Friday, August 22, 2014

(Honors) College Was a Waste of My Time

Yes, once upon a time I had a $15,000/year scholarship to Seton Hall University and enrolled in their Honors Program primarily for egotistical masturbation reasons. There was a separate application to be filled out (and it was not all that strenuous) and the scholarship wasn't contingent on my enrollment in said program. To go off track, I was also called two separate times by the business department (I came in as a... Sport Management major) to enroll in said their variation of honors as well, but their program entailed going to meetings ad nauseam and filling out another application. I politely declined both times. 

Now, I fully concede that I was fucked out mentally for the better half of my tenure at Seton Hall. I went on and off antidepressants on a whim, and rarely left my room during the second semester except to eat and show up to spite one of the honors professors looking and smelling like shit. My GPA consisted of 5 F's and 1 D (I passed without showing up to the final somehow) and my scholarship went poof that summer as did my tenure in South Orange. Also, I changed my major from Sport Management to Political Science during the second semester, which gave me two courses of study that I deemed unbearable horseshit. 

Going back to when I was re-applying to colleges during my gap year, I cringe at how much of a smug, unrealistic cunt I was. I applied to schools I knew I had no chance in Hell of obtaining admission (UChicago, Johns Hopkins, to name two) and I only went to Seton Hall because they gave me money. Seriously, I didn't even visit the campus until May 2009, and it never crossed my mind that I would hate it there socially. Who cares if I wanted to kill myself come April of my freshman year, I got a scholarship and a spot in the HONORS COLLEGE!  

It is funny, I am now hopefully transferring to NJIT to commute, and I looked at their Honors College for transfers for a second. Then I woke up and remembered how little I gave a damn about such classes five years ago. Now, I know what I want to do. If I can crunch numbers at work, be left in peace, and make some money for the rest of my life I will be a happy dude. 

There still is some lingering bitterness from my last days at 4-year college (namely being told depression "was just another problem and we all have our problems" by a certain honors professor) but it has died down since I left in August 2010. From working and talking with people, there's so much pageantry bullshit that goes into attending and studying at college that have no correlation with the real world at all. Your (and my) Barron's book is bullshit. Your honors college is bullshit. 

My ego has died a slow death but has been revived with less fat and gristle.  

Tuesday, July 29, 2014

The Politics of My Brain

(Yes, I realize I have been away from posting on this blog for quite some time, depression bouts have a way of making what seems joyous and stimulating into something banal and dreadful. I really cannot say how much I thank any of you who read my early posts, which were a broadcast of my breakdown and subsequent rare moments of clarity and confidence. Then again, I did play marketer for the blog when I was at my worst, even still, a sincere appreciation to all those who heeded the advice and took a chance on reading an unedited blog with no proofreading done at all.)

(I looked up "about it all condescending twat" and this was the first picture)

Let me begin my post by displaying my politics: I was a registered Republican in 2008 when I held my nose and voted for John McCain simply because I had no idea what a libertarian was at the time. I have not voted since 2010, and do not intend on doing so in the future as I find many Democrat and Republican politicians have a sense of entitlement I find downright noxious and a lack of critical thinking for fear that they will run afoul of party lines.

When you tell people you are Republican or Democrat, if their politics differ from yours, their minds take them to a caricature of the opposite party. Republicans are homo-hating, gun-toting maniacs who seek to expunge any semblance of intellectualism from society and Democrats are authoritarian boot-lickers who seek to seize freedom in an interminable quest to become Utopia. Many people default to whatever media sources they trust tell them without a hint of nuance or original thought, which makes for exceptionally boring conversation when waxing political because one senses that people are parroting what seems polished and shiny rhetoric when it is in fact boring, couched horseshit.

The gripes I maintain come from a people growing more passive-aggressive and worried whether they will be liked as opposed to maintaining a modicum of integrity. Where are all the honest brokers? Even though I think he's chronically unfunny and his humor comes from knee-jerk puns that cater to lowest common denominator faux-intellectuals, I can respect Bill Maher because he truly cannot stand people such as myself and he says as such. If you think I am a cunty libertarian, then by all means, say it! It allows me to discern which people I need to avoid, and I will at the very least respect you for not holding back if not become friendly because I will be so happy to meet someone who doesn't attempt to be disingenuous.

Believe you me, I hold views that would render me vermin in both right- and left-wing camps. Free speech absolutist, skeptical of police force, leery of unions but a vigorous defender of modern teachers... etc. If you try to place me in a hole, good on you! I'd love to see where I reside.

I used to have a bad habit of letting the letters D and R cloud my morality ("You know that Republican did spray botulism on that abortion clinic, but I'll give her the benefit of the doubt. Yeah, murder is bad, but he did say some mean things about Muslims!") instead of just parsing through all of the crap and utilizing the standard of right or wrong.  I must concede, I still fall prey to Whiny Bitch Syndrome because society conditions you to become one, but being an individual soul where people want to pigeon-hole you to reduce simplicity is refreshing. If you disagree with people... disagree. This applies to the Pope, a politician, or even someone you love immensely. Don't be afraid to be disliked and don't back down and give wimpy caveats to what you said. If you call someone a motherfucking asshole, don't have the temerity to give a linguistic or semantic lesson or the context of your brain at the time, own it and apologize only if you deem it necessary. (Excessive apologies can be a post by itself today.)

