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Serial Killers and Doggos
I’ve been watching a lot of serial killer stuff on Netflix. Recently, there’s been some eye-opening discussion about people who watch violent or true crime documentaries as a way to “unwind”: Psychologists suggest that if someone finds trauma relaxing, there’s a lot to unpack from one’s childhood. I don’t discredit the disturbing nature of this accusation—every time I open the closet to my skeletons there are always some moths fluttering about—but for those like me that have an interest in the psychology of others, or just simply can’t seem to look away from disturbing details, these shows are fascinating. Spending an evening relaxing in high contemplation, they are even more…
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Personality, Depression, and How Weed Helped Me Find Myself Again.
There’s something about intoxication that feels good. Maybe it’s all the serotonin or dopamine shooting off like fireworks, or the simple joy in a detachment from the body and its earthly limitations, but there is always a great appeal in the freedom to exist as oneself, free of self-judgement and its’ mental complications. I’ve always felt like the truest version of myself when I’m drunk, and I’d say the same about being high, although the difference is I don’t slur my words as much, and ironically, I’m way more productive. My experience with marijuana leads me to believe that getting high allows us to dive deep into our minds, spelunking…
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Cats: A Work in Progress
As an animal lover, I find it hard to understand the bad blood that seems to exist between cat and dog lovers. It’s a bit of a cliché to polarize them when there are so many wonderful types of pets out there, but for some reason, dog lovers seem more pretentious in their preference, while cat lovers are more inclusive in their love for all animals. Although this is my personal observation, internet communities have poked fun at this distinction over time: Cats can be assholes – they have a reputation for it that I don’t debate. Dogs are great and all, but let me tell you why I like…
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Smol Tragedies
George Carlin once said: “purchasing a pet is like buying a small tragedy. It’s going to end badly”. Independent and proud, the feline is grace and beauty. Surely if there were pageants to be won, where they strut their stuff across a stage and display their many talents, they would leave any competition with a snazzy sash and crown (if only to shred the former and ignore the later). Who would have thought cats were such sensitive creatures? My cats are a bonded pair, assumed to be brothers, and adopted together as they would likely fail to thrive separated. Jax is an all-black gentle giant, and a kitten in big-boy…
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I Got 99 Problems, and My Kitchen Cabinet Was One.
I live in an apartment. There are good things to be said about not owning a house (if you could even afford one in today’s market) and I try to look at the silver lining: My stay is flexible, and I can stay as long as I want with less of a commitment. I don’t have to pay things like property tax, and my living expenses are generally predictable. I don’t get raped by changing mortgage rates like my brother and his girlfriend who just bought a house; they haven’t even lived there for a year and it’s gone up over a thousand dollars a month. If something gets broken,…
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Controversial Opinion: Good Men Created Porn
As western society and women’s liberation evolves, I like to think empathy was a by-product of intellectual progress. Thankfully, most men have realized we are loveable creatures, surrounding them as we have for centuries as mothers, daughters, and wives. Despite some obvious differences, our physiology is identically human. We have become more than property, autonomous, and valuable as partners, lovers, and friends. Progress is the price for a civilized society, and to continue to evolve as one, fighting our baser animal urges is essential. With less stimulation of the brain—without empathy for others—the body reigns, deferring to the animal inside us and that genetic code we haven’t yet been quite…
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. . . Is This Thing On?
It was never my intention to make myself visible to the general public, as one does when they enter the realm of social media, by broadcasting my innermost thoughts to the world. Even now, if I think about it too hard, it makes me recoil inwardly in horror. For the longest time, my superpower of choice was invisibility. I wanted to blend in, and be unseen. To be able to observe without leaving a mark, because when you aren’t perceived, you can’t be judged. So why am I writing a public blog of all things? It’s a lot like sharing your personal journal with strangers. I’m so glad you asked.…