Friday, May 26, 2017

As the days go by, I have felt a strange stress, and it's absolutely absurd but here it is: So many books, so little time.

I know, I know, but hear me out. Every night when I go to bed, I look over at my three shelves across from me and it is filled with the books I haven't read yet. Filled with those books I had to have, purchased, and haven't even cracked them open. They all look wonderful. And yet some of them I purchased years ago.

Right now I'm reading 'Salem's Lot by Stephen King. Though I haven't read many of King's works, the ones I have were pretty fascinating. I've read The Mist, The Shining, Firestarter, Carrie, and Misery. Of those, I think Misery has been my favorite. 

But there are so many, so very many, books that I want to tackle this year. I have several series in my possession, stand-alone novels, and there are paperbacks that my parents own that I wouldn't mind browsing through. That doesn't even include the items on my To-Read list on Goodreads that I can't wait to snag. 

I want to read them all. I want to write my own books (currently struggling with a crushing weight with this one, but I blab about it all the time, so I won't delve deeper into that topic). I want to learn to play music (I bought a guitar, and I have no idea why at this point). I want to get out and explore the world. I want to figure out the big question: Who do I want to be? 

But I feel as if I have no time. Or the time I finally have is wasted when I'm too much of lump to actually achieve anything.

I want to start reviewing books, really reviewing them. Maybe in the process of that, I'd learn more about what it takes to write really well. Maybe it will give me my drive back.

Sometimes I wonder if I just need to sit down and plan out every day of every week in the year. But that sounds like so much effort, and quite frankly, where's the fun of having your day totally planned? There's a little freedom in flying by the seat of your pants. I just need to actually learn how to successfully fly instead of crashing and burning.


Friday, May 5, 2017

Thirteen Reasons Why

"Here's your tape."

I've seen the jokes on Facebook, the memes floating around social media. There have been a couple articles that I've clicked on and read their response to the Netflix adaption of a popular novel Thirteen Reasons Why by Jay Asher. My opinion here is joining many voices; for better or for worse, this story has been in the spotlight.

I won't go into a large summary of what I saw. I just wanted to express some feelings that I had throughout.

The show is about a young man in high school named Clay who receives tapes voiced by Hannah Baker, a friend of his that recently committed suicide, explaining her reasons why she ended her life. There are thirteen tapes, thirteen reasons... And those reasons are thirteen people. The instructions are clear: listen to all the tapes, and then pass them on to the person that followed your tape. 

It's been so long that I read the book, but I remember finishing it and feeling disappointed because the book had come highly recommended by a few people, and I just wasn't impressed with it. The writing had been good, I liked the character Clay, but Hannah? Hannah is what made reading the novel hard. Here I had this character who hurt so much that she ended her life, and I didn't like her. I wanted to like her, I wanted to feel for her, but I did not like her.

But it's not only widely liked people that hurt so much that they seek a permanent solution. That part was real, if anything.

Beginning the show, I thought they captured the characters well, and they delved so much deeper with having thirteen episodes than Asher did in the book. Again, it's been quite a while.

There are three scenes that were really unsettling. They show two scenes of rape and the last episode does show Hannah's suicide (she slits her wrists in the tub). My mom fast-forwarded her suicide as it was too graphic for us to watch. I know they did this to show that suicide isn't beautiful, to destroy this romantic perspective of it. But there were parts of the story that didn't correlate with this.

Hannah, whether a good person or a bad person or a typical teenager who makes mistakes and is trying to figure life out, goes through several instances of bullying. People are cruel. But some of them are those teenagers who screw up. Some of her reasons are hard to take as reasons for doing something so extreme and permanent. Some of her reasons are pretty horrifying.

She sends tapes around blaming other people, and she threatens exposure if they do not all listen to the tapes and pass them on. A trusted source has a copy of the tapes and will release them to the public if necessary. Meanwhile, her parents are suing the school and are trying to find someone to blame, because there has to be someone to blame. Right?

In this story, suicide is power. Suicide is revenge. There are a couple instances where a character says "we killed Hannah Baker" or "I killed Hannah", and their lives are spiraling downward. And for someone who is bullied, someone who is hurt by others, that is a horrible lesson to learn. 

They do show how Hannah's death negatively impacts people who loved her. Her parents' grief is raw and horrible. Clay is falling apart, though a great part is due to him wondering what he could have possibly done to cause Hannah pain enough to kill herself. The school is trying to figure out what happened and how to respond to the lawsuit.

Suicide isn't a joke. But with some of the reasons that Hannah offered, and for her actions of sending out the tapes, on social media it seems to have taken a humorous appearance. Again, with the memes. "Here's your tape." You've done something mildly wrong? Someone sends a "here's your tape" and it's suddenly funny.

That shouldn't be the response to this at all. And yes, a victim who takes their own life shouldn't have to have a heartbreaking story for their death to matter.

But to have this be the voice of suicide, especially for teens, is a little concerning to me. 

