Posted by brandy in and now you might know everything, because US health care makes me sad, brookem is awesome!, confession of the day, don't judge me based on my love for bad music, here is my heart, i may write about the west wing forever, it makes sense to me, it's a long one (twss), it's okay- you can skim this one, love harder, overwhelmed doesn't even begin..., quote of the day, right on my sleeve, sad, self improvement, when i say it anyway, who needs a self help book?.
Tags: EVEN MY TAGS ARE DEPRESSING
Obviously I’m lacking in my usual wit when that is what I can come up with for a title to this post after 34 minutes of hard, squinty-eyed staring at my computer while listening to my go to source of inspiration (*Taylor Swift on repeat).
It’s been a day. It’s been a week. Hell, it’s been a last 12 months. Yesterday started out great then turned into one of the hardest days in my entire life. It involved breaking points, furious texting and confirmation that insurance companies are douchebags. That makes me sound insensitive but I assure you- that’s not the case. I think it’s just… a person can only take so much before they can’t even begin to express their sad anymore, you know? It’s like you reach full throttle sad and suddenly all you can do is make a joke because your eyes are literally out of tears and your body cannot heave another sob. With all of that said, I’d go through this again in a second. Some people are worth it. HAD is one of them.
It reminds me of a field trip I took with my class two years ago to the fire station. The firefighter explained that in a serious accident, if someone is on fire- eventually they stop feeling the pain. It’s the body’s way of protecting itself. Eventually you will just shut down and your brain will protect you from experiencing more than you can bear. I feel like, in many ways I’m there. I’m not sure if it’s good or bad to be there. But I’m there.
I’ve have so many emails to respond to- (over 640 alone regarding my letter writing project), many regarding my last post. I did go to the doctor and they said that the hair and nail loss is definitely stressed based (then I gave everyone a high five for gold medaling in BEING OBVIOUS) and I go back this Friday to do more testing and possibly go on medication. So that’s that.
In other news, I registered for #Bisc. Because every year since it started I said I was going to go and because I’m pretty sure that people who love The West Wing as much as I do are going to be my kind of people. Besides, it’s Vegas. I’m sure Mubarak and I could be friends in Vegas. (JUST KIDDING. DON’T SEND ME HATE MAIL). It’s unlike me to register for something like this out of the blue, but it seemed like something I needed to do. So, I’m going. And you should too. Because I’m currently roomate-less. (LADY, ARE YOU LISTENING?).
Speaking of all things blogger, um… I found out the other day that I’m up for two 2osb awards. Funniest Blogger (which? I honestly have to say made me laugh out loud considering that my last five posts have all dealt with pretty much the saddest things ON THE ENTIRE PLANET) and “Least Likely to get marked as read”. My blogging is sporadic (to be kind), so I’m not hopeful or expecting anything to come of this- and really- I mean that. This isn’t me Susan Lucci’ing you all, I just am totally flabbergasted that I got nominated. If you are a member, please vote. Not for me, but who you think deserves it. Because if there’s one thing that makes me want to punch a baby, is reading all those posts AFTER voting is over where people say they are unhappy over who won but they didn’t vote. Reading over the nomination list I also realized that holy hell, I know only roughly 1.3432% of the bloggers nominated.
Lastly. I’ve been working on being grateful for the things I do have and the people who have showed up for me when I was (am?) falling apart. I realized how lucky I was while gchatting with Nicole and mentioning to her how I was a wee bit apprehensive about #BISC due to the fact that I’m currently battling the sads. And she said something about how even if I did get sad? That I’d be around caring people and would have so much support. Then we started talking about liquior and life sized cut-outs of Josh Lyman and then things got CAPSY. But what stuck with me (other than the idea that Vegas now needs a life-sized cut out of Josh Lyman) is that Nicole is right. I know this. I know this because while everything around me has crumbled- it’s been you who has been there to answer 3 am texts and calls and respond to my 5th email of the day saying I’m sad. It was so many of you who I turned to last March when I sat in Seattle and this Christmas while I stared at presents that didn’t get unwrapped. It’s been so many of you that knew how much I needed an email and reached out and sent care packages and cards and DM’s. So thank you. If this paragraph got a hastag it would be #thankyouforgettingit OR #bloggingcommunitiesftw.
