat. Unless they were Gilbert Grape’s mother. Admittedly, she did have a bit of a weight problem. One day I read a tweet that said, “Men were the ones who decided we had to be skinny in the first place, they don’t get to come around now and tell us we get to be fat.” I think about that tweet a lot.

It must be so easy to wrap yourself up in another person. It would almost feel relieving. You wouldn’t have to think about you as much anymore. You could get away. You could be somewhere else. You could be invisible. It would be like going on vacation from yourself.

She’s really nice but has got the personality of dry cardboard. RUDE, Megan!

I’m like….why did you like each other enough to fall in love? Not in like a throwing shade way, but in a genuinely curious way. What was it?

I like to think that Khloe Kardashian and Ariana Grande are friends.

The third book of the Dark Artifices came out on the 4th and I DIDN’T KNOW ABOUT IT until I saw it on google play today and I literally almost shit my pants. I DID MY WAITING! EIGHT YEARS OF IT! IN AZKABAN!

The new Charlie’s Angels reboot will NEVER be as good as the 90’s version. That version had Bill Murray and Tim Curry wrestling in sumo suits. There is no way any movie on earth could ever top that. Like, that’s it. Everyone, pack your fucking bags and go home.

Lady bodies are so annoying and weird.

When I go to sleep I feel like the undead. Like I’ve been awake for days. Like no amount of sleep could ever make me feel awake again. And then in the morning, I’m okay. I’m good. I’m good for approximately….two hours. I have two hours. And when I’m done, then I’m just fucking done. I cancel everything. Everything is cancelled except things that I absolutely have to do. If it’s not imperative, it’s not happening.

Except for I feel bad that I hugged him too aggressively when he left. I’M SORRY! IT WASN’T SEXUAL! I JUST NEVER SEE YOU AND YOU WITHHOLD YOUR LOVE FROM ME! Which is rude. So. Who’s really at fault here. It’s mine, I have too much love to give.

I was telling Marty and Dany that I probably wouldn’t be able to do much at Christmas. Dany suggested “The Energy 3000 Booster” (read : cocaine.) If only.

I finished my teen lit novel. Teen LIT! There were several parts of that novel that I audibly shrieked. I love that kind of junk-food novel, where you have to know what happens and it’s all you can think about. But there were also SO MANY CHEESY PARTS and it was SO obvious that she was trying to compare the present political climate to what was going on in her novels, and I was like, girl. Give it up. You’re being too obvious. Dial your shit back. There was also a faerie threesome, which made me laugh so hard. “Love is love!” Yes. Love is love. Of course it is. I don’t know why I cringe so hard whenever anyone uses that phrase. Those sort of oft-used phrases usually hold meaning at some point, but the meaning is long gone by the time it enters the public sphere. Like, why are you telling me that Love is Love? I already know.

This lack of energy thing is kind of starting to depress me. Or at least I want to cry about it. I was talking about it today and I didn’t burst into tears or anything but [redacted] put her hand on my hand and I just thought, she knows. She knows what this is. You have to reconfigure your whole life.

There was a splinter, a crack, but it didn’t let the light in. It just let the light out. As if light were a substance, like syrup, and it leaked out of me. I’m just so relieved that that’s over, for now. I don’t ever, ever, ever want to go through something like that ever again.



Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

November 2018

I got a message from Des today. It said “Remember when 98 Degrees was a thing? Good times. Anyway goodbye” hahahaha I can’t. I can’t even.

I can’t be around normal people.

I just feel like I can’t get into anything right now. I can’t get into house-related wounds, I can’t get into why the transition has been hard, I can’t get into how lonely I feel, I can’t get into my relationship with Jesus, I can’t get into it.

Tomorrow morning is going to be rough AF though. Katie MacLaren told me that somebody she knows says AF stands for “And FABULOUS!” and I’ve been thinking of AF that way in my head ever since. Rough And Fabulous.

Little things like that keep happening. Where it’s something that’s so minor but it will just set me off, and I’m like, why am I even friends with these people. They’re tacky and I hate them.

I don’t want to date somebody who’s like “WE MUST SAVE SEX FOR MARRIAGE” because I am pretty sure that is not my jam. Then again I can’t imagine having sex with someone and then being like WELL SEE YA AROUND I GUESS. That is ALSO not my jam. Basically, I’m all out of jams. There is no jam that I want on my toast (not that anybody has even asked to spread any jam on my toast oh god my metaphors are getting so mixed up).

I don’t even blame the others for getting on my nerves. If your nerves are everywhere, of course people are going to accidentally get on them. That’s a no-brainer.

I feel like I have the upper hand back because I don’t care like I used to. I got back some control. And it feels…like a relief. I’m relieved.

My farts are starting to make it hard for me to live my life and function. I am dead serious. Today when I was at work I was like…is this how it ends? We had our new monthly “date night” and I knew I should not have left the house with the evil emissions I was putting out into the world, but I was like, you know what? I just have to go live my life. We went to check out the new library (which weirdly looks like the opera house in Sydney, Australia) and we were sitting in the adjacent coffee shop and I was like….You guys. I am so sorry. I am so so so sorry. At one point I went to stand outside the coffee shop. But it didn’t help. Young Aamanda was horrified. Sarah never minds. The farts are so loud and so powerful they lift me up from the ground and reverberate throughout the earth. They smell like eggs and the death of something pure and innocent. Fix it, Jesus. These farts are a direct result of the fall of man. Nothing good can ever come of them. They are from the cursed earth and back to the earth they must return. They must be reclaimed by Satan.

I need tea. I need HARD drugs. I need at least six more doughnuts. I am so bloated. My tummy has puffed out like a…like a puffer fish’s. I look like a beached whale made out of dough. And people expect me to go out in public. With  my whale dough body and my farts from the inner sanctum of the fifth circle of Hades.

At one point in the work day I was doubled over the heating pad I had borrowed from JK shouting, “RELEASE ME FROM THIS FLESHLY PRISON!!!!!!!!!!!!” I also, at one point, had my feet up on the desk. Dear God, I thought, please don’t let the executive director walk by. I CANNOT have any more run ins with the executive director. I WAVED at him today. I don’t know why I did it. I just saw him walking by and I waved. He gave me a weird look and waved back. I was like, Jesus take me now. I can’t live anymore. Not like this. If he would have walked by and seen me with my heating pad and feet up he probably would have been like, “Here’s that weird girl with her never-ending ham sandwiches who constantly reclines unprofessionally and waves at me like a kid who uses non-verbal signals instead of her talking words and now she has her feet up on her desk with a heating pad spread out over her upper torso. Does her depravity know no bounds? WHY DOES SHE EVEN WORK HERE?”

He probably did do less drugs. He probably was less agitated. Then I was like….the thing that the house did…whatever it did for [redacted], whatever it did for [redacted], and countless others…who is doing that now? Is it just…nobody? Nobody is doing that now? Because we gave up our post? Rude. I feel slightly irresponsible.

I also feel like a witch because I live in the attic and yell down at everyone from time to time. I’m the wizened old crone. I am the oracle.

I want to get two Christmas trees when the time is right. If it was up to me that time would be now. You’d think I wouldn’t be able to keep up this level of excitement for two solid months but you’d be wrong. I am so amped it’s like I’ve taken on superpowers.

Why do I like spooky things now? Why do I like putting cayenne pepper in my food now? Does anybody ever stay the same? Does my personality every stay put?

