In case you missed the Blog Hop backstory, you can read about it HERE.
The goal was to demonstrate that an episode of either Anxiety or Depression can in fact have an application: awesome, and sometimes downright hilarious fiction. Why not laugh at the quirks? Sitting around and crying into a bowl of chicken noodle soup never did shit for me personally. Everybody on the tour has had some kind of experience with either, and I don’t think it’s a coincidence that we also know how to write some kick ass fiction. Screw the label. Screw the stigma. At the source of it all is an active imagination, and a fabulous fictional tale awaits.
There are twelve writers ahead of me today, with each of them featuring the next part of this highly outlandish tale, and each post is around 200 words. Here’s a double shot of humor to go along with your morning espresso.
*kicks door down Chuck Norris-style*
The Most Outlandish Tale About Anxiety and Depression Ever Told
So anyways, I was meandering around the mall the other day, bags in hand, when I accidentally ran into this little elderly lady with white hair. We literally ran into each other. Clumsy me. We were both very apologetic toward each other after the bump-in however, and immediately went our separate ways.
A short while later, I accidentally bumped into the same elderly woman while in a different outlet store, only this time I was in a hurry, so I ran into her pretty hard – like, she was on one leg at some point and almost kicked me in the face as she was tipping backwards. The woman was less apologetic this time as she adjusted her knee-highs, but managed to eek out a half-grin before we again parted company.
I was starting to grow a little bit paranoid at this point, hoping that I wouldn’t accidentally run into her again. I started thinking about all these crazy what-if scenarios, and my head turned into a washing machine of bad thoughts…
What if she had a contagious skin infection? Maybe I should find a bathroom and scrub my arm? What if we keep bumping into each other for a reason? What’s the reason? Maybe she’s my soulmate? WHAT IF SHE WORKS FOR THE MOB AND SHE’S GONNA FUCKING KILL ME IF I BUMP INTO HER AGAIN?!
I had to get out, and quickly.
My fragile existence was now at stake and…
…THAT LEG WAS PRETTY HAIRY TOO NOW THAT I THINK ABOUT IT!
I dashed out the mall entrance door and threw my bags in a nearby bush…
Have you ever had one of those moments where suddenly, out of nowhere, you felt really nervous for absolutely no reason? Maybe, like, you’re standing in line at the grocery store, staring at someone’s bananas on the conveyor belt…
…and then you begin creating this catastrophic what-if scenario in your head in which you all of the sudden FREAK OUT and hold up the register with a banana under your shirt, which leads to some kind of hostage situation, which leads to police helicopters and news reporters and swat teams, which leads to your mugshot being flashed on CNN headline news everywhere, which leads to getting hit in the head with one of those bean bag guns, which leads to you going to prison, which leads to having to share a cot with some guy named Dimples who likes to cuddle, which leads to a terrifying stroll down the death row corridor with a potato sack over your head, which leads to being strapped into the electric chair…
…and then the very polite girl at the register timidly says, “your total is $4.99”, sir, and you’re all like,
“PLEASE DON’T SEND ME TO PRISON IT’S JUST A BANANA LOOK!”
And then everybody looks at you with weird looks on their faces, and probably thinking to themselves that that’s exactly where you belong…
That’s called Anxiety. I do that sometimes. Well, sorta..
But it got me to thinking (irony) about how much anxiety (and depression) have helped me write stories. After all, that’s basically what anxiety is, right? I guess it’s all in how you look at it. Are you a “poor, helpless anxiety sufferer”? Or, do you have the gift of being a fucking great fiction writer? When you think about it, having a freak out episode, or an anxiety or panic attack, or a grey matter meltdown, or whatever you wanna call it, is nothing but a series of creatively fabricated events that never happen. It’s fiction. A lot of the time, it’s really good fiction.
So I thought it would be a cool idea to celebrate our varying degrees of mainstream neuroticism by kicking of a BLOG HOP starting HERE this Thursday. Anxiety deserves a laugh, and for that matter, Depression does too. Rather than sit around and cry about it, why not recognize these things as gifts? They are weird gifts, yes: “Gee, thanks for this, um, gift stuff…”
The point I’m trying to make is this: Apply it to Something. Many already do, and just don’t recognize it. Maybe you’ll learn to recognize it beginning today?
