the wrong side of the bed

Perhaps I just don't like to think of my neighbor having sex, but it distresses me that the two times I have had to pull his laundry out of the washer or dryer I have found condom wrappers.

Labels: gross

Warning: I am going to be using the word "snap" an awful lot in this post. Can't be helped.

When I was in high school, my friend Clare and I would go through silly little obsessions. We pretend to be in love with Sting and our friend Adam. We drew pictures of woodpeckers all of the time. * We drew pictures of people with mohawks almost as frequently. ** We wrote ongoing stories about a blue stick figure and the characters in his life, like a cat named Dr. Sandoval.

We made many trips between Houston and Austin both together and separately. There used to be a warehouse with a drawing of a turtle snapping on the side. We didn't find the drawing terribly convincingly, so we would try to draw better snaps. Snaps are hard to do. You should try.

When I was in college, I briefly dated this girl name Jenn. She sat in front of me in my sociology theory class. We also new each other from the college radio station. She was a bit of a player, or absolutely a player, well before that word was popular. In class, she would sometimes grab my foot and hold it. She told me that, while she wasn't all that into me, she felt at ease opening up to me in was that she didn't with other people. Could have been a line because she was good at those things. At the time, I was also dating this guy who told me, straight up, that he loved me but was not in love with me. He often asked if I understood the difference.

Jenn and I both had shirts with snaps because we were hipsters and that was sort of the thing to do. She asked me to tear her shirt off, snap! snap! snap! She would also do this to me. It is something that thrills me to do. I currently have two shirts with snaps, and I highly recommend you yank my shirt open when you see me.

Try this: draw a snap right now. Do it. Now pull my shirt open and see what happens. Be prepared. Outcomes vary, but are never good. I could be yours forever. I could be bitter and angry. But, could you do it anyway?

* Our English teacher insisted that we always talked about woodpeckers, which we did not. This did, however lead us to throwing woodpeckers into all of our conversations. We would draw pictures of them over and over. We researched bits of trivia. Anytime she looked our way, there they would be. We did not like that teacher much.

** No real reason for that.

Labels: childhood, friends, memories

It used to be that when I was depressed I would listen to sad music. It seems that now when I am depressed I also visit epilepsy websites.

Sometimes it doesn't bother me as much, but other times taking pills everyday just reminds me of all of my problems. The pointlessness of taking the pill when I am destined to die alone and it is just making me gain weight easily. The constant need for me to take anti-anxiety/anti-depression meds so that I (supposedly) don't get really sad. The 600mg of Lamictal and 900mg of Gabapentin I take to keep the seizures at bay.

Ah, shit. A song by Daniel Johnston just came up on iTunes. Impossible Love.

Labels: epilepsy, music, pity party