Most assuredly my shittiest post to date.

This was the story of my entire weekend. And also, this: 

I have been beating myself up for days trying to figure out what I want to write about. It's so hard! And being creative should't be hard work, it's just supposed to flow from your body, an expression of your soul.  

I think I may be wasting my efforts on my new twitter addiction. And that's really sad, when you think about it. Or maybe I'm simply not tormented enough to be inspired. Who the fuck knows?

Hey, you ever get that thing where you feel like you could run anyone's life better than your own? I do all the time. I get so frustrated because I can see the obvious choices someone should be making but are simply too blind to see. But then I have to step back and assess whether I actually know what's best, or if I'm trying to serve myself in some way. 

I wish I could run my own life as well as I run others' in my imagination. 

The Dorkside: The Angry AV Club

The Dorkside: The Angry AV Club: I was never very popular in school, but nor did I consider myself an outcast. I always had a close group of friends (6 max), and even though...

I adored this mans tweets, and I'm digging his blog now, too!

The oddest thing just happened.

But I'll start at the beginning. 

I came home today, a wreck. The feeble foothold I had on a happier me was utterly crushed. There was, of course, no one to blame but myself, but that doesn't matter. What matters is that over the past few days, the triggers I had tucked away inside where I couldn't register them came trickling out and started to get me down. And today the straw that would inevitably brake me was placed gently on my back and shattered me completely.  It hurt so much.

It sounds weird, but in my mind's eye, I could see the pain. Hunched in the middle of my torso there was black mass eating its way through me. What I started doing at that point couldn't even be described as crying. It was more like hyperventilating - not unfamiliar to me, but it was something that hadn't happened in a very long time.  The pain grew so intense, I just didn't want to be living any more. I didn't want to kill myself or anything - I just didn't want to have existed in the first place. I started thinking back to my old methods of coping and thought maybe the pain could be eased (or at the very least, I could be distracted) by branding myself, as it had in my youth. Or better yet, maybe there was a way to dig this darkness out.

But I never got that far because, as I sat shaking with my head in my hands, something simply... snapped. Yes, snapping, that's what it felt like, or as though a switch had been flicked. Abruptly, the image of my agony disappeared and a stillness settled over my body. And I sat for what seemed like ages, staring a speck on a wall as I tried to process what was happening, before it registered: I was empty. There was no pain, there was no self-loathing, there was no sense of hopelessness. 

I felt nothing. 

I sat there for a while, insulating my precarious self with this this blissful nothingness wondering if I should be grateful that my mind took matters into its own hands and simply shut itself down before I did something stupid. Or should I start feeling concerned that what had actually happened was me legitimately loosing my mind? And furthermore, do I care?

I think for now I'll float in this emptiness until I'm capable deciding on any of the above.   

My name is...

so old.

I just learned that Homer wrote the Iliad, where my mum found my name "Kassandra", over 3,500 years ago. It's neat to be part of that kind of legacy.

I think I broke something.

I don't know what the fuck is going on any more. That fleeting period of contentment has flown the coop, and I'm left feeling like something just crumbled inside. It's different than just sadness or anger. It's despair, complete and all-encompassing, that's settled on my shoulders and wrapped its self around me, squeezing tight. Or rather, it's like a riptide trying to pull me under. For the longest time, I resisted it, I refused to cave. And then, just like that, what strength I had seemed to snap and everything I was holding back came washing over me. I've been swallowed whole by it, and I feel like I'm drowning.

Can I tell you something? It's sick, but just listen: Despite all the brief moments of true happiness I've had over the last year, even knowing that I wasn't where I was supposed to be, I'd give anything to go back to being blissfully unaware. I would take being simply content rather than this despondency. 

...When did I become such a pussy??

The Human Condition

"Life is an infectious disease. You catch it from your parents and spread it to your kids. It can't be cured, only managed."

      - Karen Star

It's a grim view of things, that's for sure. The optimist inside wants to believe that it's nonsense but the realist knows that it's often the truth. For all the charming and admirable qualities humans possess, a lot of them have an incredible knack of fucking things up for themselves. 