It not only gives suicide power and places blame on everyone around the person, I found it very interesting in the scene where Hannah writes an anonymous letter to her teacher, expressing very negative feelings (not necessarily coming out and saying suicide), the teacher begins to talk about resources to use if one is feeling that way. The teacher is cut off by Hannah's narration, showing that not only is Hannah not paying attention, but also keeping the audience from hearing what the teacher had to say.

Unfortunately I felt like this show was more about the mystery, about what people had done to Hannah, than about mental health and how to find help. I felt like the message was supposed to be good: Be kind, be aware, help people who need it, etc. (though sometimes being kind, or loving someone, or doing everything you can for them does not guarantee that you can save them). 

But at the end of this show, I didn't feel hope or inspiration. I felt a heavy weight. I felt like fingers were pointing and nothing was right, even when some of the characters try to make it so. 

I won't say this show romanticized suicide. I just think that if they wanted to talk about suicide, if they wanted to show how negative and heartbreaking it is while also giving people an idea of how to do some good for those who are in need of it or where to go if you are in need of it, this was not the storyline to use.

The last tape is for the counselor that failed Hannah when she was giving someone a shot to save her life. Listening to how Hannah was talking to him was a struggle because something I did realize is that no one has talked to people about how to tell someone you're having serious problems. She keeps saying, "I guess." It felt like a real conversation. She tells him that she wants life to stop, and he wants her to elaborate on that, because it was a serious statement. "I didn't mean it like that, I guess," she says. That begs the question: do people know how to come forward and say that they're in trouble and desperately need help?

This show pointed out the warning signs of someone about to take their life. It showed the flaws of those around them who either drive them to that point or fail to notice the signs. But I didn't feel it offered any conclusions, any suggestions on making it better other than: pay attention and be nice. I wanted more from it than that. And I felt like it tried to achieve more, would scratch the surface even, but then the message would get dragged down by the mystery of what is on this person's tape? 

I've heard that it triggered people, that it brought nothing but bad feelings. I've heard that others enjoyed it and thought it helped them. Leave that to the individual.

Me, myself, and I... It was well-acted, well-cast, and I'm glad that I watched it for the perspective it gave me. But it's not one I'll ever watch again, like I'll never read the book again. 


Sunday, April 9, 2017

The Bird

There was a high pitched screech.

I woke from the middle of a dream and lay still. Was it in the dream that I'd heard that noise or did one of the cats bring something in again? I imagined a bat. What would I do if they brought in a live bat?

Silence. I was about to relax.

And then there came the thumping from under my bed, telling me that one of the cats for certain was under there, playing around with an innocent animal he didn't need to catch. It's not like we don't feed them regularly. 

Next thing I knew, I heard the wild flapping of wings and I quickly dove under my covers. Just in time, too, because something very solid landed on my leg and then promptly disappeared. I snatched my phone from off the nightstand and text my mom.

SOS there's a live bird in my room and I'm hiding under my covers. It landed on me.

I actually paused in sending it because it was six in the morning and we were all wanting to sleep in. But then I visualized trying to make my way to the exit in the dark, with Diego in my arms and me wearing nothing but a shirt and underwear, and asked myself what I would do if I stepped on the bird with my bare foot or if the bird collided with my face. 

Send.

The room was silent while I heard a conversation upstairs and then footsteps. My dad was coming to save me.

He turned my light on, and at first, the bird was nowhere in sight. But then it launched out of hiding and I pulled the covers back over my head. It collided with my smaller bookcase and my dad caught it. Thank goodness for my mom, who sleeps light, and my dad, who is willing to get me out of a jam. 

I love my cats when they're curled on my bed, sleeping with me, or when Simba (the likely culprit) wants me to pet him with my feet while I'm reading or watching TV. But when they bring in live animals (birds, mice, snakes), or kill them and shred them apart all over our house, I wonder why in the world I decided having cats sounded like a fine idea.

I'd just like a night's sleep not interrupted by the animals causing problems. 

Also, in the dark, I'm terrified of everything. I hope I never have to defend myself while I can't see. Won't end well. 


Tuesday, April 4, 2017

Knock-Knock. Who's there? The Negative Monster

Cheesiest title ever. Okay, I can't claim that, but for now, we'll pretend I took Gold in the Cheesiest Title Ever.
Today hasn't been great.

Actually there have been several bad days lately. I can basically hear all the "life's what you make it" believers chiding me for allowing the day to be bad. Hey, I'm also a believer that it's what you make it, but sometimes you just have a bad day, and you should be allowed to call it such.

I feel like I'm losing grip on my emotions. I'm negative, I'm angry, I'm exhausted, I'm low, low, low and it has nothing to do with Apple Bottom jeans or boots with the fur.

I'm so tired.

Thank goodness this isn't me all the time, but the past five-ish days have been a nightmare. Something comes and sucker punches me when I'm not looking. 

One tiny Bad Thing (or maybe not so tiny, depending on perspective) bites me and I'm poisoned for the rest of the day. I'm not the type that can easily shake the bad off. It follows me around all day.

So right now, I'm trying to pump myself up. I was sitting the bathroom trying to think of a mood booster. But the problem is when I feel this way, negative and exhausted, all that I usually do for enjoyment loses its appeal. I don't want to read. I don't want to write. Who ever thought I was talented at writing anyway? Me, an author? Don't make me laugh. That isn't me. I'm not good enough.

