Profanity: A Pretty Word for…

F-Bombs, Shit-words, Bastards, Bitches, Whores (nope, not a swear), Assholes, Etc.  Profanity just sounds so classy.  Here’s what I want to know:  What the HELL is wrong with profanity?  Why can’t I drop an F-bomb on your ass(hole) now and then you bastard?  Hmmm?  Do tell?  It’s not like I’m trying to be mean to you…I’m just ya know…expressing my-self.

As you probably know from this blog, I tend to swear a lot.  I have “problems” in quotes with swearing. I really like it.  For you know, EM-PHA-SIS.  For me, they are just words, but words that are slightly naughty or badass or likely to capture exactly how I feel when I’m being extra dramatic.  Like instead of wearing a cardigan, I’m wearing a leopard print skin tight tank top. Or instead of lace I’m wearing black leather.  That’s how I prefer it.  I want to get your attention.  Basically I’m an attention whore.  (still not a swear word!)

So here’s what I want to know…in this day and age, why oh why are we still so offended by certain “words”?  We act as if these words had power on their own.  As if they were hurting people by just being there for emphasis.  They are JUST words, just like any other word on this page.  They just happen to have some meanings that are graphic in nature, although I tend to use them to just sound cool.  So what?  That’s like saying, I hate the word Racist.  Or I any other word that means something negative or otherwise less than pretty.  Fuck that shit.  Yo.

Here’s what made me think to write about Profanity.  I’ve been looking at purchasing a domain name and hosting service for another website (again, a website all about me the narcissistic attention whore).  While looking I found a website post that walks you through how to set up a domain and self hosted WordPress site through Blue Host.  Since thus far I have no preference to what company I use, I thought Blue Host sounded like something to check out.  Oh and on a side-note, while reading the article about how to set up WordPress, it mentioned that Blue Host doesn’t host porn on its site and how that’s good because you don’t want to be on the same server as porn.  As if porn will somehow infect you?  Or you will be associated with porn?  I guess what they mean is that porn is bad and we can’t allow it on servers? Or we only join “clean” servers?  I guess we don’t want our computers to get STD’s or worms.

Anyway…this made me curious about their rules and regs for signing up with them. If porn isn’t allowed, what about swearing like an old timey sailor? Honestly I was surprised I was even asking myself this question because I don’t think swearing is a big deal.  The fact that there are even words you aren’t supposed to say is the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard…but I know society, so thought I’d better look this up.  Because as we know, I can’t be hosted somewhere that doesn’t allow profanity.  I am PROFANITY.  I am fuckety-fuck-fuck-asshole-shit-bitch.

So I check it out.  YUP!!!  Profanity is not allowed! WHAT THE!??  What about FREE SPEECH?  Free profanity?  Free swearing?!?  It says right in their wordy-ass legal mumbo-jumbo that you can’t swear on a site hosted by them on their server.  Although it does say they won’t be trolling all the sites hosted by them to look for swears, however if somehow you are found out, they can pull the plug on all your delicious swearing on the interwebs.  Sad!  So sad.

Listen, I’m not a bad person.  I come from a religious family.  I try not to have a potty mouth at work or when my parents or grandparents or conservatives are around.  I don’t try to offend people on purpose.  However, I like words a hella lot and swear words are words too, like I said, used for em-pha-sis or to get a point across or to just plain old explain to you how crazy-weird-excited I can get.  For example, check out these famous first lines in classic novels and then see what a little profanity can do to punch that shit up:

Call me Ishmael. —Herman Melville, Moby-Dick (1851)

Call me Fucking Ishmael, bitches.

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. —Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice (1813)

It is a fucking truth, universally acknowledged, that a single rich fucker in possession of a dope-ass fortune must be in want of a goddamned trophy wife.

Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show. —Charles Dickens, David Copperfield (1850)

Whether I’ll turn out to be da fucking bomb-diggity or whether that job will be held by some other asshole, these pages must show.

Mrs. Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself. —Virginia Woolf, Mrs. Dalloway (1925)

Mrs. Dalloway said she would buy the goddamned flowers herself.  Damn you!

I had the story, bit by bit, from various people, and, as generally happens in such cases, each time it was a different story. —Edith Wharton, Ethan Frome (1911)

Bitches be gossipin’

Elmer Gantry was drunk. —Sinclair Lewis, Elmer Gantry (1927)

Elmer Gantry was fucking drunk. Nuff said.

Anyway, who will tell me that I can’t swear?  Who has been offended who cannot turn their eyes away from the evil harmful swears and just leave them in peace?  Has a profanity-laced blog post ever harmed anyone, really?  Okay, maybe if directed at said person in a hurtful manner.  Like if I straight up called you a bitch, you could be offended.  But I didn’t.  I just flavored, oh so delicately, my prose (ha!) with a few swear words.  It’s like when the recipe says, add salt to taste.  I added swears to taste and it tasted just right, goldilocks.  So buzz off.  (Also…sticks and stones bitches!) (I’m so juvenile)

Anyway, I’m surprised.  I guess the kindly nice world doesn’t do swearing.  But I do.  I do that shit all the time.  Sometimes Mr. VS has to tell me to stop swearing when I get too excited.  I just like expressing myself in potentially offensive ways that aren’t really offensive at all.  I guess if swears were considered regular words they would lose all their power and then where would I be?  I would have nothing to shock you with.  I would have no french tickler.  I’d have to come up with something else.  Alas, fuck. I guess I’d better be glad the world doesn’t like them too much cause otherwise my writing would be soooo vanilla.  I would be wearing a pinafore and kid gloves and we all know I don’t roll that way.

Look, here’s a perfect olden days classic quote for how I feel:

They’re certainly entitled to think that, and they’re entitled to full respect for their opinions… but before I can live with other folks I’ve got to live with myself.  The one thing that doesn’t abide by majority rule is a person’s conscience.”  ~Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird

See…my conscience says that I should swear.  Case fucking closed.


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TFC’s 1st Anniversary Blog-Off Winner!

Victoria Sawyer:

Angst Readers: I have won a contest because I wrote a post about my old Jalopy, so check it out on Too Funny Chicks. The best part is that my old Jalopy died right after writing said post. So…please go read the post first (below) and THEN come back and read the rest of the story here:

P.S. the sweetest thing about this post is that I wrote it a few weeks ago and LITERALLY 2 days after writing this, the Old Jalopy DIED!! I think maybe I cursed it with this post! Can you believe it?!!! So I was driving home from work and the Jalopy and I were traveling across an intersection when SUDDENLY and without WARNING of any kind, the Jalopy no longer was able to create forward motion. We were coasting together across a busy lane of traffic. We coasted right into park. The old Jalopy was making a terribly loud noise and no amount of pushing upon the pedals would create the forward motion so essential to Jalopys. Thank God we made it safely across the line of traffic whilst coasting.

Thus we were dead in the water. I.E. We were dead on the road and the Tranny in the Jalopy had officially decided that it no longer desired to go on living. I had to call a tow truck. And when the estimate came back from the garage, it was no longer feasible (in a monetary way) to keep the Jalopy on life support. Mr. VS and I had to decide to pull the plug and buy a new car, thus invoking a car PAYMENT.

CAR PAYMENTS are not thing you want to deal with. I had gone for so many years believing that cars are free or at least very close to free. And now suddenly I was looking online at cars for sale and realizing how Un-Free they are. They are extremely expensive. Mr. VS and I purchased a new vehicle. And thus our bank account is now smaller and we owe money during the month.

However, there is a golden lining (P.S.S. Mr VS is sooo jealous cause he still has an old jalopy that has not died! It has more MILES than my jalopy had! HAHA!!). The golden lining is that I now am one of those assholes with the auto-locks-windows-moon roof- etc. I am spoiled rotten and no longer suffering. I EVEN HAVE so many settings on my wipers for my rain experience that I don’t even know what to do! I EVEN HAVE a windshield wiper for the back window! THE LUXURY!! I don’t even know what to do. I’m stunned. I’m so much of an asshole now, it’s not even funny. Mr. VS holds hate inside his heart for me since I get to drive this new shiny vehicle to work every single day.

Truly my blog has the power of making all my dreams come true, if I complain enough. YEAH ANGST!! Also I am officially able to ALMOST be as lazy as I want to be. My dreams are truly coming true.

Originally posted on Too Funny Chicks:

ellen on phone

 Oh, hey Ellen! Chick E and I would love to meet up with you and Chick P.

oprah on the phone

 What’s Up, O? Yeah, Chick E and I would love to meet for a drink!  

August 29th was 1 Year Anniversary!

Yay Us!

We’ve come a long way and have a long way to go still…

We have yet to receive any phone calls from Ellen or Oprah yet….

 We ran a Blog-Off Contest and out of ALL the entries, this was the one that made us laugh the most! 

Congrats to Miss Victoria Sawyer, you’ve won a shopping spree at!!

(You can spree all the way up until you reach $25)

Thanks for entering!!

And, without further adieu, here is the winning blog…

“My Old Jalopy Rant”

By Victoria Sawyer (Aka Chick V)

My car is super extra shitty.  I’ve had the beast for EIGHT YEARS!!  Yes…

View original 995 more words

Friday Obsession-Thoughts: Gifs and Funny Blogs

YEAH It’s the FRIZZ!!  How happy are you?  The Frizz is the best day of the work week.  And when it hits end-o’-work o’clock then it’s the best day/time of the weekend too!  All in all, a sweet day.

This week I’m obsessed with 2 things.  Gifs and Funny blogs.  For example, here’s one blog that combines BOTH items and has started my obsession:  #whatshouldwecallme

Here is another blog that also is hilarious: When Parents Text  or this:  Too Funny Chicks

And I’m kind of obsessed with The Oatmeal and Cracked

Secondly, just for fun, I’m going to put together an eclectic assortment of GIFs for your pleasure.  (BTW…I’m trying not to have coffee.  I recently took up the habit and it makes me feel all funny in the head, but also it’s awesome and I love it and I feel like “zing!”.  I think it’s becoming an addiction already.  Legal addictions that you can partake in during work hours are just…wow.  I love it.  I wish I could have wine at work.  That would be tops)


Duckling says no.

This duckling is ridic cute. Also NO!! NO!! Nope!  Stop it! NO!!  I said NO!!

Bastards Gif


Christopher Walken going Awwww yeaaaaa.

Aww yea!! HELL YEA!!! GET IT…GET IT!! What’s up! What’s up!? Fuck yea! That’s right! Swerve! Uhhhhh….

I don't care dance

Give a shit, I do not!

hate everyone tina fey

I Hate EVERYONE!!  Even when I’m in fancy dress, I despise all people.


Wine?! WHERE!!? For ME?!! YEA!!! At work??!!  WHOA!!!

Guy in bear suit

RAWR!!!  I wish I could wear a bear costume at work at my desk and talk about honey all day long.  TOPS!!

And thus, that is all.  You know you love it.

Tandem Sleeping

When I write Tandem Sleeping it makes me laugh.  It reminds me of slalom or something or for some reason bob sledding.  Why?  Why?

Anyway, I want to write about sleeping with someone else.  It’s weird.  In particular I’m going to tell you about sleeping with Mr. VS.  Doesn’t that sound like fun and/or inappropriate?   Don’t worry, it’s going to be clean, purely sleeping. (Disappointed are ya? I wouldn’t want to inappropriately titillate you.  I love that word).

I’ve “illustrated” my troubles for you, featuring Mr. VS and myself as lollipops.  Again, not dirty, stop going there.

Let’s start by going….back in timmmeeeeeeee…..(do-de-do-de or somesuch)

Image of me sleeping alone, spreadeagleAHAHAHA…first off it looks like the lolly’s head is floating.  Ridic.  Okay, so here’s my origin story.  I grew up sleeping upon my own full size mattress, like the princess and the pea.  I was…loving it.  Totally sprawled out, all by myself, spread-eagle in the bed.  I learned to sleep that way, I became accustomed to sleeping in the middle of the bed and being able to spread out as much as my little heart desired.

Then the unthinkable happened, I had to share a bed with a male of the species.  At first it wasn’t Mr. VS.  I know, it sounds terrible to say that, but yes, I was sleeping with another man before him.  I’m a horrible person (and we weren’t even married.  The SINNING!!).  Tandem Sleeping

We had a full sized bed for TWO people.  And I had to become accustomed to sleeping with someone else, which mean that I had to keep my arms and legs inside the cabin, so to speak.  I could no longer sprawl.  There was a learning curve for this and it took a while to get used to.  Eventually though, I retrained myself and now I sleep in a straight line most of the time on my belly.  In fact this retraining was so successful that now I feel uncomfortable sprawling.  I have to have arms and legs tight to the body for sleep to arrive and this can be quite hot at times, whereas sprawling would reduce the built up energy.

Now comes the part in the story where I sleep with Mr. VS.  Most of the time, sleeping with him is just fine and there are no problems.  But SOME nights there are issues.  First off, Mr. VS likes to sleep in a diagonal, with his feet on MY side of the bed.  He claims this is his way of putting out his “love tentacles” trying to gain love by touching me during the night.  Or sometimes it’s because he’s cold and I’ve refused to cuddle with him because I feel too hot.  Also stop trying to make Love Tentacles dirty.  You people!

One lollipop is putting it's feet on to the other's sideAs you can see, the love tentacles are on MY side of the bed.  This is unacceptable.  My feet have no room to breathe.  Not that feet DO breathe…but you know what I mean.

The next scenario requires me to tell you about the “gutter.”  Much like the gutter in bowling, this is a gutter in the bed.  After you’ve had a mattress for longer than 1 year, it seems that it forms a gutter in the middle of the bed.  Mr. VS likes to sleep in what I refer to as a “triangle” whereby he puts his butt in the gutter and is all curled up.  When his mass is in the gutter, it causes my mass to be attracted to the gutter and thus, I am pulled into orbit around his blackhole.  I can’t stop it. As you can see by my illustration, I’ve indicated the gutter, shown you the triangle AND you can see my little feeble arms trying to keep me from falling into the gutter completely.  But it’s a vain effort.  I am one with the gutter.

Mr. VS sleeps in a triange.The gutter enjoys punishing me by causing me back troubles because it’s not comfortable to sleep on an incline, trying to keep yourself from falling in.  Fighting gravity all night is lame.  Mr. VS has been vain enough to try to tell me that I’m causing the gutter with my large rear area.  However, this is quite impossible as he is the one who sleeps in a triange with his butt in the gutter and clearly he has more mass than I do.  Plus I sleep on my stomach, so my mass is spread out, not concentrated in the gutter.

Here, I’ve illustrated the triangle for your viewing pleasure, incase you weren’t catching it. It’s a freaking Isosceles or perhaps a Right Triangle.  One of the two.  I harrass Mr. VS about this sleeping pattern all the time.

I've illustrated the triangle.Here’s an illustration on how I try to avoid the massive pull of the gutter upon my sleeping form.  I attempt to sleep on the very extreme outer edge of the mattress where it’s still sort of firm.  It’s like the edge is still flat and then it starts to dip. Below I will insert an illustration of a side view of the gutter.  (Also FYI, Mr. VS and I slept on a FULL SIZED mattress for approx. 6 years.  We now have finally upgraded to a queen sized mattress and already after several years the gutter has made itself apparent.  The gutter in our old bed was nuts, it was soooo deep).

And thus I try to escape the pull of the gutterSide view of the gutterThere’s really only one thing you can do, when tandem sleeping (I want to write tandum, that’s my personal spelling of that word) and that’s to accept the blackhole and to do the old spoons.  Thus:

SpooningSo, as you can see, acceptance is a good thing.  Unless you’re overheating in which case, the spoons is the worst.  BTW, I like to be the big spoon as you can see in this photo.  HAHAHA.

The other thing I want to mention but am too lazy to illustrate (picture a photo of the two lollys on either side of the bed with heat waves radiating off them) is when you’re too hot in bed.  There are several ways to be too hot. Here’s a list:

a. Pizza Heat (and/or carb overload heat)

b. Dehydration Heat

c. Heat Heat (It’s hot outside, DAMN! and I feel like we don’t cuddle in the summer.  We don’t have AC, we’re living in the dark ages)

d. Alcohol Heat (which seems to be related to Dehydration Heat)

When you’re too hot, you avoid each other like the plague.  Sometimes it’s just one of you that’s too hot.  Sometimes it’s both.  Sometimes one is freezing and the other is dying of the pizza heat or the dehydration.  Sometimes you don’t even know you’re hot, but your skin is burning to the touch.

So…there you have it.  Illustrations of the trials and tribulations of sleeping tandem with someone else.  Don’t do it.  And if you must, get a large bed, at least a king size or California king.  Then maybe you can create your own gutter to sleep at the bottom of.  One on each side.  His and Hers.  Or whatever your situation may be.

Also don’t let animals sleep with you (I.E. Cats).  They will keep you awake with their pacing, playing, jumping, pouncing, purring, kneading, fur, antenna to the face (as Mr. VS calls the nose to nose action when the cats tickle him with their whiskers).  We keep those naughty cats OUT!!  They think our room is a “special” place because they never get to go there, so they try to sneak in all the time and cause mayhem.  Particularly Bitey who doesn’t like to be told what to do.  He has all manner of tricks and stratagems for getting into our room at night when we get up to use the restroom (and are fumbling about in the dark.  Plus as I recently told Mr. VS, I am not only Mentally Ill, I am also Handicapped because I’m so blind that if I don’t put on my glasses when I get up in the night, there’s double-trouble).

For example, (back to Bitey’s stratagems) he used to just wait outside the door and dart inside once it opened.  But we got smart and started opening the door slowly to see if he was there.  And then we pushed his ass away from the door.  Which sometimes was unsuccessful if he was feeling particularly frisky and clawy.

Now he knows to wait just a bit further away, so we cannot see him in the dark and thus he sprints inside our room.  Almost every morning there is a “Dammit!” muttered as he darts inside.  Once inside he creates hell for the sleeper.  He picks on the bed with his claws, he tries to get inside the night stand, he darts about the room, he jumps on the bed and races around.  It’s miserable.

So don’t let cats inside if you value your sleep.  Although those bastards are super tricksy, so good luck with that.

Finally, and in closing, I love sleep, I adore sleep.  It’s the best invention ever.  So all of these aforementioned issues are hurting me to the point of SUFFERING (I suffer a lot, also, did you know that Mr. VS and I are in the third ring of our marriage?  First comes the Engagement Ring, Then the Wedding Ring and then the Suffer-ring).

I ask you, Angst Readers, how am I to be beautiful and serene, if I cannot attain my necessary beauty sleep?  I blame my ugliness and crankiness on Mr. VS and the cats.  And my thoughts, and my body temp etc which I cannot seem to regulate at night, despite drinking massive quantities of water during the day.  BLAST IT!!

I am now exhausted.  It’s nap time.

I Am Mentally Ill: Defeating Stigma

This past weekend I declared to someone that “I am Mentally Ill.”  Her response was, “No you’re Not!” and we actually argued back and forth about whether or not I am mentally ill.  And just for the record, I am.  However, I have decided to feel no shame.  I have decided to shout it to the roof tops.  I AM MENTALLY ILL!!

mentally-illRecently I’ve done some reading about mental illness.  I read An Unquiet Mind by Kay Jamison.  This book is really eye opening about Bipolar Disorder ( or as she calls it, Manic Depressive).  Kay is amazing, highly intelligent and has accomplished so much and had so many struggles with her mental illness, but she has come out on top.  I was really struck by her descriptions of how it feels to battle Bipolar.  The way the mind gets so busy and confused with thoughts flying, the highs and lows that lead a person to do things they wouldn’t normally do. And the despair that comes with feeling this way.  That it will never go away, that it is something to be kept secret.  Can you imagine the personal internal battle?  Just living a normal life would be difficult.

It made me realize that the power of the brain is staggering and a small defect can affect a person so very much that their whole life is in shambles.  It’s amazing to me that so many people in the world don’t have to deal with this.  They would have no idea. And if they did, they would have epic respect for someone who has battled through it and become successful despite the issue with their wiring.

I also just recently started reading Listening to Prozac by Peter Kramer.  The book was written in the 90’s and apparently back then when Prozac was new there were all kinds of questions about mental illness and drug therapy (not that there aren’t still questions today!  The mind is truly a complicated matter).  What the author talks a lot about is how scientists have been using medications to determine what illness someone has, basically working backward toward a diagnosis by how the patient responds to the drugs.  And one word that kept coming up in the book is BIOLOGY.  Biology is not something most people think about when thinking about a mental illness.  However, mental illness IS Biology.