She kinda went rogue on me and I had to halt her in her tracks. There’s a new Sherriff in town, mmkay? Everyone told me to, like, put her in her place…but I don’t think I could ever do that unless someone pissed me off enough. But she wasn’t pissing me off. I wasn’t angry. I was just like….oh wow, this is interesting and you’re being weirdly assertive about this. I’m scared. Somebody help me.

Rear ended on the way home from work today. My first thought was me trying to figure out if it was my fault. It took me a few seconds, but I finally realized that I had just been sitting stationary in traffic when I had been hit, therefore it could not have been my fault! I couldn’t believe my luck! The guy that hit me was really nice. It was the most Canadian time of our lives.

I finished reading Indian Horse today and I also watched BlackkKlansmen and both times – like in both stories – the racist side was the side that claimed the Christian God. God & Christianity. I was like….that…denominator…is too big for me to ignore. It can’t just be a coincidence. What’s the takeaway here? That racists like using religion to control and manipulate? That organized religion is inherently bad? That Christianity does more harm than good? What does this say about God? What does God say about God? What role is he playing? God doesn’t play roles, you know. He just is. But still. It’s giving me pause. Laughably, I am kind of getting sick of racism. Or racism is making me sick. I know that’s a weird thing to say, as a white girl – I can just hear the response, “Oh, you’re getting sick of racism?” It’s just….such an ugly thing. In such an ugly time, the only real protest is beauty.

Did you ever just kind of…want to get away from your own skin? It’s not that I’m ashamed that I’m white. I just am what I am. But I don’t want to be associated with the things white people have done anymore. I’m benefiting just as much from white supremacy. And that’s what really makes me feel sick. It also makes me feel sick to think how many peoples’ stories were not told, or that ended without hope.

It turns out, all this time, all anybody has to do to attract me is to say that they’re in a book club. Or that they play the cello.

Can he be that great if he doesn’t understand my love for the Kardashians?

Death approaches. I am melodramatic. But still beloved. By some.

I was just watching First Contact and there is an indigenous man telling the (racist) white people, You don’t need to feel guilty about the residential schools. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t your fault.

I don’t know if I agree with him. But I want to believe that. It was like he was offering me something that I really, really wanted but ultimately knew didn’t belong to me. I guess that’s how it is with grace sometimes. You don’t believe that you can have it even when it is freely offered.

Also, whose fault was it? The people that started it? The people that kept it going? The white people that stood by and let it happen? Who can we blame? You can’t have something like that happen and then go, oh well. It was nobody’s fault, really. We just have to move on. It was somebody’s fault. Somebody did this. Lots of somebodies.

And I always wonder about the nuns. Why does it seem that so many nuns and caretakers are so cruel and devoid of human compassion? What is it about religion that turns people black and cold?

When Mark Salling was found with child porn stashed in his basement, people went after him on twitter so hard – only one person stuck up for him. Iqbal Theba. He said everyone wanted to paint Mark as a villain, but he said he didn’t see that when he worked with him. “I just saw a sweet kid who couldn’t overcome his demons in the end,” he said. That’s always stuck with me. Was that all it was? What kind of compassion is there to be had for people who sexually abuse children? What kind of compassion is there for the sexually abused?

He was like, so we have the same interests and blah blah blah, what do YOU look for in a future mate? I was like, What. WHAT. for God’s sake. IT ISN’T A SCIENCE PROJECT.

I CAN’T BE THE FUNNY ONE. That is WAY too much responsibility.

Whenever a dude is like, “I like you!” I’m like Ew no. What is wrong with you that you would say something like that. I just feel like people want to possess me. Like they want me to be their possession. And I’m like, you don’t care about me. You just care about being in love. You’re in love with an idea. Not a person.

I don’t want to have a five year goal, I don’t want to plan my life out, I don’t want to make a checklist of my “ideal partner”, I don’t want to own a house, I don’t want to be responsible, I don’t want to be an adult, I don’t want to talk about interior decorating, or taxes, or make small chat with other parents or couples that I don’t care about, I don’t want to do any of that shit. I don’t want to go to anybody’s work Christmas party. I don’t want to go to home depot or IKEA on the weekend. I don’t want to talk about light fixtures. I just want to be myself and talk about things that I care about, which does not consist of homemaking. It consists of books. And politics. And whimsy. And leaving town semi-regularly.

I constantly feel like a twitchy bunny rabbit.

I can’t believe that I still believe in love, but I guess I do. That’ll change if Emily Blunt and John Krasinski ever get divorced, though. If  they got divorced I’d honestly be like, “Well, I am done with love. That’s it for me.”

My headaches are getting so bad. They’re constant. Without cease. THIS CANNOT GO ON. My LIVER and my WALLET cannot afford to keep me in a steady supply of advil liquigels. I’m going to have to go straight to the hard stuff and start smoking crystal meth. MOM says I have a concussion. That better fucking not be true.

Also, I guess bubble bath dough is a thing. Seems weird to me.

Remembrance Day today. I have very mixed feelings about Remembrance Day. I’m like…we’re honouring the men and women who gave our lives for us…but also probably murdered somebody else’s relative? And now their relatives are honouring THEIR sacrifice? So is everyone thinking that we should only honour half of the people who fought? I think I could probably get behind a War Is Bad day. But it doesn’t seem like that’s what Remembrance Day is. Remembrance Day is more like “OTHER people were bad and we’re THANKFUL because OUR GUYS were brave and WON! Here’s to Our Guys!” And I’m liiiiiiiiiiiike……okay, buuuuuuuuuut. It also seems like it glamorizes war, in a way. I don’t think it’s good. To have to fight for your country. You should fight for freedom and for love. But not for…a country. I mean people do fight for land all the time, but… A country is just a place you were born, and not even by your own choosing. It was just the luck of the draw that you ended up there. And the place can be nice. Wonderful, even. And you can love it. It can be your home. But I don’t think it’s the most important thing. I don’t think anybody should have to give their life for a place they were born into by chance. It just….doesn’t really make sense to me. I don’t get why people get so choked up about it. I understand if they had a relative that died in one of the wars…but if it’s just like, “SUPPORT OUR TROOPS!” I’m like….okay. We could. But it’s not like our record is clean either. It’s not like….we’re blameless. The narrative is troubled. But there are soooo many social media posts about it. And people are like “THESE MEN AND WOMEN SACRIFICE THEIR LIVES FOR YOU EVERY DAY!” And I’m like, okay. But like…I didn’t ask them to? Is this necessary? Are people trying to take over Canada and maybe I just don’t know about it? I don’t know.

Verbal affirmation is okay sometimes.

I do not know how the swamp creature (me) is going to arise tomorrow and head to work. From the depths she emerges. She is called forth by her creator. And by creator, I mean the person who pays her bills.

The lead male actor was disturbingly good-looking. I don’t think it’s right. For one person to have that much good-lookingness. They ought to share with the rest of us assholes.

I also won’t go out with anyone who asks me what my hobbies are. Just stop. Hobbies aren’t a real thing. Only ask someone about their hobbies if they have a stamp collection. If it doesn’t look like I’m a stamp collector, then just shhh.

I am so sick of being sick.

I could be wrong. But I just don’t think that I am. Like that one cartoon says “I’m not wrong. I just didn’t know I wasn’t right.”

