#982 The Black Clock

I am sitting in an empty computer helpdesk, and I am the only person in the entire building. The air conditioner has been turned off for the weekend, and the leather couch is calling my name. Rarely in my life do I experience absolute silence: this ain't no rural Michigan, and I ain't no farmer of genetically modified grain. I have nothing pressing to do, I have no responsibilities at this juncture, I am completely at peace, and there's no sign of inter-

TICK FUCKING TOCK I'M A MOTHERFUCKING CLOCK THAT HAS COMETH TO RAINETH ON YOUR PARADE-TH, SIMPLETON!

The black clock, only a few feet from where I sit, menacingly spins its thin red second hand. Fuck the manufacturing process, I smell the devil is afoot. You don't even spin evenly, I don't think, you cocky, French lesbian. Every second you pound out is another perversion of my eardrums, my personal space is invaded by your insistence on piercing my soul. Spare me your excuses, and spare me your inanimacy: I know your true nature is to harass and belittle me.

Please, black clock, I beg you, black clock, if it were any other day, black clock, I'd let you tick away, black clock. Today, however, I just want to sit on the leather couch in peace, while the time you imitate so willingly passes to the end of my work shift.

Please, black clock, pretty please, black clock?

Thank you black clock, you listened. We truly are friends, aren't we, black clock? I love you, black clock, don't ever leave me.

#983-THE RADIO

"Airplanes" by B.O.B, "This Afternoon" by NickelBack, "Blah, Blah, Blah" by Kesha, "(I refuse to use a dollar sign as an 'S'. That is just fucking dumb), "California Girls" by Katy Perry, "Cooler Than Me" by Mike Posner etc. All of these songs combined create this extremely POWERFUL force that has almost made me drive my car off of the road and into a telephone pole on multiple occasions. There is NO ESCAPING shitty music anymore and when you're in your car it's even worse. It's as though you're stuck in a tiny prison cell. It has come to the point where a human being doesn't have to have an OUNCE of talent to "make it" in the music industry.

Let's review these lyrics:

"And don't you dare act like you don't know, know what's up. 'Cause your nose is up. I'm approaching up. Like I can't give you Winter in the summer or summer in the winter. Miami in December."

"Boy come on get your rocks stuff. Come on put a little love in my glove box. I wanna dance with no pants on, holla."

"We got weeds in the backyard, four feet tall. Cheech and Chong probably would have smoked them all."

and of course, the EVER POPULAR:

"‎~*~*CaN We pReTeND tHat AiRpLanEs In ThE NigHt SkY aRe LyKe sHoOtInG STarS? I CoUlD RlY UsE A WiSh rIgHt NoW!1!!!*~*~"

I could go on and on and on but I don't want to be responsible for mass suicide.

I don't know about you but when I'm driving I need good tunes to ease my travels. You can't find that anymore and if you're like me and don't have a cd player/tape player in your car then you're stuck with massive amounts of bullshit-"I WANNA BE A BILLIONAIRE ~SO FRIGGIN' BADDDDDD~" NO. NO. NO. NO!!!! "~*tHe paRTY DoN'T sToP 'TiLL I wALk In*~"

And the lyrics aren't even the BIGGEST issue with the songs either. The people SINGING the lyrics make it 10x worse. Nickelback? Do they sand paper their vocal chords before singing? Kesha? What the fuck is wrong with that bitch? Her voice is a mixture between Nick Jonas' screechy yodel singing and a Pterodactyl. Mike Posner sounds like a RAPIST-"you think you're cooler than me." HOW can ANYONE drive while listening to this?!

I never remember toying with the radio tuner THIS MUCH. Doesn't it seem like the radio has taken a HUGE turn for the worse!? In the 90's you could cruise and you didn't really complain. I remember sitting in the passenger seat, eating McDonalds, listening to Celine Dion's, "Coming Back To Me Now" and absolutely LOVING LIFE. And if you weren't feeling Celine's divine vocals, you could change the channel and Seal's sexy as hale voice would great you with, "Kiss From A Rose."

NOW you change the channel from Justin Bieber's "Babbaay babbbaaay" to Eminem and Rihanna's, "LOOK ME IN THE EYEBALL...Spewin' VENOM... ~Love The Way YoU lIe~" It's like choosing between being shot 20 times in the face or being eaten alive by hungry Gorillas.

