(May 28, 2017 at 8:07 pm)J a c k Wrote: CIJS?
Sometimes I think I'm crazy. Not just in a funny way of saying it. No. I think perhaps I lost all sense of normalcy sometime in the last four years and I have learned to live in paranoia, fear, exhaustion, phases of carelessness, highs, lows, hiding, complying, actually having fun in the middle of it all, day dreaming of death, knowing I'd never do it, sabotage, guilt, pity, and wondering...
Maybe I'm exaggerating? Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm seeing things. Maybe I'm harsh. Maybe I'm delusional. Then I see the evidence. Texts. People remembering. Pictures. I'm not exaggerating. Right? I have reasons to feel this way. But then... why doesn't it stop? Why don't I do something more to help myself? So, I'm a fool. An idiot. A crazy person who died four years ago and has been laughing at jokes, drinking a beer, enjoying flan, walking around slow motion. If you zoom in, there are shadows lingering. I'm waving and high fiving while in my bruised head I'm wondering... will my heart stop in the next minutes? Please? It won't, because I'm a strong but weak person. I fail in normal. Normal is not keen to me. I have nornalized the lack of commitment to joy. I'm a fraud. I laugh out loud at dinner like an emoji on a screen. It's not flesh. My heart skips a beat when something is beautiful, but it skips days and years because I'm a coward. A coward. A fucken coward.
I'll take my meds and continue my treatment, because I refuse to waste another decade. I'll see my psychiatrist, therapist and primary doctor, because they say I can get better. I'll keep getting help. But can I just say? I think they're not aware that I'm not just bruised. I'm dismembered. I'm shattered glass that will never forgive the cracks even with glue. No amount of paint will make this paper wall become concrete. Whatever.

Then I think maybe I'm not crazy... I'm just experiencing side effects. Stop, Jack. Just stop.

Well young lady, you're not nearly weird enough for this stuff. Not yet. Stop questioning and find a way to live. There are people who will help you find that way. I have a feeling that those people are all around you.

If it helps, I'm giving back the dryer lint. And I'll drop Bill Maher down to only two icks, but that's where I have to draw the line.

(May 28, 2017 at 7:16 pm)The Valkyrie Wrote:

(May 28, 2017 at 5:09 pm)Nymphadora Wrote: CIJS
For the first time since I've graduated, I'm feeling unsure of myself and my skills. Had a woman come in. Didn't know what she wanted or how she wanted her hair cut. I did my best to communicate with her and figure out what would be a good look for her. I asked her if she liked her cut. In the end she paid, left and then came back later to complain.

Really - if you don't know what you want and your stylist makes suggestions and you still aren't sure - fucking talk. Tell me what you aren't sure of. I can't read your mind and I can't make proper suggestions if you aren't willing to work with me on some level

Look. It's your hair. You have to live with it. You need to think about your level of activity, how much time you are willing to put into doing your hair and what you want the outcome to be. Long or short? Layers or not? If you ask us for suggestions, understand that you may get a suggestion you might not like. We consider your face shape, hair texture, density etc when throwing options on the table. This is what we were trained to do.

Keep a pair of electrodes handy so that if you get a difficult customer you can stick them to her head and your own and pretend that you're reading her mind.

When she inevitably gives you problems, say, "But I read your mind and that's what you wanted."  Or, "I got dead air (or white noise) so I went with what I thought you'd want."

Excellent idea. How fast can you ship me a few dozen pairs?

You can make your own really cheaply.

They don't have to work.

(May 28, 2017 at 10:13 pm)mh.brewer Wrote:

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(May 28, 2017 at 8:07 pm)J a c k Wrote: CIJS?
Sometimes I think I'm crazy. Not just in a funny way of saying it. No. I think perhaps I lost all sense of normalcy sometime in the last four years and I have learned to live in paranoia, fear, exhaustion, phases of carelessness, highs, lows, hiding, complying, actually having fun in the middle of it all, day dreaming of death, knowing I'd never do it, sabotage, guilt, pity, and wondering...
Maybe I'm exaggerating? Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm seeing things. Maybe I'm harsh. Maybe I'm delusional. Then I see the evidence. Texts. People remembering. Pictures. I'm not exaggerating. Right? I have reasons to feel this way. But then... why doesn't it stop? Why don't I do something more to help myself? So, I'm a fool. An idiot. A crazy person who died four years ago and has been laughing at jokes, drinking a beer, enjoying flan, walking around slow motion. If you zoom in, there are shadows lingering. I'm waving and high fiving while in my bruised head I'm wondering... will my heart stop in the next minutes? Please? It won't, because I'm a strong but weak person. I fail in normal. Normal is not keen to me. I have nornalized the lack of commitment to joy. I'm a fraud. I laugh out loud at dinner like an emoji on a screen. It's not flesh. My heart skips a beat when something is beautiful, but it skips days and years because I'm a coward. A coward. A fucken coward.
I'll take my meds and continue my treatment, because I refuse to waste another decade. I'll see my psychiatrist, therapist and primary doctor, because they say I can get better. I'll keep getting help. But can I just say? I think they're not aware that I'm not just bruised. I'm dismembered. I'm shattered glass that will never forgive the cracks even with glue. No amount of paint will make this paper wall become concrete. Whatever.

Then I think maybe I'm not crazy... I'm just experiencing side effects. Stop, Jack. Just stop.

---

Well young lady, you're not nearly weird enough for this stuff. Not yet. Stop questioning and find a way to live. There are people who will help you find that way. I have a feeling that those people are all around you.

If it helps, I'm giving back the dryer lint. And I'll drop Bill Maher down to only two icks, but that's where I have to draw the line.

Thank you, Brewer. Let's not talk about Bill Maher. It's complicated. Lol

Thank you for the lint. I'll be sure to put it to good use.

(May 28, 2017 at 10:22 pm)The Valkyrie Wrote: You can make your own really cheaply.

They don't have to work.

Ya.. but if you send me some.... as a thank you, I could send you back some of my amazing pasta sauce

(May 28, 2017 at 8:07 pm)J a c k Wrote: CIJS?
Sometimes I think I'm crazy. Not just in a funny way of saying it. No. I think perhaps I lost all sense of normalcy sometime in the last four years and I have learned to live in paranoia, fear, exhaustion, phases of carelessness, highs, lows, hiding, complying, actually having fun in the middle of it all, day dreaming of death, knowing I'd never do it, sabotage, guilt, pity, and wondering...
Maybe I'm exaggerating? Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm seeing things. Maybe I'm harsh. Maybe I'm delusional. Then I see the evidence. Texts. People remembering. Pictures. I'm not exaggerating. Right? I have reasons to feel this way. But then... why doesn't it stop? Why don't I do something more to help myself? So, I'm a fool. An idiot. A crazy person who died four years ago and has been laughing at jokes, drinking a beer, enjoying flan, walking around slow motion. If you zoom in, there are shadows lingering. I'm waving and high fiving while in my bruised head I'm wondering... will my heart stop in the next minutes? Please? It won't, because I'm a strong but weak person. I fail in normal. Normal is not keen to me. I have nornalized the lack of commitment to joy. I'm a fraud. I laugh out loud at dinner like an emoji on a screen. It's not flesh. My heart skips a beat when something is beautiful, but it skips days and years because I'm a coward. A coward. A fucken coward.
I'll take my meds and continue my treatment, because I refuse to waste another decade. I'll see my psychiatrist, therapist and primary doctor, because they say I can get better. I'll keep getting help. But can I just say? I think they're not aware that I'm not just bruised. I'm dismembered. I'm shattered glass that will never forgive the cracks even with glue. No amount of paint will make this paper wall become concrete. Whatever.

Then I think maybe I'm not crazy... I'm just experiencing side effects. Stop, Jack. Just stop.

Pfff. You are a good human. I've seen WAY worse, believe me. Ball that doubt shit up and throw it the fireplace and burn it! Just get on with your life and get past that doubt. You are worth what you think you are worth, but you are worth a lot to me (and you should think of your own worth as better than I'm seeing here)! You're very cool, and ought to increase what you think you are worth, to yourself! I'll post his again, until you believe in yourself. Get it done, girl!

(May 28, 2017 at 11:29 pm)Fireball Wrote: Pfff. You are a good human. I've seen WAY worse, believe me. Ball that doubt shit up and throw it the fireplace and burn it! Just get on with your life and get past that doubt. You are worth what you think you are worth, but you are worth a lot to me (and you should think of your own worth as better than I'm seeing here)! You're very cool, and ought to increase what you think you are worth, to yourself! I'll post his again, until you believe in yourself. Get it done, girl!

