Take Your Medicine

I’ve been on a wild ride these last 6 months; I left a job that made me miserable, I started a job that I actually liked, I started going to a real college, (there’s also this whole “pandemic” thing going on as well), but the biggest change was that I didn’t take my meds for the first time in years.

It seemed like such a simple thing to do: call your doctor and have them send your prescription to the pharmacy 10 minutes away from my house. That’s the shitty thing about ADHD; things that should be easy are cripplingly difficult. Every time I tried to call in the order, I was put on hold for half an hour because some dumb-dumb who had bad Chinese food last week thought they had the ‘Rona, called their doctor, and clogged up the phone line so people like me who have no patience for phone calls would get angry and hang up.

This continued for months, and as time progressed, I started to notice subtle differences in my behavior, which is wild because I don’t usually notice changes in anything, let alone my own life. My working memory is terrible, if someone put a gun to my mother’s head and asked me what I ate for dinner a week ago, I’d have to say goodbye to Ma Dukes, because I can barely remember what I said a minute ago, let alone a week ago. This is where medication comes in handy. Without it, my brain is in complete control, and instead of doing normal people things, it keeps me up at night thinking about things like “Did people in Star Wars use cotton to make their clothes, or is it some other sci-fi space material? I was up until 5am thinking about this last night. Take your medicine.

I finally got my prescription filled, it took a whole hell of a lot longer than I’d liked, but it’s done, and that’s all that matters. The shitty part is what’s gonna happen after 6 months of not taking my meds is suddenly interrupted by an infusion of the strongest amphetamines science has ever created. I’ll probably be up until 5 again tonight, but for much different reasons. Take your fucking medicine.

Jon Hamm: More Than Just Don Draper

Can we talk about how good an actor Jon Hamm is? I’m a huge Mad Men fan, so I might be a little biased.

Due to my recent unemployment career transition, I’ve had some time on my hands. I have mostly spent this time staring at walls, trying to muster the energy to get out of bed, and when I can’t, I turn to movies and TV to help me escape that 9×5 prison. This has led me to discover Jon Hamm’s acting chops.

He was an incredible Don Draper: silent, brooding, brilliantly troubled, but there were moments that showed that Jon Hamm had actual range. If you remember Season 6’s “The Crash” (better known as “that episode where SCDP gets amphetamine shots and goes on a manic creative bender”), you can see that Jon Hamm is an incredible comedic presence too.

Fast-forward to 2 weeks ago: I mustered the energy to drag myself downstairs to the family room, where I blew through On-Demand movies for 9 hours before giving up and staring at a blank screen for another 3. It was during this time where I discovered the movie Tag.

Tag is based off of the true story of a group of friends that gets together to play tag one month a year. It’s a star-studded ensemble cast of talented comedic actors and actresses, and Jon Hamm. I was a little high, which may have influenced my decision, but in the end, Tag is a heartwarming film about adult friendship, childhood promises, and seeing Jake Johnson get super baked with Jason Sudeikis.

In the film, Jon Hamm is an insurance executive, so your first image of him is pure Draper:  tailored suit, giant corner office, being interviewed by the Wall Street Journal for being awesome at what he does. This is quickly subverted by Jason Sudeikis jumping out of a trashcan to try and tag him, causing him to dip out of the interview to run screaming through the halls of his agency. Don Draper would be ashamed of his outward expression of any emotion not quelled by cheap whiskey. The movie goes on to establish him as an awkward child who hasn’t gotten over his childhood crush, which is a nice change from Mr. “I like to cheat on my gorgeous wife” Draper, and Mr. “Let’s have a shootout with the police” Buddy from Baby Driver. I’d get more into how much Jon Hamm kills it in Baby Driver, but I want to keep this relatively short.  Now, Tag isn’t the best movie in the world, it’s super cheesy and stupid at times, but like pretty much every Jason Sudeikis movie, it’s just dumb fun. My advice- eat an edible, crack open a couple beers, and let this movie wash over you. It also stars Rashida Jones and Isla Fischer, so if you don’t like the comedic stylings of Jon Hamm, Jake Johnson, Jeremy Renner, and Jason Sudeikis, you can always watch them absolutely crush this film.