SIGH. FUUUU----!

# 984-BLOGS

Yes. I am writing a blog entry about how much I DESPISE BLOGS. SO MANY people are hopping onto this band wagon and the majority of them are arrogant pieces of shizz who just want the opportunity to boast about their lives- "Come read my blog about how to manage graduate school stress!" "Just made a blog about my NEW JOB!" NO. ONE. GIVES. A. DAMN. The only person who is going to read your blog, that is MOST LIKELY FULL of dumb fuckery, are a few Facebook friends and your mom (MAYBE). If you're between the ages of 0-25, have accomplished little to nothing important, and have created a blog giving ADVICE (ESPECIALLY ABOUT THE 'REAL WORLD')-get off of the internet. Am I the only one who feels this way!!? Guys, I am SO PASSIONATE about this. How many people are creating blogs who have ZERO actual intelligence? No one cares about your new job. And NO ONE CARES about how YOU managed to accomplish something i.e. getting into grad school or surviving the S.A.T. Save it for your diary. So maybe I just hate CERTAIN blogs and not ALL blogs. I had to get this out there. HAD. TO.

#985 REALISTIC FRICKIN' DREAMS (take two)

I just had the worst nightmare of my life, seriously. I think it was a combination of mouthwashing for too long and sleeping on the couch. Either way, I'm afraid to go to sleep again.

This nightmare was FAR worse than anything I said in my previous dreams post. Of all the torturous things my dreams have shown me, I feel as if my mind has outdone itself in its usual dickheadedness.

So the dream begins with my friend Paula Tran, my Sister Jian and I in New York deciding to see Next to Normal (aka one of my favorite Musicals in all of my lifetimes). For some reason, the fact that this theatre was surrounded by cheap diners, a McDonalds and a tire shop weren't red flags for me. We get in line for tickets and amazingly get them really cheap and at no trouble (usually this process would involve lining up at 3 or 4am in the morning outside the Booth Theatre for the $25 Rush tickets). We get tickets for the 4pm performance (which doesn't exist) and have time to kill. As we walk out of the theatre the management stares at us, and I'm not entirely sure why.

We go to get food, but because I can't decide where to eat, we don't end up actually eating. I check my watch, and it says 5pm (it's one hour fast for some reason) so we rush back into the theatre and I hear the piano intro to Next to Normal and get excited that I'm seeing it again.

On finding our seats, I look towards the stage and see a large screen instead of the beautiful blue 3-storey set. I see what kinda looks like Alice Ripley in her red suit thing, but on closer inspection it's actually a heavily concealed Calista Flockhart. I'm extremely sad at this point. The Award-Winning Broadway musical seems to have been converted into an extended Toyota ad set in Colonial times and starring, in addition to Calista as Diana, John Lithgow as a wacky version of Dan. One need not be familiar with the musical to know how disastrous and disappointing a film-musical remake/adaptation set in colonial times starring Calista Flockhart and John Lithgow would be.



The musical/film/adaptation/whatever was so terrible,in fact, that my sister walked out complaining about a migrane (extremely sweaty might I add) and Ptran walked out shortly after, answering a non-existent phone call and NEVER RETURNING.

This experiencing has been so damaging that I feel I can no longer watch anything with John Lithgow or Calista Flockhart again. Neither can I listen to the Next to Normal soundtrack without double checking the artist column in iTunes. Finally, I feel as if I can never return to the plantations in Plymouth, MA just in case the insanely in-character colonial-folk burst into avant-garde colonialized versions off what used to be songs from a modern, broken-home, dramatic broadway musical.

Needless to say, I HATED IT!