Went and saw this massage therapist that Sophie recommended to me. He reaaaaaaaaaaaaally got in there. Like really. I was like, listen bitch. You’re getting a little too enthusiastic back there, mmkay? He was very chatty. He said he was talking so much to distract me from the pain. Haha. I would be like “Ow that hurts” and he’d be like “YOU ARE STRONG. YOU CAN DO THIS.” He was a cheerleader massage therapist. He was the Johnathan Van Ness of Massage Therapy. You are a strong ass bitch gurl. Are we going to cry a lot today, yes, are we going to survive feeling our feelings, yes, is it super uncomfy, YES.

The air seems thinner, peoples’ voices are either far away or too close, my reaction time when driving is slower, I seem to be….floating in and out of consciousness. Lots of times I feel like I’m not in reality. Like I imagined my own life. This is just a dream. I don’t know whose body this is. Dizzy. I turn my head and the entire world passes by, whoosh. Blurry around the edges.

I don’t think I could handle any more sass than I was already receiving.

FIX IT JESUS! Jesus is probably like, you’re constantly calling on me to fix things. JUST LET ME LIVE.

I babysat Ember and Raven tonight. Nikayla put Raven to bed and then was like he probably won’t wake up! I mean he might wake up though! But just let him cry! Actually pick him up I don’t want him crying alone in the dark! Okay I gotta go! So me and Ember settled into watch 101 Dalmations, me with some prime rib, spicy carrots and cupcakes, and Ember with just…cupcakes. Five minutes in we hear Raven crying. And that was the end of sleeping for ANY of the children that I watched that evening. Although I did get Ember to brush her teeth and she let me brush her hair too. I TRIED to get Raven to go to sleep. I rocked him, I read to him, I pleaded with him, but he was like No way man. It’s time to party. I know a pushover when I see one. I will do anything to get a baby to stop crying. As soon as he would start to cry I’d just pick him up or give him whatever he wanted. There was one point in the evening where Raven was crying and me and Ember were sing-yelling the ABCs at him in the dark. After that I was like, oh well. It’s all over now. Nobody’s going to bed. We might as well accept it. Then I let them slide down the stairs on a mattress. I even joined them but it was too exciting and I peed my pants. I realized that I had actually peed on the mattress, but I am not going to tell Nikayla or David that they asked me to babysit and I accidentally peed on their mattress. I am going to wait until I get really drunk one night. Then I will call Nikayla on the phone and confess my sins. Until then, that secret’s staying locked up tighter than a national security vault. We also read books on the top bunk of ember’s bed and Ember kept farting. We read six books and those children seemed to gain even more energy. I was like, I give up. Thank you for the opportunity, but I’ve decided that being a strict babysitter just isn’t a good fit for me right now. Bedtimes? Cancelled. Running around and shrieking is what’s on the menu. So that’s what David came home to. Hahaha. Poor David. I was at the bottom of the stairs yelling “HELP MEEEE!!!!!” He was like…”Where’s Nikayla?” And I was like, I don’t know. I realized I hadn’t even asked her what she was going out to do. I don’t really like to ask Nikayla that. It sounds judgy. Like “WHAT ARE YOU GOING OUT TO DO THAT’S SO IMPORTANT THAT YOU HAD TO LEAVE YOUR CHILDREN?!?!”  If she wants to call me over so she can get out of the house for a few hours, I really don’t care what the fuck she does. She could be pole dancing at the nearest strippers and I wouldn’t hold it against her. Auntie Megan just came out to have a good time.

I feel a general displacement. But it’s not….it’s not unhappy. I don’t feel unhappy. I just feel…different.

I’ve never been on my own like this before. I don’t feel unsupported but I do feel…untethered. Still. Still that untethered feeling, day in and day out. What am I supposed to say about the house? That was how I used to be. This is where we used to live. This is how it used to be.

I always feel like I chickened out of something when I delete tinder. Like, you should have just tried it! You should have just gone out with that guy! But I literally…I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to.

I am becoming very social at work. It’s extremely perplexing to me.

The craziest thing about the JFK assassination – and I don’t know why this came into my brain today but it did – is that whoever did it got away with it. I mean, they assassinated the president and they didn’t get caught. I wonder if whoever the shooter was ever told anybody else, or if he just took the secret with him to his grave, or if he was paid to assassinate him or if he just really didn’t like JFK. I can’t believe that someone could commit that big of a crime and just………….nobody ever found out it was him. Or her. But I think it was probably a him. Sexist of me, but here we are. Wish someone would assassinate [redacted]. Not like, to death, but just enough that he wouldn’t be able to be such a dominant figure on the international stage. He is a whiny tantrum baby and I’ve had enough.

I just started yelling HELP MY CAT IS TOO OBSESSED WITH ME before realizing that it’s 12:34 in the morning and I shouldn’t yell things at that time. Me and Wes are playing this game where we only want to snuggle with each other when the other person doesn’t want to snuggle. Listen bitch. If you don’t want to snuggle me at 2 pm you sure as hell don’t get so snuggle me at 12:34 am. Them’s the breaks.

We went to Tim Horton’s and we’re sitting there talking about church or whatever and there’s an old guy next to us at the table over, eating a breakfast sandwich, and rolling a joint. It’s a brave new world, y’all.

And when I was saying those things I really did have a genuine moment of deep compassion for him. Like, I kind of deeply felt that instinct he has to never think of himself and to always protect and I really had moment of deep empathy because I felt like maybe he never gets to really rest. And it felt other. Like, the compassion for him wasn’t coming from me. It felt like God was giving that to me, to give to him. Those are moments when I know for sure God is real. Then five minutes later, we’re back to our regularly scheduled programming of doubt and self-loathing.

I’m always a little confused and concerned when someone…like…wants to be friends with me. I mean someone who’s not Steph. I feel like I’ve somehow tricked them.

I was thinking today how not being able to go back to the HOC – it just feels like I’m constantly…not ever really able to exhale. Like I can never really let my breath out. I just have to hold it now. Like, I can’t….I can never…occupy that space again, in the way that I occupied it. It’s just gone now. It’s gone from me, or I’ve gone from it, and so I can’t let this breath out. It’s that breath that you let out when you step into your front door. You’re home now. You’re home. I don’t know if we can ever…if that can ever really be a thing again. For me. And for someone who’s such a homebody, that’s really heartbreaking. That really breaks my heart.

Louis was over for dinner. He had emailed being like “You guys should put on potlucks again!” And I was like Oh, Louis. Not tonight. But you can come over for dinner. It was nice to have someone over who gets the intentional community thing and understands exactly how and why a transition like that might be hard.

He also told us that he used to live in Fort Mac and I laughed SO HARD at the thought of Louis just bombing around town and being Louis in FORT MAC. He used to drive truck for the oil and gas industry but didn’t want to waste gas so he would…ride his bike…in the dead of winter….to his job…where he would drive truck. AHAHAHAAHHAHAA I can’t. I cannot even. He said whenever they had company get togethers he would always bring a big bag of kale and everyone else would bring meat and beer. Oh, I died. Sarah said he should make that into a comic book – and call it, like, “Louis In Fort Mac.” I would read that. I would read that so hard.

We parked at the bottom of the hill and Sarah and I slogged up this hill through snow and ice and I almost died I was breathing so hard and it hurt my butt so bad and this really weird thing happens when I exercise (and also when I smoke pot) I start to salivate so hard that rivers of saliva just literally pour out my mouth and I have to spit every eight seconds approximately. I can’t swallow all of it. There’s too much volume. Anyway, whatever, weird and gross, I almost died, and we get up to the Gateway (finally) and we’re about to pay and go in when I REALIZED I LEFT MY WALLET IN THE CAR. Jesus, take the wheel.

