I’ve been trying really hard to work on my mental health lately, and I think what I’ve been noticing is how difficult it is to tease apart what’s part of your disorder and what’s just you. Maybe partly because I haven’t been properly diagnosed with anything other than anxiety and depression despite the fact that I’m pretty sure there’s an underlying cause of both that I haven’t yet named or had a professional figure out for me, I don’t really allow myself the luxury ever of seeing my mental disorder as separate from who I just am as a person.

But it isn’t just who I am, that’s the whole point of having language to identify and categorize mental disorders (or at least one of them) – it becomes possible to understand yourself as two things, the you that’s being obscured by the illness, and the illness itself. “Illness” sounds like a bit of a strong word, but I’m trying to just let myself talk without all the second guessing and editing for a second.

The point is, it’s hard to even realize that there’s a you underneath waiting to break free from the “disordered” you if you don’t allow yourself to mentally distinguish between who you are and what you struggle with. I may struggle with anxiety and depression, for example, but that doesn’t mean that who I am deep down is characterized only by fear and sadness. Who I am is, in fact, obscured by those things, which is what makes them dysfunctional.

This all probably seems pretty obvious to most people, I don’t know. But I couldn’t sleep so I decided to blog.

Anyway in getting out from under some of the things that have been weighing me down, I’ve decided to be a clown, apparently. I’m not quite sure how we got here, but I’m excited and glad that I did, and I chose a clown name for myself based on a childhood nickname – Sassafrass. It’s also interesting to note that I did a little research on sassafras as a result, and apparently it’s thought that the word comes from the Latin for “stone breaker” because sassafras roots are known to break stones, I guess. Listen, I got lazy with the research, but the point is, maybe there’s a helpful metaphor in there somewhere.

If my brain is the soil and my life is the tree, then the mental challenges or illnesses or what have you are the stones, and what’s important is to make sure that you nurture the roots enough that they have the wherewithal to break through the stones so they can get to the real soil waiting underneath. Does that make sense?

Anyway I also like the image of a plant breaking a rock for the obvious reasons, and I do fancy myself as having a “kill them with kindness” type of vibe, in my best moments, so the name fits for a variety of reasons, I think. Plus sassafras is apparently also used in the healing of wounds and is a controlled substance due to having chemical precursors to MDMA which is where the metaphor sort of breaks down but… is still some fun trivia….?

Who even is going to read this? Anyone? I could say whatever I want here, and it probably wouldn’t matter. FLARGLESCHMARGLESCHMOOPDEDOOOOOO

Alright I guess it’s time for bed lol

My mental health is worth a journal. So let’s identify the barriers holding us back from actually journaling: (1) a feeling of hyper-visibility in today’s world (2) deeply rooted insecurities and fears about myself as a person with free will and agency (3) a refusal to accept myself as a flawed, imperfect person (4) a refusal to accept myself as a person who nevertheless deserves to give and receive love. 

Is that it? I think also it’s the fact that I’m so precious about my own writing, sometimes – I have too much of my ego invested in trying to be, like, the best instead of just trying to be good, or better than I was yesterday. But I am a person with a beautiful brain, even if it is a broken one, and I should try my best to remember that a gem only refracts the light in new directions after it’s been shattered, and I am no less worthy of attention or even admiration than anyone else. No one is, I don’t think. 

It goes back to that quote, again, – “There is no object so foul that intense light cannot make beautiful.” I don’t remember what I said last time I blogged about it, maybe it was the same thing, but the quote also applies to me. And I’m not even that foul of an object, comparatively speaking, so I’m probably solid, if we’re willing to lower the bar a little. But maybe that isn’t the point, either. 

Maybe the quote I should be tying it to is “I’m still scared of losing my head, I guess there’s just something selfish about me” in Keane’s “Difficult Year.” 

