Sorry to put this on you but I have an honest question about depression an suicide. Isn't it completely possible for it to be a alternative for someone. Can't there be someone out there who genuinely is tired and doesn't want to continue. I know there is beauty and wonderful things in this world. There are things to look forward to. There will be more pain but also more laughter. But what if I'm not interested?
well… well first off, i’d say, seek professional help immediately. because i am wildly unqualified to answer your question with anything but experience. and first off, my experience says, if you are in such a deep and dark place where you say things like this to total strangers on the internet, you need to be in contact with someone that can help you start to heal.
second, i’d say… you’re wrong. i’d say the things any of us don’t know, especially about tomorrow, could blanket every grain of sand on every beach of the world with bullshit. And to simply assume you are done tomorrow because you are done today is a mistake. a factual mistake, an error, a critical miscalculation.
i’d say, read Tad Friend’s piece JUMPERS in which he seeks and finds and talks to people that jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge — and lived. And they all say the same variations this: “I instantly realized that everything in my life that I’d thought was unfixable was totally fixable—except for having just jumped.”
And know that this piece has kept me in my seat on more than a couple dark nights.
And i’d say — i’d say i felt that way before too, and i was wrong.
And then i’d tell you something i don’t even think my wife knows. this happend years before we met — shit, more than a decade — and it’s not the first time i came close to suicide was on a thanksgiving night. i’d eaten well and then as the house shut down i went into the bathroom, drew a bath as hot as i could manage to stand, and climbed into the tub with a razor blade.
As i started to cut, as the corner touched my skin and that jolt of pain fired into my head, i stopped and thought — y’know, last chance. Are you SURE?
And i was tired. I sounded like you, that i knew there’d be ups again and downs but i was just so fucking TIRED i couldn’t stand the thought of having to get there. I felt this… this never-ending crush of days that were grey and tepid but for some reason i was supposed to greet each one with a smile. the constant pressure of having to keep my shit in all the time was just exhausting.
I wondered, then — well, is there anything you’re curious about. Anything you want to see play out. And i thought of a comic i was reading and i’d not figured out the end of the current storyline. And i realized I had curiosity. And that was the hook i’d hang my hat on. that by wanting to see how something played out I wasn’t really ready. That little sprout of a thing poking up through all that black earth kept me around a little longer.
I realized then that it had been so long since i’d laughed. I was numbed out and shut down and just… i missed laughing. maybe if i laughed a little i could get moving again. so i’d wait for my comic to conclude, try to find a few laughs, and then reevaluate.
So I’m in the bathtub and i got this real sharp-ass razor, right? And i look down and there’s all my bits floating in the water like they do and i thought okay, let’s get funny and i got to work.
I shaved off exactly half my pubic hair vertically. The end result was a ‘fro of pubes that looked like a Chia Pet that only half-worked. I started to laugh as I did it. And every time i’d piss, looking down made me laugh.
Because JESUS what a nightmare.
Shortly thereafter I got very heavily into Chuck Jones and Tex Avery. Way less chafing and way more funny.
jesus. i was still in high school at the time. dig if you will a picture of the chubby weirdo that was always giggling at his dick in the bathroom. that was me.
And then I guess I’d tell you about Dave, who did the same thing as me a few years later, only DIDN’T have my hilarious Chia Dick strategy in mind and got the razor in and up. And as he started to bleed out “Brown Eyed Girl” came on the radio and he realized he’d never get to hear that again so, in a bloody comedy of errors — I swear to god this is true — he got out of the tub, tried to get dressed the best he could, went downstairs calling for help only to find his family gone, went out to his car, and drove to doug’s house only to find doug not home and so, then, finally, he blacked out from blood loss sitting there in his car, playing a van morrison CD on repeat, until, by luck, Doug’s mom came home and found him.
Fucking Van Morrison, y’know?
A song, a comic, something dumb, something small. From that seed can come everything else, I swear to god.
I guess last I’d say… I’d say that, look — if you reached out to me for an answer, than I have to reach back out to you and insist you hear it. Because it means, what, you know me? My work? You read my stuff and thought, well, fuck, if anyone would know why I shouldn’t end my life, if anyone alive is QUALIFIED TO SAVE ME it’s the guy that had britney spears punch a bear? okay — okay, then, so as THAT GUY I’m saying: Get help. Now, today, tonight, whenever — get to a phone and find a doctor that can try to help you heal, that can try to recolorize your world again, that can help you start caring again. All you need is that one tiny thing, that speck, that little grain of sand. the World Series, AVENGERS 2, Tina Fey’s new show, the first issue of PRETTY DEADLY, some slice of the world you’ve never seen, some drink you love, who the fuck will love your dog like you do if you’re gone, what if jabrams KILLS it on the new STAR WARS, the hell are you doing for Halloween, you ever feed a dolphin with your bare hand? because i have and I am fucking telling you IT IS A THING TO EXPERIENCE and oh god WHAT FUCKING FONT WILL STARBUCKS USE ON THE CHRISTMAS DRINK SLEEVES THIS YEAR — i don’t care what or how dumb but i promise you somewhere in your life is that one fleck of dust that can help start you on the road back. That’s all it takes. One fucking mote, drifting through your head.
