Monthly Archives: May, 2016

Sad Pony and Squirrel Ride Again

I haven’t been posting as much lately.  I’m not sure if very many people have noticed, but I have, and there is a reason for it.  Put out an APB for one sad pony and one squirrel possibly high on meth tainted nuts.

What?

What?

I can't help it Alice has so many nuts in her attic and I just go wild man willllllllllllld!

I can’t help it Alice has so many nuts in her attic and I just go wild man willllllllllllld!

In case you don’t know much about these two (any first time people who somehow stumbled over here can find out more on my About page) these guys represent my depression and anxiety.  Guess which one is which?  I’ve been having issue with both of these little hairballs, and since I’m allergic to fur, I’m pretty sure I’m allergic to both of them as well.  Some say they are just pictures, but believe me, they are a little too real.

It's okay, I'm one of those non-shedding anxiety squirrels!

It’s okay, I’m one of those non-shedding anxiety squirrels!

These guys didn’t always represent my issues.  Originally Sad Pony was just a funny meme I found somewhere that I tossed onto my page.  I loved him so much I did this quite often.  There is something about a pony that just looks this sad.  I realize he probably isn’t really sad, he’s just tired, you know, typical pony burnout.  But he sure looks pathetic in that picture.  Added to the humor (my sense of humor is a little different, like me!) are the words “Sad Pony is Sad.”  I find this dopey redundant sentence totally hilarious.  But also fitting.  Because even depressed, I can see humor everywhere. Sometimes, with enough distance, I can see how humorous some of my depressive thoughts can seem.  Like Eeyore on steroids.

Noooobody worry about me. I'll just sit here. With pins in my eyes. No, no, I'm fine, just that my life is a hollow lie and my soul a darkened pit of despair and agony. Oh, and I'm sitting on a squirrel. This makes me uncomfortable.

Noooobody worry about me. I’ll just sit here. With pins in my eyes. No, no, I’m fine, just that my life is a hollow lie and my soul a darkened pit of despair and agony. Oh, and I’m sitting on a squirrel. This makes me uncomfortable.

At some point, Sad Pony just became another character on my blog, just as he is a character in my life.  I am not depression, and depression isn’t me.  In this case, it’s a fat pony that just flops down on top of me and says “Take a break.  Take 50.”  It’s rather hard to get things done with this thing sitting on you.  Forget the black dog.  I have a Sad Pony, and ponies are heavy, especially when lethargic.  Or so I’ve heard.  I’ve never met a real pony – er beside this one who is REAL.  Somewhere.  I mean I have no idea who shot this picture. But I thank them.

Thanks so bloody much, Internet.

Thanks so bloody much, Internet.

But I’m not always just sad.  I also have anxiety.  And the best way I’ve figured out to describe anxiety is with a squirrel.  Have you ever watched these guys before?  Holy crap, it’s like some wire in their brain is being repeatedly shocked so that they have to dart from here to there and back again for no particular reason that I can tell.  Maybe it’s because they are toward the bottom of the food chain, and don’t want to get eaten.  The only time I’ve seen them remotely calm is on the college campus where I currently work, and that’s because college students are always – purposely or not – feeding the little suckers.  They’d grown so unafraid that they will actually sit on your foot.  The squirrels, not the students.  These squirrels can never leave campus or they will be killed almost immediately.

I'm a college squirrel. My major is Abnormal Psychology.

I’m a college squirrel. My major is Abnormal Psychology.

Squirrel also started out as a picture I threw into posts partly because of the Disney movie “Up” where a dog is given the ability to speak and, not surprisingly, he has little to say and is often distracted.  He can be in the middle of a sentence, spot a squirrel, and yell randomly “SQUIRREL!”  That’s my anxiety in a nutshell (pun intended bwaha).  I can be totally fine and then suddenly feel extreme panic.  I am fearful of what most people are not, like say going to work.  Sure they might not want to go to work, but their adrenaline doesn’t shoot up because they are going there.  This anxiety would be considered normal if I worked in, say, an ER.  But I work in a library.  Rarely is my life in danger at a library, though we have had snakes, bats, spiders, wasps, and yes, once a squirrel invade.  Also when people shoot up campuses, they often go for the library.  I learned this is our Active Shooter Training at work.  It really helped with my anxiety.

OMG it's a gun! Ruuuuuun oh wait it's just someone's laptop my mistake!

OMG it’s a gun! Ruuuuuun oh wait it’s just someone’s laptop my mistake!

Laptops look nothing like guns, you moron.

Laptops look nothing like guns, you moron.

As you can see, these two fellows often interact.  Depression makes me see anxiety as even more ridiculous, causing me to feel sad, then spiraling me into anxiety because oh no I’m sad again and how long will this last and then back to depression because come on, you have nothing to be afraid of, Alice.  Well, except maybe the possibility of a Trump presidency.  Then again, if we do get him, we probably won’t last long as a country because we will be bombed off the earth.  Either by other countries or ourselves.

Trump? Trump Trump Trump Trump OMG it's a weapon of mass destruction!

Trump? Trump Trump Trump Trump OMG it’s a weapon of mass destruction!

That's his hair, you twit. Still . . . point made.

That’s his hair, you twit. Still . . . point made.