For every revelation I have, I seem to make a decision that takes me backwards. Every time I'm hit with some truth, some key I can use to better myself, I flout it and blatantly make what can only be described as a mistake. And that's a serious statement, because I never truly believed in mistakes. I thought of them as "life lessons". Well, what good are life lessons if you turn a blind eye and never learn from them? 

Truer words were never said.

"I'm going to make this hair my bitch."

If you're not into the frivolous chatter of a girl on the topic of hair, this post's not for you. I had a shit day and I don't feel up to delving in at the moment, so I've decided to finish this post I've had on the back burner for too long.

In my constant need for change mixed with my generation's expectation of quick fixes for everything leaves me fairly limited in my options when stagnancy settles in. In a perfect word, I could just get into a car and drive wherever I feel like, or completely overhaul my wardrobe. Unfortunately, a perfect world requires money which I, being a single woman determined to live on her own, rarely have an excess of. That's why I fuck with my hair so much. 

I remember how much of a struggle it was to get my mother to let me cut my hair short - she wasn't having any of it. I begged, bargained and put chewing gum on my head to no avail. The summer before I turned 15 I went to Ontario to visit family and, because I had no parental supervision, I chopped my then elbow-length hair right off. When I got home with hair cut just below my chin, my mother nearly fainted and I experienced my first rush of transformation. I never looked back.

With the help of the Internet, I've taken to experimenting on myself over the last year - mainly because of the Big "Bad" Breakup. D used to love my hair, provided it stuck to his idea of pretty. Mid-length, strait, and dark. So when we split, I developed a compulsion to succumb to whatever fleeting fancy I had and fuck with my hair. I let it grow like mad. I learned how to cut my own hair and gave myself blunt bangs. I tried my hand (with no great success) at the ombré trend and then hid away my hair drier and hot tools to embrace my natural curly(ish) texture.

Most recently, just to see what would happen, I've gotten on the "no 'poo" train and given up using shampoo... Don't judge! I know it sounds gross, but that's just because when I say I stopped shampooing my hair, you thought I meant I stopped washing it. Not so. Although it's been over 5 weeks since the last time a drop of chemical laden shampoo has touched my head, I still wash my locks quite frequently, usually with baking soda and apple cider vinegar. A surprisingly successful endeavor, all things considered.

I think the reason that I feel the need to keep finding new things to do with my hair is a matter of control. Sometimes, it feels like there's so little I have a handle on it drives me bonkers. I can seem to find balance, I struggle constantly with money, I have zero luck romantically... it feels nice to be able to make a swift and significant change to any aspect of my life at this point. I think to myself "I may not be able to get a grip on the rest of this train-wreck I call life, but goddammit, I'm going to make this hair my bitch."

Refreshing, really.

"We can still be friends..."

... is like saying "The dog died, but we can still keep it."

I really should have foreseen this.

I finally caved and texted the ex. I had found some of his crap in my storage room months ago but never bothered to return it. I think I was trying to be 100% positive that talking to him wouldn't evoke any negative emotions. I said something generic along lines of "Hey, how's things? I found some stuff I don't want lying around my apartment - can I mail it to your work?" As soon as I hit send, I was overwhelmed with a pulse-racing, stomach-roiling anxiety attack. Like I was scared of something but couldn't figure out why... When he said "sure, you need the address?", I should have said yep and left it at that. But, as we have established, I am a masochist (or just an idiot) and responded with "Or if you feel like catching up, I don't mind meeting up with you..." which led to instant facepalm. 

I was feeling really stupid until he unloaded a gem of a text, turning my whole day around. 

"I'm not sure," he said, "I'll have to ask Ally if it's ok." 

It was so perfectly what I needed to hear, I almost couldn't believe it. Here I am, free as a bird doing whatever the fuck I want whenever the fuck I want, and my ex tells me he needs to ask his woman's permission to meet up for coffee. It was beautiful, and guys.... it only got better from there. 