And because you asked me I am answering you because i know, motherfucker, i know, i know, i know the hole you are fucking in because I was there myself and if you look hard you can still see my writing on those walls and if you stare long enough i swear to god it’s pointing to up
How do you overcome your shyness in order to do awesome things? I'm a tiny, quiet, white girl but I can rap the entirety of The Pharcyde's song "Oh Shit". In fact, most of the music I know by heart is early 90's hip hop and I dream of performing it in public some day but I'm scared I'll get laughed off the stage. Any advice?
At 67 years old, Thomas Edison was building a giant laboratory/research center. It was his life’s work and all of the money he had was invested in the building and the things contained therein. One night, a friend ran to his house to say (paraphrasing) “Edison, come quick, your fucking lab is on fucking fire!” Edison and his son ran out immediately, as the lab-in-progress was nearby.
Because of the various chemicals and other science bullshit kept in the lab, the fire was insane; blue, red, and green flames overtook everything and lit up the sky. This was Edison’s future, exploding in front of him in some weird multi-colored nightmare. He turned to his son.
"Get your mother. Get the neighbors. They’ll never see another fire like this in their lives."
I think about that all the time. “Your life’s work is on fire!” “Shut up, that fire is BEAUTIFUL, have you ever seen anything like that?” That’s a level of peace and acceptance to which anyone should aspire.
The epilogue to that story of course is that Edison later took a one million dollar loan from Henry Ford and ended up making more in the next year than he would have made had his lab NOT exploded, but obviously Edison didn’t know that at the time. He didn’t know that the literal fire would light a figurative fire to inspire him to build and create more, at the time. Because at the time he was facing financial and professional ruin. He didn’t know how to proceed with his career or even if he COULD, at his age and at this loss. He wasn’t even thinking about it. He just knew that this fire was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and why not share that with people? What else are you going to do? Complain at the fire? Curse at it? Mope around the house about how mean that fire was? That’s boring, and there’s a sick-ass fire going on.
My advice is that you have no control over whether or not people laugh when you’re on stage. And you have no control over whether or not the boy you like at the coffee shop will reject your advances. And you have no control over whether or not you’ll get a raise or get fired or have your office burned to the ground. But you can control how you react to all of those things.
The most freeing thing in the world is acknowledging the things over which you have no control. Acknowledging that you have no agency over whether or not people will decide to laugh at you. They’re the ones who have decided that they’re the kind of people who laugh at the fly white girl who memorized the entirety of A Tribe Called Quest’s discography, and they’ve already MADE that decision a long time ago. It’s out of your hands. All YOU can control is how hot the fire you spit is and how you handle whatever comes after. Isn’t that cool?
We need to fundamentally change, on a mass level, how we, as a culture, discuss virginity. Because this has to stop.
Like basically anybody with a heart and a brain, I was disgusted this morning to discover that Elliott Rodger, aged 22, shot and killed seven people because he was still a…
Uzumeri on rare form here.
…wow. This is a really smart dissection from a really smart person, based on a really stupid idea.
I refuse the assertion that “this is on all of us.” I refuse it just as wholeheartedly as I refuse to believe that the lingering remnants of societal antisemitism is responsible for Fraizer Glenn Cross shooting up a Jewish community center.
Yes, the crime can easily be said to be motivated by antisemitism. And yes, this crime appears to have a specific rationale professed by the shooter. And that assertion has a certain cultural validity in the sense that virginity (or the loss of it) is a pressure we all feel and can be counterproductive to our health and development.
But taking that assertion that the reason this happened is because society twisted up this guys guts so badly that he responded by killer 7 people on its face is the same as saying that Catcher in the Rye is the reason John Lennon is dead and that we should examine the pressure J.D. Salinger puts on young men to dispense with “phonies”.
C’mon man, not everything needs to be tied to an endemic societal issue. This was a mentally ill individual. And attributing his actions to his stated issues with society is to focus on the symptom, not the disease. We need to be talking about the need for more mental health resources to the mentally ill rather than tilting at the windmills alongside them. It’s a waste of time and is the kind of reactionary nonsense that tends to happen in these cases and, frankly, is exactly what the killer set out to do (in a certain way).