Comforting thoughts, there.  Not really, but what is comforting is that I have this blog.  And over the years, I’ve had others identify with these two, and even encourage the figments of my imagination.  It’s great when other people willingly share in your delusions.  And no matter how much that squirrel runs, no matter how much he distracts me, no matter how much he encourages me to scroll through the Internet all day long or do impulsive things, I have a support system.  Same with Sad Pony.  There is usually someone – like friends Lindy, Jody, my best blog friend Merbear and naturally my Things (among others) – to eventually help distract me from the distraction of that squirrel. There is usually someone who, while maybe unable to lift that pony, will lie down with me until he leaves.

Goldfish even made Sad Pony and Squirrel stickers in her Redbubble Shop! You can also get them on a photo (I have them hanging up), or a pillow, or a baby onesie. Provided she still has it up? I don't know. But it's awesome!

Goldfish even made Sad Pony and Squirrel stickers in her Redbubble Shop! You can also get them on a photo (I have them hanging up), or a pillow, or a baby onesie. Provided she still has it up? I don’t know. But it’s awesome!

So I’m having a lot of ups and downs.  Meds really help with this, especially this last one that injected several of Squirrel’s best friends directly into my bloodstream, leaving me wanting to literally climb the walls and run out of my own skin.  You are ready for anything to help you at that point, even a fat pony to sit on those squirrels.  But I stopped that med, and I continue to hope for the future.  For even the most sarcastic people have hope.  I thank this blog, and my blog readers, for helping keep up that hope.  I thank them for letting me be Alice.

When life throws you flamingos, play polo.

When life throws you flamingos, play polo.

P.S. As a little aside, I have started another blog about my dolls, titled appropriately Wonderland of Plastic.  I only have an introduction and one review up so far (Wonderrrr Womaaaaaaaaaan!), but promise more to come.  I discuss the dolls and history and since it’s me, Alice, of course I have snark.  I’m not sure I can totally write without it.  This is also where I’ll be moving my doll stories with the Things.  We have more torture planned for our Disney princess housewives.  Because there is life after the fairy tale.

Always.

~Alice

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Someone Left My Cake Out By the Ocean

I’m out for a while, guys, away from Facebook news and stuff gets like, crazy crazy.  Droopy Dog Cruz just drops out, ka-poof, like he was tired of people (like fellow senators) saying he was the devil or something.  And apparently Kasich dropped out too, though no one really noticed, just like they didn’t really notice he was running.  And for like two days I didn’t even know this.  My mother told me, and we don’t even talk all that often (Happy Mother’s Day Mom and Ted!).

Even weirder, there’s not even that much about it on Facebook, the place I get all my liberally biased news.  That’s right, Facebook suppresses conservative news too!  (I tried to find the Gizmodo article, but only got this article by the same guys about painting a room by blowing up paint.) I think it must be true, though, cause Facebook news says Tylenol can make you emphasize less with people, which must be why I don’t care about a lot of really stupid people.  Frequent headaches and all.  Anyway, so we are left with . . .

Trump, te Trump, Trump, Truuuump.

Trump, te Trump, Trump, Truuuump.

No one quite knows what to do with this.  Oh, sure, comedians can laugh about it, but there’s this little edge to their laughter like ha ha Trump might be our president it’s hilarious and hahahahaha . . . ha . . . cough . . . choke.

So we’re left with Hillary and Bernie still duking it out because even though Bernie doesn’t stand much of a chance now, unlike Cruz, he’s just not going to leave Hillary alone until he absolutely has to because where would the fun in that be, huh?  Meanwhile, Facebook does bother to announce that, hello, Trump just won – uh what was that latest state – he won one, guys, and I am totally surprised what with him being the only one running.  Why are they bothering to announce this?  Is it actually possible for someone to be the only candidate and still lose?  I mean saying he’s not a Democrat running in Texas?

These days?  Anything is possible.  ANYTHING.

Time to start snortin' the baby powder, peeps.

Time to start snortin’ the baby powder, peeps.

One might think this is good for Democrats.  The problem is, if Hillary wins, there are many Bernie supporters who claim “Bernie or Bust” which is quite true because if they don’t vote for Hillary, they will, in fact, be voting for Trump, meaning “bust” big time.  Ka-boom.  I will write this out slowwwwly for people who are still uncertain about our two party system.  If you don’t vote for the candidate picked, even if you don’t like this candidate, you are, in effect, voting for the other party.  So then you just have to decide.  Hillary or Trump?

I think I lost some people there.  Come back, Canada is closing the gates!

This whole thing makes as much sense as that old song about cake getting wet.   You know “Someone left my cake out by the ocean” . . . wait, no that’s the new song with one of those Jonas brothers about . . . it’s totally just about eating cake by the ocean young Disney Channel viewers.  It’s edgy though, cause he says like bad words, and talks about cake.  Cake that is bound to get wet.  And you know what happens then.  I don’t think that I can take it. Cause it took so long to bake it. And we are never having that recipe again.

Soylent cake is made out of BABIES!

Facebook News: Soylent cake is made out of BABIES!

Oh nooooooooooo!  Ohhhhhhh nooooooo!

Did you see those metaphors just come flyin’ at you there?  I did.  They didn’t make any sense, just like this election, so it’s like we just took a perfectly good cake, left it out in the rain, on the beach, near a Jonas brother and a bunch of girls in bikinis, and now Trump may be President of the United States.  Actions have consequences, people.  Jonas brothers, ruined cake, Oompa Loompa politicians, people moving in mass to Canada where they probably don’t even have cake or oceans, I don’t know, and someone just “Wake Me Up When It’s All Over”.  When I’m wiser and I’m sober.

Till then, let’s just eat cake and dance to stupid songs.

-Alice