Dear Ugly Criers

Dear Ugly Criers,

This past weekend a lot of you made pronouncements of your sobbing abhorredness on various social media platforms due to the death of a certain beloved character on a rather popular show, Game of Thrones.  Even with the knowledge of what was likely due to occur thanks to recently finishing book 5 in the A Song of Ice and Fire series, I too felt the tears burning a path down my cheeks as the credits rolled.  It didn’t help that I had already marathoned a few episodes of the series that night to catch up to the finale, so let’s just say that it had been a rough few hours.

Crying at a TV show, movie, book, or video game is nothing new for me, from playing through the final sequence of The Last of Us fighting to save Ellie (thank God they took the choice out of my hands when it came to what Joel does because I may have never recovered from that game had that burden been on my shoulders), to discovering the internal struggle of the narrator while reading Atonement, to dropping to a new depth of misery when Vincent lays down next to Jack in the series finale of Lost. Continue reading

Dear St. Louis Blues: A Sports Fan’s Lament

Dear St. Louis Blues,

Before the 2015 Stanley Cup Playoffs began my mom made a deal with me: if you won the cup she would buy me an official Blues jersey.  For any sports fan out there, you know this is a pretty big deal because those things don’t come cheap.  Then factor in my income and you know I’m not going to be splurging on one of those bad boys anytime soon.

I knew with your history of never winning the cup this was not looking good for me.  But for some reason, where all else in my world is drenched in the stench of pessimism, I have this little a-hole in the back of my mind whispering sweet nothings of glory when it comes to sports.  I blame the St. Louis Cardinals, really.  They’ve spoiled this city and all the fans in it.  Where the Cardinals tend to succeed when it comes to making a run at the World Series, it’s starting to feel like I will never see you make your way out of the first round of the playoffs.  But man did that little voice in my head want me to have that jersey.  Maybe this year would finally be your year!

Thinking ahead in the grand realm of the “what ifs,” I started going through the lists of my favorite players that were worthy of the stretch of space ranging across the back of my shoulders.  Should I go with Sobotka, the man I think about each and every day since he was allowed to escape back overseas to play in a league that clearly respects him more than your organization seeing as you allowed him to go without a fight?  Or should I go with Schwartz, my favorite player in the current lineup?  Hm… Decisions decisions.

Wait! What am I doing!? How dare I even consider assuming that the possibility of winning it all is a real thing.  I’ve probably jinxed it all!  God… I am just as bad as those stupid announcers who like to mention the current perfect game a pitcher has going and then laughs when the next man up to bat gets a hit, followed by a walk, then another hit.  I’m looking at you, McCarver! He’s the worst… Continue reading

Dear Bladder: Sleepy Time Struggles

Dear Bladder,

As I grew exponentially more tired late last night, your ever present pestering inspired me to write a poem. I’ve never been big on poetry, but that’s how little I wanted to get up to go to the bathroom.  My bed was too comfortable, and the bathroom was way over there. The struggle is real.

Every night I go to bed,
And smash my pillow w/ my head.
My eyes are heavy, my mind is dull,
But wait, my bladder’s slightly full. Continue reading

Dear Ninja Assassin

Dear Ninja Assassin,

Like any normal human being, I have a few pre lights out habits that make my final hour or so per day pretty predictable.  If I’m not hogging the couch catching up on the contents of the DVR, you will find me in the dark, snuggled in with a good book.  More often than not lately I find myself being entertained by the likes of Stephen King or other writers contributing to the horror genre, so it is necessary to prime myself to the possibility of being attacked by the monster that is so well studied in my nightly habits that it is undoubtedly hiding in my closet, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

With that said, as I curled around my kindle trudging deep through Westeros with book four in the A Song of Ice and Fire series, I had no reason to be afraid of my surroundings.  Sure, George R. R. Martin is a great writer, but he’s never given me reason to suddenly feel a poltergeist over my shoulder.  I had no reason to fear.

That is, until a beast of the night attacked the light of my ereader. Continue reading

Dear Puppies: Bathroom Time Trauma

Dear Reagan,

Sometimes when I have you out in the front yard waiting for what seems like hours of debating where you would like to do your business, I’m just in awe at how you can pop a squat anywhere, no matter who is watching, without a care in the world.  I wish I could do that.  Well, not me, but humanity.  Well, not really that either… Think of how disgusting that would be!  But still, I would probably not be on Prozac if I didn’t have all of the stresses that come along with going to the bathroom.