I also need to blog more. It’s all connected, though, I need to do everything more. I need to embrace the fact that I’m one of those annoying creative types who won’t shut up. But writing is so much more annoying than other kinds of creativity – some people have a burst of inspiration and end up with a beautiful thing to hang on the wall or a beautiful object like the ones Brandon makes, but I just make… words. And I’m not that good at it, either. But everyone who does anything is sometimes not that good. And most people struggle to tell the difference between what’s good and bad, anyway. And words can do things that other mediums can’t. But any kind of creativity takes a lot of courage, I think. And it’s demoralizing to me that I have an entire blog that’s almost exclusively about my own anxieties and not something important or meaningful like, I don’t know, political commentary or song lyric analysis or whatever. I don’t know why those were the only two examples I chose, but you get the point. 

I think I’m underestimating the audience a lot, though, sometimes. I understand that whatever I’m making, whatever creative things come out of my brain, probably is going to be a niche market, and I’m MORE than okay with that. I don’t need fame or glory or awards, all I really want is to be seen and understood, warts and all. So maybe the new plan should be to go back to the old plan, where all I do is try to love myself as much as I can, and as shamelessly as I can, whenever I can manage to. Whether it’s only in moments, or I can actually manage to do it for long periods of time. 

For so long, my sincerity and my vulnerability have been weaponized against me or treated as something that needed to be fixed. But if I stop fighting and start embracing the things that set me apart from other people, maybe I don’t have to keep running away from who I really am anymore. Maybe I can just be me. 

“`

It’s the irony that I’m afraid of being hyper-visible but am the author of my own hyper-visibility (to the point that I literally am posting my… diary… to a blog…?), for me.

Also, MARINA’s “Soft to be Strong” played in my head for the duration of writing this. I just thought you should know.

I want to start embracing “The Blog” as my safe space. I think we all struggle to find the right places to be fully ourselves. Most people struggle to do so even in the privacy of their own brain, let alone in social spaces. The internet is an extension of this, but the social spaces have become much larger.

I feel this struggle just a tiny bit more acutely than a lot of people, I think, because I have a deadly combination of being a little TOO fully myself in the privacy of my own brain, and a faulty/inconsistent barometer for what’s appropriate in different social settings.

It’s been on my mind a lot lately, because I’ve been trying to learn how to teach preschoolers, which is a very different social space than I’m used to, and I have to try and learn a whole new way of communicating, you know? Luckily, I already try and speak in a way that anyone can understand as much as possible, so it’s not as difficult as I was worried it would be… I think? I don’t know, maybe I’m doing a terrible job, on the other hand, who knows – the point is, I have a catch-22 of being a very good communicator with myself but an alternatingly uncertain or oversharing communicator with literally everyone else.

I let fear get the better of me a lot of the time, despite what it may sometimes look like. I know that I CAN be incredibly reckless as well, but to me it often feels more like I’m still trying to disappear, to hide myself away from the realities of the social world. And to be honest with you, a lot of that is probably because of trauma: one of the core struggles I have with every social interaction is worrying that I might be unsafe, or being lied to, or judged, or looked down on, but even those worries pale in comparison to the worry that someone might be seeing me as a sexual object. And it isn’t because I think I’m so attractive, in fact I think that if anything, I try to make myself ugly a lot of the time, which probably shows, according to certain commenters on my videos (thank you so much for your feedback, by the way).

But it’s been my experience in the past that people will objectify me in a sexual way regardless of what I think I look like, and regardless of whether I’m even aware that the person sees me that way. A lot of the time, I haven’t even noticed until it was too late, which by the way is very tragic. Not to sound course, but if you’re going to get to the point of assaulting someone, you definitely should have asked them out first, that just seems… anyway… See, I say that I try to communicate in a way that anyone could understand, but I really doubt how effective I am, sometimes… anyway… back on track, here… different social spaces have different rules.

