Tag Archives: Cynicism

My stream of consciousness is the only thing that keeps me warm at night

The thing that sucks about growing up is that you lose people. You find other people and you find yourself along the way, but you can never have back those times that got you started, and what you know now will never be the same as it was then. Memories are funny that way. You could look at a picture and not even recognize your own face but when you stop and let it wash over you, it all floods back like some impossible dream that came true, if only for a moment. You can’t live in that past, because it doesn’t exist anymore, it stays exactly where it used to be, it isn’t where you are now. You can visit it from time to time but every time you go back it gets a little hazier, a little harder to remember, a little less familiar. You can try and recreate it but you will never ever be that person again.

I mourn for the past. Some of my best friends live there. Some of my biggest mistakes take refuge there. Some of my favorite memories shape the photos and the “remember when’s” of that past version of who I am now. If I could only go back and hold them in my hand like warm sand from an empty beach. If I could only remember what it felt like instead of just pretending I knew what it meant to me then. If I could only do it again, just one more time. Would it make a difference?

I never used to care about the person I was. Until I realized I couldn’t have her back.

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What Easter means to me (absolutely nothing)

About 13 years ago, I found out the Easter Bunny wasn’t real. I was 12 years old.

I’m actually surprised I made it to that age. Nowadays, kids are finding out these mythical creatures don’t actually exist at much younger ages (or maybe I was just an unusually late case; or maybe both). My brother and sister never ruined it for me and my parents let me go on believing, probably (if I had to guess) because they didn’t want to ruin the magic for me. I positively hated them when they told me. I actually threw myself onto the floor, started crying and screaming “you lied to me! my life is over! they aren’t real?! how could you do this to me!?” Or something to that extent, I can’t actually remember verbatim (although my mom remembers vividly, and enjoys telling the story every chance she gets). I don’t blame them for telling me; I was, after all, in middle school by that point, and starting to get into verbal arguments with kids at school over it. Basically, other kids would try and convince me that it wasn’t real, that our parents snuck into our rooms late at night and took the teeth from under our pillows, replacing it with money, or that it was really they who left presents in our stockings and under the tree. I wasn’t buying it. I had hardcore evidence, after all. Like the time “Santa” (aka MY FATHER) left a boot print in the soot inside the chimney. Or how the cookies were ALWAYS gone. And how that one time I heard the reindeer on the roof (still not sure about that one; how could my dad get up on the roof, anyway? It’s not like he was a carpenter and had ladders and spent a lot of time on roofs anyway…oh wait…never mind).

So basically I had my hopes and dreams crushed by my elders, never to trust or believe in anything ever again. And then shortly thereafter, it was Easter Sunday.

We spent the first Easter after “the horrible revelation” at our cousin’s house in Maryland. I remember waking up Easter morning and being so bitter, watching the younger kids joyful and somewhat confused at how a bunny had snuck into the house while everyone slept and left them treats. I, however, knew the truth, and sulked in the corner. My mom pulled me into the laundry room, ashamed and belittled (as she SHOULD feel after destroying her daughter’s dreams forever), and offered me an Easter basket she had put together for me, claiming that even though I knew it was no longer real, she still wanted me to enjoy the holidays and believe in the “magical” part of it all. Whatever that means. I accepted the basket (obviously, there were toys and chocolate in that thing), but I never quite felt the magic the same way from that day forward. Depressing, I know. I never said this story would be happy. Oh wait, it gets better. Not.

So that night my dad calls from our house in Pennsylvania to tell me that my guinea pig, Hairball, had gotten really sick and didn’t look like he was going to make it. My dad stayed with him through the night, holding him and making him as comfortable as he possibly could while he lived out his final moments, but Hairball didn’t make it and I never got a chance to say goodbye. So, while everyone was all excited that Jesus had risen, I had to endure the loss of my childhood innocence AND my loving and faithful pet Hairball. Talk about a rough time.

So Easter doesn’t really hold a special place in my heart anymore. Not that it ever really did, because I’m not religious and don’t really care that “the tomb is empty” or whatever.

