Side Notes & Resting B**** Face
Please don’t judge me if I have nothing cleaver to say
I struggle with (what I assume most writers struggle with) a severe case of writers block. I am hypercritical of anything I can, could, would, or should think of to say. Let’s face it. Everything that’s worth saying has already been said. Any idea worth having has already been had. Unless you are that one in a billion who strikes originality, it’s basically a matter of, can you way what’s already been said better than those who have said it before you?
To clarify, I do not consider myself a writer. I have dabbled in short stories and creative writing in college and enjoy putting pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard), but I am not a writer. I do, however, wholeheartedly believe that I am better at articulating my thoughts, feelings, or emotions via text. Enter Side Notes & Resting Bitch Face.
About Me – A Catalyst to Starting this blog
A bit of backstory and context.
My grandmother passed away last month. It is the single most difficult thing I have ever had to process and trudge through in my life. She was my closest friend, my fiercest ally, and strongest support system my whole life through. These things never faltered, never wavered, and were never questioned, tested though they may have been (we were all shit head teenagers once, were we not?).
Since her passing there is an interminable void in my life. My psyche is fractured. Little pieces keep falling away at the slightest wobble making the rebuilding processes unbearable and somewhat pointless. Greif such as this is new to me. I have had other loved ones pass, but none so close to me, or who mean quite so much to me.
Reality seems surreal to me now. I must be living in a horrible parallel universe; one where God has a sick and twisted sense of humor. Perhaps this universe has no god. Perhaps Chaos and Erebus have swept through like a sickening and thick fog, unraveling all that was, is, or could be good and wonderful. Perhaps this is a nightmare. I would gladly accept any of these to be true if meant that somewhere there was reality and in that reality, my grandmother was still alive and with me.
I say that my grandmother’s passing is the catalyst for starting this blog because she was the writer in the family and always urged me to explore writing more (more on that to follow). So, for her, I am writing. Writing my way through hell to see if I can make it to heaven to say “Hi” and back to earth to wade through life and the ambiguity of the future.
Resting Bitch Face
This is a thing people! Don’t deny it. We both know you probably know at least three people who suffer from this affliction. It’s a problem.
I am not a bitch. Don’t get me wrong, I have moments where I can be bitchy, there is no denying that. But generally speaking, I am not a bitch. Unfortunately, my face didn’t really get the memo about not being a bitch, so my resting face, my normal, ‘I’m kind of deep in thought or not really expressing any emotion’ face tends to make me look like a bitch.
This is not helped by the fact that I am not an outgoing person, nor am I a particularly sociable person. The fact that I’m probably not smiling, probably not talking to anyone, and probably have closed-off body language should not mitigate the fact that I am not a bitch. I just have issues.
Wrap it up, Sparky
If you’ve made it this far, congratulations; we’re in the home stretch! Hopefully you’ve found something worth reading and something that makes you want to stay tuned. I’d like to officially welcome you to my life ventilation system. I hope you don’t find it too boring, too crass, or too anything else. If you do, I apologize not. I come bearing snark, sass, sarcasm, pessimism, insights, observations, a dash of optimism, and whatever else happens to fall from the ether.
Until next time,