As an example, here’s a list of biological problems with my physical being:  I’m blind.  Not completely, but I’m pretty blind.  My teeth were crooked as a child.  I have feet that tend to pronation.  I have Endometriosis.  All of these issues are problems with my biology.  They are probably in part genetic or perhaps wholly genetic.  There are solutions to these problems in our modern day.  I have glasses and contacts.  I might consider Lasik at some point.  I had braces and I still wear a retainer.  I have special inserts for my sneakers to protect my knees and ankles from the strain of pronation.  I have birth control pills to reduce the pain of endometriosis.

What’s interesting to me is that no one would ever make me feel badly about myself because I need glasses.  No one would look at a family with children who have crooked teeth or leg braces or a heart defect and think, wow that family is messed up!  However, I have been taught throughout my lifetime that I should feel ashamed about the biology of my brain.  I have been taught that if I work hard enough, if I am strong enough, I can overcome my mental defects which are only there because I am weak or less mentally.  No one would ever say to me, if you work hard enough on yourself you can see again and overcome your blindness.  No one would ever say, if you weren’t so weak you wouldn’t have crooked teeth.  However, these are biological defects and there are treatments available that I have taken advantage of.

The same is true for mental illness.  Crazy doesn’t exist.  Madness doesn’t exist.  It is due to a brain that has defects in its wiring.  My belief is that we are genetically predisposed to mental illness.  For me, with Panic Disorder, I had a panic attack at a certain point during my childhood and thereafter tied my panic in with that event.  I learned and tried to cope with what was happening to me in the best way I knew how.  I tried to protect myself and thus I created anticipatory anxiety on top of the naturally occurring sensitivity I have to fear and panic.

An article I read online stated that it is believed that there is a predisposition to panic in our genes.  Genes that deal with how memories are stored and our sensitivity to events and emotions. Which means that I store memories of fear in a different way than someone else.  And I am predisposed to be sensitive to panic.  This is where the electrician comes in to fix the wiring in my brain, because dealing with panic and anxiety in therapy is a good thing, however although you can tackle your beliefs and fears that center around your panic and try to face them, it is not possible to correct the defects of the brain with talk therapy.  That’s where medicine comes in.

Since I’ve been back on meds, I have noticed a lot of different things about myself.  It’s not that my personality has changed, although to some it might seem that way.  The difference is that the the rumination/obsession related fear thinking that I used to feel has lessened. It was that thinking that was destroying me.  It kept me afraid, cautious, unavailable and depressed.  Spontaneous panic attacks also no longer happen to me and since I haven’t panicked nearly as much as when not on meds, I find that slowly the fearful hold it had on my life is lessening.  The difference is drastic.  Where once I would stay home or be terrified of events, now I am excited and looking forward to life.  Where once camping, trips, car rides, dinner out, time with friends, etc were all cause for anxiety, now I find I am not afraid.  I don’t obsessively think.  I don’t fear and make up scenarios to fear.  Now, I do.  I live more in the moment than ever before.

That’s not to say that everything is perfect.  I still have some of my old fears related to panic.  I do sometimes cause a panic attack to happen because of my fear of an certain kind of event that I have stored as a terrible scary memory.  I think therapy has helped.  It gave me more of an awareness of where my thinking was flawed and perfectionist.  It also taught me compassion for myself which is something that I wasn’t familiar with because I had thought myself crazy for so long.  That combined with the meds has really changed me.

And I’m now mature enough to really understand how I’ve changed.  Just a year ago, I was on edge every day of my life.  Everyday I was on the verge of a panic attack.  My body felt quivery and afraid, my mind would race and invent and obsess and any little event out of the norm would send me over the edge into panic.  Physically I was poised for panic.  My biology was poised for panic and there was nothing I could do to stop it.  There were ways to lessen its effect through meditation, exercise, diet and vigilance, but nothing on earth would make it go away completely, unless the problem in the wiring of my brain was fixed.

This is a new realization for me.  Even though I’ve known for years that panic attacks run in my family, I considered it a weakness or that we were all plain crazy and I was filled with shame and fearful that people would find out my secret.  I can think of at least 3 relations who definitely suffer and I’m sure there are others that I don’t know about and now that I have fully comprehended how changed I am on meds and have learned more about the origins of panic disorder, I realize that it is truly genetic and biologic.  It is not our minds or soul that is sick, but our physical body.  I suffer from a defect in my brain.  My wiring doesn’t work quite right.  Why should I feel badly about a physical genetic problem? And all related issues are simply my coping methods for this genetic problem.  Wouldn’t a person who was blind, also come up with coping methods?  It makes sense.

The moral of the story is that I refuse to be beaten down or made to feel badly about a problem in my genetics.  I don’t feel bad about wearing glasses.  I’m not ashamed to say I’m wearing contacts.  Why should I be ashamed to say that I am mentally ill and am on medication?  I know that society has created a stigma.  And it really hurts me to think of all the thousands of people throughout history who suffered from an uncurable mental illness and were treated horrifically.

I think it’s time for those of us in the Mentally Ill community to bond together, to stand up, to declare that we will not be ashamed.  We will not accept a stigma, or weird looks or people who refuse to understand.  We are creative, we are highly intelligent, and the mentally ill have been some of the most impressive humans in history.  I want to see mental illness treated like my eyesight.  Like my pronation, like my crooked teeth.  A biological problem that I am seeking help for and not a weakness or something I can “fix” if I work hard enough.  It is not a weakness, it is not a lack of character, it is not that I am lesser than anyone else.  I am just built differently and being built this way has made me special too.  I am in touch with my emotions and my body.  I am highly sensitive and thoughtful.  I am funny and able to laugh at the twists and turns of life.  I am expressive and due to my struggles I can put into words things that someone else might not be able to.

I refuse to accept stigma.  I shout from the rooftops.  I am Mentally Ill.  I am ME!

A New Addiction Cometh: Coffee

I’ve recently added a new addiction to my collection: coffee. (I do collect addictions even though I make claim to NOT having an addictive personality. FYI, the things that I claim are always strongly suspect.)  Regarding Coffee, I never thought this addiction would happen to me. I thought I was immune to Coffee’s charms.  But alas, I find that the lure is now too strong.  The coffee siren song sings to me.  Coffee…Coffee…have some coffee.  I find myself thinking about it all day long.  Should I have coffee?  What about some coffee?  How about I brew up some coffee in the wasteful old Keurig? Is this headache caused by not having coffee?  Are my teeth turning yellow because of the brownness of coffee?  Should I have a bit more coffee?  Since I’m already a cup in, what’s the harm of one more?  I feel slightly tired, coffee?  This morning is boring, how’s about we wake it up with some…coffee?  Question, what do we want?  Answer, Coffee. STAT.

As you can see I have a very active mind.  Always thinking, worrying, thinking, wanting, obsessing, complaining.

And then, once I’ve OD’d on coffee…I’m like this:

ZING!! Woman has big eyes for Coffee!


HAHAAAAA…haha….haha…haha…ZING ZING!!  COFFEEE!!!!  EEEEE!!!!! WEEEEE!!!

It’s like a legal drug.  Well…at least at first.  Once you get accustomed to it…you find you need more.  It’s just like an addiction to drugs.  But they ALLOW this one in polite business company.  In fact, it’s encouraged.  They OFFER coffee to you.  They have devices for making it, within your office.  They push it upon you.  Want some coffee?  It’s like the 1960’s on Mad Men where they had decanters of alcohol IN THE OFFICE.  Wild!

What I want to tell my friends, “Dude, guy, holy shit, the other day I got super wicked fucked up on coffee!”

Want some delicious coffee?  You know you do.  Wanna get f'ed up in polite company?  While your boss watches on?

Want some delicious coffee? You know you do. Wanna get f’ed up in polite company? While your boss watches on?  Yea….buddy!!!

How is an addict to say no?  What is an addict to do?  At first I was seriously getting fucked up by coffee.  It was like a mind altering drug.  I couldn’t really concentrate but I did feel full of energy.  Easy tasks were accomplished with flair and boundless enthusiasm.  Unlike my normally crankiness.  But harder concentration-related tasks, like reading and actually comprehending were much more difficult.  I just kept getting distracted, like adult ADHD.

But now…just a few cups in and suddenly the fun exhilaration is no longer there!  There’s a slight trembling about my hands, but the mind-fuck is gone!  WTF!!  I don’t know what to dooooo!  Whether to have more to achieve my desired result or to cut back and therefore be able to get fucked up with just one cup again.  But it’s a slippery slope.  One cup and suddenly you’re in two cups deep and suddenly the next day you want a cup or two and it goes on and on.  Oh god.  I’m weak, so weak!

I’ve tried to cut back, I really have, but it’s escalating because it’s available EVERYWHERE.  Even at your local car dealership, or while you drive to work, or at the grocery store for purchase.  At least it’s legal.  That’s the only consolation.  I’m amazed that it’s allowed quite honestly.  As I was sitting at my desk, all zinged up on coffee, I was like…whoaaaa!  How can this be allowed, AT work!  No wonder everyone wants to drink this shit all day long!!  SIGN ME UP!!


I Am Full of Bullshit: My Best Quotes on Angst

Bullshit!I’ve decided to collect together for your enjoyment and LOL’ing (still I shudder) an assortment of crazy, strange and yes, awesome quotes from my favorite Angst posts.  I can and do amuse myself all the time (perhaps I’m the only one?).  So…brace yourselves for genius (I’m so full of shit I can’t even let that statement stand on its own.  Even the title of this post smacks of bullshit extraordinaire):

Gentleman….start your engines.  Ladies too…

First off, here’s a few random quotes that I just thought up or heard (nevermind…put on the brakes):

Said incredulously: “I don’t even know what would happen if I had a 3rd cup of coffee!”  As if terrible horrible unknown shit could happen!

Said very seriously: “Don’t worry, there’s room enough for all of us to talk online…to ourselves!”

Mostly this is just a collection of outrageousness and thus…quite lame.

The Inner Critics in the Crime Family

“Also keep in mind that you need to give your operatives a make over.  You’re a grown  up now!  You can’t run a crime family in power bangs and scrunchies, smelling like Baby Soft!   You operate now in power SUITS and tasteful cleavage (décolletage, Natch!).  Come on!”

I Made Words!  Anarchy!

“I don’t know if you know, but I’m an English major with an actual BA (Bad Ass)degree in English.  Does that mean that I am certified to speak English you ask?  Don’t be an asshole!  (I am certified for that, BTW, but it’s not the only thing we English majors can do! So rude!) An English major means that I am certified by an actual university to MAKE or HANDLE (gently) dangerous words ( I have better clearance than people in a chemistry lab, this shiz is dangerous).  Yup.”

“Ok, back to the task at hand.  I made words.  I did!  I feel like a child saying that I made potty or something like that.  That’s how proud I am of making words.  I want to scream:  COME LOOK, I MADE WORDS!!!  DON’T YOU DARE FLUSH!!  ARE YOU PROUD OF MEEEE???!!”

“Yeah…I was mining for words.  I am a word archaeologist.  Except these words aren’t really extinct or anything like that, nor are they part of the fossil record.  Their (this form of there means I think words are sentient beings) still in current use, they are…still alive, I guess.  So…I suppose I didn’t dig all that hard, only the very surface.  I am incredibly shallow.  Afterall I do write a blog all about ME.   Whatever, you guys are mean to me.  You never let me get away with my grandiosities.”

Roses are Red, Violets are Blue, These Flowers are Dying and So Are You

” Flowers are just a reminder of DEATH!!  How lovely is it to get your loved one something that looks so beautiful and fresh and young today and then in a few days  it shrivels up and dies and you have to dispose of it!  It’s a cruel cruel reminder of how young and fresh we once were and now we’re old and used up and soon we’ll be in the compost heap!  I’m serious!  So depressing.  Unless of course you are actually young…and then it’s okay because you aren’t used up yet, you are still young and fresh and haven’t a thought for death.”

pity partyPity Party for 2!  Whooohooo!

“Can you see me now?  Wah, wah, wah like a big baby!  Chugging self-pity from two 40 oz bottles that I duct taped to my hands while blubbering about how no one loves me.  Double fisting the pity!  Really working hard for that pity!  Stomping around the house like a large child, making recriminations, drunkenly pity pointing out things that make absolutely no sense.  Pointing fingers at self, making outrageous points by pointing finger in the air with exclamation points.  Cursing heaven and hell, high dramatics better suited for the stage than real life because of their full on cheese, temper tantrums, self recriminations, blathering, runny  nose, stingy eyes, totally an adult bout of losing one’s cool.  Very very professional, of course.  I’m never NOT professional.”

Decoy Duck

“I looked around frantically.  Something was wrong.  Things were not right.  Why would Hubs want a decoy duck?  It’s not his antique speed at all!  This speed was much slower and the price was not right!!  It wasn’t a tool, it’s wasn’t furniture, and he’s not even into fishing, hunting, elking or ducking paraphernalia!”

“My humiliation was complete.  I was the proud owner of a decoy duck that I did not desire.  I had been duped.  It’s not the right word, but I felt that I had been cuckolded.  I had!  I REALLY HAD!!  I had been had in the worst possible way!!  Molested out of my hard cash!  And by a duck without a fancy paint job and by my own SPOUSE!!  The rage that burned in my heart!  $45!!!”

Getting my Muse Stinkin’ Drunk

“Now I’m going to tell you why drinking and writing is awesome.  It’s called inhibitions.  You know those little voices in your head that tell you you shouldn’t be doing something?  Like the voice that tells you that twirl dancing on table tops in 4 inch heels at your favorite bar might be a bad idea for more reasons than you can count?  Or that hooking up with a certain person will surely lead to emotional bankruptcy and happiness foreclosure?  As you might know, those little problems (or fail safes?) tend to go away when you drink.  And in public, at a bar or in a relationship or one night stand, a loss of inhibitions might just get you into trouble.

Not so with writing!  (so long as you don’t publish anything while under the influence!)”

 blog addictAddicted

“Now the thing is, you guys will still be around when blog burnout inevitably rears its ugly head, right?  No?!  I knew you were fair weather friends! (colloquialism city! BAH) I can hear you now, “Look at that old blog burnout Victoria Sawyer! You new bloggers can take a lesson from her, she went too fast, posted too much, soared too high and now look at her, lost and alone.  No one reads that blog anymore.  It’s TRITE!”  Sob…SOBBBB!!”

angst wthWhat Kind of Strange Godforsaken Place is This?

“Yes, this barren wasteland of “thoughts” is called Angst.

“Is it filled with suffering, anxiety, fright and terror?” you ask.

Answer:  “Stop cowering!”

Now, sort of.  But only if you marry that suffering, anxiety, fright and terror (in a polygamous marriage) to humor, sarcasm and witty repartee (okay, a group wedding).”

We Were Cutting Through Time and Space with Our Cheekbones

“The problem for me with running with the hubs is that he used to be a track/cross country runner in the olden days and so he still somehow, even as a huge pile, can kick my ass.  Even if I work out and he doesn’t and we go for a run, he kicks my ass.  It’s lame.

So we’re running on trails and he’s up ahead leaving me in the dust.  It doesn’t help that he has much longer legs than mine.  And I’m all panting and dying and my legs are heavy and he’s like a goddamned gazelle, bounding ahead with effortless strength.  Later he’ll feel bad for me and run back to run with me again and I’m like, I HATE YOU!!!  And he’s like, why?  All innocent like.  Jerk!  As if he doesn’t know why.  And I’m like, I’m dying here buddy, DYING!!  And he’s like, me too!  And I look at him and he’s not even breathing hard!  He’s just loping along, so slow because of how slow I am.  He could honestly walk faster.  It looks ridiculous.  RIDIC!!  And then I’m like, I hate running with you.  And he’s like, someone’s got to push you.  You can do it!  I’m like…no, this hill is too big, I’m going to stop because even walking will cause me to keel over.  And then, he’s like, running with you makes me want to have sex with you.  MEN!!!”

15 Health and Beauty Tips it Took me Years to Learn

“My eyes are lined, a la Cleopatra (hence I am sexy as hell), my phone is so clean you could eat off it and sometimes I do as if it’s a mini platter to hold whores-de-vours (hahaha, I’ve always wanted to spell it that way somewhere official, like the interwebs and now my bucket list is complete!).  My brows are sculpted like a greek goddess statue and my body is sooo natural, in fact the only hormones that I subject myself to everyday are provided by the BC anti-children goddess.  I am pure…so pure and absolutely perfect that my body thinks I’ve been pregnant for over 10 years now without ever having any actual offspring.”

A Case of the “Uglies” with Mincing and Ogling

“Speaking of (rambling) and my failings as a girl, I cannot for the life of me find the patience to wear heels.  I bought some this weekend (another attempt to trick myself into thinking that cute footwear is actually something I’ll be able to do) and when I put them on I got pissed because of how SLOW I had to walk.  I started walking down the stairs (or I could say mincing like a pig with tiny tiny hooves) and I got pissed because I wanted to RUN down the stairs but because of my shoes and not wanting to hurt myself in said shoes, I had to walk slowly and grip the railing.  This is ridic.  All my normal speeds had gone from road runner to tortoise in seconds.   The speed limit had been reduced!!  I was suddenly in a school zone when before I was riding on the damn Autobahn.”

Bringing the Sexy to Crazy Since ’99

“Here’s the guy:

“I like you, but I’m not going to say so or act like I do or I’m gonna send ridiculous mixed messages that you’ll never decode, even with your secret decoder vagina.”

And here’s the girl:

“I like you guy, but I’m not willing to expose myself because what if you reject me and leave me a miserable insecure body hating slut?  I’m just going to tease you until your penis falls off or until I can figure out what the hell you feel.  Why isn’t my secret decoder vagina working?  Shit is broken!””

How “I” Knocked My Own Socks Off

“Go to your living room.  No trust me, we’re not gonna watch TV. Shut up, don’t question, just do what I say. (Do you like it when I get bossy during writing exercises?! Oy!)
Sit or lay on the couch
Close those peepers.  Just do it!  I’m not gonna do anything gross to you!
Getting sleeeppyyyyy…sleeepppyyyyy
BA-BOOM…wake up that creative mind!
Try not to think about ME (HA…I’m in your HEAD NOW!!!  BWAHAHAAAA….ha)
Imagine that you are your character.
How do you feel, what’s happening to you?
What kinds of things are zinging through your head as you experience the scene before you?
What words do you speak, what do you hear?
How do you interpret what’s happening to you?
What do you hate, what do you love?  What makes you smile like a insane person?!
How the hell do you feel inside?
What’s the old body up to?
Heart? Eyes? Senses? Fingers? Twitching? Tongue?  GROSS!!”

Studying the Males of the Species and Boy Eyes

“Also how come a lot of other male species are all pretty and shit. WTH?  We got human males instead.  Where is the damn plumage?  Where are the bright colors? Where is the bright blue penis-like nose or the bright red ass or the big antlers?  Where is the strutting, promenading, fighting, feats of strength, singing and/or music making used to get us to mate with them?  Hmmmm…. No comment I guess… (If you know the male of the species you have probably come across their mating dance.  So I don’t need to reiterate that here.  Suffice to say…it needs work.  Question:  Are those other species putting the male of our species to shame??  Don’t answer that or our males will feel quite poorly. (HAAAA!!))”

The Fraudulent Not Confident Blogger

“I’ll bring my business cards and sell this old blog like she’s a diamond in the rough!  Polish off the shit and you’ll really see a writer with skills!  She breaks all the rules, yes and she appears nuts, but seriously, who else can bring that kind of whaaa-zam?  Who else can make you feel the way I do?!  Like someone stuck a damn needle in your eye?!!  (OMG!)  Who else can take so many random tangents and somehow make it sound sort of coherent?  Who can fucking tie shit together that has no chance of ever actually making sense…but yet…it does??!!  Who else has the GUTS to try something new, to be off the wall and full of madness?  Who else basically spills their blood on their blog by making fun of all their faults and failures and insecurities??  WAIT…”

failureFailure the Musical…Starring Me!!!

“…And yet, And YET!!!  Here I am.  The word FAILURE looms large!  In flashing shining lights!  ON BROADWAY!!!  FAILURE!!  THE MUSICAL!!  STARRING MEEEE!!!

So, as you can see, I am sunk right down into the bog of depression.  The only thing keeping me afloat at the moment (my life preservers who bouy me up while I slurp and struggle and thrash) are my friends and family who I am clinging to in a way that is probably making them gasp for breath as I push their heads under water to get myself aloft. “

photoshop abuseI Abused Photoshop Just for You

“…I don’t flog the ‘shop.  However, for you, for today, I decided to do it.  Abuse!!”

“…Jassus!  Everytime I look at it, I get a fright!  Who is that weird alien-headed being!  There’s something not quite right!  It feels like a ghost or something.  *Shivers*”

“…Oh well, enjoy!!  Also, please recognize the lengths I’ll go to, to satisfy you Angst readers.  I will photoshop myself into a beautiful monster just for you, I love you that much! Also I’ll admit I’m an alien to you, because you make me feel safe.  And that I’m pretty high on the Mendoza Scale.  Don’t you guys feel special and loved?”