When I saw Dr. Robinson on Friday she increased my dosage and asked me if I had worked out what my triggers might be. And the answer was still………no. Just….no answers. That’s so frustrating and scary. And, yes, it’s sad as well. It’s like I’m…shouting into the void. There’s just no answer. There’s nothing. There’s zero gravity. Objects in space.

First of all. I think I am having some sort of identity faith crisis. Michal Gungor said Christianity was inherently exclusive. It hurt my feelings.

It was just – good – to have her in my arms and to know that she was safe, that she is happy and healthy, that there is still time for us to be together before she starts growing up. I was just so grateful for that.

When I look at the walls there is such an ache in my heart. Those walls mothered me. And yes, there were mice in them. But that doesn’t matter to me anymore. Don’t you wish you could go back, just for a little while? I just want to sit in the living room one more time. Just once more. But not as it is now. As it was then. I miss the warmth. I miss everyone being together. What if that was it? What if I gave up my post too soon? Did I….abandon them? It just hurts me horribly to think that some of them just wont be getting Christmas dinner or Christmas presents this year. That they’ll be alone. They’ll be cold, and they’ll be alone. With only their addictions or their bad memories to keep them company. And I think, how could I do that. How could I have just left them there. It was selfish. Like, that was….that was God asked me to do. It seems too good to be true that God would also want me to rest.

Sometimes I test the phrase “I don’t think I believe in God anymore” over and over in my head just to see how it….feels. I guess it feels like winter. Forbidding, cold, but somehow ethereal. You can’t stop staring at it. Sister Winter. Anyway, it’s not true. I’ll always believe in God. I could never not. Even if I wanted to. I’m an image bearer. God is stamped on me.

I think I’m in the process of deconstructing but that somehow the process started with any sort of verbal or written consent from me.

When I get that way it’s best to put on Cardi B. TELL THAT BITCH I’M SORRY

I don’t know why this whole “wrestling with my faith” thing (lololololol) is making me feel so sad, but I feel so sad. I feel the weight of a thousand sorrows. I feel betrayed. I feel like if Christianity is supposed to be a person – like the bride of Christ or whatevs – I thought that person was good. You were supposed to be good. You told everyone that you were. But you rotten to the core this whole time. You were just being horrible behind my back. You thought that I wouldn’t see. “We see! We fucking see!” I cannot put this whole thing down to “God is good and people are shitty.” When people say that, it stops the conversation, it effectively excuses you from having to engage with any of the issues. It’s lazy. And it doesn’t cut it for me anymore.

I’m not going to just be like “Jesus was a good person and there a lot of good stories in the bible” No. Fucking no. I mean, yes, but like….that’s not the end game. It just makes me want to cry. This whole thing just makes me want to cry. Brianne said I was looking a little down today. Haha. I was like “NO IM JUST TIRED” and on the inside I was like OH BRIANNE HOLD ME I HAVE EXISTENTIAL AGONY.

I feel like Alice in Wonderland. Or like I have a beloved pet that’s gone savage and now I have to put it down.

I went and saw Serenity in movie theaters with Sarah and Skyler tonight. IT WAS AMAZING. I was SO culturally bonded to EVERYONE in that theater. WE ARE CONNECTED THROUGH THE POWER OF THE GREATEST TV SHOW EVER CREATED. I need to watch the entire first season of Firefly in a movie theater. Where my Daddy Warbucks at.

I just don’t know what my bottom line is. That the bible is good? That Christianity is for everyone? But what if it isn’t?

Maybe it’s that – the story matters, and I still don’t know who Christianity is for.

I’m still not convinced that’s it’s not exclusionary. But even if it was exclusionary, would that matter? If it was true? It wouldn’t matter what my feelings were about it, then, would it? And I do think it is true. I just don’t know which parts are true. The resurrection is true, God’s love is true. Everything else…like, is the bible infallible, is Christianity the only path to God, well, I just don’t fucking know anymore. Like, did I ever have those answers….down…somewhere? I feel like Christianity won’t let me grab hold of it, won’t let me understand it, like it shrouds itself in confusing mystery on purpose. Don’t be f*cking rude, as Kim Kardashian would say.

It seems like him believing God is not the author of the Universe, that Christianity isn’t true for everyone…it seems like believing that is what he wanted to believe all along. It’s like he got what he wanted. Because it would be simpler, wouldn’t it, if I also believed that? Wouldn’t that just tie things up nicely? I don’t have to hold onto Christianity as being the truest, I can take the parts of Jesus and God and the bible that I like and leave the rest, everyone else can believe what they want and they’ll still be included…it won’t matter. The Universe is love! Just be kind and that’s all that matters! But that isn’t all that matters. Sometimes love isn’t enough.  Love is a conquest. Love is a war. Here is what I think of love.

I feel bad – guilty – that I can’t make eye contact with someone until….some time has passed. Why is it so hard? Just this one, simple thing? But I just can’t. I shy away. I’m like a skittish horse. It really annoys me that that one guy I went on a date with mentioned that. That he had the audacity to say he thought that I might be nervous. (“You thinking!” Said Davy scornfully.) I am not nervous, I just don’t want to look you in the eyes! Okay? IS IT A CRIME? First of all, sir, I have some deeply ingrained psychological issues, and I’D APPRECIATE IT IF YOU DIDN’T MENTION THEM IN PUBLIC OR BRING THEM UP TO ME.

I was like oh my sweet angel. That was not me raising my voice. At all. If I’m raising my voice, you will fucking know about it. I actually thought my voice was very calm and level compared to how I normally am on such occasions. I did make it awkward though. I can’t deny it. But I just couldn’t…I just couldn’t sit there. It was like my body was having an allergic reaction to the things I was hearing.

I said, “if CALVINISTS are welcome at the table THEN SO ARE THE GAY PEOPLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Mic drop. He said, very carefully, “Um, that’s fair.” Then I said “That was me raising my voice. See? There’s a difference.”

It’s not that I don’t want to tell her I’ve been to therapy…it’s just that…it’s nice to have someone who doesn’t know. I just like someone not knowing.


I met his assistant. She is really cool. And she’s got a great butt. I didn’t mean to check out her butt, but it happened. So.

What a time to be alive. He’s in grade 7, and Maddie and Lily were paying attention to him, so I was like, this is probably a big night in his life. He’s out on the town, with barely any adult supervision, receiving attention from sophisticated older women. When we got to the swimming pool, Jeff went in with the little dudes, and one of the ladies behind the counter was like “He’s not supposed to let these kids be unsupervised!” (Referring to Lily and Maddie.) I was like, oh, I’m supervising them. And she was like “How old are you?” I was like, ok listen bitch. But I didn’t say that, I just snapped, I’M THIRTY TWO YEARS OLD!!!!!!!!!!!!” Haha. I’m thirty two years old and I’m a PSYCHO. Then one of the other ladies chased me down and was like Oh I’m so sorry about that it’s just you look really young ahahaha nervous laughter lolol. I was like oh it’s no big deal, sorry for…yelling. I AM THIRTY TWO YEARS OLD OKAY I CAN LOOK AFTER TEENAGERS SORT OF

[redacted] kept asking her which boy she had a crush on ahahahahaaha. Then he told me, “[redacted] likes a CHRISTIAN BOY!” God. Wish I could say the same.