That’s why I deleted facebook. The rules were incompatible with the way my brain works. Honestly, I don’t think facebook works well for anyone, right? It’s been a while, but the idea of taking people who meet by happenstance rather than by a common interest or belief system, and bringing them all together in this town hall type space where everyone’s thoughts are visible to everyone else is insane. The idea of letting strangers watch me hump a teddy bear is so much more normal to me than the idea of my coworkers commenting on my selfies. You know what I mean?

Anyway, I’ve been struggling with figuring out what spaces are still safe for me. YouTube is a big fat no, twitter is a no, but the blog. The blog might still be safe. Because only the people who actually care bother to read a blog, one assumes. Only the people who can actually read, at least, which sort of helps, to be honest with you, but beyond that, only the people who care the most will actually read this weird rambling kind of stuff, which is really great. And the other thing I’m realizing is I can bury videos in here, too, videos that might not be the kind I want just anyone to find, or that I only want certain people to see, I can plop in the blog, or on Patreon, or something, so I shouldn’t be limiting what kinds of stuff I let myself make just because of concerns about how “shareable” they are. Everything is shareable, it just has to be shared in the correct spaces.

All of that said, I still sometimes wonder what the point is. Who my audience is. But I think the truth is that I’m my own audience, and this is my sandbox. If friends want to come play in it with me, that’s awesome, but maybe that isn’t even the part that’s important. At least, it doesn’t have to be.

Continue reading “This is my safe space.” →

Shower thought time: What we are, as a species, at the core of it, is hunger. Thirst. Desire. We are our needs.

There’s a reason people go to the desert to seek enlightenment – it’s because it forces us to understand our essence, which is that we are helpless in the face of our needs for shelter, food, water, human connection, and so on.

I threw human connection in there because… I was exploring a train of thought that I visit often, about how people learn to resent and dehumanize one another, and how easy it is to do when someone has something that you desperately need.

For example, a person lost in the desert dying of thirst would be justifiably furious to learn of another person turning down tap water because of the contaminants. That doesn’t necessarily make the person turning down the tap water any less rational, from their point of view, but it makes them seem heartless or even cruel, in a twisted way, to the water-deprived person.

If you know me at all, you know that this is an analogy for sexual economics, in my head, but it works for a lot of things and is an image that often pops up in my brain.

I don’t have a bow to tie this thought up with, but I guess maybe it’s worth thinking about the times you’ve been on one or the other side of this situation, and whether you could have either been more gentle with a friend who was lost in the desert, or treated someone with valid concerns about contaminated water and/or a different take on its scarcity unfairly because you were projecting a skewed world view onto them.

Personally, I’ve been on both sides of this situation many times, in various ways, some of which I’m probably not even consciously aware of. I guess that’s why I think about it so often, I’m trying to tease out the unhealthy patterns and address them.

That said, while it can FEEL like a matter of life and death, loneliness is not a situation that can be fixed by taking out your frustrations on a person with more water on-hand than you. I do understand the impulse. It may be shocking, but sweaty creeps with deep seated emotional problems are not everyone’s cup of tea, so I have been there. But. I’ve been hurt worse in the situations where I was the one in the “position of power,” which makes you start to wonder how the situation could be made better on both sides. You dig?? You jive?? Am I vibing?? Um… sick pipe dude? I think it’s time to stop talking now. Am I making sense here, to anyone?

I’ve been neglecting the blog. What I need is a social media schedule. A weekly blog post, weekly videos, all that jazz.

It’s hard when the world’s problems just feel too big, like we’re all living our insignificant little dramas against this crazy, species-level backdrop… there are so many voices that matter, but instead of letting myself see my own as one of them, I compare myself and feel that I’m not one of them. The special ones, or whatever, like in my head they got a note from Hogwarts giving them permission to be a wizard, or something, does that make any sense at all?

Art involves an upsetting amount of freedom, is the thing. There’s no one size fits all recipe for “finding your voice,” you kind of just have to… fudge it and hope no one notices that you have no idea what you’re doing.