See, one of the most annoying yet slightly endearing traits this poor boy possesses is rather a dull wit. Well, that's putting it mildly. He's actually kind of an idiot (see below for the best example of all time)* which means it's ridiculously easy to make scathing remarks without him realizing. This has the dual benefit of getting your point across in the bitchiest way possible while being amused at how little he understands. This is how the conversation went, verbatim:

K: Or if you feel like catching up, I don't mind meeting you somewhere.

D: As for meeting up. I'm not sure. I'll have to ask Ally if it's ok.

K: You have to ask permission to see people? Save yourself the bother. I"ll just mail your shit over. 

D: It's not that Ally. What kind of stuff do you have that you wanna send me

K: I know what you meant, I just thought it was funny/ironic, is all. It's mostly photos from your trip home and some other stuff I don't want taking up space. 

D: Right on, you can mail it for sure. What are you up to these days? 

K: Work and social activity, writing and traveling. All the things I didn't get to do much of when we were together. Best be careful, though - this may be a little too much like catching up :)

D: Lol

Then we got into how happy we both are. I mean, yes I am happy and I said so, but this guy was  just over-the-top about how he's SO HAPPY, EXTREMELY HAPPY, THE HAPPIEST HE'S EVER BEEN. He's gotten his shit together and it's all thanks to Ally. She's amazing, she's perfect, she's everything he ever wanted, and they're engaged. Yes, engaged. Allow me to do the math for you: In September, D came to me begging me to give us one more chance, to please take him back. So that means that he met some one and proposed within seven months of meeting her. To which I responded:

K: Lol, nice - didn't waste any time with this one, eh? She already knocked up or something? :P I'm happy you're finally getting what you always wanted. I'm exactly where I want to be, too. Can you imagine if I had taken you back? Urgh, it would be terrible!

D: She truly is amazing. She's everything I can imagine and more. No she isn't knocked up, lol. She's the one for me.... It's nice to hear you're doing good, as well. I can't imagine it either. It'd prolly be pretty bad, lol.

K:Well, all you ever wanted was a biddable wife no matter what the personality, and she was willing to get married to you after 6 months or less, so she must be perfect for you, lol.

Anyways, after having made some plans to chat and exchange goods, he texted me like the coward he is to cancel. He tells me he's really happy and he doesn't want to mar it with our troubled past. At this point, I'm fairly certain that it is, in fact, Ally texting me as D does not have the capacity to verbalize emotions. 

K: Listen, if you're still having issues with the breakup, that's on you. I buried the hatched long ago and have now tried to do what you said you wanted - to be amicable. I extended the hand of friendship, but it looks as though you'll never change. And I'm sorry for you. 

D:There's no hard feelings. But also no point in becoming friends when the friendship was gone so long ago. I'm happy that you've found happiness as well (Yeah, she's totally talking on his behalf)

K: Fair enough. I'll google your work address and send you your things (selling the diamond ring tho, hope you don't mind, lol). May you have a blissful shotgun wedding, and I'll see you (hopefully) never. Bye:)

Yes. And yes. 

*Ok, and now for the funny little anecdote about how dumb this guy was. One day, while driving to meet some people for dinner, D and I got into some playful banter - as couples do, you know. After a few exchanges, I said "Yeah? Well, your face looks like feces!" The remark was greeted by silence and so I felt I had to ask: "You do know what feces is... right?"

"I'm not stupid, K," he said, evidently exasperated. "I know what a dead baby is."

Guys, I almost died that day. 

So I was half-way through (what I thought was) a hilarious post before some douche-bag came along and ruined everybody's fun. 

Thanks, ass hole. 

I'll try again tomorrow, I guess. 

Shrunken Body Syndrome

You ever get that strange feeling like you're too big for your body? It doesn't matter how you stretch or contort, you're just too vast to be contained in this shell. And  I'm not talking metaphorically, I mean you physically can't stand the discomfort. It happens to me every now and again, which only adds to my building frustration. It always dissipates for one reason or another - sometimes all it takes a career change or move, a fling or a trip. More often than not, I'll just settle back into routine and simply forget that anything happened.

I don't know, maybe I am crazy. But I do know that this feeling isn't linked to depression; it isn't marked by the usual hopelessness. All I can do while I search for a solution is try not to explode... god knows it won't be pretty if I do.