On Suicidal Ideation

To call someone a coward for taking their own life is cruel. To tell someone they should just kill themselves is cruel To not consider the internal suffering someone has and then call them selfish for taking their own life is cruel.

Though the loss hurts deeply, one must consider how much pain this person was going through to lead them to the point where the only way out of it would be to take his or her own life. Continue reading

On Post-Concussion Syndrome

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This is my brain on January 2nd. According to the doctor, it showed a normal scan. I, however, was showing symptoms of a concussion. Nausea, fatigue, dizziness, headache, difficulty concentrating, mood swings, etc. I’d been through the rigamarole twice beforehand, so I knew what to do. Have someone watch me that first night, get plenty of rest, stay off the computer for a while and avoid the TV. And I did that.

For eighteen days. Continue reading

Inspiration

I recently gave myself a concussion. The details aren’t really important, but the headache has lasted a little over three weeks now. In seeing the neurologist, I was diagnosed with post-concussion syndrome and given a prescription for some medication. It’s hard to concentrate and watching television is taxing, so I’ve been listening to audiobooks and poetry to keep occupied. I came across this poem (which has since become a favorite of mine) in an iPhone app called “The Love Book.” It’s called “Desiderata” by Max Ehrmann, and it’s read by the lovely Tom Hiddleston.

I found it to be inspiring and uplifting.

Stigma

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To start, let it be known that I have depression. Technically, it’s “Major Depressive Disorder,” but, whatever.

Here’s the thing about depression: It’s not “being sad.” Depression describes the sensation of utter apathy toward everything. Eating, drinking, watching your favorite television show, writing, drawing, being awake—everything. When I’m in a depressive episode, I just want to sleep and ignore the world. If I miss my medication, not only does it make me feel like my skin is about to crawl off of my body, but I feel like nothing. I feel like, not only do I not matter, but nothing around me matters. I simply exist, and I loathe myself for taking up any amount of space.

Continue reading

I think I have a problem.

He’s twelve inches tall and cost me a big chunk of my paycheck.

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What’s worse? I bought him a suit. And since you can’t take off the armor, I bought him another body. Then I was like: why even screw around with removing his head? and I bought him a second head. So, essentially, I bought two Loki dolls. Right now, I’m waiting on an auction to end for his shoes. And I’ve been thinking about getting him the little scarf, too. Since I got a full-sized one for myself.

*hangs head*

You know what, though? This is probably the coolest thing I’ve ever owned. And earned the money I used to pay for it.

On a related note, after watching Thor: The Dark World, I’m convinced that they need to make a movie all about Loki.

Loki'd!

Requited

I lie here in the darkness now
Head full of pain
And I think of times in the past
And when I’ll see you again

I know you may not love me
As I do you
But as I lie here in the darkness now
I feel any love will do

NaNoWriMo 2013

So, I’ve fallen behind. Quite a lot, actually. I had everything planned out; plot, rising and falling action, character biographies, locations, all that research, and so much more. I had a mental picture of the main character and the minor characters. I had plans.

And so far? I’ve only written about 1,500 words.

That’s so much further behind than I wanted to be by the middle of November.

I have my excuses. I’m busy with work. I’m tapped out creatively. I’m not motivated.

But really? I don’t want to be constrained to just one month of work on this story. I’ve already put so much into the research portion of writing that I feel like only a month of writing won’t do it justice. So I will keep writing it. I’ll just keep writing it at my own pace. There’s no hurry, really. In fact, if I do hurry it along, I feel like I’ll lose the feel I’d been going for with it.

I know I have a lot of unfinished writing projects strewn about the four corners of the Internet. Those, however, don’t hold the same meaning to me as this novel. Sure, they’re important to me—I’m not giving up on them—but they’re not all mine. They’re fanfiction. This? This is my own creation. I want to do it justice.

And I don’t think that this mad dash to write 50,000 words will do it justice.

That’s my excuse.