Despite the almost constant feeling of being watched, I told myself it was just paranoia. I dismissed the red flags when a piece of my computer randomly vanished because it was easier to lie to myself than face the possibility that someone had been inside my house when I wasn’t there. I continued my life of isolation, skipping class so I could stay up painting and writing until 4AM. Every night ended with me shutting out the lights and crawling into the bed I kept in the middle of my living room. [Read more...]
When I was younger, I remember being told that “kids my age” always assume they’ll live forever. I never thought this applied to me, but looking back I can see that I was a bit of a risk-taker. I booked a flight to the most dangerous city in the world, backpacked in Asia by myself, and lived in a squat built atop a Superfund waste site. None of this ever seemed all that risky to me, at least not in a way that gave me anxiety—in fact, I’m not sure I really believed in anxiety before I started working at the psych ward, though my psychotic ex-boyfriend also gave me a proper introduction. [Read more...]
I know I frequently position myself as the hapless victim in my stories—what with the prevalence of stalkers, weirdos, and unstable coworkers I deal with on a regular basis. But I feel the need to be perfectly honest with you guys and admit that plenty of signs point to me as being a serial killer in the making. [Read more...]
I’d been living alone for about three months when I began to get the distinct feeling of being watched. I was 18 years old, out on my own for the first time and doing everything to keep people away—yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was under almost constant observation. It was a very subtle sort of paranoia, and one I tried to resist. It seemed far too arrogant and self-indulgent to assume anyone cared that much—yet a part of me wanted to step onto my front porch and take a deep bow.
The Director of Nursing at the hospital where I work has an office right across from mine, which means I have the privilege of overhearing whatever manic conversations he deigns to have with himself. Lately these have concentrated largely on his fear of Ebola– Which makes perfect sense because about 1/3 of our direct care workers are originally from West Africa, and I’m pretty sure that means they harbor a predisposition to spontaneously burst into airborne spores of Ebola. [Read more...]
You may find this hard to believe, but I used to be very good at keeping secrets. This was in the pre-blog, pre-internet days, before I knew how refreshing it was to let the world in on your most unflattering meltdowns and sexy bedroom talk. Back then, I could hide a dark truth so well that I’d let it tear me to pieces before I whispered a word of it. When I was a teenager, my Mom used to take me to doctor after doctor, trying to figure out why her perfectly healthy daughter was suffering from migraines, stomach ulcers, and extreme insomnia. [Read more...]
I said I wouldn’t turn this site into a wedding planning blog, but I can’t resist sharing a few choice reactions to the news that Alex/The Boyfran/AuSex and I are getting married. The first people we told were my brothers and sister-in-laws and we did it over text. Because it’s 2014 and I’m not really that big a fan of talking to people in person.They’ve been asking about our looming nuptials for at least a year now. We kept telling them that we were Brangelina-ing it and refusing to get married until everyone could. That all failed once those two decided to bail on the cause and tie the knot last month. [Read more...]
We are oft reminded that “you can’t choose your family,” but far more devastating is the fact you can’t choose your coworkers. There are precious few hours each week where we’re able to escape the oppression of these unchosen weirdys. For me, it’s a sweet, sweet freedom, knowing I won’t have to battle any mysterious smells or survivalists who think its okay to pee in trashcans. But every so often, the universe sees fit to take a shite on me by putting a coworker directly in my off-work path. [Read more...]
This Saturday, October 4th will be the one year anniversary of the day I published my first post on Hacker. Ninja. Hooker. Spy. I’d decided to start a blog a couple weeks before, in the wake of my ridiculous court battle against my ex, but it wasn’t until the asshat made an attempt to get back in my life that I finally felt like I had something to publish. I cringe when looking back through my archives– and rarely do– but was willing to at least think about it for the purpose of this most auspicious event. [Read more...]
Some people might call me lazy, but I prefer to think of myself as “inventive.” For example, I absolutely hate making multiple trips up and down the stairs in my house, so I’ve taken to keeping a huge pitcher of water next to my bed—to refill the Keurig, which is also next to my bed. That way, I only have to think about it once every five days or so. See? I’m a genius. And it doesn’t end there: [Read more...]
Given my history with men, I always knew it was inevitable that my dating bliss with The Boyfran would have to come to an end. There was no way all that woodland-creature-infused sexy talk was going to keep the relationship going forever. Though I’ll admit—I didn’t see this coming.
We actually spent the last few days together, enjoying the change from one season to the next. But I could tell something was wrong. We were walking along the edge of a riverbank, admiring the golden aspens that set the mountainsides on fire. I decided to just ask him about it. [Read more...]
It’s September, which makes me want to listen to Bob Dylan and buy sweaters. The air outside is begging for me to put on a cloak and go off in search of adventure with a party of elves, dwarfs, and Dunedain. Because obviously I am a hobbit in this particular metaphor.
I don’t know what it is about this month, but it’s pure magic. I’m going to do my best to not talk about Pumpkin Spice Lattes but to keep the focus on my habit of worrying over whether I’ve accomplished anything with my life. I’ve always been a goal setter, a list maker, and a dreamer. If you were to dig through my journals (God help you) you’d find page after page of lofty plans and well-intentioned new beginnings. [Read more...]
In the wake of my breakup with the Psycho Ex, I moved to an apartment building that added 20 minutes to my morning commute. The extra distance was worth it, as I was determined to keep out of his way and keep the drama at a minimum. The first couple months were relatively quiet. All my neighbors seemed to have a common goal of reclusiveness, until one afternoon when I spotted a young guy walking a puppy with a bright pink leash. Two thoughts immediately went through my mind: [Read more...]
I was cruising into work the other morning, my customary 3 minutes late, when a 90s one-hit-wonder came on the radio. I parked my car in my usual spot, reached for the keys, but was completely blown away by the lyrics. It was like I’d never actually listened to the words, and I just couldn’t stop. [Read more...]
When I was in middle school, I rode Bus #9 every day. We lived “out in the country” which means my family had land just beyond the city that we paid other people to mow for us. A school bus seemed exciting and Disney-like, but it was really just an introduction to my current life of drugs and mental illness.
Our bus driver was Jake/Jack– a man who alternated between these two names, depending on whether he was in a good mood or a bad mood. [Read more...]