Tears of a Clown

It’s kind of wild to watch yourself lose control. It’s like being trapped in a sound-proof glass box while someone else controls your body; you see yourself say and do all these things that you hate, and no matter how hard you punch and kick and yell at the box, you can’t break out of it and stop yourself.

I haven’t worn pants since Sunday. I haven’t eaten much, and I definitely haven’t gone outside. Sometimes I don’t do anything but sit in bed and stare at the wall, hoping that I’ll fall asleep, and that today will be over.

It’s getting worse. Usually I can fight it off, but I’m getting tired now. I know that I should stop drinking, that I should find a job, that I should work out like I used to, that I should reach out to my friends and see if they’re okay, even if I’m not. I know I should do all of these things, but I can’t for some reason. It’s like my car is out of gas, and the nearest gas station is 20 miles away, and I’ve got to crawl there.

I really just want to pretend I’m okay. My mom told me the other day that she feels pain when I’m hurt, even from small things. I don’t have the heart to hurt her by telling her how miserable I am. My parents are amazing, they’ve given me every advantage they could, they’ve loved me even though I’ve been a piece of shit, and they deserve to live the rest of their lives in happiness.

I want to be better. I want to make my family and friends proud, but I don’t know if I can. My friends haven’t noticed that I’m slowly losing my mind, but I’ve worked very hard to keep it that way. I don’t want them to worry about me, and I definitely don’t want them to tell my parents, there’s already enough pain in the world today, I don’t want to add any more to it.

Harvesting Happiness

I’ve been in a bit of a funk lately, so I haven’t writing too much. I haven’t been doing much of anything lately; my job is indefinitely postponed, I’m worried that if I go outside, I’ll kill my whole family, I feel like a real-life Peter Pan, and I don’t know what to do about any of it.

There’s just so much sadness in the world right now, I can see it in the air the rare times that I go outside. People are scared, uncertain of what the future holds, and angry that it’s gotten to this point. I’ve had to fight for those fleeting milliseconds of happiness, but now, after every attempt to make life tolerable, I’ve come to the conclusion that it just isn’t enough. 

So many people I talk to say that happiness is a feeling, something that you can’t control. I think that’s bullshit.  I keep a note in my phone of everything that makes me happy, and every time I feel empty and numb, I look at that list and try to imagine the things that make me happy. It’s not a complex list, there are things like “filling your gas tank all the way up” or “finding new music” that don’t take much to achieve, but still briefly help me feel like a real person for a moment or two, and that’s so important these days. 

I’m the last person you should listen to for advice, but in this one instance, I think I’m on to something. Try it out: list the things that make you happy, and whenever you feel worthless and devoid of feeling, check that list out, it might help, it might not; I don’t know, I’m not a fucking psychologist.  

Fuck Being Famous Pt.2

As I’ve said before: FUCK BEING FAMOUS. It really does sound like the worst thing ever. Look at all these famous people who have ruined their lives trying to maintain their lifestyles. I could never do that, I’m not built for that type of shit, I just want to create and be left alone.

I’m a huge Mac Miller fan, and that might be why I hate the idea of being famous. He was an artist that wasn’t afraid to show who he was, and let his fans into his inner thoughts and feelings. It’s widely-known that Mac hated the attention that being famous put on him, Macadelic was created from the fallout of that legendary 1.0 review from Pitchfork. I’m not that confident, I’m kind of a piece of shit sometimes, so why would I want everyone and their mother to see how I act in private?

