And on the Seventh Day, God Was Buggin'

"Stress is the result of resistance to experiencing what is happening."- Hans Selye

(Hans Selye with his favorite mouse, Vein LoMein)


That pretty much sums up my life. I read that sentence earlier today, and it's been violently echoing through my mind. People are always asking me how I am, and my response is usually:

1. "I'm anxious and stressed out about nothing in particular."
2. "Shut up and bag my groceries."

Most of the time, when I say #1, they are sympathetic, but proceed to passive aggressively ask me what I have to be stressed about, tell me that things could be worse, give examples from their own life or conjure the story of some poor schmuck they know who's got worms. I know they're just trying to lighten the mood and cheer me up, but I can hear "GET OVER IT" cutting through their soothing tapestry. Or maybe they're preoccupied with the guy doing lines of werewolf hair in the hallway, and don't have time for whine.


I'm just trying to express how I feel, and I definitely feel it, therefore, my stress is valid... Shit, I'm rambling and grumbling again.




I tried to "let things happen without resistance" at the grocery store today. To just go through the process of choosing a cereal without over-thinking it, but I couldn't shake the feeling that what I was doing at that exact moment was a hassle and totally bullshit. I hate going to the grocery store and I hate driving and I don't want to get a job and I hate couples that shop for groceries together.

Hey lady! Yeah, you. It's obvious that your fiancé doesn't care whether you get regular or bold n' spicy Chex Mix. Stop it! Look at him, slumped over the shopping cart, eyes glazed, mentally undressing Aunt Jemima.



(mocking jeer sing-song) That's gonna be your huzz bend! That's gonna be your huzz bend! That's gonna be your huzz bend!