“Emotional Aneurysms”. Because the original title to this was lame as hell.
First, I’ll start with some Awesome: I am now in the League of Funny Bitches!
This pleases me greatly.
Those who don’t know what that is, or have never read Noa Gavin’s blog, I highly recommend you do so immediately, ’cause she’s funny as fuck. And by immediately, I mean in a minute or five after you read my nonsense first, ’cause I’ve got shit to say and horribly drawn pictures to show you.
I have not been posting on here as often as I want to. Lately,
life has been a real soul-sucking bastard I’ve been really busy and on the verge of a nervous breakdown slightly frazzled with all the craziness that is life.
One of the things that kept me busy these past few weeks was taking care of my very sick cat, Megatron*. Attempting to, anyways.
Sadly, he had to be “put to sleep” on Saturday.
I put that in quotes because I believe the term to be horribly inaccurate. He was technically “made dead”, or “launched into the ginger-cat after life via syringe full of things “, but the Vet people insisted on saying “put to sleep”.
Whatever. All I know is Megatron is no more, and everything sucks.
*For those of you who are newish to my nonsense, you can get to know him through this old post I wrote about him a few months back.
Despite his epic assholiness, he was my best good pal, and I loved him dearly. It was for the best since he was quite ill, but it still makes me sticky with EMOTIONS, and that makes me very uncomfortable.
This would be a good time to bring up Lady Fail #3: I’m terrible with my feelings.
It’s a known fact that women are incredibly emotional creatures. We also tend to be very expressive of said emotions. Example:
“I’m UPSET at this thing your are doing here, because it makes me FEEL this way and I WANT you to stop that thing forever.”
“I’m feeling very SAD because of no reason what so ever, and it would make me very HAPPY if we could sit and TALK ABOUT IT.”
And, you know, we cry a lot. Sometimes.
You would think that I, as a fellow cooter owner, would also be in touch and have the ability to communicate my inner most feelings and shit. FUCK NO. Why? BECAUSE I SUCK AS A WOMAN. And also because my feelings are icky. Like bugs. Fuck those things.
That’s not to say I don’t feel. I am quite the opposite, actually. The problem is that I don’t express them properly, and when I try, the words get all fucked up and make no sense. So, I bottle up all of my icky nonsense to myself, and that leads to AWFUL things like crying in public and/or looking like a complete psycho.
Here’s an illustrated example of what happens when I’m feeling very upset and weepy and Boyfriend tries to talk to me about it.
I know that “nothing” is a cliche response women give when they’re asked if something is wrong when we damn well know that there is, in fact, SOMETHING WRONG. “Nothing” for me, however, means that my emotions are putting awful little bubbles in my brain and disabling my ability to find the words that will explain what in the blue fuck is happening inside my head.
Eventually, those bubbles burst.
This is the part where my emotions seep out of my pores uncontrollably and turn me into a THING. A very upset, tear-streaked, angry Thing.
In conclusion, I hate talking about my feelings because PURPLE. And lamps are Assholes because they mock you with their brilliance.