Sure, being famous has its perks; I’d love to be able to grab lunch with my favorite artists because of who I am, but it doesn’t seem like a healthy lifestyle. I already deal with the debauchery of having more money than I need, so what good would come from having access to the best comforts and drugs ever created? If I were some rich trust-fund douche-bag, I’d be dead by now, either from an overdose, or by sticking a shotgun in my mouth because I realized how little my life matters in the scheme of things, as well as how little I deserve the things I’d been given. 

My personality type isn’t suited for a life of high visibility: I can maybe deal with people an hour or two, tops, a day. If I had to answer the same basic bitch questions day in and day out, I’d end up on TMZ for beating the brakes off of some lowly journalist, and that’s not a good look. Additionally, I’ve kind of been a bit of a shithead in my life, so if people shared some texts I’ve sent while drunk at the bar, I’m definitely getting canceled.  Calling your friend “Jew Rogan”  because he’s bald, Jewish, and loves the Joe Rogan Podcast probably doesn’t look too good if he isn’t there to confirm that he thought that shit was hilarious. I don’t get the whole “cancel culture” anyway, I think people should own up to the shitty things they do, but to think that these people can’t grow from these issues is super fucking dumb, and is insulting to the hard work it takes for someone to actually better themselves. 

Another reason I would hate to be famous would be the pressure. I’m not a genius, I’m not funny enough to get famous off of my sense of humor, I’m definitely not handsome enough to get away with all the stupid shit I say, so if I were to get famous, it’d probably be from some wild Tweet, or because I’ve finally gotten good enough at writing for someone important to give a shit. Usually, I thrive under pressure, and use it as a catalyst to kick-start my creative juices, but I feel like at a certain level, when your Twitter account is inundated with thousands of requests to create more and more content, I’d feel like I’m obligated to serve my fans, since they were the ones responsible for making me famous. I can’t say for sure, since I’ve obviously never been famous, but at this point in my life, I’d fucking hate it, and that hate would be incredibly obvious in my writing, and since I’m a terrible liar, I don’t think I could hide it. 

A Letter To High School Me

Hey Dipshit,

It’s you, 8 years in the future, and I’ve gotta say: you suck, and I’m glad I’m not you anymore. You had all of the opportunities in the world, but you squandered them because you thought smoking weed before practice made you cool. It didn’t. You had all the time in the world to figure yourself out and decide what you wanted out of life, and what did you do? You got stoned and played Fallout 3 for 600 hours instead of learning how to be a person. You have ruined so many things for us; we could’ve done something worthwhile, but you just HAD to be cool, you just HAD to convince other people that you knew what you were doing, and you don’t.

I want to say that things got better, but I’m pretty sure you know that’s bullshit. You always had to convince people that you were okay, and you aren’t, and literally everyone can see that you’re not okay, so stop joking around all the time to try and hide the fact that your miserable. It only gets worse.

I found our senior yearbook, and just, wow. You really blew something special because you weren’t satisfied with what you had. That girl is waaaaaaaaaaay better off without you, you should’ve noticed that nerdy artsy girl that was always into you, she would be perfect for you, but you’re still too busy being a shallow prick to realize that. Why are you the way that you are? Why do you wear band shirts for bands you don’t listen to? Why do you think that goatee looks good? Why do you think you can get away with not studying or doing any homework? You’ve gotten lucky your whole life, and you haven’t done anything to deserve any of the things you’ve been given.

Now, you’re not all bad. I genuinely think you have a bigger heart than I do. You definitely are better at talking to people than I am, you have a much less jaded view of the world, and you would give the shirt off your back for the people you care about. Enjoy it while it lasts, along with your hairline, your iPod touch, and your faith in humanity. You lose them all in 2 years.

Begrudgingly,

You.

Purgatory

I feel like I’m in purgatory. I’m not advancing in life, I’m in the same place doing the same things with the same people. I feel like there has to be something I need to do, something I missed that will let me leave this place.

I’ve been slowly descending into exile, I don’t like doing things anymore, I spent the whole day just watching TV and existing. I’ve barely eaten, but I’m not even hungry. I don’t sleep too well anyway, so each day just keeps getting longer and longer.

