The Gender Agenda

My inner 12 year old is screaming right now.
My inner 12 year old is squealing with joy right now.

I remember being treated to McDonald’s as a kid after school or on the weekend because at the time, fast food wasn’t as terrifyingly unhealthy for you like today. Trans fat for everyone, baby! Gimme dat Happy Meal.

It was the best meal ever because not only did I get french fries (and seriously, FYEAH FRENCH FRIES, AM I RIGHT?), but I got a freaking toy, too! We would drive up in our rad Aerostar van and my parents would let me order, which made me feel like a total grown-up and resulted in me beaming at them for instilling so much responsibility in me. It was kind of a big deal. But the absolute best part was the TOY. When we pulled up to the speaker, I would squint and strain my eyes in order to see which awesome toy collection they were currently carrying. I remember being particularly obsessed with the Barbies and the mini Beanie Babies. I wasn’t really into toy cars, so I never cared for the Hot Wheels collection. But in all honesty, I never remember thinking one way or the other about ordering the “boy” toys instead of the “girl” ones. It never occurred to me that I couldn’t have the former, but they just weren’t as cool as the girl ones (in my 12-year-old opinion.) Continue reading “The Gender Agenda”

Rant: Med-i-cate! Med-i-cate!

48828351You guys know that I am pretty much an open book, whether for good or bad. But one thing I try not to go too into depth about is my family life. There’s some stuff that I don’t think I really need to air onto the interwebs, but today, it pissed me off enough to merit blogging. My nephew is 6 and 3/4, according to him. He is hilarious, obnoxious, sensitive, and basically the typical 7-year-old boy. He loves LEGO, Minecraft, and fart jokes. He ninja fights me in Best Buy and pretends to beat-box when we get near the stereos. He’s pretty awesome when he isn’t driving me a little crazy and because of things, he’s more or less like my little brother. Continue reading “Rant: Med-i-cate! Med-i-cate!”

Gone, but Not Forgotten

1660912_10101512567344867_8138556228651162168_nIt’s been a while. I just haven’t been myself lately and to be honest, it’s been a bit miserable at times. I think a big factor is that I haven’t worked out or written in quite some time. Both are vital to relieving stress and the emotional vomit that suffocates my thoughts on an hourly basis. When I don’t purge, it builds up, makes me ill, and … you probably get the picture.

I caught a pretty rotten flu bug at MegaCon (which was AWESOME by the way and I hope to write about that soon) that knocked me out and still isnt quite ready to leave. I’ve just been constantly tired and stress probably isn’t helping. I’ve sat down to write about so many things, but each time I find myself exhausted behind the keyboard and pass out in bed. It’s taken flying tens of thousands of feet above the ground, locked inside a metal tube with a hundred other passengers, coughing, crying, snoring, and yes – they’re farting, too. There’s also this one guy a few rows behind me who has in fact sneezed 20 times since I started writing this post. Seriously, is there a doctor on this ship? It’s times like these that make me grateful to not have a superseeing power because the rolling clouds of devious germs in the air would make me want to jump. Hopefully I would be the kind of hero who could fly, too. Continue reading “Gone, but Not Forgotten”

My Secret Life with Depression

I don’t know why, but I am ashamed to admit that I’m depressed. In fact, I’m dreading posting this; all I can think of is the judgment from others, possible damage to future job opportunities (hey, this employee has issues; stay clear!), and a lesser opinion of me from my friends. If I admit to not being a fully confident and happy member of society, will society continue to accept me?

My mind can be a beautiful and magical place capable of so much good,  but when it isn’t, it’s a master at manufacturing misery.

Today I received a “sanity check” after reading an unexpected blog entry from Wil Wheaton. I have followed Wil for a year or two on Twitter.  I have had the extreme pleasure of talking to him, even sharing drinks and arguing in a cats vs. dogs discussion (duh, dogs). I’ve really enjoyed getting to know the people he knows – they are all amazing – and learning about his personality, the things important to him, his gorgeous dog Marlowe, his amazing wife, and their perfect Twitter banter. (Jesus, I sound like an obsessed fangirl – I swear to God, I just love good people.)

From my little place in the world, he looks happy. He gets to do things and go places I have only dreamed of, like watching the hero in a film – a far-off reality of what could be, but won’t come to happen in my simple life. But today when I clicked the familiar link to his blog, I began reading and tears started falling down my face. It was his writing but those were my words on the page. The familiar disappointment; the tone; the despair – all of it. I couldn’t breathe because here was the written manifestation of everything I have been dealing with over the last few weeks and it was coming from someone I consider to be on an entirely unreachable level.

Continue reading “My Secret Life with Depression”