The Bloggess

Is it normal to have this much blood in your ears?

September 28, 2012in Random Crap

Conversation after I saw the doctor to check up on my infected ears:

me: So what’s the fancy Latin name for this so that my husband will feel sorry for me?

nursing student: Oh titties media.

me: I…beg your pardon?

nursing student: That’s what it says on your chart.

Doctor: *coughing on her own spit*

me: My chart says I have “titties media“? My husband is never falling for that.

Doctor: It’s pronounced ‘Otitis Media’. Oh- Tight-Iss.

nursing student: Ah. I should write that down.

me: This is all going on my blog.

Then Victor took me to eat and on the way there I was all “Is it normal to have this much blood in your ears?” and he yelled at me for over-reacting and for getting ear blood in the car, and then like an hour later he was hit by a car. And by “hit by a car” I mean that he was in a rush to get inside the car because it was raining and miscalculated and slammed his face into the car door, and his forehead was leaking blood and he expected me to get all excited about it but I just gave him a bunch of Dairy Queen napkins and told him to apply pressure. And then when he started complaining about possible concussions I was like, “I can’t hear you because I have too much blood in my ears” and so we drove home and I thought to myself that the night would have been better with less competitive blood in it.

PS. Saturday is Victor’s birthday and I’d just like to take the opportunity to say that there is no one on earth I’d rather competitively bleed with, and that I’m so grateful that he lets me share all of our weirdness here. We’re lucky to have that man. Also, I win in the competitive bleeding competition because mine was coming from my ear and so technically I think that counts as internal bleeding. Not that I’m keeping score. But if I was, I’d win.

Gandalf, Dumbledore and Donald Sutherland are all the same person in my head.

September 25, 2012in Random Crap

Victor: Why is that damn kitten running around the house dressed like Santa?

me: What?

cat — What HST would look like if he was old and Amish. And human.

Victor: Hunter S. Thomcat is running around the house in a full beard.

me: Oh. It’s one of Hailey’s feather barrettes. He won’t let go of it and he growls if you try to take it away. But I think he looks quite distinguished. Plus the other cats probably fuck with him since he’s the littlest.

Victor: So you think he’s overcompensating with a human beard.

me: No, I think he’s pretending to be Gandolf the Grey.

Victor: Or Dumbledore.

Hunter S. Thomcat: MMMMRLLLLLFFF!

me: Oh my God, that cat totally wants to be Dumbledore when he grows up.

Victor: Get used to disappointment, cat.

This isn’t a real post

September 22, 2012in Random Crap

This isn’t a real post. It’s just something I tweeted about that was met with so many questions I decided to answer them all here instead.

The tweet: The newest addition to my haunted dollhouse. #dontblink

Answers to questions: Yes, I do have a haunted dollhouse. You can read more about it here. It took me over a decade to build and it’s still unfinished. It’s 1:12 scale and I either built, repainted or distressed the majority of the pieces in the house. The weeping angel, however, I just bought. I need to rework it with paper clay to camouflage its joints because you can tell it’s plastic if you look hard enough.

I would add something witty here but one of my eardrums exploded yesterday (true story) and all of the cleverness leaked out of my ear. At least, I assume that’s what was leaking out of my ear. Could have been brain fluid. Hard to tell at this point. I probably knew what it was before all my brain fluid oozed out. That’s the problem with exploded eardrums.

Sometimes prisons can be beautiful

September 20, 2012in more than meets the eye

Five weeks ago I had a breakdown. It was ugly and frightening and I spent most of the next month in bed or on the couch. Last weekend (with the help of my therapist, more drugs and the support of you all) I started to come out of it, and last night I actually left my house and went – alone – to see Amanda Palmer in concert. Or at least that was my intention. Instead I went to a hotel room a few blocks from her stage and cried pathetically because I didn’t think I could handle the crowds. I was afraid of being alone if I had a panic attack. I was afraid of not being alone if I had a panic attack. I was just afraid in general.

This probably comes as no surprise to any of you because you all know I have a severe anxiety disorder and that fear is my constant companion, but it’s usually sitting quietly beside me while I watch Doctor Who in my pajamas rather than with a thousand strangers in a new city listening to songs that seem rawly pulled straight from my head. I watched the clock click past the time I was supposed to leave and I was still trapped in the hotel room. Then two things happened. An amazing songstress sent me a song she’d written for me:

And I listened and realized that she was right and I was building my own terrible cage to keep myself in, watching life at a distance. Then I checked my phone and saw that Amanda had arranged for me to watch the concert away from the crowds because she knew I wasn’t quite ready for that yet.

And so I went.

And it was amazing.

And as I sat, huddled with my arms around my knees in the corner, I felt safe and secure and…brave. And then I laughed to myself because I looked around me and realized that I was literally inside of a cage above the stage, peeking out at life below.

Baby steps.

PS. The great thing about cages is that if you put your face in between the bars the world looks just as beautiful and free. So here’s to each of you, reaching through your own personal prisons. I hope you all find helpful hands reaching back.

FURIOUSLY HAPPY

September 19, 2012in I am totally overrated

Quick, narcissistic announcement pulled from Publisher’s Weekly roundup of noteworthy book deals:

In Memoirs ~ Author of the No. 1 New York Times bestseller Let’s Pretend This Never Happened (A Mostly True Memoir) and thebloggess.com, Jenny Lawson’s FURIOUSLY HAPPY, about life’s highs and lows and the absurdities in between, again to Amy Einhorn and Amy Einhorn Books, for publication in Spring 2014, by Neeti Madan at Sterling Lord Literistic.

Translation: Book two has begun. Terrified. Excited. At a loss for words. Which is probably a very bad thing for an writer, now that I think about it.

Fuck.

PS. Thank you. There’s a reason why LPTNH is still on the NYT list, and that reason is you. Everyday I get emails from people who have just now discovered this amazing, hysterical, bizarre online community and who finally realize how very not alone they are in their awkward weirdness. You’re helping people find their tribe and I’m so incredibly lucky to be part of that.

You are the very best kind of weird and I can’t thank you enough for sharing it.

I rinse them out first. Stop judging me.

September 18, 2012in Random Crap

Victor: Why the hell did I just see Hunter S. Thomcat running into the bedroom with a bottle of pills?

me: I think you just answered your own question.

Victor: No, seriously.

me: Relax, it’s empty. I put my empty bottles on my desk to remind myself when I need to call in refills, but then he knocks them down and chases them all over the house. Those pill bottles are his favorite toys. Those and lasers. That cat could not have been named better.