But really, what’s the point of celebrating a holiday if a giant (albeit, somewhat scary) bunny ISN’T going to break into your house while you sleep, eat your raw vegetables and leave you candy as a means of saying sorry for the breaking and entering? I just don’t see why I should bother anymore.

Does anyone else remember how they “found out” or have any Easter stories that maybe aren’t so depressing? Do share, I could use a good laugh right now. I guess if all else fails I can just go laugh at this Easter post from last year.

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12 last-minute Christmas gift ideas (that are sure to “wow” them)

Over the years, I’ve written some cynical posts about Christmas trees and wish lists that would never be granted. But amongst all my nonsensical ramblings, I’ve yet to write anything on the topic of Christmas and gift buying, never once touching on the types of gifts that should be under everyone’s tree (or pants- more about that later). So for those of you last-minute shoppers (we in the literary world like to call you “procrastinators”) who haven’t yet decided what to deck your friends’ halls with, here are 12 last-minute gift ideas that are sure to wow them. And give Santa a heart attack.

12.) Bankruptcy. Whether you get it for yourself or for someone else, it’s a gift that’s sure to last for years to come.

11.) A flea infestation. If you get this for me, I will have to kill you. And regift it (preferably back to you). Been there, done that.

10.) A gym membership. Nothing says “I love you” and “Merry Christmas” more than telling someone they’re fat and out of shape.

9.) Identity theft. Perfect way to ring in the new year. 

8.) Broken bones. Hit them with a baseball bat, run them over with your car, whatever gets the job done.

7.) Front row seats to a Justin Bieber concert. This present is especially perfect for anyone over the age of 18 who actually has good taste in music.

6.) Diarrhea. Just squirt some eye drops into their eggnog. Or feed them McDonald’s.

5.) Jail time. Accomplice to murder, co-conspirator to a coup d’etat, grand theft auto. The choices are endless.

4.) A divorce. Because who doesn’t love getting their heart ripped out on Christmas?

3.) Fruit cake. No comment necessary.

2.) A hooker. But only if the recipient is a woman. Clearly what every woman wants for the holidays.

And a herpes new year.

MERRY-CHRISTMAS-YA-FILTHY-ANIMAL

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2 reasons why my college degree is worthless

A year and a half ago, I was ecstatic to finally be leaving the realm of education. After spending roughly 20 years of my life in some form of schooling or another, it felt good to finally hang up the “student” hat and step out into the “real world,” whatever the hell that means (because apparently I’ve been living in a fake world this whole time?).

But now, a year and a half later, I’m no better off than I was before I earned that expensive piece of paper they like to call a diploma (which is somewhere buried beneath a pile of random stuff, still encased inside the special envelope it was mailed to me in). Four mediocre jobs and lots of credit card debt later, I’m back to square one, with no job, no money and no real reason why I should believe my college education is going to save my ass, especially in this economy.

Now, don’t get me wrong, in a lot of ways, a college degree is very useful. Like, say, for using to brag to all your non-educated friends, or for using as kindling to start a fire when your electric is turned off due to lack of payment (see: insufficient funds).

But I feel there are several good reasons why my college degree is completely and utterly worthless, some of them being:

A college degree doesn’t guarantee you a job. Basically, there are no guarantees in life. I get that. But I sure wish someone would have warned me before I wasted five years of my life and thousands of dollars of my dad’s hard-earned money (thanks though, dad, really, I appreciate the support) that the piece of paper I was busting my ass for would only marginally help in getting a halfway-decent job. Classroom learning is important but I’ve always believed life experience was more vital when it came to knowing a profession, especially after all the times I’ve been told there are no entry-level jobs when it comes to publishing, that you have to know what you’re doing before you do it (which obviously makes no sense and clearly supports my belief that experience is more necessary than education), which brings me to my second point:

I graduated with (one of) the most useless majors. Don’t get me wrong. I love English literature and clearly I love writing (who would actually waste their time writing a blog this cynical if they weren’t finding some sort of pleasure from it?) but having a degree in it is like having a degree in cat-napping; you can’t actually do anything with it, except go on for more schooling. Or maybe be a teacher, but even then you have to jump through more hoops and are simply better off with an education degree. A Bachelor’s in English nowadays is a good foundation for any other type of degree or major, and if I was planning on being a lawyer or a psychologist or a publicist, it would be very useful in providing the groundwork I’d need to go on to pursue those careers. But heaven forbid I actually want to utilize the degree as is and have a job that means something without putting myself in student loan debt and spending more years in a classroom. It’s basically impossible. Finding a job in my field (whatever that means) is like finding a needle in a haystack, cliched as it sounds (hey, when you’re this stressed, you can’t think in anything other than cliches). When I was a student, I never had to worry about landing a “real” job, because whatever crap-ass job I was working while attending classes didn’t matter, because there was always the promise of something better that was just out of reach, waiting for me after just one more class, just a few more credits. But sitting around as a broke, unemployed college grad doesn’t exactly scream success, so what’s a bitter, almost-twenty-four-year-old like me to do?

Ok, screw this “real world” business, I’m going back to school.

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Filed under Cynicism, Entertainment, Humor, Uncategorized

Why Valentine’s Day is (still) a pointless holiday

This time last year, I was happily in a relationship with someone I cared about and yet I still wrote my mini-rant about why Valentine’s Day is a pointless holiday. Because it is.

And this year, although I’m single, I wouldn’t say I’m any more bitter about this dumb holiday than I was when I was in love. I’m still about the same amount of bitter, except now I don’t feel so hypocritical about it. Because really, who wants to hear some lovebird go on and on about how much they can’t stand fake holidays about being in love? And you’re only getting the half of it; try being inside my head all day long. Exactly.

Moving on.

I’d honestly almost forgotten about this silly consumerist holiday (more so because I can’t keep track of what day it is and less-so because I don’t make it a point to remember stupid things like fake holidays, but that kind of negates my whole point, so scratch that).

But I’m always interested to see what crazy and not-so-crazy search terms people use to wind up at my blog (I still find it rather strange that someone, at some time, searched “how many people are in the pumba costume in disney on ice” and found my blog, but whatever). So while perusing the search terms section of my stats page, I noticed a spike in the number of times someone was redirected to my awesomely awesome blog after searching something like “Valentine’s Day pointless” or “stupid Valentine’s Day” or “is Valentine’s Day pointless blog” or, you get the picture. So then I remembered- tomorrow is Valentine’s Day (or today, for those of you ahead of me in time-zone-landia).

Holidays like Valentine’s Day just serve as a stark reminder of everything that is wrong with society. Like forcing someone to buy you presents to show you how much they love you, what is that about? Don’t you get enough presents on your birthday and Christmas? And if you want something that badly, go out and get a job and pay for it yourself, you spoiled, materialistic little thug.

And even if you don’t put a literal gun to their head and tell them to buy you something, there’s still the assumption on your part that they’re going to and the internal gun to their head telling them they have to. Or else. God forbid your lover doesn’t acknowledge you on Valentine’s Day. Think the world might have just come to an end (again).

I might have taken it a little too far just then, sorry about that. All this Valentine’s Day chocolate is going to my head.

All in all, though, Valentine’s Day is a pointless holiday, and I’m (still) mad at Hallmark for creating it and not hiring me to write greeting cards for them and basing their headquarters out of Kansas (seriously, who wants to live in Kansas, anyway?). I will just have to start my own Hallmark-like greeting card company and not base it out of Kansas and write anti-Valentine’s Day cards and shower my wit and cynicism all over the world (or at least over those dumb enough to buy my crap).

Until that happens, I’ll continue blogging about random nonsense in hopes that someone with an even more random search term fetish will stumble across my blog and give me something to really write home about. Something even crazier than “zoo animal mob sexxx.” With three x’s.

Couldn’t make this shit up if I tried.

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