Fruitcakes and Twilight

It’s December again, and my fruitcakeryness is in full swing. I realized this on Monday morning when I took my son to the bus stop hunched over, looking like an eighty-year-old street person. But then I realized it isn’t my fault. In fact, that my wardrobe choices are a bit misguided when it’s cold outside is simply because I live in such a temperate climate. Instead of putting on sensible, warm clothes, which I may or may not own, and if I may I don’t know where the fuck they are, I grab whatever layers are close by and run with it.

And let’s be clear: I don’t like to be cold. And in the mornings the only people I see outside of my immediate family are the bus driver and possibly my neighbor, Robert. And they can think what they want. So the fruitcakery continues, and will continue forevermore, even at this very moment in pink and blue dachshund pajamas, a grey hoodie, plaid poncho, black scarf and red, white and blue slides. 

I had to. It makes me smile.

On a different note, in my hibernation over the last few weeks, and in a weak effort to escape my melancholy, I did something that I’ve never done before: I watched all five Twilight movies in close succession. I couldn’t bribe or trick my daughters into watching them all with me, but, to their credit, they indulged me one or two, despite Kristen Stewart’s acting. All in all, though, it wasn’t that bad. I mean, parts of it were bad, but I didn’t turn it off. In fact, New Moon and Eclipse brought back painful feelings from the book that made me pretty uncomfortable. I was 100% team Jacob back in the day, and I was feeling that again. I got over it, although it was totally bothering me that post-Twilight, Kristen Stewart in effect ended her relationship with Robert Pattinson by cheating on him. That wasn’t very Bella Swan of her. Dafuq. Who does that? And in front of the Paparazzi no less. I hate to be a hater but I hate her for that.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but November marked the ten-year anniversary of “Twilight,” which is probably why all five movies were recommended on Amazon. It’s only been ten years? It seems like longer. It seems like a fucking lifetime to me.

I’ve almost shaken it. Almost. You may hear from me again soon.

J. L. Dodd 

Hopeless

I feel hopeless, ya'll.

Usually when I feel like this, there's a specific set of measures I can take to snap out of it.

Music helps. Coffee helps. Eating doesn't help but I overindulge anyway. Today it was Bag of Bones Cheetos. Seriously, I understand how people weigh three and four hundred pounds. If I didn't have genetics on my side, I might be the same way. I'm not hungry AT ALL. But I keep eating.

Going outside. Walking or even just sitting in the sun helps. But if I can't bring myself to do any of those things then I am doomed to hibernate in my house and wallow in self-pity. And one day of that isn't the end of the world, right?

Two days ago I was in Wal-Mart by myself, buying some water bottles and I had a moment. A moment when my surroundings seemed to suffocate me. I questioned the meaning of life when I realized that although I was immersed in the throng of people, I was completely alone. I wanted to drop to my knees right then and there. I didn't. That's not what adults do, no matter how shitty and overwhelmed and HOPELESS they feel.

Today, I know I'm in trouble because all I want to do is curl up in a ball and watch movies and sleep. And even Twenty-One Pilots doesn't fix me. I'm fucked. But tomorrow is a new day. I'll do my best to reset.

J. L. Dodd