I feel like I’m stuck in the tutorial level in life, and all the work I’ve done won’t translate anywhere else. My parents have gone to Maine for the month, so I can pretend I’m a real adult for awhile. It’s not much, I’d be dumb to think that I’ll have a house like this with the cool gadgets my parents worked their lives to afford, but in the meantime, it’s better than nothing. I wonder what I need to do in order to get my shit together and get out of this place, I’m tired of being here, I don’t know how much longer I can stay in this little town without permanently hindering my progress. I don’t want to be one of those people who looks back on their life and regrets never leaving. It’s hard to keep pushing through when the whole world feels like it’s crashing down on you, the only thing that keeps me going is that faint hope that things will be better someday. I hope I’m right, but I also know that I’m usually not.

I’m Not Okay

I usually feel super awkward talking about my feelings on here, but now I think I’m confident enough to speak my truth: I’m not doing well.

I was always going to be weird: you can’t just make a socially awkward only-child introvert and shelter the fuck out of them, and not get a really fucked up psuedo-adult as a result. The more I learn about the world, the less I want to be a part of it.

I’m going to die. It’s inevitable. The fucked up part is that I know how I’m going to die. I had a dream long ago where I slowly alienated the people who cared about me, until I drank myself to death. I’m terrified that it might be an accurate depiction.

I hope I’m wrong. I hope that I get to enjoy my life, but I don’t think that will be the case. I just want to be happy when I go out.

The Death of an Empire

What the fuck are we doing? Has everyone lost their goddamn mind? What in the hell is wrong with you people? We have people killing eachother over the right to protest, we have a president who should’ve been sent off to pasture years ago, and we have a percentage of the country that just wants to see the world burn.

I want to believe that we’re better than this, I want to believe that we’re still the greatest country on Earth. It’s kind of like being a Browns fan: you see their potential, but they keep fucking it up.

That picture of Minneapolis burning is iconic, it should be someone’s album cover, it speaks to everything that needs to be said right now. I’m not a good mouthpiece for change, I have no idea what I’m doing with my life, so don’t make me delve too deep into the stupid shit I say to give me that momentary serotonin hit that keeps me going.

Are You Fucking Kidding Me?

I don’t like politics, but I feel compelled to talk about the protests and the response by the police.

I’ve definitely gotten out of trouble a few times due to white privilege. I’ve gotten pulled over before, yelled the officer because I’m awkward and don’t handle stress well, and still gotten a verbal warning. If I wasn’t an upper middle-class white person, I’d probably be dead right now.

I don’t like politics, I’m not very informed, but I try to keep up with the deluge of information that flows freely through the Internet. Yes, most of the information we get is probably full of shit, and presented in a way meant to divide us, but is it better to be ignorant, or misinformed?

I know that some people feel differently, that these protests are unnecessary and an excuse to rob businesses and riot, but I disagree. Think of it this way: if you bully someone for years, and prevent them from living a normal life, you don’t get to dictate how they react when they finally stand up to you. Would you apologize for punching someone in the face after they punch you and kick you every day?

I’m torn on whether it’s best to leave this situation alone because of who I am and how I look, but I also think I have a duty to tell people that this is wrong, and we need to change.

I don’t have many suggestions on how we can change, my only halfway decent thought is that police departments need to charge officers for their crimes, and if the public sues them, they should show their full support. Additionally, maybe there could be some system like malpractice insurance that keeps police officers honest and accountable. Maybe that already exists, and I just don’t know about it.

I’ve gotta say: Minneapolis picked the worse possible time to do something shitty. We’re facing a global pandemic that has kept millions scared and unemployed, sports and concerts are canceled, so people have nothing else to keep them entertained, and no job to consider while they protest. It’s literally the dumbest possible time to kill an innocent man on camera.

We’re better than this. I don’t believe in my government, but I believe in the people of my country. We can fix this.