# 986 Impatient people

Why can't you wait? WHY? i.e. these two middle aged women (fanny pack and all) waltzed into Dunkin' today and the minute I saw them I KNEW they were going to give me trouble. The first lady orders her food:
"I'd like, uh, a medium hot coffee, two Splenda and cream. Also, a bacon, egg and cheese on a croissant and an order of hash browns for.99 cents PLEASE." Then her friend orders,
"I'll have an ICED coffee, coconut, THREE Splenda and MILK...DECAF. I'll have the same sandwich only on a wheat bagel." I repeat everything back to them and they confirm their order and off I go to make their shit. Mind you, I'm responsible for counter at this point so I have to make everything myself WHICH isn't a big deal because it was the afternoon and we weren't busy. I make the coffees, then I start the sandwiches and hashbrowns. We only have two ovens so obviously it's going to take a few minutes. All of a sudden I hear my co-slave, Amanda, talking and she says, 'Sam! You have counter, right?" I nod my head as I'm wrapping their sandwiches and then Amanda comes over to me and tells me that those two women were bitching about my service and they kept asking where their coffees were. The fatter of the two says, "FIGURES. It's DUNKIN' DONUTS. When will I EVER get my coffee on time!"
WHAT THE FUCK DO THEY EXPECT?!? I'm not some wizard. PLUS-they planned to sit inside and eat, so what's the rush???? So I bring them their food and coffee and one of them glances at their watch and says, "[aside] Wow. That took...[mumbles an inaccurate amount of minutes]"...right...in...front...of...me.
I'm telling you right now. DO NOT disrespect the people who are dealing with your food. ALSO, have some respect for the people who are getting paid SHIT to serve you. I am ONE person and they knew that.
I walk back to the drive thru area and a couple of minutes later one of the women walks up to the gate and exclaims, "WHERE'S MY OTHER HASH BROWN????" And I tell her, "You didn't order a second order of hashbrowns. I didn't charge you for them." And she goes, "Didn't my friend say she wanted the SAME THING as me?????" At this point I want to slam their heads into the oven and watch them burn.

Are you seriously that impatient??? Firstly, neither of them should have been eating those hashbrowns. Secondly, they can fuck off. My co-workers were telling me that they are regulars and every time they come in they complain. Whyyyyy do they come in then!??!? MAKE YOUR OWN FOOD at home. You'd be doing EVERY ONE a favor. Fucking pricks. And of course part of my job description is to just smile and agree but deep down I want to explode.


Things like that always happen at DD. It's like the customers depend on DD and without it their bodies would just disintegrate into a pile of nothingness.

I HATE IT.

#987 [Title to be decided soon...]

Both men and women can judge one another based on appearances BUT I've experienced this mostly by men. I become extremely enraged when a man second guesses my abilities as a worker, student, or whatever just because I dress a certain way or look a certain way. "Just another pretty face." So you can't look good and have a brain too? Don't fucking talk down to me because I will rip your throat out. I was told today that I wouldn't get hit on as much if I didn't wear form fitting pants as part of my uniform. So I have to wear baggy pants and make myself feel uncomfortable to try and avoid being harassed? Placing the blame on the woman is a common tactic used by men in positions of power or just men in general to make women feel even LESS in control, to feel guilty. "It's my fault I get harassed!!!" I'm sorry but I WILL NOT make alterations to my appearance just because some men can't keep in it their pants. You know? I make myself up in the morning because I just enjoy it! I'm not an object that you can play with. Little do you know-I could probably end you. Go home and jack off to porn or find a girlfriend who will put up with your shit. They're rare so good luck searching.
On a sort of related note: Today one of my male co-workers said to Alex (a female co-worker of mine) and I that he thinks that he is smarter than both of us combined. I snapped. When someone questions my intelligence based on superficial shit, I seriously turn into a beast. I don't know if he realizes this or not but he has a way of making me feel like a complete child. "Can you handle that?", "You okay over here?" Little comments like that irk me and today I finally let loose and told him how I felt about the situation (more like yelled it). I lost my cool. First of all, he is two years younger than me. Just graduated high school. SO I won't call him a man but instead a BOY. How dare he insult me and think I wasn't going to defend myself. I'm not completely sure if he was making a judgment based completely on my appearance BUT I do know THIS:
I'm goofy. I can come off as being "out there". I like to have fun and I let my guard down a lot. I don't feel the need to constantly be Miss Scholar 24/7 because who the fuck wants to do that? It's exhausting. I made a lion puppet out of a paper bag and a coffee filter because I was bored. I do that because...I JUST DO. Just because I'm a little "weird" doesn't mean I only have half of a brain. SO THIS plus the fact I take pride in my appearance gave this boy the impression that I'm a nitwit, a ditz. Gave him the impression that he can just treat me like I'm not capable of doing simple tasks. I told him I could run circles around him and he said, "You better start running." And what made me lose my cool even more was that he smiled and just laughed at me. He wasn't taking me seriously AT ALL. "Looks like I found your button." I'm glad I told him how I felt. I hardly ever stick up for myself and it felt damn good. Now he knows I will fucking rip his hair out next time he puts me down. Maybe he's just a lost cause. Maybe he's just insecure. But listen SWEETHEART, I'm more than just a pretty face and you better watch your ass while you're around me. Just sayin.

