One ox, two oxen. One fox, two foxen.
Jenny LawsonIf I'd have been thinking I would have left some Woolite and my delicates by the sink for him to rinse out, but you never think to turn your pet raccoon into a tiny butler until it's too late.
Jenny LawsonStichwörter: humour
I know other people who are like me... They are brilliant and amazing and forever broken. I'm lucky that although Victor doesn't understand it, he tries to understand, telling me, "Relax. There's absolutely nothing to panic about." I smile gratefully at him and pretend that's all I needed to hear and that this is just a silly phase that will pass one day. I know there's nothing to panic about. And that's exactly what makes it so much worse.
Jenny LawsonIn short? It is exhausting being me. Pretending to be normal is draining and requires amazing amounts of energy and Xanax.
Jenny LawsonOne moment I'm perfectly fine and the next I feel a wave of nausea, then panic. Then I can't catch my breath and I know I'm about to lose control and all I want to do is escape. Except that the one thing I can't escape from is the very thing I want to run away from... me.
Jenny LawsonMe: Yes, I'd like some colon cleanse. It's something that cleans you out so your antidepressants work better.
Pharmacist: I think you're using your antidepressants wrong. They go in your mouth.
Pretty much everyone hates high school. It's a measure of your humanity, I suspect. If you enjoyed high school, you were probably a psychopath or a cheerleader. Or possibly both. Those things aren't mutually exclusive, you know. I've tried to block out the memory of my high school years, but no matter how hard you try, it's always with you, like an unwanted hitchhiker. Or herpes. I assume...
Jenny LawsonStichwörter: high-school
I've found, though, that people are more likely to share their personal experiences if you go first, so that's why I always keep an eleven-point list of what went wrong in my childhood to share with them. Also I usually crack open a bottle of tequila to share with them, because alcohol makes me less nervous, and also because I'm from the South, and in Texas we offer drinks to strangers even when we're waiting in line at the liquor store. In Texas we call that '_southern hospitality_.' The people who own the liquor store call it 'shoplifting.' Probably because they're Yankees.
I'm not allowed to go back to that liquor store.
Stichwörter: alcohol southern-hospitality
I rocked in silence, and realized for the first time that 'home' wasn't this place anymore. It was wherever Victor was. It was both a terrifying and an enlightening realization, and I took a deep breath and thought carefully before I answered.
'Yes. I'm ready to go home.'
It was like saying hello and good-bye at the same time.
I sometimes wonder what it would have been like to have a childhood that was _not_ like mine. I have no real frame of reference, but when I question strangers I've found that their childhood generally had much less blood in it, and also that strangers seem uncomfortable when you question them about their childhood. But really, what else are you going to talk about in line at the liquor store? Childhood trauma seems like the natural choice, since it's the reason why most of us are in line there to begin with.
Jenny LawsonStichwörter: humor childhood childhood-trauma
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