The blog-hopping story – similar to the one told at the intro to this post – will mozy on down a long trail of other crazy people – all with the ability to produce great anxiety-inspired fiction. If it works (it’s already working), you’ll get a chance to read a really funny, highly outlandish story, collectively told in very small parts by a lot of really talented writers. You’ll get to visit all off your buds, click the like button, fart, and move on to the next blog in no time flat.
Sound like fun? It will be!
Want to join? You should!
Sign on the dotted line in the comment section!
Oh, and Psst! Ericka Clay is playing along at some point along the story path, so you know it’s gonna be 2 legit to quit. Nothing like a good old fashioned name drop.
I might get myself into a heap a shit today with the some of you this morning, BUT! Just another routine day at the office…
Today it’s time to do some ball-busting, and those cheeseball inspirational posters that everybody plasters all over their social media pages are due for a call-out. You know what I’m talking about, right? Those really sappy quote posters about “climbing to the top of the summit and blah blah blah..” and “You’ll never know what you had until you blah blah blah…”
The only thing this inspires me to do is stick my finger down my throat and tickle that hangy-down thingy until I throw up…
There is a subliminal message in each of these too, and I’m pretty confident that I’ve cracked the code. I think. So grab your Friday Java, and make sure you don’t drink any of it while you’re reading this list, because I cannot be held liable for coffee sprayage all over your high-def Samsung computer monitor.
CLICK HERE for all the action happening over at Long Awkward Pause today.
I promise it’ll deliver.
Or it will completely suck.
One or the other.
If you missed Nicole Marie’s post on Tuesday, I’d recommend going back and giving it a read. It was a highly personal, and very powerful piece of poetry that was well-deserving of the attention that it received.
Of Me speaks about negative self perception of body image from a young woman’s perspective. It carries a universal theme, and it’s a demon that a lot of people have either dealt with in the past, or are still currently battling.
I’ve read a lot of heavy-topic articles around the web, but this was the first time I ever read something that actually moved me to tears.
It was the closing stanza that really poked me:
I am, she says, a well-wrapped box of weeds and good intentions, worn at the seams – no card attached. But she will never learn the weight of her own gravity; she will never see the blue of the sky, if she never raises her eyes to it.
A dude by the name of Rich then followed up with a thoughtful interpretation of those two lines:
It speaks to me because most of us view weeds as bad. but dandelions are beautiful weeds. There are many colorful weeds along highways. and what of the weed itself? It’s just following nature, growing, absorbing water and CO2 like a rose or a holly or mums. So it’s got the same good intentions as those other, more appreciated plants, and it cleans the air for humans, just like the more beautiful flowers. It isn’t always as pretty, but it does the same things for the balance of nature. Good intentions.
The insight that Rich provided is reflective of my own life philosophy.
I think any attempt to bully someone into accepting some version of “ideal” is actually an attempt to mask an insecurity or fear of the aggressor. And by consequence, all it does is create an insecurity in an otherwise secure person. In other words, nobody is born into this world with a negative self-perception; it’s a learned behavior.
That critical voice in your head is not your own. Figure out who’s voice it is and toss it.
Realize that you’re an asset as you are; use your own greatest strengths, and maintain your free-spiritedness and free-thinking mindset. Allow the pockets of peace to grow and expand until they completely fill you. We all have something unique and important to contribute.
Keep admiring your authenticity, and become the eye of the beholder. If you can maintain that mindset, you might not ever have to look into another mirror again. It was a courageous piece that you wrote, Nicole Marie.
Chin square to the ground at all times. Salute.
Tomorrow is the last day to submit your Movember Mustaches before the contest ends. Click here to visit the contest post. I’ll be announcing the winners here on Saturday Morning, and I might even break down and do a VIDEO drawing. Yes! \m/ In the meantime, please donate a couple of bucks to the Movember Cause if you can. Even a small donation would be greatly appreciated.
Click the Banner for More of Nicole Marie
- Mirror, Mirror… (writetolive7.wordpress.com)
- Of Me – A Chowderhead Production (wordsandotherthings.wordpress.com)
- Body Image (tiptoeingintothekitchen.wordpress.com)