it wasn't . . . it wasn't . . .

So I was just skimming through my old posts (I'm trying to reconnect with my sense of self, okay?), and came across the longest comment ever posted on the internet. I'd repost it here but it is too long. No, I don't think you don't understand. It is really, really, really long. Like, longer than . . . other really long things. I will, however, repost this:

self-help

Feeling blue? Here are some . . . ok, two . . . recently tested and Gina-approved methods to get you back on the right track.

1. A Guide to Rational Living
As I mentioned once before, Albert Ellis is one of my personal heroes. Well I finally got one of his eighty thousand books . . . err, ok, I got the book like two years ago, and now I'm finally reading it. Whatever. It's my first and probably last self-help book, and I've been reading it every day like those Jewish ladies who read the Torah on the subway and freak me out by moving their lips so fast, only not on the subway, and without moving my lips. An excerpt:

If you only overwhelm yourself with dire love needs, you will create enough misery to last you a lifetime. If you wish to make yourself even more miserable, you can easily add one more idiotic notion--namely, Irrational Belief No. 2: The idea that you absolutely must be thoroughly competent, adequate, and achieving. Or a saner but still foolish variation: The idea that you at least must be competent or talented in some important area.

Woops. Oh, and don't be fooled by the numbering of Irrational Beliefs. There is no actual list, although there are many numbers mentioned, along with some mathematical equations, and the book has no structure or logical order whatsoever and keeps repeating the exact same thing over and over. I imagine Ellis' (yeah, no "s" after the apostrophe, like Jesus) other books are basically the same. Bless him. Crackpotness aside, his "stop feeling sorry for yourself and deal with your shit and yes that's very hard to do and it takes lots of time and practice but just fucking start doing it" philosophy is exactly what I need to prevent me from dropping everything and running away like I've done, oh, four or five times before. Although, seriously, for $1200 a month (i.e., the absolute rent ceiling for me for the forseeable future in that I could theoretically pay that amount and have no money left for anything else, not that moving will take care of my problems, or that I have enough money to do so, although it can't hurt to just look around on Craigslist, right?) I could get this typical place in the heart of Bed Stuy:

Mmm . . . beige . . .

Or a four-bedroom house with a huge yard and a hot tub overlooking the Columbia River just outside of Portland.

Being mature and patient blows. Being an adult, however does not . . .

2. The Raleigh Hotel
. . . because, yes, some days CAN begin with a pina colada by the pool.

speaking of psychology...

FAB just alerted me to this gem about the ol' DSM IV.

The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders defines a delusion, considered still to be little understood in psychiatry, as, essentially, a false belief that is not grounded in reality and that is held with absolute conviction despite proof to the contrary. The manual lists a caveat that a belief is not delusional if it is something widely accepted by other members of a person's culture or subculture--for example, religious faith.

Yep, pretty much.

moments of life

* "Sometimes reality works better than what we think we want." I am convinced that Carolyn Hax holds all the secrets of the universe.

* My abundant eyebrow hair has long been a minor bane of my existence. Plucking, making sure nothing's sticking up in weird directions, trimming... The latter I learned how to do from Cindy Crawford on Oprah, though, tragically, not until after much unibrow-related suffering in junior high. But now that I've had an excuse to buy this awesome stork scissors, I'm no longer complaining.


* The quickest way to make me want to bash my head against a wall? The phrase "go green." It's fucking everywhere. Even underwear email lists, apparently. Thanks, Eberjey.


* The longest music review I will ever write: Fleet Foxes = My Morning Jacket x The Beach Boys. Awesome.

better than a 401k

I'm late to the party with this one, so I've spent way too much time this week on PhotoshopDisasters. As scantily-clad women are a frequent recipient of bad Photoshopping, much of it, including my favorite post, is NSFW. Unless, of course, you work in a little cheese store and call over your manager and the nearest customer to share in your tears of joy.

eeyah eeyah eeyaheeyah...

I can't believe it's that time again. I can't remember who won last season--or anything about it, really--even though I watched every single episode. They all look like shiny robot-aliens. I can't wait.


Oh yeah it was the fat one.