I really love you guys,

And i want to write, so everyone send prompts or requests or suggestions and let’s get this show back on the road. 

I want to write again.

but really i want to know if anyone is still interested in reading things about Ed Sheeran anymore. 

Supercut

Am i the only one who thinks the new Lorde album is worth listening to on repeat for the next 10 years? something about break-up songs and albums gives me the empowerment i need to tell fuck boys in my life to actually get lost, and start demanding respect from the people around me.

I’ve been listening to “Supercut” on repeat because i think the hardest thing in a relationship to do is to not look back on all of the things you could have done differently. 

And i wanted to write about it.

And so here I am, giving you something new, in a few parts. 

Enjoy, tell me what you think, tell me about your lives, just come talk to me sometime.

sometimes it feels like we’re just usernames and blogs, and i’d love it if we could feel like friends :)

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SUPERCUT: Part 1

“It’s so hard to leave—until you leave. Then it’s the easiest goddamned thing in the world.”

su·per·cut

noun

“A compilation of a large number of short video clips, typically showing examples of a repeated or clichéd action or phrase in films or broadcasts.”

 Supercuts aren’t hard to make, at least not when film clips, photos, and memories are housed on SD cards in digital cameras and iPhones. The 21st century has made it surprisingly easy to remember every single second of our life together—both good and bad.

When I first starting putting these pieces—these memories—together, it felt obnoxious and overeager and cliché. I couldn’t determine if I wanted to do it because I wanted to upset him, or to get over him, or to just come to terms with the fact that we both fucked up. I keep thinking about how badass it would be if I were to drop off a film reel and an old as fuck film projector on his porch to watch the supercut. “Make it as hard as possible to get over me,” I think. I laugh about it, out loud sitting at my desk, because the thought of it is so absurd, kind of like the love we had.

I don’t know how parents come to terms with leaving their children. I sat in bed once, reading “The Bright Hour,” knowing very well that the author passed at least 3 months ago. I stayed up all night, with both of our children in bed with me, listening to each breath passing through their noses, hoping that the sound of them surviving would instill the idea that they’ll be okay, with or without us.  When Ed left, I couldn’t fathom it, I still can’t.  I don’t know how he can sleep somewhere without them, without us.

I seal the USB containing the supercut in a goldenrod mailing envelope and print his brand new address in red ink in big bold letters. The postal worker asks if I want to take insurance out on the piece of mail. I’ve never taken insurance out on mail before, partly because I was unfamiliar with what that actually meant, and partly because I’ve never sent anything I couldn’t live without.  I can’t live without him knowing, and seeing, and remembering, and forgiving. I take out $5000 on it. Fuck it. The reel of “what if, what if, what if,” plays in my head over and over again.

 When he opens it, he’ll find the USB and a note reading, 

 “I’m trying to remember you, and let you go at the same time. And this is the only way I know how.”

This blog has had quite a run.

When i started writing, I didn’t write about Ed Sheeran. To be honest, I had never even heard of him. 

I was in my early 20′s, on my way to a bachelor’s degree, sitting a creative writing course that made me try harder--in the sense that I could write powerful things without letting cliche romance take over, that i was allowed to write about the fluffy stuff while still writing about all of the realistic pain and reality that goes with it.

And something about that class left me wanting connect with more people. We’re all sitting here, armed with experiences that make up our own reality, both good and bad. And i love that about writing. I love that there are themes that tie us all together, where we can come and relate to stories, even if they are about a ginger musician. 

One of my professors said, “We read to know we’re not alone.” And that’s something that has stuck with me for years. A lot of the time i read pieces of writing on tumblr like i read published books. Because they’re good. Because we’re good. 

But i struggle with the popularity contest that is tumblr. I struggle with fan fiction in a sense, because while it used to mean something different, it now means cliched young love and daddy kinks. That’s what mainstream tumblr is into now.  

So i struggle with being too old for it. Like i’m not relatable anymore because what i write does not have to do with anything that is popular on tumblr. And i appreciate those people who are out there, doing their thing, writing about that stuff, because it’s creative, but i feel like i’m missing the mark these days.

Maybe it’s because i’m not as active. I wrote a 50 page research paper over the last 2 months. I’ve been so bogged down by school and work and while it’s not an excuse (even if i apologize for it multiple times) it is reality. I want to write (i also want the phd i’ve been working on for 3 years). But i want to write about things that matter and about things that interest other people.

so i guess the point of this post is this:

What is interesting? What is relatable? What is important to you as a reader? (if anyone is even still reading) and how can i make this better for all of us?