I set my alarm for 10:30 am and it was literally like trying to raise myself from the dead. I was struggs to func. Then I waited for Jess to come over but I was so bone-tired that I just lay down on the couch for a moment and then it was like….that’s it. That’s it for me. I can’t do anything, I can’t go anywhere. I have no energy. I mean, I’m usually low on energy, but this is….different. It feels different. It feels like there’s nothing…in me.

Decorated the tree tonight. It was EVERYTHING I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR. Young Aamanda came over too, and Nancy stopped by…it’s moments like those that I’m like, we’re gonna be okay. We didn’t lose each other. Nobody is going to abandon me. I just have this fear. Deep down inside of me. That they’re actually waiting to. That they can’t wait to be rid of me. But just for a few hours tonight, I forgot about that. I wasn’t on edge, watching for signs. It’s the magic of Christmas, you guys. My debilitating paranoia took the evening off so I could decorate the Christmas tree with my fwends. Thanks, paranoia!

I don’t think God will…maybe it hurts his feelings. All the things I think about God that probably aren’t true. Nikayla said “Imagine how different your life would be if you believed God loved you all the time.”

I’m getting some fucking key lime pie. Like, don’t even ask me if I want dessert. Just bring me the fucking pie.

Had to borrow Brian Merritt’s boots until I can afford to buy my own. Which will be never. That will be never. Brian doesn’t know it yet, but his boots are now mine. I’m sorry, Brian. I’m poor and I have big feet.

I sent out an email last night about my cooking-for-each-other-and-words-of-verbal-affirmation idea and Dad was like “I LOVE IT!” And Martin and Danny were like, “We’re challenging you for packleader.” Lolol. But then Martin said he had to go to bed. I was like, you can’t just say you’re going to challenge me for packleader and then go to bed. Do you even know how this works? There’s a protocol, and it doesn’t involve SLEEPING on the JOB which every alpha wolf knows. I texted Kevin and was like “KEVIN YOU’RE MISSING OUT ON THE FAMILY DISCUSSION BECAUSE YOU WON’T GET WHATSAPP” and he just replied with pictures of Nenshi. Why is my family like this. How will I ever get them to behave.

But [redacted] still thinks Christianity is the best thing. And she kept asking me What do you mean by Christianity though. I think I just…feel tired of fighting everyone who I feel like is dishonouring the name of Jesus. I’m just like it’s too much. I have to give up now. I tried to help but I couldn’t help anybody. It was just worthless, it was futile, it didn’t mean anything. Everybody fought me, every step of the way. And now I don’t have any fight in me. I just think…you know what? Fine. You do what you want. I guess that’s how I feel now. I just feel like….What is the point of this? Why are we still doing this? Think how wonderful it would be to longer worry, or try, or fail. I think at one point I said to Meera, sometimes love just isn’t enough. She said, it has to be. And I said, but it’s not. People still commit suicide. People still are raped. No matter how much we love them. And she said Jesus was with those people. But I said, what’s the good of Jesus being with someone if they can’t feel it? Who is that helping?

I’ve heard so many new thoughts and ideas and concepts over the past week that I just didn’t think about and it’s like my brain is doing these mental calisthenics all the time just to keep up with the possibility that Christianity might be for real, that Jesus might be this or he might be that. Maybe I just need to dust off my faith and take it out for a walk.

I’m starting to suspect that staying in bed makes me have less energy but I will never give my mother the satisfaction of admitting that.

Today in the Chamber of Secrets group chat [redacted] was like “ok let’s talk about it” and then [redacted] and I proceeded to hash it out, and he didn’t contribute ANYTHING to the conversation! And I was like, I can see that you’ve seen our messages, WOULD YOU MIND WEIGHING IN? He was just lurking in the corner watching us talk it out! Have you ever? Then later he says “I’m a busy man!” PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF I’M a busy man, ok?? I ALREADY KNOW that you don’t like my idea anyway!!!! That doesn’t bother me! I just want to fight for my idea because I think my ideas are the best! We came to a compromise anyway. [redacted] was like, “Well, if it makes YOU happy….” My ideas don’t just make me happy. They make everyone happy. Because my ideas benefit the common good. Boy, has she got a lot to learn.

I also got my period today, which was very fucking confusing because I had three weeks or LESS ago. That is NOT right. I don’t think it’s fair that I should experience such a debilitating thing every THREE weeks.  Boys aren’t right that they have it worse than girls. I’d take a thousand boners in public over a period any day. Take it and be grateful.

Come on, Megan. Spooky October is over. But I’m still spooky in my heart. And I find sociopaths very interesting.


Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

I journaled for a year

Here are some inexplicable excerpts, taken completely out of context, from the first two months. You’re welcome.

September 2018

I’m going to try and journal for a year. One year. I don’t think I’ll be successful. I like to preface things by saying that I don’t think I’ll succeed at them. I love disclaimers. I’d like to make ten disclaimers for every single thing I do.

I think all this would be easier if there was a rule that you could go back into houses. Houses that you’d left, I mean. I just wish the leaving wasn’t so final. It’s a bit like a death, in some ways. Once someone dies, they can’t come to visit. You can’t call them. They can’t call you. They’re removed. It’s the same way with old houses. You don’t live there anymore. You can’t go spend time in your old living room, no matter what you did there or how familiar it is to you. This is your new living room now. You live here now. You got to love the one you’re with. But when I close my eyes, I see it all, I see it all over again.

Leanne says that “spaces matter.” People don’t think they do, she said, but they do. Spaces matter.

I’m a bottomless pit. I’m a planet.

I am so glad that I do not have to write all this out by hand. In reading old-timey horror novels from the 1800’s, they do a LOT of letter writing and journal keeping, so much so that I’m like….you’d have to dedicate….a significant portion of your day…like 65% at least….to just writing. I honestly don’t think I could keep up with it. Unless they’re so used to it that everyone in the 1800’s is just REALLY FAST at letter writing, but I doubt it. I am enjoying my foray into gothic novels of olde, but it annoys me to no end how the female characters are portrayed. They are constantly described as sweet. Like every other word is “She was sweet.” Uh, okay. Big fucking deal. Then when tragedy or unfortunate circumstances befall them, they kind of just….sit there and take it. They’re described as weak, pale, fainting, virtuous, etc. BORING. BoRING BORING BORING!!!!!! And the “weird sisters” (the three vampire ladies in Dracula’s castle) because they are seen as sexual, are constantly described as “unnatural.” Well, excuuuuuuse me, Bram Stoker, but just because a woman, undead though she might be, is sexually expressive, that doesn’t mean she’s unnatural. I read spark notes about it and this made me laugh so hard : Harker is simultaneously confronting a vampire and another creature equally terrifying to Victorian England: an unabashedly sexual woman. LOLOLOLOL stahp.  And also this line : “My dear Mina, why are men so noble when we women are so little worthy of them?”

PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE. You can definitely tell that a man wrote this. Bram Stoker, you are one sick bastard and the patriarchy must be crushed. The women must help to defeat the vampires. Maybe they’d probably be a lot better at it than Van Helsing, who constantly is like “This woman is on the brink of death! But I gotta leave town for a few days, so you just make sure nothing else happens!” If I was Lucy Westenra, I wouldn’t just suffer through it. I’d at least use my intelligence and resources to find out why I appeared to be a triple anemic. Being demure is so over.

It’s weird to have a word like church in my vocabulary that has so many negative & positive connotations at the same time.

My friendships go bone deep. To the bone. The marrow of my bone. In my blood. In my oxygen.