And now I present the longest thank you ever. With link love that would make anyone impressed…
Thank you Miss Brookem. For checking in daily, for all those emails and for CONSIDERING TO BE MY VEGAS ROOMMATE. Thank you Laurie for your kind words, for Love Harder, for always saying what I needed to hear. To Amy for sharing so much and introducing me to WhatsApp- which has made my life so much better (and cheaper! Hello free texting to the USA!). To Renee who made me laugh and looked up flight costs and for a care package that could not have been more perfect for me. To Beth and Shannon who answered every email I ever sent- no matter how redundant or how sad (and Shannon, I really think we need to continue our plan to form a Babysitters Club). To Garnet who sent me emails throughout January that were read over and over again. To Ben, who wrote an email so… genuinely heartfelt that got printed out and stuck in my bag to read when I’m at my lowest. To Andrea, who dealt with sporadic and random emails where I complain about not sleeping. To Lesley, who reminded me of what I’m worth. To Rachel who left a comment that has stuck with me through everything- “Accept the help that this wonderful community will offer you. You don’t need to carry this weight anymore, let us help.”, that felt like.. such a relief the first time I heard it. To Miss Jamie who made me feel less alone (get thee to Vegas, wizarding talk awaits). To Maxie for her email and for the Josh Lyman photo that will forever be burned into my brain. To Nicole, for giving me something to look forward to. To Sizzle for the kind words that came just when I needed them. And to every other person who has emailed or called or texted. I have over 600 emails from people- each sharing an address and sometimes a story or joke or offer to send me cat youtube videos and I am thankful to every single one of you.
AND OR COURSE, TO JOSH LYMAN FOR REPLYING TO ME ON TWITTER.
I think that’s it. A thank you worthy of an Oscar. My work here is done.
*You are sad that I didn’t throw in a “JUST KIDDING” after that, aren’t you?
Posted by brandy in i love fragment sentences, love harder, overwhelmed doesn't even begin..., right on my sleeve, secrets, things I don't say outloud, too emo for comments, when i say it anyway, who needs a self help book?.
It’s Tuesday right now.
Of course, you are reading this on a Wednesday. Or, if you are like me (and hate google reader), you are reading this 2 months from now on a lovely March day while preparing your liver for St. Patricks Day and stomach assaulting *Irish carbombs.
Either way. I’m writing this yesterday. (That sentence makes little sense but also blew my mind.)
So, the reason why I’m writing this a day before and using the romantic ability to plan a later publish date is on the day you read this I’m going to be in the hospital. Hopefully. Not for an unending case of the sads- which I’m still going through, despite my attempts to be witty and throw you off with Irish drinking throw ins. No, I’m going to be at the hospital because my hair if falling out. In.. clumps. And there’s the problem of getting less than two hours of sleep each night. (Which, almost sounds bearable but less than 2 hours of sleep a night while teaching children a unit on sound, resulting in 17 eight year olds using tuning forks and banjos each morning and **sleep sort of becomes crucial). And (IF YOU CAN’T HANDLE GROSS THINGS, STOP READING RIGHT NOW), there’s the tiny issue of my fingernails all starting to die. Or fall off or something. I assure you, it’s less gross than I just made it sound.
(I started to try and make that fingernail thing sound better, but you know those situations where you try to make something sound better so badly that it ends up sounding ten times worse and scaring people? Yeah. So delete, delete, delete).
MOVING ON.
It’s snowed over 4 feet here now. FOUR FEET. FOUR FEET. I’m blaming all these health issues on the snow and being cold (which makes sense since I just spent 5 days in Las Vegas when I was a sweatasaurous), but let’s ignore that. I’m blaming the snow. Because the idea that my hair is falling out, I could use the hives on my limbs to connect Ursa Major and my body is basically quitting on me due to the fact that my heart is shattered.. well that is just a little too much to handle right now.