Thank you, fireball  
I kind of feel you guys are being generous. If you knew how much I have taken emotional beatings and excused them, you'd be unimpressed. But I see it. I know there is a problem and I am an enabler. This is why I'm accepting the help. Heh

Thank you, kind people. Words are powerful things. They matter. I appreciate it.

CJIS - Please...please...please...remember we're in different time zones. When you text me at 6am your time, it's 5am my time. Intended to sleep in this morning, but that kinda didn't work out after that text...

(May 28, 2017 at 12:45 am)Luckie Wrote: Oh I've been seeing those around too! First year as an atheist to notice them, and when one lady asked for a church Summer Bible Camp referral (Not even a request for a good or interesting one, just somewhere to ship off),  this is all I saw in my minds eye: 



I could think of a million billion better things those kids could do. I personally wouldn't let the safety of my child be put at risk like that--and plus, if you love your kids and love life, then love life with your kids! Kids get to do the funnest things.. and you can too if you just go with! 
*sorry for the rant, my Ex brother in law told my niece he didn't want to go to the zoo with her and her brother and his girlfriend/her baby..  because "He doesn't like the zoo". 
Some people don't deserve kids. #justsayin

No kids here, but totally agree with your rant that you apologized for and didn't consider it such. There are people I know who inspire me with the love they have for their kids, and then their exes only care about using them as a weapon to hurt them.

That said at the woman who just wanted one to ship her kids off to. And so glad it's not just me thinking it seems crazy to use that/have noticed people doing so. And Wednesday burning down the camp...I regret I have but one Kudos to give that gif.

Muaww I love you too.   It's been my honor to know you and be your friend! You're one person in this world whom I would like to follow their story to the last chapters (imagining Ivy as an old lady, shrugs, "she'd still be hot" lmao "and my bestie")
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(May 28, 2017 at 8:07 pm)J a c k Wrote: CIJS?
Sometimes I think I'm crazy. Not just in a funny way of saying it. No. I think perhaps I lost all sense of normalcy sometime in the last four years and I have learned to live in paranoia, fear, exhaustion, phases of carelessness, highs, lows, hiding, complying, actually having fun in the middle of it all, day dreaming of death, knowing I'd never do it, sabotage, guilt, pity, and wondering...
Maybe I'm exaggerating? Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm seeing things. Maybe I'm harsh. Maybe I'm delusional. Then I see the evidence. Texts. People remembering. Pictures. I'm not exaggerating. Right? I have reasons to feel this way. But then... why doesn't it stop? Why don't I do something more to help myself? So, I'm a fool. An idiot. A crazy person who died four years ago and has been laughing at jokes, drinking a beer, enjoying flan, walking around slow motion. If you zoom in, there are shadows lingering. I'm waving and high fiving while in my bruised head I'm wondering... will my heart stop in the next minutes? Please? It won't, because I'm a strong but weak person. I fail in normal. Normal is not keen to me. I have nornalized the lack of commitment to joy. I'm a fraud. I laugh out loud at dinner like an emoji on a screen. It's not flesh. My heart skips a beat when something is beautiful, but it skips days and years because I'm a coward. A coward. A fucken coward.
I'll take my meds and continue my treatment, because I refuse to waste another decade. I'll see my psychiatrist, therapist and primary doctor, because they say I can get better. I'll keep getting help. But can I just say? I think they're not aware that I'm not just bruised. I'm dismembered. I'm shattered glass that will never forgive the cracks even with glue. No amount of paint will make this paper wall become concrete. Whatever.

Then I think maybe I'm not crazy... I'm just experiencing side effects. Stop, Jack. Just stop.

You seem human to me. And I mean that in a good way; you're smart, funny, and not sounding insane there. Like Valkyrie said, I think many of us have been there.

You know, when I say arrange for the shuttle to pick me up after 7.30 am, I didn't mean it should arrive at 6.45 am.

Looks like I'm having a really early morning tomorrow.

(May 28, 2017 at 11:52 pm)Shai Hulud Wrote: You seem human to me.  And I mean that in a good way; you're smart, funny, and not sounding insane there.  Like Valkyrie said, I think many of us have been there.

Thanks, Shai
Hope they stop texting you so early. If they do it again, don't worry. Here in AF we count with the best weapon. Beccs.