I think he is a deeply lonely person. But not in the way that I’m lonely. In a different way. “It’s lonely-lonely, like the way you feel when you’re being hugged and it somehow makes you sadder.”

I’m making hot apple cider for the big pancake breakfast tomorrow. It looks like a witch’s brew.

She blushed and a slightly awkward moment passed, in which we both silently acknowledged the truth of what I’d said and the way I’d chosen to express it.

October 2018

The communications department emailed me today. They want me to host the Trivia Lunch Hours for the United Way Campaign. After five years of working there, I really feel like I’m hitting my stride socially.

I also received an email from someone who insisted on getting “an estimated date of completion for [redacted] going forward.” HAHAHAHAHAHA. I emailed back and was like “No.” Then he called me. And was like “I’d be happier if I knew what was going on over there.” Jesus, be this man’s hedge of protection. Guard him from my wrath.

Bram Stoker is getting increasingly sexist. He really needs to slow his roll. I actually screamed at one of the things he said (I’ve been doing a lot of screaming today, which is very on point for Halloween season, so I feel good about it) – when Jonathan Harker says “I’m glad Mina is going to hold back and let us men do the work.” And at one point he also said something about how a woman couldn’t handle the strain of the work the men had to do. Let me tell you, if Bram Stoker wasn’t already dead, he would be well on his way with an attitude like that.

Pancake breakfast was cancelled due to inclement weather. I’ve never been more upset at cold weather in my life.

I just want to be the favourite person of everybody.

Sometimes I feel like I almost get my head around the concept of talking to Jesus. Hearing literal words. Hearing a literal voice. I feel like I can get close to it – the curtain between his reality and mine gets thinner and I see a shadow, a thin outline, something blurry, and then it’s just gone. Sometimes I get the same feeling that I get when I think of somebody I haven’t talked to in a long time, I think how good it would be to hear their voice. Then I think, I’ve never heard Jesus’ voice in the same way that I’ve heard Steph’s or Sarah’s voices. But I also feel like I have, but just can’t quite remember it. But still, it’s there, that feeling of having heard it and the feeling of missing someone who has gone very far away for a very long time. But I just forget. I forget that I miss him. Can you miss somebody if they never really leave? Sometimes I repeat those words from Jamie Wright’s book. I was with you. I was with you. I was with you. I forget that too. I forget everything good. I only remember the bad. Some people say the brain is wired that way.

I made soup tonight. It was delicious but I am eating too much fat things and gaining all my weight back. Make it stop! But also, continue it.

I have always felt as if the feeling of belonging was something I could never have, so I simply didn’t waste any thought on it. That’s not for you to have, the world seemed to say. But then I did have it. For a little while at least.

I keep thinking maybe I am supposed to fall in love with somebody. It just seems like a disagreeable chore that I’ve got to go ahead and get over with. But the thought of dating is repugnant.

And what – exactly – did we lose? If it was just the form…why don’t I still feel intact?

What is with white men being assholes? Constantly? Forever? Why won’t they stop?

She keeps being like, “But what if Brett Kavanaugh’s innocent?” Like, trust me. He’s not. I am so sick of people not believing women. Of people putting women on trial when they’re the ones that have been sinned against. Van Helsing would never tolerate such a thing. But things were more clearer in Van Helsing’s day.

Some days it seems like the only people who are speaking out against the hatred and abuse of women is….women. And not well-behaved women. Not Christian women. Women who are porn stars, women who are witches, women who take up physical and mental space. And then the “good” men whisper to us on the sides that they support us. But they never speak out. And so what’s changed really? Where is Jesus in that? What it does mean to be a man?

God. This journal is making me more philosophical by the goddamn second.

I also hung out with Sarah tonight. We watched a movie and I made chicken satay with peanut sauce and sweet hot pepper sauce and then she got tipsy-tipsy-tipsy on some pink wine. What a crazy bitch. Jkjkjk. I think I am realizing that I had not realized to what extent Sarah….is my home base. She just….became that. Over the years. And I didn’t notice.

Community living really fucked us up.

She said, it’s one of the few places where I have ever felt welcomed. When people say things like that, I’m like, what am I doing with my life. Why am I even trying to live any other way but that way? That is my holy calling. That. Right there. And I just….gave it up. No, that’s melodramatic. I haven’t. I’m just….putting it down for a while. I’m just sitting down and tilting my head toward the sun. That’s all. You are not expected to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.

Am I turning into an inveterate man hater? Is this how villain origin stories start? I don’t want to hate men. But I am also done with their shit.

I need somebody bubbly to offset my whole….vibe.

Writing every day has also made me realize that I am really mourning the house. Like….I am in mourning. I am grieving. I honestly believed things would be different.

I feel like I’m a gigantic parody of myself.

Carly is my spooky friend.

Tomorrow at thanksgiving dinner I’m going to make a speech about how colonialism, white supremacy, and toxic masculinity are BAD AND EVIL before we eat dinner. Welcome to my Ted Talk. It’s my thanksgiving dinner and I’ll get on my soapbox if I want to. Plus, the babies need to know. Before they can even talk. We need to inform their environment with a zero-tolerance policy for misogynistic and racist bullshit. We must think of the babies.

Have I…has the house ending injured me? Am I injured? Do I have a wound?

Also boring, but turns out being an adult is just what I always thought it would be – a long string of boring decisions.

The thing about me is – I feel so alone and know that I need to be around people, but as soon as I leave my house and am with other people, I want nothing more than to leave them and go back to my house.

Sometimes you need a little mom motivation. A little mom-ivation.

As Kourtney Kardashian once said, I was ready to shove a taco up her ass.

I’m already like, OF COURSE we should own EVERYTHING communally! How fun would that be! I’m a product of my environment and I’ve been brainwashed.

I want to journal quickly so I can go back to listening to this UTTERLY FASCINATING book we’re reading for book club called Before We Were Yours. I haven’t been this obsessed with a book…in a long time. Oh, I know what you’re thinking. That I was LOW KEY obsessed with Frankenstein. But I could honestly put Frankenstein down. It was like, yeah, this was fun, I’ll see you when I see you. With this book it’s like, I HAVE TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS NEXT OR I WILL LITERALLY DIE. Dracula is SO OVER. Dracula wasn’t even that good. Bram Stoker….was a total freak show. And not in a cool way. Just in a…”Ugh, okay, fine, whatever” kind of way. I think he was like pretty weird sexually. Just from reading the book. Anyway, who cares about him. The book I’m listening to now is where it’s at.

I would eat pomegranates all the time if it didn’t make me look like I’d murdered a small village.

. I ALWAYS dream about the LIBRARY at my junior high school. Like, 50% of the time, that’s where my dreams take place. Isn’t that so weird? How do I, like, delete that option? Or reset it or….dreaming is exhausting. My dreams are exhausting me emotionally.

I actually fixed her with my stern librarian stare at one point. She is just TOO annoying.

Also, why do people need to have a role? But it seems like people do need to have one.

I am so invested in the characters that at this point it wouldn’t be a stretch for me to get their names tattooed on my lower back.

My life will be over. Not technically. But I think in a spiritual sense, yes.

(Mental note : Sometimes when I talk about Sarah it sounds like she’s my husband.)

I feel like Rob Lowe in that one episode of Parks and Rec where he makes eye contact with himself in a mirror, points at himself and vehemently whispers “STOP POOPING.” Like, believe me, I wish I could. More than anything. More than anything in this life or the next.