I HATE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

# 988 People who order food at the drive thru window

Disclaimer: I don't tuck my shirt into my pants like the girl does in the photograph nor do I smile that intensely at customers.

When people order food at the speaker and then wait until I'm done ringing them out to ask for MORE food, a part of me dies inside. Most people don't know this but we're on a timer. Yes. A TIMER (I hate it) so we get anxious when it starts to beep at us. But anyway, most people who order at the window act like it's my fault that I didn't know that they wanted a flatbread, for example. "I want a flatbread too :| [sighs]". Okay calm down people. I can't read your freakin' mind!!!! So the combination of the timer going off and my aggravation makes my mind explode. OH OH I FORGOT TO ADD THIS: there are usually other people waiting behind this person...just a line of people. Then when you ask the customer to pull up to the back door so we can hand them their food, they get ANGRY. Seriously? It's not the end of the world but SO many people act like it is. They thrive on Dunkin' Donuts. Without it their heart would stop beating.

# 989 Whales and Sharks

Looking at photographs of whales or watching video of a shark swimming in the water makes me shiver. I get incredibly uncomfortable at the sight of either of those two creatures. My fear of sharks is much more plausible than my fear of whales. Ever since I can remember I've hated whales. I seriously get so afraid when I see photographs of them or when I hear whale songs. It's so fucking eerie. The fact that creatures the size of buses+++ exist in this world makes me throw up. This is the reason why I dislike being in the water at the beach and I HATE being near water at night. I always imagine a giant whale eye looking up at me from beneath the surface of the water. Guys, I am so freaked out by this post right now. One day my friend Josh and I went to the beach at night just to hang out in the park area and he tried getting me to sit near the water and I almost ran away. Not being able to see into the water is so scary. You never know what lurks in the water! A bunch of fucked up sea creatures are existing down in the depths waiting to attack. The scariest of all whales is the Sperm Whale. Holy shit. My fear of this whale started after seeing the Disney cartoon Pinocchio. The whale that swallows him is horrid. Everything thing about it. Whale watching would kill me. KILL ME. The fact people do that for fun disgusts me. Why would anyone sit in a boat above a bunch of whales? If I was ever in open water amongst whales/any sea creature I would drown myself. That would be my gut instinct. I would be terrified. You know that scene in Free Willy where Willy is slamming himself up against the glass in his tank? That scene makes me cringe in fear. I almost pee myself every time.

I don't understand why I am so afraid but I am.

Sharks are just scary in general. I think most people are afraid of them. They're so gross. UGH.
So many people greet my phobia with, "But sea creatures are SO majestic!!!!! They're mysterious and beautiful!" WHAT?!
I don't know what is worse: Whales or the KKK? The line is blurred.

Omg. Now I keep imagining myself swimming in open water. ,SDKFJHASKDFHSLDJFHLASKDFSDF. Fuck that.


I HATE IT!