I almost felt like running tonight, but it's cold and this stupid cough I have won't go away.

I'm waving my white flag, universe. I surrender. Please call off the fighting and give me a break.

It's not that this battle is that horrible, compared to so many others who have it infinitely worse than I do, but it's hard to look at other people's suffering when I feel like I'm drowning myself. That's what the hardest about my situation. I'm the one holding me under the water. I just don't know how to shake myself off and stand up. 

Or maybe I do know, it's just easier to let go. 


Friday, March 24, 2017

The Road So Far: 2

I have glasses! The last time I did a life update, I was about to go in for an eye appointment. They prescribed me glasses, and oh my goodness, I can see the world! I didn't realize trees had that much detail from this far away. I can see the TV when we watch it at night, and if they have subtitles, I can actually read them

And road signs! Holy crap, I know what they say! I know what roads I'm passing because the street signs are clearer!

I had to go back to see my doctor recently because my optic nerve in my right eye is "full". That's some cause of concern because it could be a sign of neurological problems. He asked me if I had any numbness or tingling in any of my limbs, or problems seeing, vision cutting out when I exercise (ha, what is exercise?), etc. There didn't seem to be a big enough change this past visit for him to be very concerned, but I do have another appointment in six months. So that has things like MS floating through my head; I know of two people who have MS who have the full optic nerve as well. I know I shouldn't worry, that obviously I haven't anything else that is concerning popping up as far as symptoms go, but I wouldn't be Anxious Ashton if I didn't worry unnecessarily.

Oh, and, hey, I ended up touring a massage therapy college in Salt Lake. I'm trying to find something to do career-wise that I would enjoy doing. Right now, I'm not really thinking that's massage therapy. When I do things like this, though, it stresses me out because sometimes I can't tell if I'm not feeling it because I really don't want that for myself, or if I'm just saying I don't want it so I don't have to try.

I'm more inclined to believe the first part, but there are people who believe the latter applies to me more.

I just want a career that...clicks? When I get up to go to work, I want at least a sense of happiness that I don't totally hate forty hours of my week, every week, every year, There isn't a dream job for everyone, but I at least want a...happy thought job. 

This year is supposed to be the year I make changes that are for my betterment. At the end of 2017, I want to just be so satisfied with the life I'm creating for myself that I can't believe it's taken me this long to get there.

We're only three, almost four, months in. I have time.

But I also have to get my butt moving! 


Conversations with Myself: Time to Break Up

Sometimes you realize that you deserve better; you should be treated better, you should allow yourself to have better, you are better than this.

When that happens, it's okay to break up with yourself.

Because sometimes the bad relationship is the one you have with you. You wake up one day, or maybe you've been waking up several days in a row, and you're not quite happy with you. Or you get ready for bed at night, and you evaluate yourself throughout the day, and you're unsatisfied. Disappointed. Hurt. Angry. Irritated. Discouraged.

I know people preach self-love. ABSOLUTELY love yourself! But that also includes loving yourself to the point that you know when you're being unfair to YOU.

It's okay to not like parts of you. It's okay to be upset that you've chosen to be a negative person. It's okay to dislike the fact you gossip at first signs of a juicy story. It's okay if you hate that you use bad language too often (not necessarily swearing), that you spent most the day whining, that you feel like you were a better person a few years ago, that you're angry too often, that you have no goals, that your life is passing you by and you're hardly making anything of it, that you're not as good of a friend as you'd like to be, etc. 

You can take a look at the negative parts (and I mean the parts that you can do something about, the parts that you can change for the better) and say, "You know? I don't like this. So... Bye!"

The difference between a self-breakup and breaking up with a significant other is that there's not really an option to find someone else outside yourself. You can't ditch this body and dive into another one. You can't change your identity at the drop of the hat. But the self-breakup involves recognizing that you deserve better and then going forth and creating better.

It requires being introspective and also being active in making a change. 

The self-breakup is hard. That part you want to never see again tends to pop back up. Nothing is clingier than a version of you that you've been with for so long, it's almost like putting on a pair of well-worn jeans. In the beginning, you probably won't even realize you've slipped back into the comfort of it unless you go back and review what just happened. 

Don't be discouraged. You've lived how many years, and you've never been the exact same during any of it. Changes happen all the time. So if you're consciously trying to make a change that you want, and you're working at it every day, you will be different. The only time you won't see a difference is if you give up and settle for the version of you that you don't want.

Love yourself. And recognize that some of the best treatment you'll have should come from you. Don't settle for less because you've convinced yourself you can never be better, that you deserve all the unhappiness that comes from whatever bad decisions you think you're making. You are the designer of your character. Outside of the physical parts, you are your own creator. You are the only thing you can control. How exciting. So...

Who will you create?


Saturday, March 18, 2017

Okay, dear, it's time.
Time to quit letting fear overcome.
The worst thing isn't failure.

It is spending all your days on the bench
watching the game go on
without ever playing. 

It is dying
and the last words on your lips being,
"I wish I would have tried."