Elena said to me today, “You really like having people over for dinner!” And for some reason it made me feel sad. I don’t know why. Maybe…because….cooking for people…is like my….replacement thing. Not my replacement thing, but almost like something I do in memoriam. It’s like if someone lost a child and took up surfing. And then someone was like, “Wow, you really like surfing!” Ye…..es. I do. I suppose I do. It’s not like I’d RATHER be doing HOC stuff. It isn’t like that. It’s just…this is the thing I do now.

I dreamed about being in the HOC four nights in a row this week. Little images keep running through my head. Cleaning my room. Lying in bed staring at the wall. Washing the walls once the room had been emptied. I feel….haunted.

I read that Ellen Pompeo going to quit Grey’s Anatomy. “I’m ready to mix it up and try something new!” She declares. Oh, Ellen. You think you are. You think you’re so done with it. You know in your heart you have to move on. You know it’s time to make room for something new. But leaving it isn’t like how it is in books. You have to reshape your heart. And you’re sore all over.

Brianne says Des refuses to be friends with anybody who shushes her. I was like….she can…do that? That is my new life goal.

Laurel’s son Peter is so cute but he was being so shy with me. I was like Don’t you even fucking dare be shy with me, Peter. I’m gonna be around for the rest of your life so you might as well get used to this now.

It was my five year anniversary at work today. They posted about it on our intranet. 23 people commented saying “Congratulations” or a variation on that theme, and I got a card from Our Lord and Saviour [redacted]. It said “Congratulations you’re a valuable part of the team.” If I hadn’t seen that it was his handwriting I would have assumed his assistant had written it. God, [redacted]. Take a little pride in your work.

Of course I can’t say NO now, not unless I want to look like a TOTAL ASSHOLE. So I was like Fine. I’ll do it. But I am NOT HAPPY about it. Then I replied “I am willing to do it.” I volunteer as tribute. I will take the ring to Mordor. [redacted] replies, “Great, Megan! What a good opportunity for you!” What. A. Good. Opportunity. For. Me. Well, if I wasn’t planning your death before, I certainly am now.

I even made the best Arrested Development reference EVER. Mel was asking Jeff about the budget and he was like, “Oh, we’ll find money somewhere,” and I yelled, “THERE’S ALWAYS MONEY IN THE BANANA STAND!!!!!!!!!!!!” Nothing. Just blank stares. Well, I laughed at my awesome jokes enough for all of us, so….who’s the real winner here.

I used to live in a community house and now I don’t. You can say that out loud, but nobody really knows what you mean.

Trivia hour at lunch today. Drew told me “Thanks Megan that was fun!” Like he was surprised that I’m such a fun girl.

I was even too tired to really pay attention to a television show. FIX IT JESUS. Sarah got home eventually and I practically threw myself at her. I was like YES FINALLY SOMEONE WHO IS NOT MY CAT WILL INTERACT WITH ME!!!!!

Where does Sarah go? Still have no clue what she gets up to. I should hire a private investigator. Or put one of those tracking things on her cell phone.

I refuse to ask anyone out. I just feel like I can’t take shoulder that responsibility. Somebody else has to do that. The mark of a good leader is knowing when to delegate.

Then I was like, did I emotionally traumatize her with my “stories”? Well, maybe.

Young Aamanda came over too. She texted me being like “I miss you guys!” And I was like “Come over for dinner!” And she just texts back “Wow.” I was like….so does that mean you’re coming, or…. And she texts back “What else would I mean?” Hahaha she’s such a glorious weirdo.

I enjoyed it but I also struggs to func after about 10 pm. I was like God. I can’t. I have to go home now. I’m dying. Why do all these retirees have more energy than me.

Lady Gaga says baby when it’s love if it’s not rough it isn’t fun but I don’t know if I agree 100%.

I got crunk last night. It was [redacted]. And the whiskey shots. I can’t refuse when [redacted] says “Let’s do shots together!” I’m just like yeah that sounds like a great idea. I can see no possible downside to this.

I continue to be balls deep in financial instability.

It was fun but I was hella motion sick right after. Welcome to your 30s, bitch.

Finally the girls of today can grow up with female characters who are nuanced. Who are strong and gentle. Who are beautiful and brave. They don’t wait to be rescued. They don’t get overwhelmed and faint. When girls grow up watching things like this, it has an effect on the landscape. We can let females be themselves and there’s still going to be an audience for it, people are still going to respond, and in so doing we start to change the toxicity of how the female is viewed, how she portrays herself, how she’s represented. She’s a whole person. She’s not just a body. She’s not just a person the story happens to. As Charlotte Bronte writes in Jane Eyre, “Do you think I am an automaton? — a machine without feelings? and can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips, and my drop of living water dashed from my cup? Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong! — I have as much soul as you — and full as much heart! I am not talking to you now through the medium of custom, conventionalities, nor even of mortal flesh: it is my spirit that addresses your spirit; just as if both had passed through the grave, and we stood at God’s feet, equal — as we are!”

2018 we’re dating men who want to know what our favourite colour is and shit. That being said I did text him five minutes later. Because I’m sick and need PROFESSIONAL HELP.

When [my friend’s child] is interacting with me I just feel like I’m magic and the world is magic. [redacted] went in the tub topless, which made me laugh. She said, “We have a weirdly intimate friendship.” I want to be weirdly intimate with everybody, some days.

Today on Instagram Glennon Doyle said that God is a woman and fear cannot survive proximity. I think she’s the Oprah for millennials.

But I just said “I still feel a little off kilter.” Well, that’s putting it fucking lightly.

I mean I’ve always thought of happy as an overrated feeling. But I think that I don’t really even know what happiness is. I mean, I’ve felt it. But I’ve never tried to hold on to it. Is everyone trying to feel happy? Is that why we’re all here? I don’t know what my purpose is or if there even is such a thing. Do you think we’re really worried over like that? Wouldn’t that be wonderful? Well, maybe it’s so.

I feel like a 13 year old girl every time I write in here about boys but whatever it’s what all the cool kids are doing.

I never thought I would understand something like that because I got enough attention and I was always like, what is everyone’s problem. But it turns out what I am JUST as attention whorey as the worst of us.

He is the most mansplainy on the planet. I had to say “I know” five different times today. I KNOW. It’s like the part in Hercules when Hades keeps screaming “I KNOOOOOOOOOOOW” at the fates and his hair explodes into blue fire. I’m the same as Hades, the Lord of the Underworld. I always knew it would come to this.

This is all Membership’s fault! They keep their yummy snacks on the counter and it’s making me fat again! This is also the Patriarchy’s fault because the Patriarchy says that women have to be thin so they will take up less space. This one is for the fat girls. Shake the dust.

I am really starting – now – to miss the physical space of the house. Like….I can’t look at pictures of the old house without feeling a pang in my chest. And it’s not because oh, I miss those people or that moment, I miss the actual house. I miss the house. I miss the walls. I miss the floor. It’s like the house becomes incarnate in my absence. It wasn’t much, but it was home. It was home, it was home, it was home. I can’t just forget that.

I tried learning the choreography to Britney spears baby one more time tonight.

“It drove her to distraction the way women wanted to bond over self-hatred.” I am reading Big Little Lies right now and it is SO GOOD.

The bravado all went out of me. I just felt like there was no use in pretending and that I couldn’t pretend and that I was very tired and I was very sad, and maybe just to have your family close is good enough. You don’t always have to be on all the time.

