I Stopped Dancing in my Underpants

Why are you depressed? That's what the doctor seriously asked me when I told him I needed help last month. No, there isn't some big event that caused my brain to stop feeling joy. I didn't wake up one day and feel a little down. Over a month or 2 I slowly started losing me. So, to answer the doctor's ridiculous question, here is the list of why I'm depressed:

1. I couldn't get out of bed.
2. I stopped singing along to the radio.
3. License plates starting with the letters "BJ" stopped making me laugh.
4. I stopped seeing friends because it was too exhausting to pretend I was ok.
5. I landed a job I should have been thrilled about; but I wasn't.
6. Videos of goats stopped making me smile.
7. Eating wasn't a priority.
8. I stopped sleeping all together.
9. I started working harder to prove I'm "ok" on social media. If I made people laugh they would't know.
10. I stopped dancing in my underpants.

I'm happy to say that a month later I'm doing better. I'm sleeping a little. Goats make me smile. I'm still having troubles getting out of bed and my eyes look sad. I may never laugh at those blow job license plates; maybe I've just grown up.

Sometimes I need medication to make me feel human. Sometimes I don't. There's no shame in that.

All I know is that this morning, for the first time in weeks, I danced in my underpants.


Break Ups Bite

I'm going through a tough break up.

I'm not one to air out my personal life in public but I feel like I've been wronged, more importantly we've all been wronged.

I've been watching Shark Week on Discovery Channel for as long as I can remember. I developed a love of sharks and a love of the ocean. Every summer I take holidays so I don't have to miss any shark programs. I love learning about the different species. Sunday night seeing a Goblin Shark feeding excited me so much. The next show, "Shark of Darkness: the Wrath of Submarine", disappointed me.

The mocumentary was served as a real account of a violent great white named Submarine. It turns out it's all fake. It's fake and it's unfair to sharks. Sharks are being killed off at alarming rates; some experts estimate over 100 million sharks are being killed every year. Finning is a major cause of the depletion of sharks but also, every time there is a shark attack people go out on a witch hunt and kill as many sharks as they can.  Discovery Channel has a huge audience during Shark Week. I'm disappointed they are using that platform to scare people. To teach people that sharks are monsters when they could be teaching them about conservation. They could be teaching us about how rare shark attacks really are.  Or maybe about how without sharks in the oceans we are essentially screwed. The way the over fishing is going there is a good chance we won't have sharks in the next 20 years. Discovery makes a lot of money off people's love of sharks, what will they do when there are no sharks left?

After a disappointing start to Shark Week 2014 I can officially say that I have broken up with Shark Week.  I' don't even know if Taylor Swift  and Ben & Jerry can help me through this one.

Sharks don't need to be sensationalized.


Less Dicks More Pizzas

I had an epiphany today as I scarfed down a Hawaiian pizza all by myself. Pizza is the best friend you could hope for. When people are letting you down, pizza doesn't.

Pizza is only a phone call away. Pizza shows up when it says it will. Pizza is warm and comforting. Sometimes pizza even comes with an order of chicken wings. I love chicken wings. Everyone loves chicken wings. Pizza isn't just there when times are good. Pizza is still by your side the next morning when you really need a friend. Pizza doesn't judge.

My goal in life is to be less of a dick and more of a pizza, because that's what the world needs. Less dicks and more pizzas.


I'm Too Fat

I need to lose weight.

That sentence probably resonates with a lot of women. I am actually quite happy with my weight, I lost 50 pounds 11 years ago and I've kept it off. Sure, I have that 10 pound range I fluctuate within but overall I've been the same size since I was 16. Today, I signed up at a new gym. They told me I have to meet with a trainer to discuss my goals. Well my goal is to exercise because I enjoy it. That was not good enough for the perfectly muscular man who was assessing me. He ran some tests and told me I have to lose 12.6 pounds. He said I'm in the healthy weight range but he wants me on the low end of the healthy range.

Excuse me? I'm healthy the way I am but you think I should be lighter? You think I'd be happier if I had a lower body fat percentage?

Needless to say, I cancelled my free training sessions and I lost close to 200 pounds of douchebag instantly. He was right I did need to lose some weight.

I'm healthy and thankfully confident. If 22 year old Jessica or 18 year old Jessica was told to lose that weight she would've been devastated. She would've spent hours chained to a treadmill. She would've said no to every offer of pizza. For what? To please a meathead who took a weekend course on fitness leadership?

People, remember you're beautiful the way you are. Thighs touch. Arms jiggle. It's life. Enjoy it.



New City, New Risks

I started to write this post in January and never finished it but I haven't written in a while so here it is 2 months later...

I went to Denver for 5 weeks for my radio internship. The city was amazing but my first couple days were iffy. I have no sense of direction and I had to navigate my way through a new city. I figured out transit pretty quickly, but not before googling the crime rates in Denver...you should never google crime rates before getting on a train. When I got off my train, I realized I had no clue how to get to the radio station. Luckily I saw a man standing on top of one of those windowless vans you should never get into because you've seen Silence of the Lambs and enough episodes of Dateline to know only murder happens in those vans.

Well I went against all my paranoid common sense and asked the man for directions...he offered me a ride. Obviously I didn't accept the ride...is what you would expect me to say, right?! Well, I got into his van. Once I was in he had to latch my door from the inside which was a bit alarming. What was more alarming was the guy in the back who popped his head out when I was just starting to realize how dumb I am. 

I decided if I was going to be murdered, they wouldn't get away with it. I started leaving my finger prints on different surfaces in the van. Then I casually pulled out a few hairs and put them on the floor mats, DNA everywhere. I remembered an episode of 48 Hours Mystery where the victim did that and that's how they caught the van driving scum. I also remembered hearing that attackers are less likely to kill you if you tell them things about yourself. Unfortunately for me I am awkward and essentially told them that I'm from another country and no one really knows where I am. Yeah I should've been murdered just because I'm and idiot. 

Long story short, the men dropped me off at work and wished me luck on my first day. 

Apparently some windowless van drivers work for a uniform company and aren't murderers. 

Now I can cross hitchhiking off my bucket list. 
-Miss Connection