So let’s blame the snow. Let’s blame it for going to bed each night soaked in sadness. Driving to work everyday, panicking because I can feel an intense and unyielding sorrow flood every inch of my body, right down to my toes. The kind of sad that seeps in- crawling through each limb causing arms and legs to turn to concrete. The kind of sad that leaves me breathless in it’s enormity and scared at it’s abilities. I blame the snow for the fact that someone I love is making all the wrong choices and I am powerless to stop it. I’m blaming snow for the hives that are leaving scars, the painful ache in my stomach that will not leave and the fact that I am up at 3 am each night watching Planet Earth, willing myself to care enough about elephants to stop crying. Let’s blame the snow for feeling…. absolutely invisible to everyone and everything. Let’s blame it for sobbing in airports and weeping in Margaritaville. Let’s blame the snow for wishing to get lost in a crowd and wondering if I would ever want to be found. Let’s blame it for feeling isolated from every single person I love. Every. Single. Person. Let’s blame the snow for feeling like whatever was ‘magic’ about me has left the building and has taken up residence in far happier girls who love cupcakes and glitter and who dot all their i’s with hearts. Girls who will never consider buying undereye concealer in bulk. Let’s blame the snow.
Let’s blame the snow for everything and then move on. Because tomorrow has to be better. Or it will be worse. But either way it will end and a new day will start. And I will still be here writing posts from yesterday.
* aka the only shot that has made me actually puke immediately after consuming. Try not to fall in love with me, okay?
** And when I say “sleep becomes crucial“, I mean, without sleep- I turn into someone who looks as sullen as Bella Swan, is as distracted as a high Courtney Love and is as emotional as that chick on Bridelplasty who didn’t win a damn thing.
Posted by brandy in I am worried about my TLC viewing consumption, the secret project.
It’s The Secret Project time.
But before I share it, a few things:
1. Holy cats. My inbox is insane right now. I have no idea how many submissions I have received, but I’m always looking for more. I’m really thankful for everyone who has volunteered. I tend to hyperventilate if I have more than 20 emails in my inbox (see #7), and I currently am wading in a 4-digit email inbox. And I couldn’t be happier. Keep volunteering! (Besides being a project for me to dig into as I sort through.. well, everything- it’s been a wonderful excuse to look at my porn- aka. stationary options. Hooray.)
2. TLC’s Extreme Couponing. What. The. Fuck.
3. I have a metric ton of The Secret Project submissions to tend to, but this one seemed like it needed it’s own post. Please feel free to respond and offer your insights (especially since I know so many of you are photographers). Also? I was asked by two people who posted in last months The Secret Project post to say THANK YOU, to those who responded because it made a huge difference to both of them.
4. One last thing about the 365 Letter Project: you guys are hilarious. I had at least 20 people write in with “… and if you are a serial killer, I know karate/kickboxing/ways to kick your ass”. I promise I’m not a bad person.
Okay. Now on to the secret….
I was the photographer for my brother’s wedding last year. They still do not have the pics. I haven’t even finished editing all of them. I am not a full-time photographer and my regular job took a lot of my time {I was just let go at my company}. From the very beginning, I explained to them that I didn’t want to do the job because I was still learning my camera settings and I hate editing. My mom and my brother had me cornered to talk me into it. My brother’s comment was “do it as a wedding gift to us.” The thing is that there’s no way I would give anyone that extreme of a wedding gift. I was at their wedding for 12 hours and never even got a piece of cake! My hands ached because my lens was so heavy and my legs were throbbing in pain from walking around for 12 hours straight! I remember sleeping for like 10 hours that night, I was exhausted. My sister-in-law was a B**** the whole day… actually she always is. She was so uncooperative! I hate the fact that I never got to enjoy my little brother getting married. They never paid me but I’m trying to be understanding since that was the deal, as it was a gift. I just can’t believe that I let them con me into that. I don’t know if I should just give them an unedited CD of the pics or edit them in a rush and give it to them over the holidays. I will never do anything like that for family again, especially now that my photography side business is growing and getting better. Of course, if i ever vented about this to any of my clients they would walk away. I wish people understood how hard photography really is.. especially when working with bridezillas.