Right? Anyway. Same old thoughts to share, I just felt like it had been a while since I updated this.

Regarding what’s happening in the world historically right now, in case the aliens are judging my narcissism: my hope is that this is a period of purging for America and the rest of the world, and that the future has better things in store for everyone. I don’t see the point in losing hope, because hope is one of the only things we have left that can’t be commodified and hoarded by the greedy.

Hope is free, and maybe things won’t be okay for every individual, but I’m a dumb hippy who thinks we’re all connected (whatever that means, I’m not sure exactly what it means to me, but it’s a feeling, you dig?) but as a whole, I still have hope for humanity. It might be irrational, but it’s a gift that I can give myself without even doing anything.

So I guess the point of this if anyone reads it is, hey man, waddup? And also: let’s give ourselves the gifts we know we need most, and that don’t cost a thing. There are a lot of them. Hope, forgiveness, compassion, permission to be artsy weirdos, affirmations, all that dumb but important stuff – whatever it is that you’ve been denying yourself for no reason. Don’t be a dick to yourself just because it’s easier to go with the current of a toxic, shame-focused culture.

Don’t be afraid to take the side channels and get stuck in some eddies. If you’re scared of the dark, light a candle and protect it from anything that tries to put it out. Should I add another metaphor just to make this as confusing of an image as possible? Maybe the candle should be a flash light, open flames are dangerous. A

nyhoo, that’s all I’ve got.

I’m not proud of this, but there was definitely a period of time where I was the pretentious kid who thought no one else understood the metaphorical significance of things in as deep of a way as I did.

I’d like to think I’m not that way anymore, I make an active effort not to assume that I “get” anything on a deeper level than anyone else does, now, at least, which is a start.

But I still have that Don Quixote-esque quality of wanting to paint my life with a romantic flair. I guess the easy word would be that I’m melodramatic.

Anyway this is another one of those times where even I can’t see the connection between the two things that I just said, so, let’s see… I just know that I’m the type of person who has, at best, one foot in reality at any given time. And usually, even that is a touch and go sort of situation.

So I guess my question is, how do you solve a problem like Cassandra? How do you catch a cloud and pin it down? How do you solve a problem like Cassandra? A will o the wisp, a flibbety gibbet, a clowwwwn…

Errrr… yeah. Supposing I’m Piglet on a blustery day, what tree do I tie my kite to? Let alone what friend, I mean Pooh clearly is liable to let go of the rope the second he sees honey, Kanga has her hands full, Owl doesn’t even have fingers, and don’t even get me started on Rabbit. Eeyore might just pop an entire bottle of painkillers at any moment, and Robin… well… he’s bound to grow up one day and then we have a toy story 3 situation on our hands.

Anyway, I’d be a lot less anxious if I was tied down to something more stable than my own… less than stable point of view. But I also don’t want to stop painting the walls of my brain in technicolor just because it makes me a quixotic nightmare of a person. Is that messed up? Probably.

Maybe nightmare is a strong word. Maybe we should just stick with flibbety gibbet or whatever they say in the song. HOW DO YOU HOOOLD A MOONBEEEEEAAAAMMM INNNNN YOUUUUURRRRRRR HANNNNDDD.

I have no idea. At least I’m entertaining?? Idk.

This whole time, I thought that thinking I was special was the reason I was dumb enough to have a blog/YouTube channel/whatever. But I think that maybe the thing I’m most stubbornly attached to is thinking I’m special enough to fail in ways that other people couldn’t.

How special do you have to think you are to undermine yourself as compulsively as I do?

The issue is, I might not be wrong, still. I truly might be a special snowflake of unparalleled ineptitude. It sure feels that way at times.

Unparalleled Ineptitude would be a great band name. At least my talent for accidentally creating fake band names remains. That’s not nothing lol

A bruh muhment, brought to you by Cassandra.

Bruh. It’s all, like, subjective, bruh.