In essence, stop taking yourselves so seriously and stop masturbating to people who preach to the choir. Let people think, you labeling shitbirds.  

 

Friday, May 2, 2014

Look at This Thing I Did: Millennial Social Masturbation

Yes, I realize that most of my posts are of a serious nature and I am doing quite well now for all those who are inclined to know, but I have so many ideas swimming in my head that I need to write the occasional whimsical post before this blog takes on the tone of a funeral dirge. 

My rant today is predicated on far too many people thinking I actually give a damn about what they do, and telling me as such through the most passive-aggressive of ways: the myriad social media networks which have given people far more self-esteem than they deserve. The posts aren't made with the intent of keeping an online scrapbook of sorts, it is a way of bragging about how you got reservations to the restaurant that makes a pate in the shape of a penis, or how you can travel throughout the world and telling everyone that you are on the cutting edge of living life. 

When you were shown slides at a relative's house once upon a time, it took every bit of courage to not become homicidal as you pretended to care about Person's X sojourn to Morocco. Now, every rube with a Facebook account is actually seeking photos to "like" so they can prove they care in some hollow and banal way. Congrats on having a child, but I don't need to see the placenta documented as if it will change the world and bring about lasting memories. (Some group of asswipes will like that photo anyway.) 

I say this as a complete hypocrite as I recently joined Facebook after a two year hiatus and now am trying to fight myself to not check on everyone's life. Thankfully. as someone never one to drop likes as an unconscious method of communicating (even you, person who came out of the closet via status) I can drop this insidious habit as swiftly as I can pick it up. 

I don't care what 99.9% of the world does, and we should stop assuming people do.  

Sunday, April 13, 2014

The Enigmatic Normal

Mercifully, the anti-depressants are doing their job and I feel infinitely better than I did when I first started this blog. The program I am currently attending has been helpful twofold: I am now cognizant and implementing coping skills (something I had previous regarded as useless psychobabble) and giving me a schedule and structure especially when I was doing rather terribly mentally.

Now, this is where the coping skills and changes must occur, because I am where I was before mentally but I still have all of the bad habits that I had previously accumulated (terrible patience, overeating, and general sense of being lazy to which I had grown accustomed). The medication does help some but when you don't do anything positive when you have the capability of doing so, there's a lot of wasted time that could have been used doing something productive or taking the steps to break said habits.

So yes, I guess this normal for me, but what I have considered normal for a long time has been vastly unhealthy and skewed by cynicism. I live a life dominated by what food I am going to eat and most joy has been sucked from it. It truly is astonishing to look back at these past six years or so and so how I have allowed myself to get out of control, albeit with brief intervals of good care and health.

When I went in for treatment, I said I was "all in" for anything and that I truly want to get better. I was just unaware of how much needs to change, as in a fundamental life transformation. My finances, my academics, and my life depend on it. I have sauntered through personal Hell so many times yet I always find a way to make a return journey to the inferno. A one-way trip from the smoldering is what I need, and bright times compounded by good habits is what I truly deserve.

So this week begins an erosion of all the misery I have accrued in my life, be it the shame I feel for being 23 and lacking the level of education of my friends, the food I ate to cope for so long (and the induced vomiting which some ran subsequent), or the inability to relax because I fashioned myself to be a garden-variety fuck-up. I have positive things in my life, it is just about damn time I embraced them.

Saturday, March 29, 2014

There is a Light

My head feels exceedingly foggy, and the process is anything but rapid, yet there is a level of hope after a long spell of despair and hopelessness. The medications are doing their job (I repeat, they work in a gradual manner) and my catastrophic thinking has subsided for the most part.

A sincere mea culpa for not being able to post more often to this blog, the intensive outpatient program in which I am currently enrolled is quite time-consuming albeit in a good way. It takes about ten weeks, and the level of care I have found there has been nothing short of stellar. So yes, even on this rainy, no good, shitty day, there is hope to be found if you're willing to look.

Until the next time I post, please take care.

Friday, March 14, 2014

The Nerve to Change

As I write this, I am going through anti-depressant Hell. For those familiar with these demons, they also know that the medications work slowly but powerfully and that you feel better gradually, but for someone  such as myself with East Coast patience, each second can be excruciating.

Why did I do this? Because I wanted my life back. The posts will occur more sparingly on here but know that I am on the road to recovery and snatching a beautiful life back from the jaws of soul-crushing depression. God bless you all, and thank you for any well-wishes; not to mention if you know someone in your life battling depression, ask them if they want to talk. You could save a life by doing it.

Sunday, March 2, 2014

From Darkness Comes Light

This weekend was possibly the toughest mental challenge I have had in a very long time. When you go back on anti-depressant medication, the first week or so is the worst week of your life. Imagine someone going through heroin withdrawal and place all the twitching, retching, and physical illness into your brain and be in a persistently manic state for 48 hours. Were there suicidal thoughts? Absolutely. It's as if the Zoloft were saying, "Hey dipshit, this is what you feel like when you stop taking me. Trust me and you will get out of this hole." 

However, I thank God every day for the support and love of my parents, who never waver in their efforts to bring joy to a seemingly terminal depressed 23-year old.  Through the Seton Hall meltdown to far too many surly days, they are my rock and my light. I shudder at the thought of where I would be without them. When many would have given up on a wayward, ill soul as myself, they never did.     

I'm feeling better and getting better. Onward and forward.