Season 1, Episode 1


Oh, hello! Didn’t see you there. I was just cracking open a can of baked beans – why don’t you pull up a hay bale and join me around the campfire?

Okay, you got me. I’m not actually a charismatic hobo about to tell you the story of Blaine. I’m just a tired 27-year-old aspiring human, laying in bed, surrounded by old Tostito crumbs.

But speaking of beans, there was one guy I worked with at the YMCA who would just bring in a can of kidney beans to eat for lunch. Not even heated or seasoned or anything. Just beans! Which I can’t imagine, because the first thing I do when I open a can of cheap beans is rinse off the murky bean juice that smells like a fart. I mean, I do love beans, but that’s just too much, right?

But anyway… what was happening?

I guess as a chronic overthinker, I have a lot of thoughts in my head, so sharing them on the internet seemed like a good idea. On a good day, I find myself positively overflowing with wisdom and hilarity, which seems a shame to waste on my four  co-workers. Heck, I even find myself overflowing with hilarious insights on my bad days, which is actually really handy, because otherwise, there would be no silver lining to sitting on the bathroom floor crying about how my landlords’ dog hates me.

Yes, you’re certainly in for a treat, assuming that your idea of a treat is listening to an eccentric queer lady in her late twenties with major depression and anxiety share her thoughts on bowel movements and the breast cancer-industrial complex.

I’m considered by many to be very attractive.

As someone struggling to adjust to a traditional 40-hour work week after years of non-trad jobs, traveling, and mental health setbacks, I’ve concluded that I need more creative outlets to avoid losing my mind. I am having a hard time understanding this whole working thing. And I don’t mean putting hard work into things. I can work really hard! I play sports! I used to put a lot of effort into school for some reason, and now I put a lot of effort into not completely sinking into a black hole of despair.  I even work hard at work, but I really hate it. Not just my specific job, but the whole concept of having a job.  (And before you even go there, angry ghosts of union leaders past, yes, I am grateful. But for someone with chronic low energy like myself, 40 hours still seems like an awful lot.) Eventually, I would like to be a self-employed creative individual or possibly a wildlife ecologist, but in the meantime, I thought I would start by writing things online.

Perhaps by sharing my experience of being mentally ill, queer, weird, and very angry at the racist-hetero-cis-patriarchy, all of us rebel ghouls can feel less alone. Or maybe no one will read this, and my thoughts will just float on up to the great LiveJournal in the sky. Either way, here I am. Let’s do this.


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