We think of stuff, usually, from the perspective of a consumer. But when we’re forced (by a pandemic, or inescapable, existential loneliness…) to see ourselves as creators, producers, as seen rather than just a seer… that can get wild really, really quickly.

I think our society is structured on a value system that makes us all feel constantly insecure, no matter who we are, no matter what station we hold. I believe that we all suffer as a result, and that it isn’t our fault, but a fault of our wiring, or the way we’ve been taught to function since birth.

But I believe this, ultimately, because it’s the only thing that gives me hope that we’re capable of change. That our society can be healed, maybe, and that everything humans have done up until this point isn’t just useless garbage.

To think art is objective, you’d have to think that all audiences are identical. Right? Art depends on the audience.

If I made a raunchy joke to a group of 3 year olds, that would be disturbing. But what about humping teddy bears to attempt to bring awareness to a very serious issue facing women everywhere in the world that’s so taboo, even I, the narcissistic weirdo editing hours of her own face on her own unpaid time, had to find an elaborate excuse like youtube to even MENTION it?

Sometimes the new media landscape is just too much for me, though, you know? I don’t want to accidentally swear like a sailor in front of 5 year olds, no matter how much I believe that curse words are a concept invented by fallible human beings who usually use the concept of “curse words” as a tool by which to reinforce class boundaries. You see what I’m saying?

I am at once a 3 year old and a gross, weird, old man. I just still can’t figure out how to be both of those things at once.

*yes there are wires here that didn’t get tied up, but it’s fine because they’re not electrical wires, to my knowledge, so we can pick them up some other time without burning the house down KCOOLBYE

I’ve been feeling really small and powerless. I’ve been listening to this Keane song over and over and just hoping that it applies in some way to my situation, and the world’s in general, I guess. I still want to believe that the world is a beautiful place where the lovers don’t always lose, you know, where good does prevail, at least some of the time. But it’s fucking difficult to keep believing that that’s true, no matter who you are, right now, it’s just more obvious for more people, now, than it used to be.

But even if some of this does apply to me, I still have a lot of regrets about ever doing anything on social media, even though I never had a choice. And I’m still convinced deep down that no one does genuinely care what I have to say. Maybe, honestly, I don’t believe that anyone genuinely cares about anything other than themselves. That’s the way I feel in my dark moments, anyway, and these days it’s pretty much always just darkness, for me.

I love Keane so much. I didn’t even know they had a new album out and I’ve listened to them more than almost any other band… yeah. Ever. If you did the math on it, they would undoubtedly be in my top 5, if not my actual number one. To be fair, they have a leg up on the competition because I’ve been obsessed with them since High School. But, like. Whatever, that’s hardly the point… but I’m just saying it’s a little insane that I didn’t even know they had a new album out. And also, if you’re reading this for some reason and also aren’t also obsessed with them, I’m a million percent certain they will change your life. Not to oversell it or anything.

I’m a little drunk, I’m sorry. But if I can literally get half naked on camera and still meet my own eye in the mirror, I guess this doesn’t feel that… you know what it is? Youtubers, bloggers, whatever, do everything backwards. They don’t start out knowing why anyone would give a shit what they have to say, you know, it’s not like being an actor or a musician who gets a record out first and THEN posts the b-sides or live stuff, it’s like… it’s like going on a date with someone you’ve already heavily sexted with. It just isn’t the same, at all, and it feels way more fucked up and there’s so much more pressure to live up to some kind of impossible standard of being both incredibly intimate and incredibly skilled and charismatic and so on, is any of this even making sense?

Anyway, I keep trying to run away from myself and that… isn’t possible. So I don’t know… I don’t know how to let myself just exist, you know. Turn my brain off and let myself post a really stupid blog post that only three people will read, but that for some reason still makes me feel naked in a way that actually being naked probably wouldn’t even make me feel. I don’t know.

It’s a good song, though, so. Let’s focus on that part, I guess.