#990 Psychiatrists

It's no secret that I have an anxiety disorder (or is it? I'm pretty sure I've told most people, ahaha). During my Freshmen year of college I started an anxiety medication after getting approval from my therapist on campus. My therapist was amazing (I haven't seen her in a while though-WAH). Our sessions were very productive and even though she suggested Lexapro she also did cognitive behavioral therapy with me. That plus my new medication helped me tremendously! A few months later I was sent to a psychiatrist because I needed a more specific diagnosis other than just Generalized Anxiety Disorder or G.A.D. I learned VERY quickly that therapists and psychiatrists arevery, VERY different. I've only seen him two or three times in the past year and a half yet he has been so APT to give me new medications. He listened to me talk for less than 15 minutes and already had sent my pharmacy a script for a medication. At first I was like, "Hmmm, maybe he's just good at what he does? I mean, he did go to Yale!!" but after a while I became much more weary of his antics and so did my primary care doctor in my town. It seemed like he just wanted to get his patients in and out and didn't really care what they had to say. All he saw was: $$$$$$.
I have trouble sleeping sometimes because I get very anxious at night. My mind races and it just keeps me up! I told him this and he put me on this medication called-Trozodone. It's an anxiety medication which, I guess, can double as a sleeping aid. He gave me an extremely LOW does, which was good. I've been taking it for a year now and I ran out of refills just a few days ago and now I am in withdrawal. My primary care doctor doesn't want me on this medication because she says I'm too young etc (We both agree that I need to stop taking the medication ASAP). I feel like a heroine addict who just stopped heroine cold turkey. I've been experiencing heart palpitations, night sweats, crying spells, irritability and other stuff. Like WTF!? I wasn't expecting this to happen at all and I am NOT going to go to Providence to see this crack pot psychiatrist just so he can give me refills and then charge me $75 dollars for 10 minutes. He'll also probably suggest some new medications!! Fuck. THAT. I don't understand how a psychiatrist/person can just hand out medicine like candy and not give a fuck that it can be potentially dangerous. He doesn't even call to see how I'm doing. At the time I got the medication it seemed really appealing because I was in a state of desperation but now...HA, fuck Trozodone. He was like, "I even take this mediciation on long flights! It knocks me right out." So it can't be addicting, right? WRONG. I am now discovering how dependent I became on Trozodone. So now my primary doctor and I are working to help me cope without it.
When I first went to that psychiatrist I was 18, now I'm 20. I'll never go to him again.
I'm probably making a sweeping generalization that all psychiatrists are crooks but...it's probably true.

Try not to take any medications if you can help it AND really research a psychiatrist before you visit them (you're better off with a nice and caring therapist) because:

I fucking HATE IT!



[I hope you don't mind, Sam, but I'm attaching this song below from Next to Normal, which won best musical at this year's Tony's. It's extremely appropriate. -Jayo]

#991 Realistic Dreams

Yes, I stole this from Sam's tweets about terrible dreams. A word of caution, this will not be a post outlining how I had a dream about my bike being stolen and it frightened me in my sleep because it was so realistic. To be honest, I'm not a fan of personal belongings (haha) and if I have anything stolen, I probably deserved it. This post will be slightly mopy and depressing. Just the way I like it.

So what a lot of people don't know about me is that I like to get involved in everything (this story has a point, I swear). I support a ton of causes, and will often use my "talents" (loose term) to help out in whatever way I can. Unfortunately, despite my enthusiasm for getting involved in a number of things, I'm in the real world and I can't succeed at everything. Which is fine. When I'm met with rejection, I deal with it. I talk it out for an hour, then I'm over it.

My brain, however, does not deal with it. It's become a fear of mine, my dreams. I don't dream often, to be honest, and when I do, they're terrible and vicious. My dreams are ass holes.

So I applied to be a Resident Assistant at school and, despite making it through to the last step, I was cut. It sucked for a while but I was fine soon after and the next week I was back to killing myself with whatever unecessary activity I could get myself involved with. A week later, though, is when the dreams started. They truly were ass holes. I dreamt that I got an e-mail from Residence Life saying they made an error, and that they wanted me to become an RA. I dreamt that the chosen RAs somehow no longer wanted to be RAs and that I was to step in. I dreamt that I didn't know I was rejected and I turned up to an RA training day and ended up embarassing myself. This was not one night's worth of dreams, this was probably two week's worth of torture.

I would be totally fine if this were a one-off haunting. But this happens every single goddamn time. Maybe I need to see a psychiatrist. How can I be okay in the real world, and then be absolutely desimated by my dreams? Weird subconscious games I have to play every time. And the worst part is always waking up thinking it reality, and it's devastating for that split second when I realize that it isn't true.

Then I return to my postmodern existence as if nothing had ever happened.

Eff that shizz, though.

I HATE IT!