Friend-cation and Camping Sucks

“Also…let me just reiterate that camping sucks the big one.  It really does.  The bugs had their small hands all the frick over me.  ALL OVER!!  Even at night in the tent while trying to sleep their hands were everywhere.  I claimed that Mr. VS was having a bug party in our tent.  He invited all his friends.  One of his friends tried to get frisky with me (a goddamned moth) by trying to fly down my shirt and nestling in a blatantly sexual manner (RAPE!) against my breast. It was OUTRAGEOUS!”

Camping Drinking Mythology

“There’s a mythology that’s been around for a long time regarding camping and drinking.  The popular belief, probably since the days of cavemen, was that camping and drinking were a magical combination of outdoor fun coupled with drunken antics and hilarious or inappropriate conversation that yielded some sweet times.  i.e. camping + drinking = awesome.  It’s simple camping math that seems to make sense, sort of like the pizza math you do when you need to order pizza for a large group.  I love making up “math” for stupid shit because I suck at math.  I’m a genius at pizza math though and I’m about to disprove camping math using some kind of new logic, it’s a proof or maybe an algorithm.  Yea, I used to watch Numbers, that’s right, recognize.”

“So camping and drinking are a myth.  Don’t let anyone fool you into thinking it’s a good time.  It might seem like the right choice, but it’s not.  You’ll be terrified of bears, you’ll have to pee 10 times per night which includes a lengthy process that has to be signed off on by any one of twelve people before you can move to the next step, that’s how slow it is.  It’s like passing a law, except instead of inducing sleep, you’ll be wide awake by the time the process is over.  You’ll also feel crummy to your stomach and you won’t be able to get clean when your phone jumps into a puddle of…something. You will also be stinky and sweaty and you won’t be able to wash your face.  The next day you’ll grudgingly sand blast a new coat of spackle or shellack on your face to hide how tired and hideous you look.  All in all, a good time had by all.”

hangoverHangover Bitchslap

“And then suddenly, out of the blue, while you were so soundly asleep, minding your own business, it feels like someone kicked the shit out of your calf muscle until it’s this burning, squeezing, clenched up agony and you jerk awake.  What the…!? Your peel open your heavy heavy eyelids and squint into the night, head pounding.  And that’s when you see it… standing next to your bed, grinning maniacally.  It’s your old friend alcohol, who you swear, swear on your grandmother’s grave, you left downstairs or at the bar or at that friend’s house you hate but hang out with anyway, but alas no, there he is standing there by your bed.”

Dammit Write a Blog Post

“However, all that good shit aside,  I still can’t write and I’m still boring.  I’ll admit that this post does suck.  That’s not pessimism, it’s reality.  Respect my truth and my right to feel that a post sucks and I’m doing it anyway.  Watch me hit Publish! It’s like a horror movie where you’re like…don’t do it…don’t go into the dark creepy basement and then the character DOES THAT SHIT ANYWAY against all reason or better sense.  That’s me, hitting PUBLISH with abandon.  I just blew your mind.  That just happened.  WHOMP!!”

Optimizing SEO for Maximum Angst

In learning recently about SEO, I’ve realized that I do a terrible job of catering to my old friend Google.  Or Bing or Chrome or Jeeves or Yahoo or whomever rules my online searchability status (they treat me like a peasant, when clearly I’m deserving of royalty status.  I am QUEEN!).  Honestly, I don’t like catering (by bringing them the whores de Vors on a silver platter) to these “4- horse Search Engines” (vroom) when it comes to my blog titles, because I prefer that my titles are batshit insane and less stodgy and boring.  However, stodgy and boring are what the Search Engine Slaves (the creepy crawly internet spider-bots) like.  Well…that’s not exactly true.  What they like is what PEOPLE in the world like and what they type into them.  In particular it’s their KEY PHRASES.  Like when you type into a search engine: “Why won’t my cats stop fighting?” or “What is this RED RASH ON MY LEG??” or ‘I’m DYING I KNOW IT!!”

For example, below are some precocious phrases that people have searched for when drunkenly stumbling about the internet.  The key here is that when they typed this crazy shit in, they fell into the dark pit that is Angst Anarchy:

Tired of my pity party but not sure how to move forward (Yes, this is all me)
Gentleman lion and cat fight
Bowling finger injury
Bitchy Angst Status Facebook (HAHAHA!!)
Worst looking duck decoy paint jobs
My kitten annoys me
Icy Feet + Warm skin
When Life gives you shit
Depression Drawings
Suck at Bowling “Gutter”  (YUP)
A beautiful mess  (Hellz YES!)
Natural birth meme (???)
The worst temper
Mincing Hair??
Jelly Fish problem
Having a dream about a cat bite hair on my leg (??? WTF?)
Shenanigans Cat Reeders in Victoria (WHAT THE?  well…yeah…that about sums it up)

And thus, I say to you, Google searchers:

Everyone here is CRAZY!!

But honestly, no crazier than me. But I’m totally judging you all ANYWAY!! AHAHA…MWAHAHAHA!!

Now, most of those are just silly.  Clearly, I both write about some weird ass random shit (because my phrases are stupid and fucked up) and also people are searching online for strange things and thus finding their way to Angst.  And these aren’t even the dirty ones.  I don’t know how people find MY site by searching for dirty stuff.  GAWD!!  Get your mind out of the gutter!! (Unless it’s the bowling gutter, in which case, you my friend are home, get comfortable)

And thus, I feel that perhaps I should come up with some ACTUAL searchable phrases that I want to be associated with Angst.  Like officially.  Like, I’m going to plaster them into every single post and you’ll get super annoyed with me, to the point of detestation.  Or abandonment. Or wife-beating or intense hatred.  (Watch, when someone types wife beating into a search engine, this site will come up and CLEARLY I don’t approve of wife beating.  I do, however, approve of Valley-Girl speak and the overuse of “like”.)

This is what I hear about SEO:

It’s about: Architecture (i.e. site architecture not buildings), content and linking.  So thus my titles, content and even links need to contain my KEY PHRASES.  (We’re so over Key words these days.  It’s all about being super extra specific with PHRASES).

So…what phrases describe Angst?  And who the H is my target audience?

My target audience is those insane people who typed in all that weird shit.  I LOVE THOSE PEOPLE!  Even though I made fun of them and called them crazy.


  •  Everyone here is fucking crazy
  • My cats like to fight each other
  • My anxiety is stressing me out
  • I want to laugh until I puke
  • Marriage is awesome and funny and husbands are troublesome
  • I love crazy graphic design that makes you want to lay down for a while
  • Jelly Fish love GPS
  • Wife Competitions
  • I had too many drinks and then I was hungover and my friend alcohol bitch slapped me and karate chopped my stomach
  • I can’t stop making air quotes even when people make fun of me
  • Camping and drinking are ahmazing or Camping sucks
  • Looking for a job sucks the big one
  • Amateur hour has arrived, let’s get drunk
  • Pity parties require attendance
  • The bowling gutter is my natural habitat
  • I have anxiety and customized my therapeutic experience with a crime family and aliens (I’m not human)
  • Novel about crazy people and/or anxiety and/or panic attacks and/or frat parties and/or drugs
  • Sexy frat parties are fun (stop looking at PORN!)
  • Social media is hard to get on top of, but also can be a good time if you do it while drunk
  • Writing while drunk can also be fun but be sure to take precautions to edit while sober – Listen to Ernest!!
  • I flogged Photoshop and yet it still made me its slave
  • Facebook is obnoxious and so are its inhabitants
  • It took me a long-ass time to learn a few beauty tips.  I’m not bright.
  • Also makeup is insane.  It’s the photoshop for the real world.  IT PUTS THE MAKEUP ON!!
  • Becoming a Self Published author is super extra difficult and sure to cause self-loathing so here are 101 steps
  • Blogging is easy if you just post whatever the hell you want and let the SEO fall where they may
  • Coherence be damned
  • Godsdammit! I’m a sci-fi nerd!
  • Art, depression and Pink Floyd.  Also fear and self-criticism.
  • The male of the species has deficiencies in his eyes
  • Rants about outer space and the UNIVERSE make me happy and upset (re: Afraid)
  • Existential meltdowns happen to me a lot (PANIC!)
  • I’m an English major and I can handle dangerous words
  • I used to be slim and aerodynamic, now I enjoy a weight gain extravaganza! PARTY!!
  • Also once I had a case of the “uglies” when I minced in heels and wore an outfit suited for a 12 year old girl.

WAIT A GOSH-DARNED MINUTE!!  Are those the same phrases as above?!

And thus, I am exhausted with coming up with phrases to spur my SEO.  Giddy-up SEO!! Giddy-up…giddy-up…giddy-up, little Angst SEO!!  I think I’ll just stick with those mad mad people who searched for weird shit above.  Because honestly, these phrases are just as full of madness.  That’s why I’m failing at attracting a consistent readership or “target market” because I’m ALL OVER CREATION!! I’m here, I’m there, I’m a little bit over there in east-overshoe (where the fuck is that??!), I’m a little bit in the ocean, in the sky and in the gutter, in love…with cats.  But… I love it…sooo much.  I won’t change a thing and SEO can’t make me.

So keep searching on weird ass shit and we’ll keep meeting up.  It’s our little weird kinky rendezvous!  That word is so sexy it hurts!!  THE SCANDAL!! Add that to my SEO Google!!



Uncanned Laughter: Post O’ the Day

I’m responding to a Post O’ the Day!  Here’s the prompt:  “A misused word, a misremembered song lyric, a cream pie that just happened to be there: tell us about a time you (or someone else) said or did something unintentionally funny. “

When I went camping a year ago with friends, we had the radio blasting classic rock at our site.  My friend K, was singing along and she had two lyric missteps that were hilarious and were pronounced at top lung levels.


From Queen’s  Bohemian Rhapsody

“Send a bolt of lightning….very very frightening!!!”


“thunder bolt and lightning….very very frightening”

And the best….  From Bon Jovi’s Wanted Dead or Alive

“On a Still horse I ride!!!”  versus “On a steel horse I ride”

She was like…it didn’t make any sense that he was riding on a still horse, however I didn’t know what the lyrics really were…

HA!!  We laughed so hard….And trust me…it took me a while to realize it was STEEL horse too but suddenly it clicked…I was like STEEL HORSE OHHH!!  Like a motorcycle!  NOW I GET ITTTT.

Also my husband (Mr. VS) likes to change the lyrics to all kinds of songs and he has RUINED them for me.  I can only hear his modifications when I hear these songs.  IT SUCKS!!


“Hold me closer Tiny Dancer” is now “Hold me closer Tony Danza”

Or…  “You’re just another brick in the wall” becomes “You’re just another dick and some balls”

Or…”Revved up like a deuce
Another runner in the night
Blinded by the light”


“Wrapped up like a Douche, another boner in the night”

Whatevs! My song experiences have been ruined. But I’ve got a cocktail. That’s all that matters.



A Love Song for Mr. VS Regarding Hoarding

It’s recently come to my attention that Mr. Victoria Sawyer would like to take up hoarding as a hobby. He has an interest in hoarding, I think, because he’s seen how enjoyable it is for people in his family.  So he thought he’d try it out too.  It’s NOT cool!!!


It’s all “good stuff”!!

Mr. VS loves going to yard sales.  He also loves to collect all kinds of things.  For example:  Mr. VS has a record collection that is probably somewhere near 1300 or so.  It’s getting so out of control that I wouldn’t be surprised if the room in which all these records reside went crashing down into the basement because of all the weight.  And then we’d have to start the collection and the house all over again.

Secondly, Mr. VS loves boy toys of all kinds.  He has a large tractor, like a real farming tractor (Mr. VS plays at being a sexy farm boy).  He also has a motorcycle, a 1972 Jeep (as a toy, but it’s not toy size, it’s man sized) several three wheelers and TWO hideous broken down crappy trucks.  Okay, one of them runs but it’s kind of lame.  But he loves it because it’s a dump trunk. AND he has too many chain saws to count.  Why would anyone need 10 chainsaws?  He claims (in his boy way) that when one chainsaw gets stuck or is dull you’ll have a second and then when that one gets dull, you’ll have a third.  And ON AND ON.  Ridic.  That kind of logic can get you into trouble because it can go on into INFINITY!!

Thirdly, Mr. VS loves tools and building supplies.  Whenever he goes to yard sales, he’s the one who will buy the box o’ junk for $2 without even really looking through it all or if he saw there was one thing in there he wanted.  Then he’ll bring it home, go through it and store it in the basement.  It doesn’t matter what’s in there, it’s all “good stuff” and not “junk.” And he’s sure that he can “use” it someday and assures me that new at the store it would cost us a lot of money.  Also when I suggest that we have a yard sale, Mr. VS declares that he doesn’t have anything to sell.  He needs all his stuff. It’s all good stuff.

So we have tons of screws, nails etc in the basement.  We have so many hand tools it’s not even funny.  Mr. VS also has other ridic things stored down there, like an enormous AC unit that we can’t even use because it wouldn’t fit in any of our windows, but heaven forbid it go to the trash when one of his friends was moving.  Secondly, he’s got all these weird obscure but large tools down there.  Like a planer and other things that I don’t even know what they are.  Like weird pokey-jab type deals and large metal thingamajigs and weird whirly-gigs with teeth.  (I’m not really quite this dumb about tools, but I like to make up names for stuff cause he hates it.  Like these torches he has…I call them “tubes.”  I’ll say…STOP BUYING TUBES! And he’ll have no idea what I mean.)  He also has this huge engine on a stand that he refuses to get rid of because he worked on it once when he was a teenager or something like that.  It’s like his nostalgia thing.  My nostagia stuff is like…notebooks or knickknacks or something.  His is a huge engine.

So our basement is getting quite full and Mr. VS keeps bringing home more and more.  It’s gotten so bad that he has to pull the girl move of trying to sneak stuff into the house so I won’t see it!  How GIRLY IS THAT!!  That’s like when a girl goes on a shopping spree or buys some new shoes she doesn’t need, then she sneaks them into the house and the boy doesn’t even notice!  Because boys are clueless about stuff like that.  But I am not clueless!  I’ve seen the piles of stuff down there and I can always tell when Mr. VS has been to a yard sale.  He gets a guilty expression on his face, but he also is defiant.  “It’s GOOD STUFF!!”

Also sometimes on the weekend when Mr. VS goes out to yard sales, I beg him not to, or to behave himself.  However, inevitably, when he comes home he will slink into the house and ask me how much I love him with a guilty smile upon his face. Obviously I have learned very quickly that this means trouble and announce to him that I love him very little in the hopes that it will somehow make him take his stuff back.  And….yup…Mr. VS has somehow brought home the motherload of junk and knows that I will be cranky.  He’s pulling stuff I should be pulling!!

I recently asked Mr. VS when it would end, what was the limit on his “extravagance?”  He said, once I’ve filled up our barn.  And we don’t even have a barn yet.  I thought he was going to say when our whole property was filled up.  I fear that we are never going to be able to move.  We will have to live in our house forever, crammed in with junk up to our ears and no yard sale in sight to alleviate our problems.  Mike and Frank from American Pickers will come to our house one day to try to find some rusty-gold and my oh my will we have some.  However Mr. VS will be the kind who will not sell a damn thing because he’s attached to all of it.  He’s that cranky old hoarder…already!

Heaven help me.  Marriage is wonderful, isn’t it?  Co-habitating is awesome.  I love Mr. VS, don’t get me wrong.  But if he dies first I’m going to be pissed.

Mucking up Graphic Design (AKA Learning)

As you can probably tell from my blog, I’m attempting to become a graphic designer, among other interests.  I’m kind of all over the place!  As far as graphic design, you can maybe learn something about me from my batshit insane design (Choose one or many, don’t you love multiple choice?):

A. I’m a terrible amateur who knows nothing about design.

B. I’m a rebel without a cause who shuns convention and rules and design principles

C. I do whatever the hell I want because you can’t stop me

D. I’ve had no formal training and I’m trying to hurt you with my design (the Design authorities should apprehend me and actually they’ve tried, but failed. YOU CAN’T GET ME!! HAHA!!)

Also just as a “Surgeon General’s Warning” (Who is that guy anyway?) Here are a list of things my site may cause:

  • Heart Palpatations
  • Dry Mouth
  • Crossed Eyes (Boss-Eyed to the Brits)
  • Mass Hysteria
  • Headaches
  • Bleeding Eyes
  • Fainting
  • Twitchy Fingers
  • Upset Stomach
  • Fear of Open Spaces (Agoraphobia)
  • Intense Desire to Pet Cats
  • Thirst for Alcohol in its many forms

I’m realizing that as soon as I change my blog design, this post will make no sense, unless of course my new design is just as mind-boggling as my current one.  I realize too that when you look at Angst you are thinking, “Yikes!”  or “What was she thinking?”  “Clearly this girl has no idea what the hell is going on” and other such phrases.

The TRUTH of the matter is that any of the above statements can probably be applied to me.  I’m still “learning” to be a graphic designer.  (BTW..I have had a terrible time of it lately with quotes, particularly AIR Quotes which I used regularly at  dinner out the other night with friends and it was embarrassing and I got called on it.  Even things that didn’t need quotes, got ‘em.  I couldn’t stop my hands from forming the quotes.  It was ridic and I literally had to sit on my hands to make it stop because they kept rising up on their own with fingers crooked into quotes!  I blame this blog for that problem. I’m calling it “spontaneous air quotes syndrome”  I’m suffering, as usual.)

We Get Back on Topic…

If you want to become a graphic designer and you don’t want to/can’t pay for school or official training, WTF do you do?  That has been my problem these last few years.  I really love design, art, writing etc, but have had a terrible time finding a way to gain experience while working 40 hours doing something else.  And I’ve already got the aforementioned “English” degree (My sweet BA) so yeah, I didn’t really want any more student loans or missed time working when I’m STILL paying those off TEN YEARS LATER!!  A degree in gently handling dangerous/explosive words be damned!

So, what have I done to become just so terrible at Graphic Design?  I’m glad you asked because I’m seriously getting better!  I really am, I swear it, even though this blog design would try to tell you otherwise.  Damn you design for turning on your creator!  I MADE YOU!!

First off, I started with a certificate program in “Desktop Publishing” (Look at all the QUOTES!!) which is a term that no one uses anymore, but is still a thing at my local university.  (I almost put that in quotes too, even though it’s a legit University).  This consisted of 6 one day courses on design principles, and the use of Photoshop, InDesign and Illustrator.  It basically gave me the very basics and made me want MORE.  I also was finally able to convince Mr. VS that we should “spring” for Adobe Creative Suite, even though it’s expensivo!

My Hourly Rate is Negative Pennies Per Hour (Basically I pay you)

From there I just started playing around with the programs and started doing small projects for friends with small businesses who were happy for ANY help I could give them.  Those poor suckers!   So I started doing things like logos, product labels, business cards, wedding invitations, etc.  I have continued doing this through word of mouth and it’s given me a decent portfolio of stuff and yes, most of the time it’s still free-99.  I have been paid a few times recently which is dank, so finally it’s paying off in probably negative pennies per hour.

I’ve also had the opportunity to do a few things for my current job and past jobs in graphic design, social media and websites.  I’m like an actual “web master. ” i.e. I master the shit out of the web.  However, really all I do is update websites in Dreamweaver and Drupal with photos and text.  But Web Master sounds cooler and more badass.

And yup I also, as you may have gathered while your eyes were bleeding, designed the shit out of this blog (And change it up whenever it takes my fancy) as well as my other social media sites etc.  It’s really just for the hell of it and for fun, so I really don’t put any rules on it.  I just go WILD (as I do with most things in my life) and let the graphics fall where they may.  Personally, I like a site that wakes you the hell up and gives you the above physical symptoms.  Either that or I just like inflicting that shit on others, like you!

And I designed my own book cover for Angst and created the paper back with InDesign.

I Love Lynda!  (No that’s not a declaration of love for a person)

Now we’ve come up to today.  The biggest thing that’s helping me right now is that I’ve got  HOLY SHIT!!  Lynda is da bomb!  She’s sooo awesome.  She has videos that can teach you so much!!  I highly recommend checking her out.  So far I’ve been trying to teach myself more about Illustrator which is a program that I know less about than PS and ID.  And I’m so excited about it that I just ordered myself a Wacom Intuos Tablet because I want to learn how to actually draw in these programs. I’m also attemping to master that damn pen tool.  Damn that pen tool!  And it’s damn squirrly handles!


A digital sketch of The Gentleman my cat

Look at the Gentleman! I drew this just for you guys!!!! In Illustrator with the PEN TOOL!! How proud are you? You should get a bumper sticker that says, Proud of My Little Illustrator User Victoria Sawyer who tried to master that mean old pen tool (and is still struggling).   That’s a long bumper sticker.  You guys can rock it though, I know you can..

As a youngster (imagine young and spritely VS from the 80’s and 90’s with power bangs and big glasses) I was totally into art.  That’s what I wanted to do with my life.  I loved it sooo much, so this feels like a renaissance to me.  A Renaissance in digital format and without those stuffy old masters!  Just kidding, those masters were sweet at art.  I’m just being cranky.  Anyway….I used to draw like a fiend and took many an art class in high school and college.  So getting back into it and realizing the huge variety of stuff you can actually do digitally is insane. It’s INSANE and I’m super excited because I know that with this new learning (Thanks LYNDA!) I will gain confidence and really start to put myself out there as a “Real” Graphic Designer!  LIke with a capital GD!!  And yes, this expirimental design on this site is nuts….but that’s the kind of designer I am.  Totally nuts.

Totes a Degree Candidate and Actually Took a Midterm!  AHH!!  So SCARY!!

Finally and in closing, I’m actually in a degree program where I work.  Yes, I work at the aforementioned “University” which is totes legit, despite my gratuitous quotes.  Anyway, the degree program is in Digital and Social Media!  It’s like perfect for me.  While it doesn’t teach me much about Graphic Design, it does inform my other interests and bring them all together.  So…I’m freaking on my way!  Haters can’t stop me!

And BTW, the pen tool can’t stop me either.  Right now it’s totally into BDSM whereby I’m the subservient party (However I hate being the Sub….I’m more of a Dom), hence I’m all about role reversal and I shall totally put that pen tool into bondage.  It’s about to get 50 Shades of Grey up in Illustrator!! Give me some handcuffs!


Friend-cation and Camping Sucks

I just went on the most fun friend-cation ever!  BEST TIME EVER!!  YOLO fools!!!  (We were all about yelling YOLO about anything and everything because we hate it so much.  YOLO is dumb (as is Facebook and everyone’s obnox posts about themselves).  It’s something you’d yell while doing a keg stand, however it’s actually trying to be like…insightful and deep at the same time.  Dumb.  (However, fuckin’ YOLO bitches)

YOLO BITCHES!!In case you didn’t know (or are dense) Friend-cations are when you go on vacation with your friends and you live it up like drunkards, fiends and wild animals/cavemen.  We (myself and 6 friends) went to a lake and stayed in a camp ground.  We made foods over the fire like cavemen, laughed a shit-ton, played games, went swimming, laid in the sun (my tan is epic…for me that is), had camp fires with adult beverages and made smores…made with reese’s cups (totally dank, BTW) etc.  It was awesome, especially the camping in the rain bit.  And in this post, I’m going to share some of our genius with you.  We’re like the smartest people ever.  First off, this came out of my mouth one morning:

“I can’t have bacon because I don’t eat beef.”

What a gem!!  The mind power behind that statement is just….wow…off the scale.  WOW!!  Plus I totally eat bacon and so that statement was blatantly false on so many levels. Secondly, my friend said the following because my husband was wondering (also super smartly) how the hell ants find all the sand they use for their little mounds when there is NO sand in the vicinity.

“They have smaller hands than you, James. “

There was no argument there.  They do have smaller hands, don’t they?  Genius!!!

We also played this game where we had to answer random questions about ourselves and then the person who asked the question had to guess who had said what.  Then at the end of each round we made it into a totally def poetry jam session.  It was all about the tone of voice and the timing of reading off our own answers all in a row.  Seriously, the genius that abounded was too much.  We all threw down the mike, like…shit…we awesome (and dirty as hell and outrageous as can be)!  YOLO BITCHES!!  Also…maybe you had to be there…maybe… and since I can’t do this as spoken word, you’re going to have to try to replicate the annoying sound of my voice in your head.  Can you do it?  CAN YOU!!??  If yes, read on….

Now in no particular order are some poems. BTW be warned that these are just filthy-stinking-gross things that we created around the camp fire.  YOLO.

Sun Bathing….Pizza
Clumsy Shit….Facial Area
Resting Bitch Face Syndrome
Kitten Love Bites….Cat Poop Emporium
Small Balls….Do Massive Drugs
I’m With Brostitute

Super Secret Nerd….Hippie Nipple
Ant Race…Eating Ice Cream
Chicken Nuggets and BBQ Sauce
Sticking My Very Large Foot, In My Very Large Mouth
My Tongue, Because Then Everyone Will Think You’ve Got the Herp
People Who Don’t Do Their Mother-Fucking Jobs
I am Excellent at Life….I’ve got a
Mote and A Drawbridge
Pure and Simple Douch-Baggery
and Some Robin Hood Shit
Fuck-Yea….That is All.

The Canoli
Ass Slapping
NBC Propaganda
Cheddar Wurst….Then Thinking I Might be Right…When Clearly My Wife is Right
My Boobs….Hoarding
Juggling….Camaro on Blocks
Running with No Inspection
Don’t Prosecute the Prostitute

Real Doll
Fuck You…A-Hole….Love you…Mean it…
Slots…Watching TV…
Misplace Things….On Top of a Birthmark
Porn Star…Crying Puppies…Waking up Early
Bald Eagle…Hairy Nipples…

Vast Void of Nothingness
Give Them Something Really Ugly Instead
Your Life – YOLO Bitches!
Everything – Fuck Off!
Needlepoint….Hit Me Baby One More Time
Rotating Heart Shaped Bed

Just Wow.  WOWWWWWEEEE!!!  We’re soo special.

Also…let me just reiterate that camping sucks the big one.  It really does.  The bugs had their small hands all the frick over me.  ALL OVER!!  Even at night in the tent while trying to sleep their hands were everywhere.  I claimed that Mr. VS was having a bug party in our tent.  He invited all his friends.  One of his friends tried to get frisky with me (a goddamned moth) by trying to fly down my shirt and nestling in a blatantly sexual manner (RAPE!) against my breast. It was OUTRAGEOUS!

So there I was laying there miserably the last night we were there on our deflating air mattress in a bug infested tent….dirty (covered in smoke-smell from the fire, half washed off sunscreen, bug spray, hair all tangled and a mess) just wishing I could die.  It was…nasty!!  Mr. VS said that I should stop making myself miserable and I guess I was.  I was obsessing about how much I hate camping and how I always have to pee during the night which means I have to actually WAKE up and go to the bathroom.  I also hate it when it rains and you’re trapped in the tent or under a tarp or something.  Camping is also sooo much work.  You can’t just say…I’m going to eat in 20 minutes!  NO NO NO.  You have to do all this prep work to cook stuff, so you never eat on time.  As you can tell it was very much time for me to go home!!

And yet, every stinkin single year, I go again.  I do it all over again.  This time was better in that more people came and also we had some nice weather.  FYI there were ‘kini’s everywhere and the boys were totally oggling themselves silly.  Their brains were not in residence anymore.  They had checked out.  Boys have problems.  They don’t even recognize the MONSTER that comes over them in the form of sex-brain.  Maybe that should be another post.  Boy Sex Brain.  It’s like an alien species or a primitive one.  Jungle Monkey Boy Sex Brain.  Also I want to write about Resting Bitch Face.  I have this.  It’s a real problem.  OR maybe just being a bitch is a problem. It’s easier to just say that my face is a bitch.  It’s her FAULT!

Ok…the rambling must cease.  Anyway…just wanted ya’ll to know, first off:  YOLO and second off: I went camping, I’m a genius and so are my friends.  and Third:  I hate camping with all my heart.  Staying in a tent is inhumane.


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On Mood Disorders and the Writing Process

Victoria Sawyer:

I love this…it perfectly describes living with an “unbalanced” mind which is both a blessing and a curse for the creatively minded. And also sort of genius and crazy at the same time. I have definitely felt this way before!

Originally posted on Out Where the Buses Don't Run:


The good thing about being both creative and bipolar is that when you’re hypomanic (or manic if you’re Bipolar I), all you want to do is create. The itch, the urge, the drive to create is there, all around you. It’s inescapable. It’s a thrill ride. Words seamlessly form into sentences. Those sentences suddenly morph into lucid, fever- withered paragraphs. That bat-shit crazy WIP you’ve been avoiding for months because it’s too crazy even for your sensibilities now seems like it’s falling into place. Hell, you even caved in and tried the “index cards” approach for once, because, why not, and your hypomanic hairs stood up in awe over how easy it was to follow this device.


Just the thought of writing makes you want to quit your white-collar job and chase this creative dragon until you wrest that book you’ve wanted to write out of her.

The bad thing…

View original 309 more words

I Abused Photoshop Just For You

Here’s another one of those things that just blows your mind.  PHOTOSHOP!!  I’m actually a photoshop user, but I don’t really abuse it like some people do.  I don’t flog the ‘shop.  However, for you, for today, I decided to do it.  Abuse!!  (Also this post is NEWLY updated, by popular demand, with the original photo at the bitter end of the post so you can judge for yourself….)

So I photoshopped the shit out of a photo of me.  Look at how GLAM I look?!!  Umm…but yeah…now it looks nothing like me.  Opps!  Guess that’s what PS is all about.

In which I have photoshopped myself into looking better


So, the ways in which I have defiled myself in the name of photo vanity are these:

I whitened the shit out of my teeth (that sounds weirdly gross and disgusting put that way)

I slimmed down my chub face and made it all thin.  (Dreaming of you, you thin face!!  BAH!!)

I whitened the whites of my eyes.  And I enlarged my eyes too.  At first I went TOO far but then I scaled back on it a bit.

I totally skinnied down my arms and my butt.  And I increased my bust size.  BUST!!  However, it looks a bit strange, so I wasn’t exactly successful.

Admit it looks fake.  It does!  It’s those WHITE teeth that are totally over the top.  I went too far with my abuse.  Although anything is really abuse.  I didn’t however have to edit out any spots because duh, my skin now is a thing of beauty.  (Thank you Nicazel)

I did though, do some blurring/softening of my skin to make it look better.  I probably should have whitened up my shirt and pants and also smoothed out my hair some.

Jassus!  Everytime I look at it, I get a fright!  Who is that weird alien-headed being!  There’s something not quite right!  It feels like a ghost or something.  *Shivers*

Maybe  I made my chin too small?  At first I thinned the cheeks and then my chin looked huge, so I had to do some minor surgery to rectify the problem.  So…either this example shows you that photoshop can be abused in a way that is scary or…it shows you that I’m not used to doing this kind of abuse with photoshop (first time abuser/offender) and thus I suck at using the liquify tool and I went overboard on the whitening.  I think next I’ll do some really weird morphology.  Wait for it….



A photo that has been altered to the extreme of me


In this photo, huge ridic boob job (sorry to draw your attention to my unmentionables! The scandal!  But they’re only digital, sorry! (HA!! OMG)).  An unsuccessful nose job (although it doesn’t even look that different than my real nose!).  I fucked with my eyebrows, my eye color, hair color, lip color, face shape, arms shape, neckline, teeth, eye whites, butt, thighs (look at the edge of the chair!  IT’s all WARPED!!  So is the necklace!! I’m WARPED!!) etc.

I went mad!  MAD!!  So pretty! (HA!) It’s dumb because if it made you feel better, that would be stupid.  It’s not like I can use Photoshop to actually change my REAL life self.  I can just change this one instance of myself that you see.  So what’s the point?  I’m still walking around in real life, looking just like I look.  (I guess that’s where plastic surgery comes in?  But that’s not nearly so easy as PS!  And also…just why?  Why? Personally I think the extra-terrestrials made me beauti-ful just the way I am. Either them or my parents or genetics or monkeys or something).

AND…AND!!! Why the hell are there so many magazines with this weird shit out there?!  We should totally rise up and denounce them because they make everyone look like freakish aliens and extra-perfect robot people.  It’s really pretty scary.  And then we assume that there are REAL people who look that good/perfect.  Well, IT’s all LIES!!  LIES ALL LIES!!  No one looks that perfect or alien in real life.  I’m sorry, there are no aliens.  I’m just saying that to soothe you, BTW.  I don’t want you going into a frenzy because my blog post IMPLIED that aliens are real.  Besides implying is totally different than coming out and saying it.  So I feel safe (from your alien hatred/shaming/backlash/degredation/fear/etc)  Aliens are people too, you guys.  Stop hating.

Also see how carefully I’m planning and scheming to perfect the way you perceive me?  I’m manipulating you into thinking a certain way about me.  I’m very very clever.  Can you see that now?  I’m making myself soooooo hot in these pics.  That’s how I want you to see me…like Barney’s scale from How I Met Your Mother.  It’s called the Mendoza scale.  It’s a scale that measures your hot to crazy ratio.  Basically the hotter you are, the crazier too.  My ratio is clearly (from the pics above) super hot and also super extra crazy.  YES!  I am totally winning at life.

Listen, I’m not trying to say Photoshop is bad.  Photoshop is actually an amazing program and I have no problem if people want to eliminate a blemish or two or want to recolor photos etc, but changing your whole body and face is ridic.  It’s not that Photoshop is bad, it’s that people are bad!  Just like so many other things in this world, people are the abusers!  Also Photoshop is kind of like magic.  Look at the cool shit you can do with it!  Look how you can make yourself look all glam and/or alien!  Of course some of the alien-ness is due to my inelegance with PS.  It’s not PS’s fault that I’m a hack that just wildly goes in and makes ridic changes to myself.  Or it could be that I’m really an alien and I have just revealed my true self to all of you.  Surprise REVEAL!!  Don’t you just love surprise reveals?!

DID I?  Or Didn’t I?!!  Wouldn’t you like to know!AND…GET READY!!!  Here’s a photo that will give you NIGHTMARES!!  TRUE PHOTOSHOP ABUSE!!  HIGH LEVELS!!  TOXIC LEVELS!!  HAHAHA…look at that shit eating grin!!  (In all honesty, I think this photo just broke WordPress because this post is totes (ha!) acting weird now that I inserted that pic!  It’s like HAUNTED or something.

Oh well, enjoy!!  Also, please recognize the lengths I’ll go to, to satisfy you Angst readers.  I will photoshop myself into a beautiful monster just for you, I love you that much! Also I’ll admit I’m an alien to you, because you make me feel safe.  And that I’m pretty high on the Mendoza Scale.  Don’t you guys feel special and loved? (WHAT A TOUCHING DISPLAY!! Admit your hearts are feeling the warm fuzzies as they go pit-a-pat.  Then when you peek at the photo below, you feel the cold pricklies.  Shudder!! ALIEN!!)

Wait for it…..

Wait for it!!!!


Scroll like a motha-fucka!!!

Scary photoshop image with large eyes and distorted head

AHHHH!!!! RUN AWAY!!! IT’s my TRUE FACE!!!! No-makeup selfie!! NOT!!!


Okay, okay, here’s the real actual photo…smile!!

actual un-touched photo of VS

Will the REAL Victoria Sawyer please stand up!!

Weight Gain Extravaganza

Recently I came to the conclusion that we have so many feelings and emotions and thoughts and self-flagellation and judging of others involved in our weight.  I know, I’m a genius for realizing this super obvious emotional response.  However, the thought that occurred to me is that we ALL do it without even realizing we’re doing it!

Sexy Scale!  Sexy Scale!  You judge the shit out of the rest of us!!

Sexy Scale! Sexy Scale! You judge the shit out of the rest of us!!

Tell me if this seems familiar to you:  You see someone out somewhere or see a photo of them online and if they’ve gained weight you judge them.  I think it’s most drastic if they used to be otherwise and have suddenly gained some weight.  Now, think about yourself, if you gain a few pounds how do you feel?  Do you beat yourself up, hate seeing photos of yourself and feel self conscious around everyone including your family, friends, co-workers and acquaintances?  Yes?  Me too.  It’s like you are some how “not in control”  or seen as somehow “less” because you allowed yourself to gain a few pounds.  How sad.  :(

It’s like it’s such a big deal.  Your face looks rounder, the belly is a bit fuller, the jeans are tighter, you can’t breathe because your bra is cutting into your chest in what must be the only good thing about gaining weight cause your boobs have grown too.  Psychologically it sucks.  You don’t want anyone to see you because you KNOW that in their heads they will be judging the shit out of you, just like you did that other person who gained weight.  Why the hell do we do this?  Why do we beat ourselves and others up because of a few pounds?  Why are we so incredibly concerned with our image and feeling sexy or fit or slim?  Why can’t we embrace ourselves?  Why do we feel the need to be absolutely in control of what we eat and then beat ourselves up when we fail to do so?

I’ve been struggling a bit with my weight lately.   I’m not sure what’s different,  if it’s the meds I’m on, or if I’ve been eating just a bit shittier than normal, or if I’m just a lazy and can’t seem to get my act together about exercise.  It’s a frustrating psychological battle.  The desire to control our bodies, to control what we eat, when we exercise etc is tiring and then the energy I expend worrying about it and feeling stressed out.  But for some reason I can’t seem to gain control of the situation at the moment and it’s sending me into a panic.  I don’t want to be seen by friends, family and acquantainces because I know they’ll notice!  And for some reason I have this incredible desire to look good or to look my best.  I am vain!

So much self worth is tied into how I think other people perceive me.  What the hell?  Being human is totally bogus, amiright?!  You have to maintain this old body just like you would your house or your car or pretty much everything because if left to its own devices you know that over time every damn thing goes to hell.  And then the old body gets older and starts to breakdown regardless of your “maintenance” schedule.  I feel like I have to treat my body like my car.  Victoria, it’s time for an OIL CHANGE!!  But there is no yearly inspection for my body.  Well…there is, it’s called the Annual Physical, which you know is basically BS.  And the only reason you really go (at least for us ladies) is to have our Va-jj’s checked out and to get refills for the year on all our meds.  Otherwise they might slightly chastise you for not exercising enough, but that’s about it.

I’m over this whole “having a body” thing.  It gets old.  I guess in some ways it’s pretty sweet.  Such as things like sex, back rubs, petting cats, cuddling, eating good shit, getting drunk or whatever.  That’s all good stuff.  But otherwise, there’s a lot of pain involved with having a body and a lot of pain in the ass shit to deal with too.  I really can’t afford the payments on this old body of mine.  It’s TOO EXPENSIVE!!

Also, as an aside, let me just tell you that Mr. VS has been driving me batty because lately he keeps saying, “I lost more weight!”  DAMN HIM!!  Boys are super evil.  He claims that he’s been “working his ass off” at playing boy games outdoors and that it’s keeping him lithe.  I guess sitting around inside with nose in book is not the way toward weight loss.  WHY NOT!!  Damn you PHYSICS!!

Anyway, so, (raising a glass of something filled with delicious calories) here’s to me feeling shitty about gaining a few lbs.  *toast*!!  (Food, where?!!)  I’m going to honestly try not to have those evil thoughts about people gaining weight! I’m not going to judge or feel smug or feel pity or whatever!  And I’m going to try to rock the fact that I’ve gained a few by strapping this old body into the tightest dress I can find (with some kind of full body stocking to keep the jiggle at bay) and rock the cleavage like nobody’s business because there are some benes to gaining a few.

And here’s to all of us constantly struggling and beating ourselves up over how we look. If nothing else, I can tell you that you’re not alone and I can assume you would say the same to me.  Don’t deny that you’re HUMAN.  I know you are!  And yes we’re all very much the same, so stop thinking, “I’m nothing like that Victoria Sawyer!”  Newsflash…you’re exactly like me!!  HAHA!! Except for my loyal bot readers.  Lucky bastards…all brains and no flab.

Resting Bitch Face Syndrome

So one day when I was perusing the ole Facial Book (why do I still do it?  Although without…I wouldn’t have found out about this serious disorder, so FB is good for something), I found that someone had posted about something called “Resting Bitch Face.”


That’s why I’m so damn pretty…like Scarlet O’Hara. I practice resting bitch face on the daily. (BTW..don’t fuck with me…mothafucka!) hahaha.

Guys…for serious, this is a real thing!  I’m NOT FUCKING JOKING!!  I have this!  It’s a true disorder!  It’s when your face just looks like a bitch when it’s just sitting there normally.  I can remember when I was younger that people would often ask if I was upset or pissy but I wasn’t!  I had NO IDEA what they were talking about!  It wasn’t until later that I realized that my face looks bitchy!  She’s a bitch!  She will glare you into submission when I’m not even cranky or pissy.  She will bitch slap you even before I get angry.  It’s a REAL PROBLEM!!  It makes people hate me!

Photo of Victoria Sawyer in a field of flowers, looking...well...bitchy

Look at me suffer!!….See how I can be in a field of pretty flowers and still look mighty pissed off.  Don’t fuck with me flowers!!  I WILL DESTROY YOU!!  I am NOT AMUSED!!

For example at one of my part time jobs at a grocery store I was working in the front end for a few months when finally I decided to go into their customer service area.  The girls there DID NOT WANT ME because they thought I was a total bitch and it was all HER fault, my goddamned RESTING BITCH FACE!  She makes me look unapproachable and terrible and cranky!  I learned about all this judging of my bitch-face after the fact once I got to know the girls in the customer service area and they finally admitted that they thought I was a bitch, because when I’m not smiling, I do look like a certified card carrying rip-your-head-off, scream in yo’ face, slap you silly, judging you like crazy, totally better’n’you fuckin’ bitch. (BTW obviously after they got to know me (like after the FIRST time working with me, they learned that I’m the awesomest ever and also super sly sarcastic and kind of funny and cool.  Not to toot my own horn or nothing…)

So yes, it’s a real problem.  RBFS makes it really hard to make a good first impression if you’re just sitting there minding your own goddamned business.  Unless you forcably put on a damn smile, people will look at you and think…GOOD LORD LOOK AT THAT BITCH!!  She thinks she sooo cool.  She thinks she better than everyone.  She thinks she can glare at us.  BTW…I do have a killer glare.  I’m like Medusa, minus the snakes.  I used to shoot snake eyes at this guy I used to work with and he’d quake in his boots!  It’s a good thing I don’t post too many photos of my face on this here blog or else you’d be terrified and stop coming back because this blog would become known as that bitch-face-selfie-blog.  And who wants that?  With words I can paint whatever picture I want.  Bitch or no.  Although it seems that I do lean toward bitch much of the time…hmm…what am I learning here?  Is resting bitch face just  a reflection of what is on the inside?!!

Secondly, I have to thank FB for this too.  I totally want this T-shirt from the Big Lebowski.

This shirt would be such a lie for me…but I just love Walter…sooooo I want it. Plus…it’s the best “calm” shirt I’ve ever seen. It’s like telling people off. This matched with my bitch-face…wow! ZING!!

Let me just say here that Walter Sobchuk is a dope dope guy.  I love how he tells Donnie to Shut the Fuck Up constantly but then sometimes listens to him and then starts a conversation.  I like how he throws his “ringer” out the window of a moving car and says it’s his “whites.”  It’s just tooo good.  Nevermind fighting a stranger in the alps.  OH WALTER!!


It’s like a challenge, “Calmer than you!!”  and I love it when Walter says it to the Dude, because the Dude is freaking out!  Truth though is that I’m never calmer than anyone.  I’m usually fired up.  Although sometimes I’m tired and cranky so then maybe I’m calmer.  Maybe.  Maybe when I’m sleeping I’m calmer.

Also…RESTING BITCH FACE means I might be a real bitch!!  One day you’re gonna come to this blog and find that it’s just pictures of me sitting there sullenly glaring like a pro and you’ll run away because you’ll think I can reach right through your computer and slap your face off.  And maybe I can.  People in real life know not to mess with me when I’ve got my bitch face on.  You just leave the room.  Walk away.  Leave the bitch alone.  You don’t poke at the bitch, you don’t talk to her, you don’t try to ask her to do anything unless you want your head bitten off.

Also I know people don’t like the word Bitch, but I kind of like it. It’s got a nice ring.  I particularly like the -tch sound.  It’s just so hard and tee sounding.  It sounds kind of strong…kind of mean…kind of fucking serious. You don’t mess with a bitch.  You just don’t.  I kind of like owning it…like yeah…I’m a bitch!  I’m not soft and fuzzy and cuddly and girly.  I’m a fucking hardcore b-i-t-c-h.  I stand up for myself.  I’m strong.  I look like I can take care of myself.  You would NEVER offer to carry a Professional Resting Bitch Face’s luggage at the airport.  No way.  You’d be too afraid.  She can HURT YOU.  It’s either your feelings or you body.  You’d better WATCH IT!!

This post is really coming off rather bitchy of me, isn’t it?  I guess there’s no denying the truth.  If Angst (the blog) is anything at all, it’s a place where I come clean about the dirty truths in my life.  So I accept, not only do I have RBFS but I’m also just a bitch.  A nice one.


Studying the Male of the Species and Boy Eyes

Do you live with a man?  Do you know one?  Have you ever interacted with the male of the species?  You know…those ones that aren’t female?  Yeah, those guys.  You’ve seen them around, I’m sure.  They’re everywhere.  And yes, if you’re female,  you’ve probably been ogled by these so-called “males” of the species.  You know they’re there (with those EYES!), even if sometimes you forget.  Just FYI, their eyes are used for dastardly business all the time or are not used at all in epic FAILURES.  This is about one of those failures and not about the way they use their eyes for ill.

I’ve decided that since I am caged (live with) a male of the species, I am going to note their traits and write about them from time to time in a series aptly named, the male of the species.  I am going to STUDY my male of the species and write about the things he does or DOES not do.  I’m setting up an experiment.  I’m going to go scientific method on his ass (and he claims to adore the scientific method, so hopefully he’ll adore this too.  Who wouldn’t??).

So…the male…have you seen him?  Have you noted his traits and ways of being?  If you have noticed them around, doing their thang, you may have noticed a little something about them.  (and yes, this is INCREDIBLE stereotyping, and I’mma do it anyway!  YOU CAN’T STOP ME!!!)

What I want to write about today is what I lovingly call:  Boy Eyes. Have you noticed this flaw in their character?  Boy eyes are when a boy cannot find something for the LIFE OF HIM even when it’s right in front of his face.  Mr. VS suffers quite badly from this affliction (He needs help in the form of a 12 step program, except step 1 is always just asking me to find stuff for him.  and then he negates every other step.  $%^$!!).

So…every time he says he can’t find something (This STILL happens even though I’ve told him right where it is)…I say…”are you looking with boy eyes?” And you guessed right, he is always looking with boy eyes!

Mr. VS is like…. “Yesssss” in a guilty sort of frustrated voice.  Then I go…. “ARGGSSSSSS!!!”  (Much like an angry pirate)


And when the boy eyes are in full effect and he asks me for help…guess what? The item in question is RIGHT THERE.  Literally the item could jump out and bite Mr. VS on the nose and somehow he could not see it!  Heaven help me!

I’m serious.  Boys cannot find things.  They just can’t.  Nor do they seem to remember where they put things, EVER.  Or…well…most of the time.  The male of the species is silly.  Also how come a lot of other male species are all pretty and shit. WTH?  We got human males instead.  Where is the damn plumage?  Where are the bright colors? Where is the bright blue penis-like nose or the bright red ass or the big antlers?  Where is the strutting, promenading, fighting, feats of strength, singing and/or music making used to get us to mate with them?  Hmmmm…. No comment I guess… (If you know the male of the species you have probably come across their mating dance.  So I don’t need to reiterate that here.  Suffice to say…it needs work.  Question:  Are those other species putting the male of our species to shame??  Don’t answer that or our males will feel quite poorly. (HAAAA!!))

Mr. VS needs to work on those boy eyes of his as well.  Too bad it’s encoded in his DNA.  So he’ll claim he can’t help himself.  It’s like when he says he can’t “be trusted” to do grocery shopping.  The truth though is much darker.  He actually screws up grocery shopping on purpose so he’ll never be asked to do it again (usually by buying 12 cans of baked beans, 8 jars of pasta sauce, 12 cans of tuna etc. because he claims we need “staples” and I don’t buy enough).  THE GAMES!!  THE MALE OF THE SPECIES!! ARGGG!!!


Ummm…so….social media and blogging is actually kind of hard to keep up on.  Does anyone else hate posting to Facebook?  It’s like whenever you post there are crickets chirping loudly in the background.  NO ONE is there.  Or if they are, they are not hearing you despite your repeated screaming of the same shit again and again at the top of your lungs.  Keep screaming honey, no one is coming to rescue you.  There is no knight in shining armor!!  Bah.  It’s too bad because I get to hear all the bullshit over at my feed and don’t see a lot of posts from people I actually WANT to hear from.  I think that our migration patterns should change.  We should fly straight through Space Book and onward to something better, some kind of greener pastures.  Why hasn’t anyone invented these greener pastures yet?  GET ON IT!!

Secondly I’m trying to get better with Twitter.  I was doing it for a while but then gave up on it because I really only felt like taking the time to blog. However…Twitter is better because you can actually hear from people.  Like just random people will talk to you and that’s sweet.

I want to be more social (blog-wise) in my actual place-of-living.  But how the hell do you do that? I’ve seen a few social media groups around but I’m kind of afraid to just put myself out there and join one or show up to an event.  Here’s your moment of truth: Guys…I feel like a big fat (phat) fraud.  Have you ever felt that way?  It’s bad too because I had someone call me Amateur…so that doesn’t help with my feelings of fraudulence.

Let me explain what that means…it means you are doing something, like writing or social media, or trying to be like a “personality” or a “brand” or whatever (which is dumb cause I’m a  PERSON) when in fact you feel that you suck and are starring in a musical called Failure.  And you’ll ask yourself….How can I hand out business cards about my ludicrous, unprofessional truth-blog?  How can I say…I’m a serious writer and blogger when THIS blog is what people find when they search for me???  (GODDAMNIT…I love you Angst (don’t take this the WRONG WAY!!) I wouldn’t change a thing!  I’d marry you all over again!  Let’s renew our vows???!!  PUH-LEASE?)

For example:  I see all these people “in the real world” who have jobs as graphic designers or writers or social media marketers and then I feel…that I am truly at the bottom of the stack and being crushed by everyone who is sooo much better than me because someone actually believed in what they were doing enough to hire them and actually pay them real hard CASH-MONEY.  In Response, I feel that I am fake, trying to be something I clearly can never become.

BUTTT…my friend who is a photographer feels this same way and she’s good!  She has told me countless times to fake it until you make it.  This is harder when you keep trying to make it and people slap your ass down and tell you you’re an amateur. (People can be real assholes in the world, BTW, even those that you think should be supportive.  Talk about a real “community” feel.)

So…by “fake it, until you make it” you have to actual go out and say things like…I’M A BLOGGER!!  (not booger) or I’M A WRITER!!  or…I CAN DO SOME GRAPHIC DESIGN SORT OF STUFF THAT SUCKS.  Nope…noppppeee…that’s doing it wrong.  I’M A GRAPHIC DESIGNER…SUCK IT!!  And you have to keep saying it, and keep handing out those business cards and keep writing and blogging even if it’s the craziest most unorganized thing that anyone has ever seen, even if NO one even looks at your blog, because how else will you ever make it?

So…Yes, it might feel awfully fake for me to announce on twitter (in my profile) that I’m a writer and blogger and self-published author.  It might feel like a stretch (because clearly I have dubbed myself all these things)..but if I don’t start there where will I start?  And who, please tell me, will ever announce to the world that I am these things if I don’t?  Some dumb job?  Some job title?  Lame.  Lame.  Even with the title, you can still suck at what you claim you’re a professional at.  (I’ve seen this…fo’real)

Talk about a crisis of confidence.  Like how did anyone actually become what they claim they are?  Who gave them a diploma in whatever it is they claim to be good at?  In some cases, yes they have one (but how easy is it to get a degree if you PAY the money?), but in most cases, it’s some kind of self-declared thing.  And yes, even with that diploma you can still suck at what you claim you do (Yes, just saying you did such and such at your old job in an interview doesn’t mean you actually did it remotely well).  And even with that fancy title and lots of money, yes you can still suck at what you do.  Afterall the best way to get promoted:  Fuck up and move up.  Seems to happen in all kinds of companies.

The truth is that people get promoted, not because they are good at what they do, but because they are confident (and yes, FALSE confidence is a real thing and many people suffer from it).  And when people (hiring managers etc) see that someone is confident they take these subtle cues from them and therefore also feel confident about them and what they can do.  Guess what?  It’s all smoke and mirrors.  It’s all fucking bullshit!  The best person for the job, the one who is best at the tasks is usually the person who isn’t full of themselves, but they aren’t the ones getting the promotions.  Hence…competence and confidence can be two sides of a coin.  The confident are not always the most competent.  (How many people in well paid, supervisory roles are like this???  Have you seen it??! )

Umm…so I guess the moral of the story is that confidence is everything and you can actually get away with being the biggest fuck up ever and STILL get promoted (Just keep fucking up! You’ll make it!  Don’t give up now!).  However, how do you fake that shit if you don’t naturally feel that you are the best thing since sliced bread?   What if you don’t go around like an asshole feeling full of yourself all the time?  What if you have, gasp of shock, humility and/or doubts.  What if you’re like….a regular person and you don’t want to be special, you just want to get a job in the field you love, but all you see are the non-competent confident bastards getting ahead of you?

I'm starting my resume right now.  Here's the first sample...

I’m starting my resume right now. Here’s the first sample…

I guess what I’m going to do is just say how awesome I am.  There.  I’m this really awesome, unique, special, off the wall, caustic, hell-yeah, bitchy writer.  I do it for the LOVE OF THE GAME, Yo!!  I’m like a basketball player but without a professional team or cheerleaders or even a coach.  I’m on my own!  I just go out there and shoot those damn hoops!  I’m lay-ups and dunks all the fucking time!  I’m goddamned 7’3″!!  Boo-ya!!  (Keep faking that shit.  Keep going!!)

So…I’m taking an online class (Marketing, fucking professional)…and I’ll hopefully meet some people there and maybe I’ll get up the guts to attend one of these social media groups or conferences or something (Guts=confidence.  Must get guts).  I’ll bring my business cards and sell this old blog like she’s a diamond in the rough!  Polish off the shit and you’ll really see a writer with skills!  She breaks all the rules, yes and she appears nuts, but seriously, who else can bring that kind of whaaa-zam?  Who else can make you feel the way I do?!  Like someone stuck a damn needle in your eye?!!  (OMG!)  Who else can take so many random tangents and somehow make it sound sort of coherent?  Who can fucking tie shit together that has no chance of ever actually making sense…but yet…it does??!!  Who else has the GUTS to try something new, to be off the wall and full of madness?  Who else basically spills their blood on their blog by making fun of all their faults and failures and insecurities??  WAIT…

Victoria Sawyer = Faker


Now I’ve gotten derailed.  You know what…if being confident means not being honest…then fuck that shit!  I’d rather be authentic than fucking full of myself.  Because this blog has always been about honesty and I guess that’s more important to me than fucking polished perfect writing.  This is not a goddamned fake-I’m-trying-too-hard portfolio of my “professional” work.  It’s artwork, it’s personal, it’s ME.

Hmmm…how many time will I vacillate during this post?  How many times will I argue with myself about how I should fake being confident in order to “make it”?  Shit…I really prefer honesty.  I don’t like fake-shit.  I don’t like pretending to be something I’m not.  So yes…Amateur Hour has fucking arrived.  It’s goddamned amateur-o-clock!! But I’m the best goddamned amateur hour you’ll ever fucking see!!  That is…if you still have EYES after they’ve been exposed to my eye-melting, brain-farting (soiling) site.  THE DESIGN IS MELTING MY BRAIN!!!

Listen…guys…is this blog even remotely professional?  It’s writing…of course it is.  It’s like….words all lined up, jumbled together on a page.  That’s writing, right?  If you just throw words together, you are a writer.


Also if you put photos together with text in say Photoshop or InDesign, you might be a GRAPHIC DESIGNER.  (Just don’t declare it too widely unless you want someone to call you Amateur.  Gotta say though, Amateur Hour is dastardly fun.  There are NO rules mothafucka!)

If you sometimes post random shit to FB or Tweeter, YOU MIGHT BE INTO SOCIAL MEDIA.

Fucking labels.  (I guess this is a post with a high level of swearing.  I’m sort of fired up.)  Guess what, I’m going to SELF DECLARE right now that I am worthy.  I am a WRITER, the kind of writer I want to be.  I am a GRAPHIC DESIGNER, exactly how I want to be.  I AM INTO SOCIAL MEDIA and if people can’t recognize what I bring to the table, then fuck’em.

Victoria Sawyer = Writer, Graphic Designer, Social Media Enthusiast or Socialite

High Level of Swearing = Fired Up.


Fucking Labels.  Stupid fucking labels.   Stupid false-confident people.  Stupid business world.  Stupid.  Stupid.  Stupid.

Stupid Bullshit.

I can’t end this thing.







It’s over.

You can go now.

Bye…  ;)


Revolution! Stop 40 hour work Weeks!!


Have you ever felt trapped in your life?  Have you ever felt like you don’t have enough time?  Do you neglect taking care of yourself because you feel you don’t have enough time in the day to eat correctly or exercise?  Do you feel drained of energy?  Do you feel like you are wasting your life sitting at a desk when there are so many things you’d rather be doing?  Do you wish you had the time to meditate, play, read, or be with family?  Does it seem like you’re always running, trying to catch up and yet falling behind?  Are you stressed, on the edge of breakdown or just frustrated that your life is slipping away from you day by day?

Join the American way of life.  Long work days with little time to cultivate our true selves.  For once, Angst Readers, I am deadly serious here.  I want to start a revolution.  I want to make a change, a social change, a change for the better for all people.  Will you help me?  Do you want change?  Do you want more time?

The first step is to read this article:  Your Lifestyle has already been Designed by David Cain on his blog Raptitude.

It appears that this is an older article from several years ago, but I just saw it on Facebook the other day and it got me fired right up so that I couldn’t even sleep!  This article basically packages a lot of the things I’ve thought about before, but does so in a new and unusual way.


This article cuts right to the quick about several things that get me fired up:

Pollution and Waste
Consumer Culture (funny because I’m taking a marketing class right now.  Is marketing evil?!)
Stress, Health, Mental Health,
Time (and/or waste of time)
A Valued Life or a Life Worth Living

First off, the 40 hour work week is incredibly arbitrary.  Why 40 hours?  Why 8 hours per day?  Who said that EVERY SINGLE job in the US should take 8 hours per day and 5 days per week?  Who made this decision?

As the article states, it’s been this way since lobbyist were trying to get away from 10-16 hour work days in the olden days of worker exploitation.  So 8 hours a day was a pretty nice deal.  Do you know when this was happening??  THE EIGHTEEN HUNDREDS!!  YES, 1800’s.  The 19th century.  Do you know how long it’s been since there’s been a change in the standard work day and work week? Yup, that’s right, over 100 years.  HOLY WHAT???

And if you think about today’s society….how many things (laws, regulations, social norms) are different than they were over 100 years ago?  The difference is DRASTICLY overwhelming.  We’re so different in so many ways and now that we are in a technological “revolution” of sorts and have many ways to cut down on how long it takes to do things…why on earth are we still working 8 hours per day?  Why are we letting norms from more than 100 years ago run our lives TODAY??

This article also talks about how big business wants things this way.  They want us working 8 hours per day, not because we need to be, but because it keeps us in a consumer culture, spending money on things we don’t really need.  We’re always trying to fill the hole inside us with a quick fix.  And since we don’t have time to really take care of ourselves (exercise, eating right, meditation, play, etc) we turn to consumerism (including TV etc).  So we are basically being held hostage by big business and our “standard” somehow “necessary” 8 hour work day.  It’s absolutely insane!

How many of you out there could complete your job in less than 8 hours per day?  How many of you are sitting there twiddling your thumbs waiting for the day to be over because you HAVE to sit at your desk for that random allotted time?  How many of you are thinking, as you sit there on your expanding ass, about all the things you could be doing if you had a bit more time?

TIME is the most precious commodity we have as humans on earth.  Think about it…love is good, friendship, family, etc.  But in order to enjoy any of these things, we have to have time.  And we’re throwing away our time EVERY SINGLE DAY!!  Because someone randomly over 100 years ago set a standard.  It’s INSANE!!  Why do we continue on this way?  Why don’t we stand up and demand change? It’s only within the last few years that such a thing as “flexible” work arrangements became more normal.  And that still assumes 40 hours per week, just in a more flexible manner.

What would I do if I had more time?  I would love to be more productive at work.  I would love to be busy for 6 hours, instead of forced to sit at my desk for 8.  I like the feeling of being busy and completing tasks, but with an 8 hour standard work day, I feel like no matter what I do, I’ll be sitting here, so why rush?  There’s no benefit to me for completing my work faster or for being more productive.  And knowing that I’m trapped at my desk certainly doesn’t make me happy.  It makes me feel like a caged animal!!

I would love to have time to learn to cook, to take better care of myself.  To clean my house, to organize my life, to spend time in learning, playing and enjoying life.  I would love to have time for exercise, time to meditate, time to while away a day in any way I choose without feeling guilty, like I’ve mismanaged my precious free time.

When I say, start a revolution, I mean it.  This article succintly lays out the problem, but there is no obvious solution.  My husband says that the article is saying we need to just take note of this phenomenon in our lives.  How we spend money, how we waste time, etc.  But I want to take it a step further.  I want social change.  I want to see a change.  Other countries are doing it!

Read this:  Sweden:  A new laboratory for a 6 hour work day

I have such a hard time believing that something Europeans do will catch on here.  Americans work too much.  We don’t take enough vacations.  We don’t take care of ourselves, hence the obesity epidemic.  I think this epidemic (as well as all other health concerns from a sedentary lifestyle) can be blamed on our 8 hour work day and 40 hour work week.  We don’t have TIME to take care of ourselves.  If we had more time, imagine the savings to our health care plans?  Imagine how much more healthy we’d be?  Imagine how different the world would look? Less pollution, less waste, less trash in the landfill (consisting of shit we bought on a whim).


First off, we need a twitter hashtag, duh.  What do you like???


I also SWEAR TO GOD that a lot of our social problems are because we feel trapped in our lives, so we try to take control in any way we can.  Think about it…trapped working every single day, 8 hours per day for the rest of your life?  Do you feel like there is nothing you can do?   Would you try to break free in some other way?  Divorce, cheating, drinking, binge shopping, getting into debt, hoarding, drugs, crime, etc??  And not only this…we also have so many mental illnesses that would be lessened by a more relaxed lifestyle that included more time to take care of self.  WE ARE TOO STRESSED!!  WE ARE MOVING TO FAST!!

Do you know how many times I’ve said, stop the ride, I want to get the hell off, but there seemed no way to escape???

There have been times in my life where I’ve been close to mental breakdown because of my restrictive working schedule and not having enough time to take care of myself.  There have been days where I’m exhausted and can’t seem to catch up and all I want to do is go back to bed.  There are days I want to give up because I feel so trapped in my life.  And the more things we buy, the more trapped we become because we HAVE to keep working to pay for these things.  It’s the American Trap, not the American Dream.

I want the American Dream back!  I want to be healthy and happy and also earn a living.  I want to be productive for my entire work day.  I want to complete my work and not just sit at my desk because I have to.  I want my time back!  I’m sick of giving it up for some arbitrary reason.  I’m sick of corporate America’s refusal to be flexible.  I’m sick to death of our consumer culture and waste.  It sickens me to see all the problems that are caused because we simply don’t have enough time!  GIVE US OUR TIME BACK!!

HELP ME…Let’s make a change toward a happier, healthier life style!  Let’s stop with humanity’s arbitrary rules and regulations that make no sense.  It’s time for a change!!!

What can you do to make a change?  Start out by sharing the message!  Share David’s article, share this one, write your own!  Talk to your HR professionals! Talk to managers, talk to friends and family, talk to anyone who will listen!  Tweet!  Share the link on your Facebook timeline!  Start some ANARCHY!!  Start a social REVOLUTION!!

Give me suggestions here about what we can do to make a change.   I need your help!!




The Super-Secret Secret to Corporate Success

Do you want to climb the corporate ladder?  It’s really less of a ladder because it’s not nearly as straight forward as a ladder, so maybe it’s most like a pick your own adventure?  Anyway, admit YOU want to navigate the chutes and ladders of corporate life?  Or most like the ladders and less of the chutes.  If this is true, you’re going to want to continue reading because I’m about to lay out exactly how YOU can climb the choose your own adventure corporate mountain andddd….you won’t even need hiking boots.  You can wear your slip on dress shoes!  That’s how easy it is.

And thus, I give you, the KEY to corporate success:

  • Screw Up, Move Up
  • Confidence will get you everything (even false or misplaced confidence) because eventually they’ll believe you are as capable as you say you are (more on this in another blog post)
  • Be pleasant, most of the time (except when you’re strongly opinionated and bitchy (arrogance is KEY!))
  • Keep telling everyone you’re ridiculously busy and they’ll believe you.  “Look how much Sarah gets done in a day!  She’s sooo busy!”  (She must be, she’s always complaining about it, right??)
  • Make sure your superiors think you are amazing.  Even if you have to make shit up!!

It’s all a bluffing game!  Part of me thinks it would be fun to thwart everyone by playing nasty at their own game.  But part of me shivers at the very idea of being false to get something or get ahead.  However being honest and nice has never gotten me anywhere!

What do you think?  Play the game or not?  Is this really how people get promoted in this world? Through deceit and game playing?  Or do these people do these things without even realizing they are doing it and thus become successful?!  Like the complainers and the falsely confident!  Is it a ploy or are they clueless???  I think perhaps it’s both!!

I’ll write more about confidence and getting ahead in a blog post soon!!  Stay tuned you false, evil, scraping, grasping, corporate ladder climbing, falsely confident, arrogant, extra busy, stressed out, complaining suck-up you!! HA!!

P.S. I totally pimped my blog and made it so overwhelming your head will reel!!  Drunkenly!  Spasmodically!  Careening like a fool down a hill on rollerskates!  OUT OF CONTROLLL!!!  It’s so busy, wild and colorful my eyes think we’ve done psychedelic drugs whenever I visit Angst Anarchy!!  I have to remind my eyes that we’ve done nothing of the sort…we’re just crazy.


Just FYI – Submarines

FYI – Submarines

Just an FYI that Mr. VS might have something to do with submarines existing in the world.  I just want to make that clear.  Also over the weekend while we were camping (more on that later) and were swimming in the lake, I climbed on Mr. VS’s back and said loudly…..DIVE DIVE DIVE!!!  AAAA—WOOOOOO—GAHHHH!!!! Just like he was a submarine.  Except I really didn’t want him to dive because then my face would have melted off and my hair would have been more of a disaster than it already was.

Ok….That is all.  Your daily, FYI.  Or TMI.  Or YOLO moment.  Brought to you by….Angst and the words…”craziest bitch ever” and by the US Navy and Submarines that lurk beneath the sea going bong….bong….bong….bong (that’s their sonar or some such shit like that).

Sanctioning Cat Fights: Bitey and the Gentleman

My husband claims that I am promoting cat fights.  And not just promoting, but organizing, advertising and preparing the combatants. He is wrong, of course.  I’m doing nothing of the sort, because animal fights are inhumane. (weird how human is a part of the word inhumane but it can apply to many species??  We are soooo conceited!!)

Anyway, the truth is that my goal was to get a friend for my long suffering Bitey.  Or actually, I hoped to relieve myself because Bitey is sooo bitey and rambunctious.  Everyone had been saying for months, BITEY NEEDS A FRIEND!!  So I was finally, like…fine, I’ll do it.  I’ll just go on down to the shelter and pick out a friend for my sweet evil little Bitey.  I was intent upon finding a girl cat, but alas the one who stole my heart was a boy tiger cat.  Opps.  So I brought him home.

First off, when I sent a picture of the new cat, Mr. Victoria Sawyer said that the cat looked cranky and he didn’t want him.  Ridic.  And also he claimed he had never really expressly said I could have another cat, but I did that shit anyway, cause that’s how marriage works.  Besides, I had been mentioning it as a desire for a few days and he had never forbade me…so clearly that’s permission.

As soon as I got home, Mr. Victoria Sawyer declared that he is the beast-namer in our house and he would name this new beast.  The cat’s name at the shelter was Chanel.  Really?  For a boy cat.  So obviously that had to go.

If you can picture it, it was sort of like the Lion King when Mr. VS named our new cat.  Or you can imagine it like a knight getting dubbed Sir So and So.  Mr. VS said, I dub this beast The Gentleman.

(That’s not actually his name, however for all intents and purposes of this blog post, that’s his name.  And subsequent blog posts.  Because obviously Bitey is not really my other cats name either.  Although you probably thought I really would name a cat Bitey.  What am I, crazy?  Don’t answer that.  Anyway….I can’t reveal the TRUE identity of my kittens because then all you bank account hackers would hack into my accounts once you got all this personal information from me.  Evil hackers!  I won’t tell you my passwords!  What am I, a dummy?  Would I really use my cats names as my passwords?  Isn’t that like numero uno on the list of things NOT to do?  hahaha. YOU’LL NEVER KNOWWW!!!  I love having secrets!! Just to annoy you hackers!!)

I digress, yet again.  You are so long suffering, Angst readers!  Now we have two cats:  Bitey and the Gentleman.  Once they were introduced to each other it was clear that Bitey was not happy.  He was very very hissy and growly.  The growl was particularly low and throaty sounding and he was also backing away post haste.  And at first The Gentleman was a true Gentleman and didn’t do a damn thing to Bitey. He just sat there and looked at him, like…really buddy?  really?  He was a true gentleman.  Also, when interacting with Mr. VS he actually jumped OVER the laptop keyboard instead of walking or laying directly on it as Bitey is wont to do and Mr. VS was impressed by his manners.

So…we’ve had the Gentleman for a few weeks now and there has been no progress on friend making between the two cats.  There are only occasional cat fights that I have apparently arranged to disrupt the peace and quiet of our household.  There is now STRESS where there was none.  So instead of getting Bitey a friend to play with, I have brought him an enemy combatant.

AND AND!!!  Come to find out The Gentleman had the kitten cough or kennel cough and so had to get on antibiotics.  This kitten upper respiratory infection was apparently making him more gentlemanly and docile because as soon as the antibiotics went to work, the Gentleman started getting attacky and chasey.  The Gentleman now believes that he is our one true cat and Bitey is an interloper on the scene who must be hunted down like prey.

Why, oh why?  Why have I done this to myself? I’ve caused strive!!  Why can’t CATS GET ALONG!!  Also, why can’t I speak to them?  It’s so frustrating that I can’t just say to Bitey, “Listen buddy, just give him hell one time and he’ll leave you alone!”  But no, I cannot communicate this message to Bitey and so he continues to run away and be scared and lets The Gentleman think he’s got the upper hand.  BAH!!

Literally, I can jump in a rosebush and come out smelling like…sh….!

It’s true.

Also a few words on the Gentleman.  He’s a dope cat.  He’s a super extra slut for love.  He loves love.  Also he’s very talkative.  Kind of like me.  He just walks around the house, meowing and meowing for no apparent reason except to get our attention or to annoy us or to get love and the funny this is that I do the EXACT same thing to MR. VS!  I never shut the fuck up!!  I am constantly babbling, particularly if Mr. VS is ignoring me….I will continue to just babble and babble and annoy him to the ends of the earth!  And he is really good at ignoring me which is when I have to use alternate tactics since he’s learned to tune out the sound of my annoying voice.

Another thing about cats and husbands is that they are similar because just as cats can get too over stimulated by too much petting, so too can husbands!  It’s like both groups can sense the INTENT of the touch.  Like sometimes my touches are filled with hate instead of love and when I say hate, I mean annoyance or teasing.  BOTH groups can tell!  Mr. VS gets very cranky when I keep touching him and bugging him to get his attention, so too do the cats get cranky when I keep petting them after they’ve had their fill.

The Gentleman has taken to opening his fanged mouth as wide as he can and slowly inserting a large portion of my flesh therein (which is different from Bitey’s lightning fast strikes of claws and teeth).  Then he clamps down, very gently, just to let me know he’s had enough.  Mr. VS declared the other day that he would start doing the same when I annoy him.  It’s like I really have THREE cats in the house.  And Mr. VS refuses to admit that he has cats.  He says, I have cats, meaning me and not him.  So yes, I have 3 cats.  All males.  And all mark their territory.  HAHAHA.

As you might remember from this post where I told you about annoying the shit out of my brother as a child, I still do that now to Mr. VS!!  It’s transferred and also I’m still the same person as I was as a child!!  I’m the worst!  I thrive on annoying people.  Like if Mr. VS is sitting there innocently intent upon his laptop (which he is ALWAYS doing) I will just keep blabbing to get his attention (because clearly all attention should always be on the star of everything, me) but Mr. VS is adept at continuing to look at the computer and not at me.  So then I have to sit next to him and rub his neck or his arm or his hair and just generally annoy him.  It’s sooo much fun.

Also it’s fun when I’m feeling WILD or on a sugar high, like full of energy, to touch him because he can tell that I’m like vibrating with pent up energy.  He can tell the touch is hateful even when I try to mask it with love and gentleness!! It’s like I need to work out or run around to get the energy out, but I of course lately refuse to do that because I’m a lazy sack of shit.  It’s especially fun to give Mr. VS touches full of hate when he’s tired or being a cranky pants.  Don’t you wish you were married to me?  The truth is that I am giving Mr. VS some serious life skills.  I’m coaching him to handle ANYTHING.  He could survive the Amazon now.  The jungle would be nothing to him.

I guess that’s enough about husbands and cats for one day.  I have to head down into the house to spend some time reffing a cat fight.  Busy busy!!  And also of course I have to fit some time in my day to annoy my cats.  All THREE of them. It’s where I get all my power for evil, from annoying them all!  BAHAHAHAHA!!

Also…post script…can these cats please stop?  Can’t we all be friends?  The strife within the house is TOO MUCH!!  I’m going to have to resort to DRASTIC measures.  And we know that I can’t take any cats back to the shelter, including Mr. VS.  That just wouldn’t do.  HELPPPP!!!

I Made Words: Anarchy!!

Anarchy, Anarchy, Government Grammar is evil!!!

I don’t know if you know, but I’m an English major with an actual BA (Bad Ass)degree in English.  Does that mean that I am certified to speak English you ask?  Don’t be an asshole!  (I am certified for that, BTW, but it’s not the only thing we English majors can do! So rude!) An English major means that I am certified by an actual university to MAKE or HANDLE (gently) dangerous words ( I have better clearance than people in a chemistry lab, this shiz is dangerous).  Yup.

Before we move on into more pressing matters, let me just ask you this….why does Bad Ass mean cool?  The two words separately mean very different things. Bad…could mean bad in a good or somehow sexy way (like Michael Jackson’s “Bad”  He wants to be sexy bad, not bad bad), which is weird since bad…is the word BAD and its connotations are well…BAD and NEGATIVE.

Ass…well…there are several meanings for that word, such as donkey or a person who is…well…annoying or not too bright or something like that.   Also it means your rear end. Truly, as you can see, my degree in English is a worthy one indeed, especially since this language we all speak, English, is fraught with danger, stupidity and pitfalls.  A true professional is necessary to think through these difficult topics.  Who better than moi?

Ok…so…how can two words mean so many different things and not only different things…but opposite things??  Like how is ASS cool??  Are donkeys cool?  Are assholes cool?   How is Bad…cool or awesome or good?  How is Badass….soooo damn badass?  I just don’t know.  Badass to me is like biker cool or leather cool or sexy or daring or daredevil or dangerous.

English is a bunk language.  It would be the most hated of all language’s children, if such a thing existed, because it’s the stupidest most confusing language ever.  And lucky me, I have a degree IN IT!!  How much more badass can I possibly be?  And you people thought English majors were a bunch of sissy-pants and book worms!!  Speaking of which…why does cool mean cool?  Cool is like…less than cold, but definitely not warm or hot.  I don’t get it.  I might need a second degree to fully understand this elusive thing we call English.

Ok, back to the task at hand.  I made words.  I did!  I feel like a child saying that I made potty or something like that.  That’s how proud I am of making words.  I want to scream:  COME LOOK, I MADE WORDS!!!  DON’T YOU DARE FLUSH!!  ARE YOU PROUD OF MEEEE???!!

So the way in which I made words is that for one thing, I got this site a real official fancy URL!!  WHOOP!!  I am now! How cool is that!?  How BADASS is it!!  So I did my usual little thing when naming something and got out the handy-dandy synonym finder and went to town finding words.  I love finding words!  There are so many with nuanced meanings!

Even now after I’ve thrown out my rumpled paper filled with chicken scratchings of word options I feel sad!  Bereft!  I am already missing all those cool words.  So…angst anarchy just sounded the best out of all the things I could come up with and all the URL’s that are actually available on the web.  It’s dumb because is being held by someone for ransom.  They want $40,000 for that URL.  WHAT!!!  What a crock of shit.  HAHAHA…that makes me laugh.  CROCK of shit.  Crocks usually hold things like butter, in the olden days.  But today I give you…CROCK OF SHIT!!  Anyway…I digress as I usually do.  Damn you and the person who is holding that lovely url for ransom and not even using it.  Lame.

In case you were curious, the reason I picked anarchy and not something else is that the meaning, when I looked it up, sort of struck me as appropriate.  Not the anti-Government meaning with a big G, but the small G meaning which is like…a place with no government.  A place where no one tells me what to do!  I can be disobedient, I can have no rules, I can be confused and disorderly!  I am totally anarchy.  Couple that with Angst, in all its glory and you really have something that describes this mad place!  Angst is dread, anxiety and for me, it’s lighter more sarcastic cousins that poke fun at angst and make light.  So…it all comes together….

So…after I made my new URL and got that shit finalized, I decided it was time for business cards.  I desperately want to expand this here blog and actually share it with more people!  So when I was making said cards, I decided to do a word collage on the backside that would describe what the hell I do here…and maybe describe me a bit too.  It was pretty fun making up all those words!  Well….in all honesty (I’m always honest with you guys even if I start out full of shit, give me some credit, jeesh) I didn’t actually “make” the words up.  I sort of discovered them.

Yeah…I was mining for words.  I am a word archaeologist.  Except these words aren’t really extinct or anything like that, nor are they part of the fossil record.  Their (this form of there means I think words are sentient beings) still in current use, they are…still alive, I guess.  So…I suppose I didn’t dig all that hard, only the very surface.  I am incredibly shallow.  Afterall I do write a blog all about ME.   Whatever, you guys are mean to me.  You never let me get away with my grandiosities.   (Also, despite my eloquent degreed status I can’t spell for shit, just FYI, it just appears I can because everyone helps me, like WordPress’ WYSIWYG.  I have crutches.)

(Speaking of, have you ever watched Bill Burr?  He’s pretty funny.  He has this one bit about his girlfriend where she says in a little girl voice…”Found something I like” while they’re at the store and she wants him to buy it.  So he says “So why don’t you fucking buy it?”  The way he says it just kills me.  The voices, everything.  Anyway…I got reminded of that above because I didn’t dig all that hard.  Weird connection.  Random…what a good word choice for me….)

Anyway….So now I give you….WORDS!!!

Collage of words


I think my favorite words in this minuscule (sorry) image are “online socialite” which I totally am.  Godsdammit, I’m sooo freaking high class online.  Like a high class hooker!!  Secondly I love punctuation abuser, because I am sooo guilty of that as you’ve probably noticed lately.  I’m telling you, this free speech shit will not stand with the powers that be for long!  Especially not free punctuation. Trust me…they want to take away your rights to punctuate however the hell you want!  ANARCHY!! RESIST!! And me….  I’ve broken all the rules of proper “English Major” decorum.  I am truly a badass English Major.  I’m off book, out in the wild, making up rules, playing hookie, rogue agent, breaking bad, just totally riding my steel steed (the pen).  HAHAHA.  I amuse myself to a high degree.

Next I also enjoy Word Obsessed and Boozy (because why not describe yourself as boozy if you can.  It just looks cool and blouzy and drunk and languid.  I love it).  Obviously I love saying I’m Caustic (like lye I will burn out your eyes, Goddamn!) and I’m erratic too. Totally all over the place!  And Melodramatic cause I’m a soap star or a star of the stage (Remember how I starred in Failure the Musical?).  And yes I am Absurd and a Hot Mess.  Words are awesome.  Look how I can describe myself with words that not only MEAN something, they also taste nice and skip off the tongue!

Business card, photo of girl with text AngstWelp, that’s about it.  I dug up a few words from the landfill of the interwebs, shook off the styrofoam crumbs and earth worms and yes the landfill gasses and then graphic designed said generous words together onto the backside of a business card about this here foolish website.  You know..I did miss a few….like Universeologist, or Existential meltdown-haver.  But I couldn’t fit anything else on there.  It was hard enough to cram that many words into such a small space.  The meanings alone take up SO much more space.  Especially with 6-10 meanings for each word (thank you English language).  I’d need GIGS to deal with that problem. At least with biz cards we’re only dealing in 2-D.  We don’t need no GIGS.  Or JIGGAWATS.  hahaha.  Oh Doc Brown.

And finally, in closing this absurd, zealous, angst bomb post (I dug the word list out of the trash just for you): English is a dumb crummy ludicrous language.  It’s pretty worthless, although also beautiful and descriptive, if you can figure out what the hell people are talking about.  That is all.  The great WordMaster has spoken.

Ahem…just want to point out how deftly I’ve handled a lot of dangerous words in this post.  I didn’t even wear protective eye wear or gloves or hearing protection.  I am super-word-woman.

Anxiety Percentages: From 0% to 10%

In completing my weekly reading for therapy with the book Get Out of Your Mind and Into Your Life, one thing has become abundantly clear to me.  Everyone, at some point or other experiences anxiety in their lives.  It’s part of the human experience and no one is immune. Some of us though, experience perhaps more anxiety or are more upset by the anxiety that we do experience which creates lots of suffering (and as we know…suffering is created by the mind, for the mind and it’s NOT real life, it only exists in the mind!)  Like, moi.  I have always seen anxiety as the evil enemy and have been willing to accept 0% anxiety in my life.  I have tried so hard to run away from panic and anxiety and have avoided so many different experiences because I would allow no anxiety in my life.   0% was the only amount I could live with.

When I met with my therapist last week, it dawned on me that the desire to live with 0% anxiety in my life is extremely abnormal!  I have been striving to be ABNORMAL for most of my life and I thought I was trying to achieve normalcy! However, the truth is that it’s weird, strange and inhuman to expect that anxiety will never touch my life.  It’s an impossible task that I’d set for myself.

So…the other day..I brought Bitey (AKA G. Cat) to the vet for his/her first check up.  My main goal was to find out if he/she (I say he/she because I was told Bitey was a girl when I first got him/her but then began to have doubts about this.  So… the sex of my cat will be revealed in this post, oh the scandal! Bitey will be so very embarrassed, but it’s not like I’m posting a photo of his/her nether regions) Anyway…I wanted to know…if he/she is healthy and of course find out the sex of my cat, purely for reasons of pronoun usage.  Knowing the sex of my cat wouldn’t really change anything, now would it? Still the same cat…just a new proper pronoun and we know how using the proper pronoun is extremely important to a writer.

I went home, loaded Bitey into his/her cage and we drove to the vet.  Unlike most cats I’ve known, Bitey didn’t make a peep in the car.  No yammering or yowling or loud crying or screeching.  Just some very very large wide eyes.  Once inside the vet with other loud animals in the waiting room it was more of the same.  Eventually they brought us into the exam room and then they took Bitey away to draw blood and determine sex.  That was when Bitey…got bitey and squirmy and growly and hissy.  My cat threw a hissy fit, basically.

When they brought Bitey back in, I was the proud parent of a….wait for it…wait for it….a BOY CAT!!!  Yup…Bitey finally had a pronoun and is a HIM and I now have to catch myself when I say she.  Now we’ve gone too far for the point of this post, which is that while they had Bitey out of the room and I was shut in by myself, I became the caged animal.

I didn’t pace, although I think I wanted to.  I sat there on the bench and started thinking all the horrible irrational thoughts of someone who refuses to accept any anxiety in her life.  No amount of anxiety would be appropriate or allowable.  I would goddamn not allow it!  Typically, if I think I’ll feel anxiety I’ll deploy my trusty avoidance skills or will beat myself up over the fact that I experienced anxiety and will allow it to ruin my experience of whatever it is I’m doing.

I have been fighting against these feelings for years…so it’s natural for me to start freaking out and worrying about getting anxious and then becoming anxious because I refuse to allow it (see the dichotomy there?  I get anxious because I refuse to get anxious!! “You will have whatever you refuse to have!”  SO TRUEE!!!).  So I sat there, thinking about how I wanted to leave the room, go running for the door, wondering what the Dr. would say when they came back with my cat and I wasn’t in the room?  Worried that I’d waste their time or they’d think I was strange for bolting, wondering where the closest bathroom was…and my stomach was in total knots.  All rational thought…fled my brain. I was a machine made for panic.

I said to my therapist at our next appointment after this incident that I guess I could have gone to the front desk and asked where the bathroom was and told them to inform the Dr. where I was….and he said, “Wait…that didn’t occur to you while you were sitting there?!”  And this, with disbelief in his voice.  I said…no.  I never thought it!  All thought had left my head.  There was no such thing as problem solving or rational clear-headed normal thought.  There was only frenzied panic and a feeling of sickness crashing over me.  Like Bitey…I wanted to bite something and I’m sure my eyes were huge.

And I knew…as I sat there that if the Dr. came back in, I would be fine.  I would talk with her about my cat, discuss his health and be distracted from my mind.  And that’s exactly what happened when she came back.  I was literally alone for a brief 10 minutes.  But in those 10 minutes, I was consumed by anxiety, busy trying to fight it off or get away from it, forgetting all my coping mechanisms and all the new things I’ve learned recently about how my mind works.

When I talked with Dr. Phil, my therapist, I told him that yes, I felt anxiety, but looking back on it, I realized that it didn’t ruin the experience.  And that in my reading, I learned that sometimes you do things for the experience or what you can get out of the experience and you don’t avoid it because you’re afraid.  I had a goal.  I wanted to take my cat to the vet and find out his sex and whether he was healthy and find out about getting him fixed, it was important to me…and so I had to accept some anxiety into my life in order to get what I wanted.

This is when the epiphany came to me.  Hello, avoiding all anxiety is pointless and impossible!  It’s WEIRD and NOT NORMAL to try to avoid all anxiety all the time and that’s what I’ve been doing for most of my life.  It’s not actually about how much you can stand which is what I always thought.  It’s not a challenge.  It’s not like…WUSSY…CAN YOU STAND THIS ANXIETY?!  CAN YA?  I DARE YA!!  It’s more about what you want out of life and whether you will let your anxiety hold you back from what you want.  And…the other truth is that avoidance is the main reason why my anxiety has been as bad as it has been.  Avoidance is the worst thing you can do because it builds upon itself until many things are outside your grasp.  And then more and more of what you want gets swallowed by your anxiety, until you can’t go anywhere anymore or do the things you love.  That is not an acceptable way to live.  However, more avoidance is not the way to fix it because it just creates more unhappiness that you are missing out on your life.

I’m not saying by any means that I have completely embraced anxiety in my life, but I am saying that I’m working on it.  I have a life I want to live and things I want to do and if anxiety tries to stand in my way, it better damn well watch it! Engarde Anxiety!!  Let us duel to the death!!  Cause god dammit, I’m going to start being normal right now!  I will accept 10% anxiety in my life!  Anxiety cannot make a cuckold out of me!  Big spender is getting wild with the anxiety cash!!!  Watch out world…I’m gonna finally accept some anxiety into my life!  No ONE CAN STOP ME NOWWW!!!  I’m UNSTOPPABLE!!

Oh God, I feel a little nervous.  RUN AWAY!!!  hahaha…just kidding.


Ahhh!!! Realization: I’m a Sci-Fi Nerd!!!

Oh God, oh God, oh God.  Oh GOD!!!!


Ok, take a deep breath, everything’s gonna be alright. Hee…heee…heee…head between knees…deep breathing….

gasp….can’t breathe…heart pounding with terrible truth!!!

It’s okay, calm, soothe, calm, soothe.  Serenity Nowwwww!!

Haaa!!  It’s funny when you go through life without noticing a certain pattern and then suddenly that pattern makes itself apparent and you realize a stunning truth that changes your self perception.  You, by god, are a Sci-Fi loving Nerd!!!  WHAT!!!!  ME????  I thought I was cool and awesome!!  HOW DID THIS HAPPEN??? The inner world of my self-perception is CRUMBLING AWAY LIKE DUST IN THE WIND!! (Did you know we’re all dust in the wind?  Kansas told me so.  Not the state.  Your ignorance is hurting me inside my heart!)

I never thought in the days of yesteryear when I was forced to watch Star Trek, the Next Generation (or the original because we had trouble with tribbles) with my dad (because he loves that stuff) that I would someday watch similar shows and ENJOY it!!!  I shunned those shows then and now I have become my father!!  NO!!!! Soooo geeky!!!(Love you dad!)

But it’s true.  I have been watching an awful lot of Sci-Fi lately!!  Here’s a list of shows/movies that I adore:

Battlestar Gallatica
Warehouse 13
Lost (Does this count?)
Star Wars (duh)
Back to the Future (again, duh, I’m a child of the 80’s!)
Terra Nova

I also used to adore watching Space Camp!  Who remembers this movie?  I was obsessed with it after we went to Cape Canaveral when I was young and watched a space shuttle launch.  OBSESSED.  That little robot thingy was sooo cute!  HAA!!  And the ANXIETY that movie creates, WHOA.  WILL THEY RETURN TO EARTH IN ONE PIECE??? AHH!!!!  And of course it was VHS.  Advanced technology!

So what is it about Sci-Fi (Fy) that appeals to my little mind?

I think it’s that Sci-fi shows can knock your socks off with plot twists and the sky is really the limit as far as these twists are concerned (how appropriate).  And these twists are not just Don Draper philandered again! and BTW…he LIVES FOR, LOVES philandering. Or purely, life as we know it twists where SVU figures out another sexual assault case.  Sci-fi features….universe-level plot twists. Twists that shake the very foundation or your BEING, of your actual existence!  Twists that make you think and wonder and imagine.  Twists that try to answer questions about things that we know nothing about.  We are…did you know…living in a scary huge wonderful terrifying “I may have soiled the carpet I’m so scared” mystery!!  IT’s TRUE!!  WHY THE FUCK ARE WE HERE??!!!  WHAT ARE WE DOING?!!

Like Fringe.  That show kept reinventing itself all the time and looking at things from different angles and adding little nuances and big WHOA moments that twisted your head all up in wonder!  It’s INSANE!!.  Plus, while Sci-Fi is weird and wild and out there and spacey (which I love, and I do mean…SPACE THE FINAL FRONTIER) it’s also got the same kind of “human” stuff that regular sitcoms and “life” shows have.  They have…love stories, religion (Gods DAMMIT!!  How I love General Tigh from Battlestar), human drama, but also the really big questions.  Why are we here?  What the hell is this place?  How do we make sense of our world?  What else is out there in the universe?  What if?  WHAT IF????!!  WHAT IF THERE’S AN ALTERNATE REALITY?  What if we had to populate another world?  What if we create life-like robots that try to murder us all? EEEKK!!!! Or how about we travel through time or other dimensions?  WHAT THE HELL IF???!!!  BT-dubs, there’s definitely another version of me out there writing really good, palatable, nice blog posts.  She’s the true winner, she’s the hot one.  I hate her.

(I’m realizing that all my blog posts are really about how my mind has been blown by something.  That’s it.  Whenever I’m either stunned silly (much like a tazed miscreant with a verbocity that scrambles the mind) or ranting mad, I write a blog post. Aren’t you thrilled and googly-eyed amazed by how often my mind gets excited and soils itself?  It does seem to be more frequent than is healthy.)

What’s weird is that I don’t read Sci-Fi books.  I’m not really sure why.  Probably because I wouldn’t know where to start (this is a cry for help…make suggestions!!!).  Although I have read Ender’s Game and 2001:  A Space Odyssey. Most of my reading pleasure comes from historical fiction.  So I’m well versed in the “supposed” future of Sci-Fi on TV and the past through fictionalized history (because obviously I don’t give a damn about the present).  I’m immersed in worlds that ARE NOT REAL!!  I’m living in a fantasy world!!  However since all the mysteries of this world have yet to be figured out, I’m probably doing okay.  The imagination is the limit!  The limit is the imagination!  WHATEVER!!!  IT COULD ALL BE TRUE!!!  My mind is experiencing a BIG BANG!!!  It’s expanding into the dark matter between my ears!  Weeeee!!!

And thus, I have realized something about myself, at the grand old age of 31.  (See kiddies, we’re always learning even when we’re mildly old or aged, like cheese (and sometimes that learning about self, seems negative… but in the end is actually pretty cool, even though your high school classmates would tease you for it, those assholes!)).

See, I’ll say it now….I am truly a sci-fi nerd.  I love that shit.  I will get immersed in it, I will think about it for days, I will wonder why we’re here and what we’re doing and how we got here and if we’ll still be around in a million years.  I want to know ALL THE DAMN ANSWERS!!  That’s my impatience coming out and Sci-fi gives me something fanciful and interesting to imagine.  A way to solve those existential puzzles that plague my mind.  I love that!  I guess I’d be bored if I had all the answers.  Maybe God doesn’t want us to be bored?

It makes me imagine that we’re like God’s pets and he keeps us entertained with all kinds of mysteries.  It’s like when I leave my cat at home all day and he needs stimulation or he’ll get bored or depressed.  So I give him cat nip, toys to play with, a scratching post, food to amuse him, etc.  And our benevolent but physically absent owner gave us beer and mysteries to keep us entertained.  He wouldn’t want us soiling the house due to anxiety.  (Too late!)

Existential Mysteries = dangling cat toy filled with nip.  God is yanking that toy around and we’re mesmerized!!  More BEER!!!

And FYI…when God gets home, I’m fully prepared to release all the excess energy I’ve been storing up all day, much like my cat who careens around the house like a madman.  PAY ATTENTION TO ME!!!  GIVE ME LOVE!!  GIVE ME FOOD!!  PLAY WITH ME!!! God has it coming!!

So there’s my pitch.  Go watch all those shows on Netflixs as soon as possible.  Also I should be tried, found guilty and jailed for life because of how badly I’ve abused CAPS and exclamation points and question marks in this post (basically an overload of punctuation because I also abused these bad boys ()).  These are also frequent happenings in my life.  Abuse of things to an extent that is unhealthy.  Health, apparently, is a low use of exclamation points (low-dose and/or no-use because they are like gateway drugs to even more punctuation, as you can see in this post) and keeping excitement (CAPS-style excitement) to a minimum.  We must stay calm, or we’ll soil God’s house because of our separation anxiety and boredom.  WAIT…didn’t we already soil?  This HOUSE IS SOILED!!!  So go live inside your TV, it’s nice and clean in there!!



The Power of Makeup (I Wield the Powah of the Brush!!)

This post is for all of you out there who double dip yourselves in Maybelline every single day.  I say to thee, this is for ye…with the bad skin, breakouts, spots, splotchy skin, bags under your eyes, wrinkles, age spots, etc.  I feel your pain and we shall commiserate together.

Makeup is crazy.  It really is.  If you think about it, if we all stopped wearing makeup, like say if it suddenly became unavailable (WORLD WIDE PANIC!! The end is NEAR!!), we’d all look hideous and grotesque.  But in the old days, everyone must have looked hideous all the time, so people were used to it.  For most of the population it was normal for people to never wear makeup.  So those people always showed their real faces.

Me, I never (hardly ever) show my real face to the world.  I’ve got that shit slathered on every day.  It’s nice cause it hides all the skin discoloration, the spots, etc.  So my skin looks more smooth, also of course it enhances parts of my face which is nice too.  Bigger eyes, brighter cheeks, I can look more tan or more pale, whatever I choose.  Plus it’s kind of fun in a way.  I treat it like art.  I’m like an artist with a canvas, painting a pretty face on top of my other….dreadfully real face.  I’ve got to cover up the horror mask with pretty colors so you’ll be deceived into thinking that nature has blessed me (which is HASN’T! I am accursed!)!!

Now…truthfully, I wouldn’t say I’m hideous without makeup…but my skin def leaves something to be desired! (Like…consistency)  I feel like makeup somewhat levels the playing field for those of us with bad skin.  We can start to look somewhat normal and not like red blotchy weirdos.  So that’s nice.  It’s a good thing I didn’t grow up in the olden times.  Although everyone else probably looked pretty rough as well.  No orthodontia!  No make-up!  No plastic surgery or fake boobs! No hair dye!  It’s also weird how in the olden days people’s hair went grey and you would see a lot of grey haired people, but now it seems like most people dye their hair, so it’s harder to tell age from a glance.

Anyway, the other day I was looking at photos online of the Power of Makeup and it was insane. People that looked normal suddenly looked glamorous.  Or people that looked bad, suddenly looked good.  All of us though are going around with this shit on our faces and some of us don’t feel normal unless we’ve got it on.  That is pretty sad.  However at the same time….I can’t compete with people with normal skin!  There are some people who look just fine without makeup and I ain’t one of them. (Vanity ALERT!!!  SOUND THE ALARM!! AAA…WOOOO…GAHHHH!!!)

Also, the other day I had the opportunity to put my face in one of those booths that will tell you if you’ve got skin damage and voila….I didn’t have much!  Apparently covering my skin all these years has had some benefits and now that I’m using less harmful mineral make up, I’m probably doing okay and can indulge in my less red skin.  I can look more glamorous.

The trouble is that it’s difficult to maintain the illusion of beauty or of looking a certain way.  I know I’ve seen colleagues on their day off with no make up on and they look different!  They look tired, strung out, hung over etc!  But it’s just their REGULAR face!!  How sad is that?  Are we pathetic??? When these people come to work, they’ve polished themselves with make up until they are shiny and new and healthy and well rested, like the skin of a brand new baby!  It’s like mandatory that you put on the happy “I love my job” face for work.  (You do want a promotion, don’t you??  HAAA)  It’s such a huge RUSE!! We are SO FAKE and FRAUDULENT!

And it’s difficult to be sure that you always have it on and never show that real unsightly repugnant face underneath! Like if your mother-in-law does a pop-over and catches you before you’ve showered.  You’ll go right into a frenzy!  You cannot have people viewing the real you!  You’ve spent years concocting this fake hawt version of yourself.  By God, you will not let all that work come crashing down on your mottled discolored head now!  You MUST run and hide and commence with the slathering!! AHH!

The other weird thing though, is that guys (or love interests in general) probably get used to seeing us with our makeup on and so think we look a certain way.  They may think you are a 9, when really you are a 7! HOW DARE YOU!!  But…beware the day you take it off!  AHH!!  There are times at home when I don’t have makeup  on and my husband never comments or seems to notice (How can he not notice?  Really??).  So that’s pretty nice of him.  In many ways, Mr. Victoria Sawyer is no gentleman…but in that way he is.  Or he’s just oblivious.  Or he never looks at me. Either way, it keeps me happy. HA!!

So I say to you, indulge in your slathering of make up and you’ll probably have less skin cancer.  Also it’s okay to hate on people with nice skin because they are assholes.  (!!) haha.  They don’t understand your trauma and compulsive need to make your skin appear to be clear and smooth and one color because nature or god or the god of genetics or something gave them perfect skin.  They don’t understand waking up with a face full of spots because your hormones had a party in bed the night before.  An ORGY of hormones!  Their hormones NEVER engage in such reckless behavior WITHOUT protection.  So when you wake up with sores and pustuals, they wake up with a clear conscience and beautiful skin.  God I hate them!! So…you gotta ignore them, shun them, be jealous.  But keep putting on that makeup to trick the bastards!  Plus it’s a kindness to the world, it really is!  Also avoid the rain, because you may melt your face off and everyone will be scared because you look like the wicked witch underneath.

Some people are brave enough to post a no-make up selfie.  Those people also should be shunned and made to feel like outcasts.  Me…I’m terrified of posting a no makeup selfie.  COWARD!!  Because I fear after viewing the shot, I’d be forced to abuse photoshop in way that would feel evil, untruthful and criminal (in a scary evil witch sort of way), much like Cruella Deville and her coat of puppies.  Just WRONG how’d I misuse poor old photoshop!  My cowardice and vanity knows no boundaries.  I may show you myself in words, but not in pictures!

My words of wisdom astound even me.  I’m so amazing, it hurts.  But you can’t tell because I’ve got my makeup on, which means that I have a very nice “resting bitch face” on right now.  I paint that bitch face on every day and then I work very hard to represent.


Now enjoy some Power of Makeup photos!  HERE!!

Gawd, what a freaking shallow post.  I win an award for shallowest post of the day on WordPress.  Where is my crown?  And free make up supplies to test?  GET ON THAT!! STAT!!  I have an addiction to feed you lousy….I mean…nice people.

P.S. It must be really boring to be a boy and not get to play with makeup.  Sad Face for boys.  Then again, they don’t have to play pretend all day long either by making sure their face hasn’t slipped off.  Lucky bastards.

Humble Cake

And then in true Angst fashion, you laugh about it and make a joke, because to do otherwise would be….too depressing for words and I’m through that stage.  Acceptance, Grief, Bargaining…Humorous Self-depreciation?   Making fun of thyself…best for thyself.  (This brings Jim Gaffigan to mind when he talks about the gym….

“I want to look at myself while I work on myself. I should make a recording so I can listen to myself while I look at myself while I work on myself as I leaf through my Self magazine and read about how myself can improve myself. Maybe I’ll go to my Facebook page a look at photos of myself and read what myself has written about myself.” )

SELF SELF SELF!!!  SELF-CENTERED!!! Ahhhh!!!  You don’t want to hear about me?!  But I’m SELF-OBSESSED.  No, yes?  Just a few more seconds…hold on to your butts!  You’ll like it because you’ll get to see me get cake on my face.  And who doesn’t like to see someone else get cake smeared everywhere when it’s not even their birthday.  Like a large 2 year old, let loose on a personal birthday cake.

Lynyrd Skynyrd said it best….

“Well I can jump in a rosebush and come out smelling like sh$&!”

So the Universe and I had a conversation.

Universe:  “Hello Victoria”

Me:  “Hey Universe.  You’ve been on my mind a lot lately and I’ve really been talking you up on the blog, giving you some serious props.  People might be reading about you.  There is a slight chance after all.  Isn’t that exciting!  Don’t you think you could maybe do something nice for me for a change?? Like give me exactly what I want when I want it?  Like…right now??!!”

Universe:  “True, true, you’ve been talking me up….but that second part…no.  No.  No.  Sorry honey.  That’s not how it works. Would you like a piece of cake?”

Me:  (huh??? WTF??? Also thinking to myself (who else would I be thinking to???) that the universe sounds charitable and like a good host (or hostess…cakes))  “Sure, I’ll try a piece.  Serve it up!”

[Universe gets out the fancy cake knife and plates, cuts a hefty piece with lots of frosting and hands me cake. I take a questioning bite.]

Me:  “Very good cake Universe, what it is?” [I savor said cake, tastes like chocolate and peanut butter, my favorite but with a hint of something else...hmmm...]

Universe: “It’s failure.  Doesn’t it taste good?”

Me:  “Yes, it’s delicious.  I’d call it ‘decadently real'”

Universe:  “More?”

Me:  “Of course, yes, please, you know me Universe.  Glutton for Failure cake in the morning.”

[Universe hands me cake, I cram it in my mouth, hands double fisted with gooey delicious cake.]

Or as Moss would say from the IT Crowd (hilarious freaking show.  Go watch all the seasons on Netflix….RIGHT NOW!!)

“Ah, well prepare to put mustard on those words for you will soon be consuming them along with this slice of humble pie that comes direct from the oven of shame set at gas mark egg on your face. I sort of forgot what I was talking about.”

And on that note….enjoy the cake!  My diet consists consistently of The Universe’s Failure Cake in all it’s delightful flavors.  I’ve become accustomed to a diet of deliciously delicate failure.  Light, fluffy, sugary-sweet, truly decadent failure. YUM!!

Also I just want my own way, all the time, so clearly that leads to massive universal (universe-wide) cake-level failure (it’s a three layer cake crumbling like an exploding building after the demolition crew has done their worst!  WHOOP!).  And pity parties.  Those too.  And thus, I have indulged again in the delicious and undeniable desire to stuff myself full of failure cake [stomach ache commences].  Just like this last time….

Truthfully nothing new has happened, there are no new failures, I just enjoy writing about old ones because they are SO inspiring and rousing and stimulating (I’m salivating!) and this post was too good for the trash heap.  It’s more suited for the compost bin or the recyclables, like coffee grounds.  So I’ve kept it around (although in the landfill it also would have kept quite nicely for YEARS!).  Wasn’t this post just a peach?!

[mouth watering...]

Me:  [after exhausting an entire failure cake, face covered in delicate chocolate crumbs and smeared with peanut butter colored frosting, stomach growling with desperate hunger] “Universe do you have some peach cobbler?”  [Maybe I'm just hungry and not into failure?  Perhaps?]

Me:  “UNIVERSE!!! Bring me the petit fours! Eclairs!  Boston cream pie!  Baked Alaska!  White Trash in a trash bag! Dump Cake!  Monkey Bread! Whoopie Pies! SPOTTED DICK!!  (You Brits!) All laced with the sweet sweet essence of failure! NOW!! The glutton has spoken!”  (HAHAHAHA  arggggggghhhh!!)

Something Stupid

You know what’s stupid?  The fact that I have to drive to work every single day.  It’s goddamned ridiculous that every day, I drive 45 minutes to work and 45 minutes home.  EVERY DAY!!  The same damn commute, wasting the same amount of gas.  And….in the same traffic everyday too with the same people!

Humanity is ridiculous if you really think about it.  We set up all this bullshit that we have to do, all these rules and regulations, all these processes we must follow and we do this shit every day. Really?  Why?  In the big picture, why?  Also, how bad is it for the environment that we have to commute to work everyday?

The problem for me is that I work at a University and I live in the country, where I want to live.  All the homes located near my job are very expensive with outrageous taxes.  So I live further away.  I’m not advocating an answer, because what the hell can I do?  I don’t want to stay over night at work, obviously that would suck.  I don’t want to move closer because that too would suck cause I love where I live.  I don’t want to get a new job because there aren’t a lot of jobs near where I live.  I think what I’m advocating for is working from home.  Like…how much resources would that save!  I wouldn’t have to drive to work everyday, they could keep the lights off in my office or consolidate the office.  I realize that for some jobs (mine included) this isn’t as easy as you would like.  People expect you to be at your desk and supervisors are terrified of letting people “work from home” because they fear they cannot supervise them.  But goddamn…it would save on fossil fuels.

Anyway, it’s just stupid.  It’s stupid human bullshit that we’ve made up and we have to adhere too. Just like all the mindless, pointless paper work we’ve created for ourselves for really no purpose at all.  I think we just keep creating all these rules and regulations and processes to give ourselves something to do and no one can actually get anything important done.  Gah.  Humanity is dumb and hence we will destroy ourselves because we can’t see beyond what’s right in front of us.  Once we get too big, any organization etc just seems to crumble in upon itself and operate like total shit.  Am I wrong?

Who will clean up this damn mess we’ve made and impose some sort of order upon our chaos?  I mean really?  I know if every single person were to look at the problem they’d see the clear answer to so many problems, but actually fixing them would take an act of God.  We can’t change a damn thing because we’d only get in our own way with our stupid bullshit.  It’s obnoxious to a high degree.  Sometimes I want to run for government.  My speech would be that I have no money to campaign, I have a full time job so you won’t see that much of me, however I know how stupid humanity is and how blind and ignorant we are toward problems we face.  We seriously need someone with no money and a helping heapful of common sense to try to reform all this bloated bullshit we’ve created.  Everything just bigger and bigger until it’s a monster that’s out of control.  Too bad that only the rich with ulterior motives can be elected into office.  Seriously how fucked up is our country?  The rich advocating for the rich, the poor getting poorer, the middle completely unheard in the chaos.  Bah.

Can I just work from home?  I’m sick of my pointless long commute that is killing our planet simply because humanity is too dumb to solve shit now that we have the technology to do so.  Everyone that can should work from home.  Imagine the drastic decrease in traffic and pollution.  Craziness.

We’d probably even get more accomplished. Shit..some countries are trying out shorter work days because people are more motivated and focused!  Holy what!!  Imagine that, trying something different.

And that, my friends, has been something stupid for you to enjoy.


Work-Life Balance: Why Having Children is a Choice

At work the other day I went to a conference with other Administrative Professionals.  In one of the sessions called “Work/Life Balance” we were supposed to learn how to balance having a full time job and a fulfilling life.  As we went around the room, sharing our experiences, I was put to shame to realize that many of my colleagues have a much harder time balancing their work and home life because they have families and here I am, no kids, just a husband and 2 cats.

So at first I was sort of mortified because if I think I have it tough with work/life balance, how the hell do these people do it?  Many talked about being single parents or about having a baby or being pregnant and not sleeping or about getting education and trying to raise a family at the same time.  It was pure insanity and I felt for them and realized that I actually know what free time is.  I can go shopping whenever I want, I can go on vacation, no muss, no fuss, I can go out to dinner, I can sleep in, I have so many freedoms that these people only see in their rear view mirror.

So at first I was feeling like an idiot.  What the hell do I have to complain about?  The reason that I went to the session is that I’m considering getting a second degree and starting my own business and I wanted to know how to balance all that with a full time job.  Also I’m scared as shit of giving up my free time, so I thought having some tools would help me make that choice.  (I’ve given up my free time before for things I wanted and working 7 days a week is not as fun as it might seem!  Try building your own house!  AHH!!).

So after a few minutes of feeling like an ass because I have all this free time to sit around and read or garden or do whatever the hell I want…I stopped myself and thought, HAVING KIDS IS A CHOICE!!  These people chose to do this to themselves.  They didn’t have to!  No one held a gun to their head!  They just jumped into the sack and got to business! And now they are reaping the benefits or the non-benefits of having a family.  But the funny part to me is that many of them probably didn’t see having a family as a choice, they just assumed that having kids is what you do.

I don’t know if many of you out there realize that having children is a choice and not a “should” or “must” or “I have to” kind of activity.  It used to be…but no more!  Now we ladies (and gentleman) have the ability to choose if we want to have a family.  (It’s called BIRTH CONTROL PEEPS!!) The problem is that our minds have not quite caught up with this truth.

I always assumed I’d have kids.  It wasn’t something that I thought of as a choice, although for a long time I did think of it as something that was way off in the future.  I wasn’t ready to think seriously about having a child.  However, I did assume that it’s what you did.  Everyone did it.  You got older, you got yourself a fancy “career” (which I am lovingly calling “riding the colorful rainbow into the pot’o’gold” or not), you got married, you had kids, end of story.

It wasn’t until I tried to get pregnant and had problems (endometriosis) that it finally occurred to me that, holy shit, having kids is a choice I can make and do I want to make that choice?  It’s a hell of a commitment if you really think about it.  Years and years and years of commitment.  In comparison, deciding to go to school for a few years is just a tiny blip of time where you’ll be busy.  But having a family means no more time for yourself, your life is not as much your own as it once was.  Your child is now in control.  A child!  In total control of YOUR ADULT LIFE!! ahhh!! (Can they be trusted?  Are they “responsible” enough??)

Now I know that people who have kids say they would never take it back, they love their kids (and I’m 100% sure this is true), however I know that it’s also a hell of a lot of work.  It may be worth it, but whether it is or not depends entirely on you.  And as I thought about whether I really wanted children, it began to occur to me that having them might actually not be a good idea for me.

For years I didn’t think about it, or imagined it as something far off that I’d be able to handle when it finally happened.  But as it got closer and I tried to get pregnant, I was freaking terrified.  Pregnancy and changes in my body scared me, feeling tired or nauseous or sore or being unable to sleep or feeling that once you are pregnant you are trapped and must go through with it didn’t sound so fun to me.  AND GOOD LORD the BIRTH!!  That idea of that experience was absolutely horrifying to me.  The feelings of being trapped, panicked, my body doing things it had never done before was really scary.  And then to think about a child, taking that child to the doctor, to school, to sports, etc.  I just couldn’t even imagine how I could handle it.  Me, the girl with the mental illness, the girl with anxiety on the brain.  The idea overwhelmed me with feelings of uncertainty.

And as time went on, over the 2 years it took to be diagnosed with Endometriosis, I began to have a different relationship to the idea of having children (and I was trying too, it just wasn’t happening.  I put my head in the sand and thought…it’s not a choice, I’ll just do it and once I’m caught on the fishing line of a child, I’ll just DEAL WITH IT THEN).  But finally, I realized that it is a choice.  It’s not something I have to do, despite any pressure I might feel from friends, family or others.  It’s my choice, my husband’s choice.  And now, if I really want to have kids, I probably could.  I’d have to use fertility treatments, but the success rate is fairly high.  However, that really brought it home to me that having children is 100% a choice in this day and age.  I would have to consciously choose to go to the doctor and take those treatments.  It would no longer be the kind of thing where you get off the pill and think…well, if it happens, it happens.  I can’t be off the pill, so I can’t do it that way, the “up to chance” way.

And now that I realize that it is a choice, I want other people know too that having children is not a forgone conclusion.  Just because it’s what people seem to do as they get older, does not by any means mean that you have to do it.  I have a friend who knows herself so well and she told me when we first met that she didn’t want children.  This was interesting to me as I had always assumed it’s what you do.  And at first it was strange to me that someone would not want children and I almost felt like it was a “selfish” choice.  However, it’s not a selfish choice!  It’s like any other choice you make in your life.  What job you have, where you live, how you spend your money, etc.

Having children is a huge deal and not something to be taken lightly.  My opinion about my friend has changed over the years.  I realize that she is smart and knows herself so well that she knows that having children is not for her.  It took me a long time to come to that same conclusion for myself because it’s a hard decision to make.  There are positives about having kids and you certainly do miss out on a lot of experiences if you don’t have them.  It makes me sad to think that I may never have kids or those experiences, however at the same time, I am growing into the idea, learning to accept that this is my life and it is not a “lesser” life because I don’t have kids.  I have so many things I want to do with my life, so many goals and aspirations.  Plus, having children is not the meaning of a woman, as we so often feel.  It is not our purpose.  It’s something we are capable of (most of us) but is not something we have to do.  And it does not define us.

So at this point in my life, I think I’m okay with not having children.  I could force the issue if I wanted to.  I could go to every length, but why?  I was already doubting my desire and ability to handle it, so it’s probably for the best that I don’t do it.  And I hope that more people will realize that it’s a choice they have.  This world is already highly over populated, so make a wise choice for you.  There’s no reason why everyone on earth has to have children!  It is no longer the thing we do, it’s now up to us as men and women to choose our paths.

Choose wisely!  Do what’s best for you!  Not what society says you should do.

Think a’bout it.  :)

Failure the Musical!!!! STARRING MEEEE!!!

AKA:  A Catalog of Woes: The Year in Review

I know it’s not necessarily the time of year to be doing a year in review, but I have a need to see all my woes laid out in a humorous way for the enjoyment of the citizens of Interwebs Township.  I want to be your clown, will you hire me?

Alternately this post could be called:  Waving the White Flag of Surrender or The Sorrows of Young Victoria.  Or Semi-Young Victoria.  Anyway, my hope is that by laying out these woes I will somehow learn a lesson and/or I will give myself a good excuse to wallow in depression.  I mean, I’m already doing it, wallowing like a pig in shit, but having a good reason to be sunk and dirty in depression is of course superior.  You can feel justified and almost like a martyr.  Also if you can somehow find a way to laugh at your woes, you can feel a bit better about them.

And now I present to you:  The Woes of Victoria 2013-14 Edition

1.  Tried to get pregnant, failed.  Blame the body.  But it’s okay, I don’t need no kids.  I’m kid enough.  (Seriously don’t feel bad, I’m okay with this, I really am. Stop blubbering!!! Dry thy tears! Oh sweet Patsy, now I’m a crazy cat ladddyyyy!)

2.  Weird symptoms for 2 years, annoyed and fed up, I agreed to have surgery to find out for sure WTH is going on.  And yes, I do indeed have Endometriosis.  Hurrah!  Weeks of pain ensue after a lovely convalescence.   That’s a great old timey word isn’t it?

3.  I got back on anxiety meds because the idea of surgery was giving me the heebeegeebees.  WHOA!!  That word looks awesome that way.  I’m distracting myself by looking at words. Anyway….I also thought it just might be a good idea to be back on meds to tone down a bit of the madness.

4.  Spent about 2.5 months of sleeplessness and DT’s from said anxiety pills.  DT’s doesn’t make sense because that’s about Detoxing and I was actually toxing or retoxing.  So.  Hm.  Very fun.  Though magically (and deliciously) some of the same symptoms apply.

5.  Applied for approximately 10 jobs.  Got 3 interviews.  Rejected by all.  Then I flipped off the universe but I don’t think that necessarily helps.

6.  The hardest rejection was the most recent.  I shared everything, even this here crazy blog and still I was rejected.  Not sure where to turnnnnn.  So I am turning around in circles, like a dog chasing it’s tail.  Who the hell’s tail is that?  Get it…MUST GET IT!!!  ARF!!

7.  Skin has been atrocious.  Hormonal fucking shit!!  I look like a goddamned teenager! My hormones enjoy drama, they are drama-queens.

8.  Gained weight, lost weight, gained it again.  Will probably somehow be able to lose it again if I stop eating comfort food.  Sob…Mac and Cheese and Ice Creammmm!!

9.  Winter was wickedly long and terrible.  Why do I live in the North East?? I had S.A.D.D.  Big time.

10.  Been extremely exhausted due to Endo.  Why does no one recognize this as a symptom?  It’s like this ridic exhaustion that makes you not want to do anything at all.  My motivation is the sorriest (that word looks dumb) thing I’ve ever seen.

11.  Struggled to keep up with the blog and find additional projects etc after the busy last few years (building house, publishing novel, endo symptoms etc)  and the meds that don’t seem to help with creativity.  Creativity hinderers.

12.  Also it’s hard on the ego to age.  You look in the mirror and you think…what the hell is happening here?  Where did the time go?  CLICHE!!  Seriously, I’ve lost the time, where did it go?  FIND IT< DAMMIT!!! How am I getting old?  I know I made a pact with the devil and he’s not keeping up his part of the bargain.  NO SOUL FOR HIM!!

13.  I happen to be a slave to my body.  My body OWNS this shit.  LIke…I OWN you MOTHERFUCKA!!  That’s how my body cackles and laughs at me when it causes me not to sleep because I didn’t drink quite enough water for its tastes or when I have alcohol and it just gets pissy.  (I love alcohol.  Come’on Body, let’s bargain.  What do you want??)

14.  Oh yeah and then I cut my hair and hated/hate it.  Now it’s in the weird growing out, awkward, I don’t give a shit how I look, but actually yes I do and I feel terrible stage.  Hence, a case of the “uglies”.

Wait, I swear to god there should be more woes.  Where are the rest of my woes? The funny thing is that I don’t believe I have felt this self-conscious and low since I was a teenager.  I never thought to feel this way again about myself after I left those uncertain years behind.  And yet, And YET!!!  Here I am.  The word FAILURE looms large!  In flashing shining lights!  ON BROADWAY!!!  FAILURE!!  THE MUSICAL!!  STARRING MEEEE!!!

So, as you can see, I am sunk right down into the bog of depression.  The only thing keeping me afloat at the moment (my life preservers who bouy me up while I slurp and struggle and thrash) are my friends and family who I am clinging to in a way that is probably making them gasp for breath as I push their heads under water to get myself aloft.  My husband, my girlfriends, my parents, etc.  My friends have been so amazing it’s not even believable.  If I wrote a story about it, you’d call bullshit and say it was the most unrealistic thing you had ever read. I’d say (braggingly.  HAHA) it puts Beaches (the movie) to shame. Ok…not really….but….My friends have read my ranting and raving emails, they have given me amazing advice, they are practical, caring, good at goal setting and planning, smart, wise, just…sooooo cool and they like prop me up.  I need an easel to hold this damn cubist art work that is me.

So let’s talk about the things I’ve discovered after all this failure (the musical).  My friend Evie  told me about a book I should check out.  It’s by Danielle LaPort and is called The Fire Starter Sessions.  Apparently it’s about looking for the feeling you want rather than the end result.  So instead of chasing a specific dream, chase how you want to feel and you will be happier.  Also of course I know, deep in my soft squishy sensitive little heart that acceptance and ending the struggle is what I need to do.  But how the hell do you end the struggle, when you are STRUGGLING???  I’m hoping, with a little luck that I’ll be able to discover something or other RIGHT HERE< RIGHT NOW!!  (Also, my therapy reading is helping too because I need to learn about a “valued life” as in Get Out of Your Head and Into Your Life, the book.  (I always want to say, get out of your life and into your head, but that’s the WRONG message all together.)  Heads are like jail cells.  Sometimes.

Also if your head tells you you are a failure, it may come true, so don’t listen.  They say….You become what you think.  So banish that thought, post haste, me harties (and don’t mix metaphors or sayings or time periods or whatever it is I’ve just done.)

Welp… motivation waned and waxed (poetic) and here I am DAYS later, writing on this SAME gosh-darned post.  WTF, you say?  I say that too!  WTF!!!  Anywho….the lesson learned is that time heals all wounds.  It’s really true.  Like a week has gone by and I’m cured of all my wounds and cuts and stomach digestion, boils, bubonics, etc.  Sort of.  Besides, the other thing that heals old crusty scabs is moving forward and doing something.  OR at the very least finding something to mentally obsess over other than the fact that you want to rip off your scab.  (EWWWIEEE!)

So….I’m considering schooling (thanks to Dr. Phil for urging me in this direction) I’ve look at school before but never made the plunge.   (I’m thinking maybe a degree in digital and social media, right up my goddamned cat feces infested alley). That’s part of my problem…I have a very hard time with commitment.  I don’t commit well or at all.  Except to marriage.  I commit to that just fine, easy as pie, with Mr. Victoria Sawyer.  If only other directions were as easy to map out as my love for that worthy man (who doesn’t deserve me…he deserves better!).  For example, the direction of this blog post or the direction of my career or dare I say, my life?

The other thing I’m kind of obsessed over is trying to start my own business.  I’m batting around ideas like a kitten with a nip filled toy, kicking ideas with my back legs.  Afterall, working for “the man” is not all it’s cracked up to be!  [rabbit kicks the man with back legs, take that THE man!!]

So…we move on, we move forward, we obsess anew over different stuffs and paraphernalia and thus we are healed of our bullet holes and splinters and blindness (maybe) and bad sense of direction.  I am like a man driving, I need no directions!  I find my own way, dammit!  I don’t need no help, I can do “disaster” and “year of woes” and “Failure the Musicale” all on my own!  Look how good I’m doing (director, actor, stage hand, understudy all in one!)!!!  Anyway, Obviously you’re feeling nice if you can give thyself some tender-loving shit.  and I have done just that.  Very tender loving and gentle.

And thus, I leave you to go kick around some more ideas for my business (I think I’ll start online, gasp!)