Only want to say that I gave it all I had
That I felt afraid and I didn’t step back
Whether right or wrong
I did everything with loveFelt it all
Gave it all
Drank it allAnd we make mistakes
And they make us what we are
And we jump right in
And throw open our hearts
And we catch a glimpse of something magical
Want it all, take it all, got it allThen we love too much
Or we push too hard
Or we fly too high
Or we go too far
For a moment I was all that you could see
For a moment I was all that I could be
Nothing can take that away from me
Nothing can take that away from meAnd our purest dreams
Steal something from our lives
They can only live
Because something else dies
But they lift us up
And they make us walk so tall
Got it all, got it all, got it allThen we love too much
Or we push too hard
Or we fly too high
Or we go too far
For a moment I was all that you could see
For a moment I was all that I could be
Nothing can take that away from me
Nothing can take that away from meNothing can take that away from me
Nothing can take that away from meAnd the purest dreams
Well, they make us feel so high
When you’re falling down
Is when you feel most alive
Whether right or wrong
You do everything with love
Feel it all, give it all, drink it upThen we love too much
Or we push too hard
Or we fly too high
Or we go too far
For a moment I was all that you could see
For a moment I was all that I could be
Nothing can take that away from me
Nothing can take that away from me
Nothing can take that away from me
Nothing can take that away from me

*unnecessary postscript: I’ve also been obsessing over Miike Snow’s videos, which you should also look into if you’re here for some reason. I’m currently making sims of the dancers in genghis khan and pull my trigger because OH MY GOD I CAN’T I LOVE IT SO MUCH

I think ultimately the decision of whether to delete my channel and pretend it never happened comes down to a couple of things.*

First, I hate celebrity culture. I hate LA. I hate fame as a concept and I hate what it turns people into. I hate social media and the relentless shallowness of so much of modern social life, whether or not it’s online. I hate that I ever was even tempted to play the views game, and I hate that if I kept making videos, at some point I would have to. That it’s impossible not to, that it’s just a part of the medium itself.

But it’s more than just that. I enter every new relationship by announcing my flaws. I apologize before I do anything wrong just to make sure that I’m ahead of my own blunders. I assume that I will fail or make some catostrophic, unfixable error before I even start something and even after it’s done I worry that I’m missing some glaring fuck up that everyone else can see. I avoid looking in the mirror more than a few times a day because otherwise I’ll obsess about the thing that may or may not be obviously stupid about my appearance that day.

Basically, I start from the assumption that I either am doing something wrong, or soon will, and go from there. And with YouTube, the goal isn’t even clear which makes it a thousand times worse because according to someone, you’re ALWAYS doing something wrong.

For years I told myself I was incapable of doing anything well, that I was unskilled in anything that could pay the bills. And maybe that’s true, but my bills aren’t that high anyway. I don’t need a lot more than I already have, materially speaking.

But the truth is, maybe I was choosing to see myself as powerless because I didn’t want to also learn how to be responsible with power. And maybe I was choosing to see myself as worthless because a person who has value has to choose how to distribute that value. Maybe I’ve spent so long being afraid of my own voice that I forgot how to speak at all.

But fuck all of that. And fuck the belief that I can only be one kind of person, because I don’t see why I can’t allow myself to be both terrified and brave, both educational and silly, both overthinking and reckless, both a loner and a leader, both a deep thinker and an airhead, both dweeb and debaucherous.

I’m all that stuff, but I don’t have to prove any of that to anyone or worry that they’ll misinterpret the contradictions in who I am because that isn’t something that I can control. And I don’t want to waste my life letting the things I can’t control control me. That’s no way to live.

So maybe I’ll just have to accept that despite my flaws, I’m also kind of awesome. And maybe if other people agree, I should get out of my own way for a change and let them.

…

* also the humping thing and the shame and embarrassment things and all the other stuff but let’s ignore that stuff for the sake of, like, moving prose or whatever