UPPER lower: The Wind of Change

For the record, I always thought it was “WindS of Change”, and was a little disappointed when I found out that it wasn’t.

But, I suppose it doesn’t really matter. What does matter is that sometimes things have to change. And, usually in hindsight (my 20/20 foe), that’s a really good thing. Or at the very least, a chaotic neutral thing, which I can totally deal with.

Today, 2 big changes are happening at Broke207. The first should be obvious:

I’ve decided to capitalize like an adult.

I know this comes as a bit of a shock to all of you (or maybe you never noticed), but last week when the tampon post ended up getting 33,000+/- page views, A LOT of people said really terrible things about my grammar/puncuation/capitalization/general writing ability. And for the most part, I was ok with that.

r/nonwild: why shopping on the internet for self-esteem is probably a mistake.

DISCLAIMER: i’ve been writing this post since september, and actually changed the date to october when it took me a month to get it even half done. now it’s almost february. the cliff’s notes version here is that i’m sad. i’ve been sad for a while. i’m feeling a lot better, but things are still sometimes confusing and hard, and i haven’t been writing because i couldn’t. i know that’s not funny, or snarky, or even interesting, but it’s the story of why this post took me almost 6 months to write.

october was a pretty shitty month. i would venture to say (save for that year when i got divorced), that this october was probably the shittiest month i’ve had for a long time. and while no one big thing went awry causing the downward spiral (time to break out the NIN), it was more of a 10 car pile up of tiny awful little things combining into a juggernaut of unstoppable sadness, and self doubt, and too many days spent curled up in my bed with my dog playing internet scrabble and praying for sleep.

i am not prone to depression, not even a little. usually, i’m a joke cracking, bright side finding, pollyanna-grade fucking optimist. i don’t get sad, ever really.  so on the very rare occasion that everything decides to crumble into dust for a minute, sad is this foreign intruder who busts in, makes himself comfortable in my bed, demands snacks, and refuses to go home. i’m paralyzed. i’m useless. so, sad and i curl up in bed together, call my mom, and try to wait it out.