Think about it: before I knew better I didn’t think anything of it.  When I had to go I would just crawl to my special place under the kitchen table and fill my diaper.  When I had to pee a couple years later and my mom was taking too long to answer my cries of needing to go I just pulled my pants down right in the middle of Ken’s Pizza.

But that was before the proper rules of bathroom etiquette were conditioned into my mind, ruining the rest of my life: Continue reading

Dear Dream Self: Irrational Fears

Dear dream self,

Chances are that if I am dreaming, I am having a nightmare, and a vivid one at that.  I’ve lost count of the times in which I’ve been chased by zombies, demonic creatures, and good ol’ variations of horrifying humanity.  This terrifying choice of nighttime entertainment for my REM cycling usually goes as you would expect, with a lot of screaming, crying, and running that eventually carries me back to my reality in my darkened room, but my daytime concerns managed to assimilate into my dreamscape in a very interesting way two nights ago.

Earlier that day I found that I had left my deodorant at my parent’s house.  It’s not like I had plans to run a marathon or anything, but the masking of stinky armpit odors is a comfort that I have grown used to seeing as I sweat like a man with his bits in a vise, often with minimal amounts of provocation.  Seriously, there’s a reason I only ever wore white shirts to basketball and lacrosse practice, more often than not with an extra tank top layer of protection so no friendships would be lost to the accidental exposure to my moisture soaked back. Continue reading

Dear Neighbors

Dear neighbors,

I know it’s cold out, but considering you live in an apartment complex frequented by some shady characters who’ve attempted kidnapping and car theft already, it doesn’t seem like a good idea to leave your car keys in the ignition if you’re not in the car yourself.  I’m sure it’s a simple pleasure to spend as much time possible basking in the glory of your heating systems inside, waiting for the interior of your car to match the temperature of your home, but put some gloves on and man up!  I just don’t get this temptation of fate as you make it too easy for someone to go all Grand Theft Auto on you.  Video games make kids criminals, you know. Continue reading

Dear Black Birds of Death

Dear black birds of death,

I know you probably think you get a bad rap for being creepy omens of doom that give me the willies every time I spy you lurking around in close proximity to my person, but you’re not doing a good job of selling yourself as something other than death.

Let me share with you something that I witnessed two days ago, something that will haunt me for the rest of my life:

As I was heading to my car after briefly stopping by my parent’s house, I heard the call of a hawk.  Or a bird that looked like a hawk.  I dunno, I’m not a birder.  Anyway, as I gazed up at its majestic beauty, this black shadow swooped in across the sky in the direction of this feathered creature of awesomeness, reaching out with its hind legs (as opposed to what other legs I could be referring to, I don’t know.).  At first I was confused because I’ve never seen a crow go after anything like that as they usually just sit on rooftops judging me from above with their beady little eyes.  Do crows even eat other birds?  I have no idea, but I still brushed the rush of sickness I felt in the pit of my stomach away because the hawk had size in its favor, so the crow would give up if it knew what was best for it. Continue reading

Dear Blood Taking Person

Dear blood taking person,

My life can be broken down into two categories: the boring, normal day occurrences that actually happen, and what I wish I was daring enough to do.  Don’t get too excited, most of the stuff from the latter category involves comments or actions I think will be funny, and nothing adventurous like waterskiing on the noses of two sawfish.  Which is where you come in.

On the way to your office a friend of mine put it in my head that I should do something off-putting while you were busy taking my blood to both confuse and weird you out.  Now that I think about it, that’s probably not the best idea for when someone is jamming a needle into your vein, but we all don’t make the best decisions all the time. Continue reading

Dear Internet Perusers

Dear internet perusers,

Recently I have been going through the hoards of stuff in my old room at my parent’s house, wiping the memory of the second half of my childhood from the premises for a bigger and better guest room than the one they already have.  This is not the first time that I’ve gone through this process of downgrading the collection of my past, but suffice it to say I still manage to hold onto the things that I probably don’t need anymore because they are infused with the memories of my past.  Who knows what secrets may be revealed about my younger self in my 6th grade math notes!

That’s right, I actually kept all of my school work from the beginning of my education, more or less. I couldn’t exactly bring the desk covered in shaving cream home with me to preserve during my year of preschool.  After much deep breathing and chanting “Only keep what you need,” I was able to throw all of these papers in the recycling bin because I was able to convince myself that I will never use these worksheets and notes again, especially from these early years, but I still won’t say that this process was easy.  Especially when I found the notes that I received from friends passed between classes. Continue reading