I will begin this post by saying that this is not an advice blog; it’s not a resource for insight or direction, and it’s certainly not a layover for inspiration. This blog was born of confusion and distress, and the content you’ll find here is simply for consideration and connectivity. I will never claim to be an authority on any topic, nor will I try to impress upon others how they should live their lives.
I wasn’t going to write about this, this week. In fact, I never really considered writing about depression and posting it here, but just like anything else, life isn’t perfect and sometimes it has other plans. Indeed, yesterday this world lost Chester Bennington to suicide — an event that has affected me greatly and encouraged me to write about this topic because it’s real, it’s important, it’s tragic, and it impacts so many of us. Continue reading “Adult depression: The art of drowning inside your own mind”
ATTENTION WRITERS: Your best friends? They ain’t gonna read your sh@t, and it’s not because you’re a bad writer, no — they’re just … not gonna. Let me rewind and try to put this in perspective before I’m disowned/unfollowed/unfriended by everyone I have ever known.
Friendships, as they age, undergo growing pains. As an adult, you’re very lucky to retain your childhood friends. In fact, most adults (I’ve noticed) collect adult friends because circumstances with childhood friends change drastically over time. When you’re a kid, oh, boy, it is total emersion; you and your best friend are one unit! You wear the charms and obsess over the same things. You go to school with them, probably, and spend tons of time with them on the weekends because you’re not busy being an adult yet. You are completely awash with all things “best friend,” and this is often reciprocated, because what else is there socially when you’re – I don’t know – 12 years old? Continue reading “Your best friends are not your biggest fans”
I’ve got it bad. There’s this movie I’ve seen three times in the theater (going a fourth time today); I keep returning just to see one character on the big screen. I listen to the soundtrack every chance I get. I have the Pop! toy. I bought the t-shirt. I’m writing the fanfiction. I’m downloading and uploading the gifs. I’m scouring Tumblr and every hiding place on the Internet for stills and manips. I’m reading all, and I mean all, of the interviews. I’m interjecting in fan theories. I’m thinking about the next movie already. I’m considering more work on my tattoo. *takes deep breath* Continue reading “Are we sinking? The fandom at 38”
One hundred percent, if I come to your house and your toilet is dirty, I’m gonna hate you a little.
I’ll wait for you to gasp and distort your face into all kinds of mispleased and offended horror. *pauses; taps foot* Ya good now? Ya know why you should be? Because you’re going to judge me for my dirty tank top. Stay with me here.
Here’s the thing about working full time, keeping a place, running errands, meeting social obligations, showing up for appointments, working even more, and sleeping: there is no – and I will repeat – NO balance. I don’t care what kind of inspired swill you’ve been reading about work-life balance, and connecting with your spiritual center — some of us are just not born to achieve this type of balance. When you are trying to accomplish all things in adult life, balance seems like a weird and almost annoying dream. How do some people get everything done and still manage to curl their hair in the morning? Not this breed, I’ll tell ya. I’m always heavier on one end of the completion record when it comes to obligatory domestic fulfillment than the other. Still, there are certain fundamentals in my book that need to be met if you’re out there hoofing it on your own. Here are two of them. Continue reading “Life Balance: My tank top’s dirty, but my toilet’s clean”
Click, clack, click, clack. You know the sound. It’s on the street; in your office building; at the bar — ladies in heels, working their skillful lady feet. For some, heels are an everyday affair, and I appreciate that, but in my world? The affair is more like a shoe fart. Ya know, the kind your feet make as they rub against the back of your sneakers if you’re wearing the right wrong socks.
Look, I don’t really know how to navigate heels, and if I find myself in a position where I need to wear them, things change. Like, the Earth pivots a bit on its axis and entire worlds are suddenly under threat of mass calamity. “Renee is walking in heels! Run for your lives!” Continue reading “I’m wearing heels and it’s party practice, OK?”
Becoming an adult is special kind of treat, and when I say “special,” I mean that the progression from adolescence into adulthood is like a super-dare. “Here, [name], have this lollypop! No, you don’t have a choice. It will be delicious on the outside, but when you get to the center, it will either be filled with chocolate-y goodness, or stuffed with puss and maggots.” And that’s kind of what growing into an adult is like … I think.
Look, I’m not a fan of the term, “adulting.” On the contrary, I think it’s a stupid verb that lazy, entitled teat-suckers use to joke about the difficulties of “growing up.” Oh, man, I’m already using a lot of quotes in this post to articulate my dismay. In any case, I tire of whiners who have trouble wiping their own bums and taking care of business because there is this new standard to which people subscribe that they are owed something once they – oh, I don’t know – turn 21; graduate from college; get their first job; get dumped from their parents’ health insurance; move out? Really, just insert any one of those life events into the sentence and it will apply. Look, lots of people are crawing about being adults and what being an adult means, and I hate them. Every. Single. One. Still, I can kinda relate, and as that’s the case, I got to thinking: “Man, there must be a way for me to communicate the struggles of adulthood, or life, as the case may be, without sounding like a complete priss.” *waves hands enthusiastically at computer screen* Well, welcome to my blog: The Stumble is Real: A blog for misdirected, confused and underachieving adults.
Continue reading “Welcome to The Stumble is Real”