Keyed Up: Part 2

Hi, hey, hello!

It’s been a minute, but i’ve finished a 50 page paper for school and now i’m here to give you part 2 of the anxiety one shot.

 :)

As always, let me know what you think!

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Keyed Up: Part 2

The way my head feels mimics the feeling of hitting your funny bone.

A split second of pain—when the never ending worry-thought cycle tells me that it’s me you’re staring at, and then pins and needles—when I try to make sense of the evidence for and against my warped cognitions.

I don’t know how to exist without all of these thoughts.

I suppose at one point I wasn’t always this fucked up, maybe when I was younger, but I can’t imagine a time when I wasn’t consumed with all of these “what if’s?”

Fun fact: We think at 800 words per minute.

For me, that’s 800 worries, 800 thoughts about the future, 800 thoughts about the past, 800 reminders of 800 things I’ve done wrong, or that could go wrong.

I’m not crazy.

At least not in the sense that it takes me 3 hours to get out of the house because I need to check the locks on the doors an odd number of times.

No, not that crazy.

Just a touch of the worries.

Keyed Up: Part 1

So we’ve talked about this whole “mental illness” fan fiction idea, and i’ve played around with it in my mind, and my goal is to create realistic multi-part short stories about mental illness and Ed.

The goal is to write something that we can all relate to, whether it’s the mental illness being focused on (e.g. anxiety, depression, social anxiety, autism, etc) or if it’s just how Ed is incorporated.

But i’m writing these as multi-part short fanfics. Each one will be 3 parts. Each one will focus on a different illness. 

The first one focuses on anxiety.

I hope you enjoy it.

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Keyed Up: Part 1

When my therapist asks me what I feel like on a daily basis, I tell her that I feel plugged in. You know that humming blue light that attracts mosquitos? Yeah, my body feels like one of those. Except, instead of being plugged into an electrical outlet, I’m plugged in to my own thoughts.   And that wouldn’t be such a bad thing, if I didn’t worry so much, or if I could turn the light off every once in awhile, and relax.

           Like right now, I’m sitting on a therapist’s couch, writing what it feels like to be me and I’m worried that I didn’t lock my front door to my apartment, and I’m worried that I’m taking too long to write this, and that my therapist thinks I’m an idiot, or that I’m making this up, and I’m worried about worrying, like there’s something medically wrong with me that my brain won’t shut off, and I’m worried that I’m going to get bad like the last time, and I’m worried that if I get bad I’ll be put into a hospital, or I’ll have another panic attack, probably in public, and everyone will look at me like I’m crazy.

           Crazy.

           Crazy.

           Look at the crazy girl who spent an entire month convinced that she was going to get cancer from eating microwaveable popcorn because that’s what the news said, and the news wouldn’t report on something if it wasn’t tru.

           Look at the crazy girl who eats alone in the library.

           Look at the crazy girl who worries about worrying.

           Look at the crazy girl who checks the locks on the door.

           Look.

           At.

           Me.

           Actually, don’t look at me.

           Please don’t look at me.

In response to the letter

I think it's important to address the fact that I come from a background of acceptance and commitment. I work with individuals everyday to identify values, defuse themselves from their thought, and live in accordance to what you value while being mindful. For me to say that yes, ed can do both, it's not a lecture or pointing a finger, it's an observation. He clearly values both family and music or he wouldn't be where he is now. From my experience, you can value more than one thing and still live a life that fulfills both. Like I said, there will always be things that are at the forefront of importance but it varies. I come from a place where we talk about balance rather than choosing one or the other, and that's how I try to not only live my life, but also encourage others to at least entertain the idea of learning how to do the same

A letter to Ed;

I’m tired, Ed.

I’m tired of hearing that you have a mutually exclusive idea of what success is.

“When it starts fading, it’s time to have kids.” Or “There’s more to life than selling billions of records.”

There is more to life, Ed.

But I am tired of hearing you talk as though you cannot do both.

I am in your corner, every step of the way

But you’re allowed to have both.

You’re allowed to make music and have a family.

The balance is necessary, sure, and it may be difficult,

But we all balance a career and a personal life.

Things may become the forefront of importance but it’s an ebb and flow.

Society will push you to decide and I’m sure they will make it difficult,

But the confidence you have in yourself, the confidence you have in your music will make it easier.

At the end of the day, you’re still you, regardless of music or relationships.

You were you before all of this and you’ll be you after.

Balance is key.

Success is all-inclusive.

You can have your cake and eat it too.