Posted by brandy in a possible regret, because "guilt" is a dirty word, fingers crossed this works, help, I like annoying people by talking about how much i like comic sans, i love fragment sentences, i might be addicted to tags, i need to spend more time on spelling, I sound drunk but I assure you I am not, I'm scared to see the search engine results to this, it seemed like a good idea at the time..., it's a long one (twss), italics make it appear more thoughtful/interesting, love harder, quote of the day, self improvement, swimming in a sea of self pity, the title says it all, today has been crummy, when i ask you to do things for me, you're skimming this one.
You know what the weird thing is? (Other than starting posts with a random question) It’s the fact that right now, my world is full of extremes. I’m either locking myself in the bathroom at work with the taps running so people can’t hear me cry or I’m stifling a laugh when one of my students comes to school with a stuffed rodent and proclaims to everyone “Get over here and touch my beaver! I’ve got the softest beaver in the wooooooooorld“. The downside of course, is that a second after you catch yourself smiling, you feel guilty. Like being depressed means YOU MUST BE SAD EVERY SECOND OF EVERYDAY- and I assure you, that’s almost the case. But for 7 seconds today it wasn’t. And I’ve been wrestling with that all evening. And will continue until it’s 4am and I realize I haven’t cleaned the bathroom yet.
(Keep reading, this post gets less boring. And it involves audience participation).
It’s also a battle to even decide to write something. I know HAD is reading this and like I said, I really dislike that he will get a continued update on my life, while I get an ulcer worrying about his- since he’s decided to cut me out like I’m a baby killer or jeggings manufacturer. I make jokes because it’s easier. The truth is, there is a physical pain that I feel worrying and never knowing what is going on. But, like everything else- I will figure out how to deal with it. THE POINT OF THIS RAMBLE, was to talk about how I miss writing. A lot, actually. And not just writing things where people feel the need to talk about how great you are so you don’t harm yourself, but writing of any kind. I miss thinking of the best way to describe my day, or finding the perfect word- or even creative writing. (Sidenote: If you haven’t checked this project out I was a part of, read it. Go now. This blog will wait).
Anyway. I’ve read a lot of books on happiness (and this was before I was actually unhappy. I’m just someone who likes reading books on anything and reading about happiness seemed like a smart thing to read about. Ditto all those “Survival Books”. You joke, but when the world is ending, I’m going to know how to dilute and drink my own urine and you won’t.) and the reoccurring message is that when you are sad, it’s good to think about others rather than yourself. Which makes sense because when I think about myself, all that comes to mind is “I’m sad. I’ve never been this sad. I’m never going to stop being sad. Rinse, lather, repeat“. Which? If you reeeeeally think about it, isn’t the positive self mantra that ensures an ulcer free existence. So the point of this paragraph is (somewhere all my English teachers collectively began to weep), is that I want to write more.
So… I’ve decided that I’m going to write a letter every single day for the entire year. To everyone. And anyone. I’m really not one thousand percent sure what I hope to accomplish but I figure the following will at the very least occur:
1. I will improve my penmanship. Or should I say.. my penmanship. (For some reason, writing in italics makes me think fancy and end each sentence with ‘oh la la’. Or should I say… ‘oh la la‘ .. okay I will stop.).
2. I will become an expert stamp licker.
3. I will get to show off my favourite purple pen.
4. I will get to show off how poorly I spell without the use of spellcheck.
So this is where I need your help. I know I know (again, teachers are weeping at my excellent writing skillz), 365 people, but I thought it would be nice to open this up to the blogging world. I’ve already started on the 1st- I’m a stickler for rules and I have to say it felt kinda good being nice to others and not thinking of myself each second of the entire day. If you’d like a letter/note, email me your address. I’m not kidding. Sure, this may be a little.. ridiculous but this is cheaper than therapy (a joke that only works for people who aren’t in therapy, which I AM in… BUT STILL). I’m working on getting outside of my head a little and I need a project until I find a support group for bloggers who need creative outlets. (NOT *ETSY). I need to write the letter more than you need the letter, so just send me your address to (brandyismagic@gmail.com).
The end
(I thought since I was trying to make my English teachers weep, I should end with that)
(But not really the end. Because I haven’t mentioned Churchill. And the fact that his quote “If you are going through hell, keep going“, was the only reason I got out of bed today. If he was alive, he’d be getting a letter).
(Also to the person who sent me a six paragraph email talking about why I deserved everything that’s going on… fuck you. And you don’t get a letter.)
*I’m not anti-Etsy (in fact, I have a lovely cowl from this shop that I adore). I’m anti- me-creating-etsy-products because my crafting ability is best showcased alongside my third grade class.
Writing to you from yesterday January 19, 2011
Posted by brandy in i love fragment sentences, love harder, overwhelmed doesn't even begin..., right on my sleeve, secrets, things I don't say outloud, too emo for comments, when i say it anyway, who needs a self help book?.comments closed
It’s Tuesday right now.
Of course, you are reading this on a Wednesday. Or, if you are like me (and hate google reader), you are reading this 2 months from now on a lovely March day while preparing your liver for St. Patricks Day and stomach assaulting *Irish carbombs.
Either way. I’m writing this yesterday. (That sentence makes little sense but also blew my mind.)
So, the reason why I’m writing this a day before and using the romantic ability to plan a later publish date is on the day you read this I’m going to be in the hospital. Hopefully. Not for an unending case of the sads- which I’m still going through, despite my attempts to be witty and throw you off with Irish drinking throw ins. No, I’m going to be at the hospital because my hair if falling out. In.. clumps. And there’s the problem of getting less than two hours of sleep each night. (Which, almost sounds bearable but less than 2 hours of sleep a night while teaching children a unit on sound, resulting in 17 eight year olds using tuning forks and banjos each morning and **sleep sort of becomes crucial). And (IF YOU CAN’T HANDLE GROSS THINGS, STOP READING RIGHT NOW), there’s the tiny issue of my fingernails all starting to die. Or fall off or something. I assure you, it’s less gross than I just made it sound.
(I started to try and make that fingernail thing sound better, but you know those situations where you try to make something sound better so badly that it ends up sounding ten times worse and scaring people? Yeah. So delete, delete, delete).
MOVING ON.
It’s snowed over 4 feet here now. FOUR FEET. FOUR FEET. I’m blaming all these health issues on the snow and being cold (which makes sense since I just spent 5 days in Las Vegas when I was a sweatasaurous), but let’s ignore that. I’m blaming the snow. Because the idea that my hair is falling out, I could use the hives on my limbs to connect Ursa Major and my body is basically quitting on me due to the fact that my heart is shattered.. well that is just a little too much to handle right now.
So let’s blame the snow. Let’s blame it for going to bed each night soaked in sadness. Driving to work everyday, panicking because I can feel an intense and unyielding sorrow flood every inch of my body, right down to my toes. The kind of sad that seeps in- crawling through each limb causing arms and legs to turn to concrete. The kind of sad that leaves me breathless in it’s enormity and scared at it’s abilities. I blame the snow for the fact that someone I love is making all the wrong choices and I am powerless to stop it. I’m blaming snow for the hives that are leaving scars, the painful ache in my stomach that will not leave and the fact that I am up at 3 am each night watching Planet Earth, willing myself to care enough about elephants to stop crying. Let’s blame the snow for feeling…. absolutely invisible to everyone and everything. Let’s blame it for sobbing in airports and weeping in Margaritaville. Let’s blame the snow for wishing to get lost in a crowd and wondering if I would ever want to be found. Let’s blame it for feeling isolated from every single person I love. Every. Single. Person. Let’s blame the snow for feeling like whatever was ‘magic’ about me has left the building and has taken up residence in far happier girls who love cupcakes and glitter and who dot all their i’s with hearts. Girls who will never consider buying undereye concealer in bulk. Let’s blame the snow.
Let’s blame the snow for everything and then move on. Because tomorrow has to be better. Or it will be worse. But either way it will end and a new day will start. And I will still be here writing posts from yesterday.
* aka the only shot that has made me actually puke immediately after consuming. Try not to fall in love with me, okay?
** And when I say “sleep becomes crucial“, I mean, without sleep- I turn into someone who looks as sullen as Bella Swan, is as distracted as a high Courtney Love and is as emotional as that chick on Bridelplasty who didn’t win a damn thing.