When we were together – the five of us – I would forget. About sadness, and despair, and not feeling good enough. I felt protected from outside forces. That was mostly because of Liam. Liam is so Liam that you can’t help but feel that way.

I planned to go up to my room and take a bath and just….curl up with it. But Sarah said, “Do you want to take a bath together and read books?” Hahaha. At first I was like, I think I want to be alone. But then I thought, maybe it’s okay to be with someone when you’re sad.

I wonder if the new HOC tenants feel like that. I wonder if they feel the ghosts. I hope they do. I hope they know it’s not theirs. It’s ours.

I feel like I’m supposed to be having more fun.

I cannot understand boys. I’ve also become haunted by this fixation that all interest is transactional. Steph says it is. But she didn’t seem bothered by it. Whereas I’m like “OH GOOD another reason to SUSPECT everyone and put EVERYONE on trial.”


I’ve discovered my favourite friends are the ones that just let me be.

Why do I like making fun of my own religion so much? Why am I the worst?

People like to blame Jews for things, he says. They always have. It won’t change. I was like hmm that’s a little dark but I respect your verve. JK, I said….does that you make you feel angry, or resigned? He said neither. It’s inevitable because Jews are disproportionately wealthy to everyone else. So of course it’d make sense that we are hated and blamed. I did not know how to respond to that. If that’s true, why aren’t WHITE MEN hated and blamed? But didn’t feel that the time was appropriate to bring that up. So I just said oh well. I like you guys. He said “thanks pal.” I was like…pal? Did I just get friendzoned? Not much odds if I had been. I could never be with anyone who is here to “convince, not correct.” He also told me he’s an ACTOR and a WRITER. God. Could he BE any more obsessed with himself? Sophie says that’s code for “I don’t have a real job and am not interested in getting one.”

I don’t understand why it is so hard for people just to respond to texts. It isn’t rocket science. Literally everyone knows how to do it.

Another guy on tinder messaged me today asking what level of feminism I was at. But he misspelled the word feminist. He said “Femenist.” What level of Femenist are you. Ugh. I should have known then what I know now. I asked him what the different levels were and he said he just wanted to make sure that I shaved, because he didn’t want to be with anyone who had unshaven pits. I was like, great. I wasn’t sure at what point I gave you permission to comment on my body when we haven’t even met yet, but that’s fine.

I’m NOT going to seize the day. I’m going to lie in bed and read my book. Leave me alone forever. But also, never leave me alone. Mom says I’m the most extroverted introvert she’s ever met, and I go to more parties than any introvert she’s ever met. She called me a party girl. I still haven’t sorted out my feelings about that and I don’t know if I ever will.

I would have been like bitch it’s on let’s go I will fight you right now I will verbally spank you and everyone you’ve ever loved ALL NIGHT – ALSO your child is a FREAK and NOT in a cool way.

“Special yard friends” makes them sound like weird jailbirds, but that’s fine, [redacted], you little psycho.

I don’t feel good about wanting to fight a four year old. But four year olds are sometimes the worst assholes of us all, and that’s not MY fault.

I know how I simultaneously hate and like being hugged when I’m really upset, and I’m never sure which way I’m going to swing. Will I hate this physical touch or will it be the most important thing in my life in the current moment? Maybe we’ll never know.

Then I was like, Megan. You need to chill. I DON’T WANT TO CHILL! I WANT TO FIGHT! Counterphobic sixes. Aren’t they just a huge drag.

You’d be more fulfilled, people say. But I’d rather not be more fulfilled. I’d rather just have my book and my nap.

I kept thinking of my bed and my book and how good it would feel to just go home. I kept checking the clock. I also had a good time, but I honestly couldn’t wait for it to be over. That seems to be the way it is. Enjoying things, and also wanting them to be over.

It seems like as soon as I start to enjoy things, I feel an awareness of it being too good to last, so I should be proactive and end it first before it anything starts to turn sour. I also just want to be home, most of the time, I wish I was at home, I wish I was tucked into bed, I wish, I wish, I wish. As David Sedaris says, “I wanted, I wanted, I wanted, until it was mine, and then it ceased to interest me.”

I love villainous females. Bellatrix Lestrange, Ursula, Cruella de Vil….it’s just my THING. Maybe because I hate how it seems that females are tolerated or loved in direct correlation to how good they are, how well they behave. It always feels that we’re taught that we have to earn love because the female is distinctly unlovable.

The one part of church I enjoyed was when Rod commented on my “sultry tub photos” I shrieked like a witch who’s seen the reckoning.

I am unbelievably hyped. I’m psychotic. I’m psychotically hyped. I’m hyperactively psychotic about Christmas.

I don’t want to reduce Jesus or trivialize him with Buddy Jesus. I think I don’t want to because it feels slimy, but also because he’s my friend and I don’t disrespect my friends. That was a realization I had. Jesus is a friend of mine? Is he? I always say there’s no way to really “be friends” with Jesus. But I actually realized that I do think of him in that way, or in the way that he’s a person who I care about and want to protect. I think that realization is somehow important.

I was surprised Mary Shelley hadn’t seen the comedic side of the whole situation.

Busted on the couches today by [redacted]. With my ham sandwich. Oh, the ham sandwich. I knew it would one day be my downfall. The very height of unprofessionalism.

The couches are gone. THEY ARE GONE. That will teach me to flaunt my ham sandwich! I was actually really upset and I almost cried. I am totally devastated. I have suffered a great loss. And potentially we would not get couches again until we moved. THAT’S OVER A FUCKING YEAR FROM NOW! GOD. If ever there was a reason to quit, this is it.

[redacted], who is sickeningly skinny, was like “None for me thanks” – I just stared at her like, so that’s how this bitch does it. Do you think you’re better than me? Because you can pass up cake? Then I ate so much icing I got a sugar headache.

I was listening to a really interesting podcast with Lena Dunham and Dax Shepherd and it is incredible how much of a four she is. Like, she honestly sounded like she was describing type fours in general but she was just describing herself. It blew my GODDAMN MIND.

I have turned into the most basic bitch of all time. I’m just like “SPILL THE TEA, GIRRRRRRRRRRRL” and then I’m like…how old am I? Have I matured at all? Do I just love to gossip?

Apparently she didn’t go to counseling or anything but just claimed that Jesus had totally cured her. Oh my sweet angel. That is not how things like that work. (Or maybe they do and I’m just an asshole?) No, I’m pretty sure they don’t.

Basically, I don’t feel like being required to regulate my resultant emotions that I get when having to interact with others.

She doesn’t know me well enough to know that that I’m constantly Eeyore on the inside so she never treats me like I’m a fragile, breakable thing.

I keep remembering Calley doing that giant leap when everyone was playing giant dutch blitz. It makes me laugh like a loon every time.

Steph convinced me to go. She said I had to because I need some fucking stability in times of transition.

I ate so much sugar at work today I thought I was going to pass out. I just kept going. I NEED TO STOP!  But there were maracons. Macarons and they were high quality. I love how everyone gets so into Halloween at work.

[redacted] dressed up as….Thriller? And then performed the entire Thriller dance?? Brianne was like, “How on earth are they going to top that next year?” They had dry ice in a bowl, for God’s sake.

Charlotte was like, “Let’s play a drinking game!” And I was like yeah let’s do it and then she was like “Should we do shots?!” Should we do SHOTS? On a SCHOOL NIGHT? I think the fuck not. Turns out Charlotte is a wild woman in her old age. But we did play a drinking game with coolers, so. Guess I’m a mildly wild woman as well.









Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment