Teenage angst has paid off well, now I’m bored and old.

I really don’t feel like writing right now, so I’m going to do it anyway. Because I know if I start giving in to what I don’t feel like doing, instead of pushing myself to fulfill certain obligations… well I will end up jobless and not leaving Long Island until like… next April, and that will be bad. This is my new brain that tries to self-discipline itself. And yes, I had once told myself, “I am going to start writing a blog because I should be writing more, even though I’m a lazy bastard that will easily be just as happy spacing out on bad tv,” and so, that’s why I’m going to think and write. Even though I really don’t want to do any of that.

I am in a totally shitty mood. I don’t know if it’s depression creeping up on me again, or if I am just having a couple of bad days. I’m just really fucking tired of working at this place already, and I don’t like that I’m not having very much fun in life right now. I feel like I need some sweetness in my life right now. Some good people around to cheer me on. Or something. My fucking ego is chomping at my ankles every day. Or some friends who don’t think I am a crazy asshole.

Dude, and this part is mean, but I’m really fucking tired of hearing my little cousin’s singing: he has SUCH terrible taste. I try really hard not to be a fucking snob about things, I really do try. But he sings Journey and White Snake and REO Speedwagon and Styx and Michael Buble and a ton of really shitty showtunes. I can’t stand hearing the overdramatics until 1am every night. Sure, drown it out with good music in the headphones, and I do, but I just crave some silence right now. I miss some good silence at night now and again. I know it’s evil but I just want to beat him and scream “STOP BEING SUCH A FUCKING WHINEY BROADWAY PUSSY!! WHY CAN’T YOU LISTEN TO SOMETHING AAAANNNNYYYYTHING GOOD, YOU FUCKING CRACKER BASTARD?!!” Because, I think Broadway music is the fucking devil. It’s all a bunch of over-smiling white people over-singing a bunch of completely corny soulless bullshit. GOD, it just makes me want to stab myself in the face one thousand times with a #2 pencil. He just walked out of his room singing a completely faggoty Whitney-Houston-meets-Liza-Minelli version of John Lennon’s Working Class Hero. GOD, I just wanna shake him! Motherfuck.

But I’d never say anything because I don’t believe in being a complete dick, and crushing souls, and starting a bunch of shit. It’s easier just to sit and stew. Encourage the boy because that’s the right thing to do. But it drives me crazy.


NY State Department of Labor needs me to prove to them that I’m getting help for my anxiety/depression problems. I mean, they give me $500 every month because I’m crazy and they don’t think I should be working right now until I start seeing a regular shrink. Meanwhile, I have a nearly-full-time job that I am not telling them about. But yes. Now, I’ve got this piece of paper that I need someone (a shrink) to fill out. Or else they stop giving me my free $500 every month. So. I have to cave, and go to therapy or something for a while. I’m never a fan of therapy. I always end up feeling a lot smarter than my therapists. I tell them my real reasons for being sad about the world, and they can never refute anything I say about it. Because, every time ANYONE takes some time to think about anything outside of themselves and their small lives, there’s a whole world that is basically really sad out there. People are lost. I’m lost. And the majority of not-so-lost people tend to be not-so-smart. So yes yes yes. I am crazy, but a lot of it isn’t unreasonable. NY State still wants me to “show that I’m trying to get help.” What they fail to realise is that the feeling I get from receiving $500 every month from the government, for doing essentially NOTHING AT ALL… this feeling of fucking them right in the face… is helping me. A shrink, however, will probably not make me feel so good.

I don’t know. It’s summer. I’m not having enough fun. But. Yes. Working toward a goal. I really need to start hiding/saving all my money. October will feel far away. But ifI end up being here until January or something? Fuck all that. I need to save. I need to hurry it up. Time to go.


About R. Spacely

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3 Responses to Teenage angst has paid off well, now I’m bored and old.

  1. Essie says:

    That’s a neverending cycle. You get your free government crazy money, you give it to the shrink (so they can stop giving you the crazy money) and you feel somewhat crazier in the process. But I can’t say I’ve ever thought I was smarter than my shrink because she’s the one getting my free crazy money. It’s all nuts.

  2. Krystal says:

    I’m a therapist! Well I could be had I not moved to this country where I don’t know the language

  3. leilani says:

    I like this post! Love crazy money. Hate therapists. Do we see a theme? And I started following your twitter!

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