Summertime Blues

Some people get down and out when summer turns to fall and the days shorten into bleak slivers of sunlight that faintly illuminate the corpses of the past season’s spoils of carnations or whatever the hell else dies after growing season. I on the other hand like to be a special snowflake and lose my collective pile of shit early in the year and just in time for t-shirt weather.


The sun is a deadly laser after all.

The last few weeks have sucked. From entertaining extremely difficult people, to falling off my diet and having the effects of eating crap food literally ramrod my innards into a mush. Mood swings and back pain. Dragging myself into work and treating every encounter with caution and kid-gloves because the tight elastics under my skin are already begging to snap and all its gonna take is one wrong thing to set off that huge stack of anguish dominoes.

Maybe I should keep a handful of cheap firecrackers in each of my pockets to use in case of a complete mental breakdown. If there’s no going back, I at least want some shitty pyrotechnics to dazzle my defeated ass.

This all will pass of course. I’ve done this song and dance for a very long time and so I know what I’m capable of and when I need to take it easy. Last Sunday was definitely one of those days for peaceful reflection and bad Netflix. It helped.

Soon I’ll be back to my old self. I admittedly have a few more pieces to stick back together this time, but it’s all doable and I am thankful that these moods hit me hard and fast instead of long and drawn out. I just have to keep reminding myself of all the great stuff I have going on right now, or to look forward to in the not so far off future.

You remember that old Plymouth we just couldn’t fix?

I am a volcano. I keep the pressure of molten rock under my surface until a seismic event of various magnitudes causes it to rupture forth in a wave of heat and ash. My temper can blot out the sun. It can turn summer into winter, yadda yadda yadda. Metamorphic er, metaphorically speaking?

Jules Tavernier Tutt'Art@

That’s one trait that I wish I didn’t have. I wish I was one of those people who could utilize healthy outlets for all the shit life hands them instead of bottling it up and causing many Pompeii-esque catastrophes in both my personal and professional lives. Time is of the essence in these situations and most of the time I can physically remove myself from the stressor, but in cases where I cannot… BLAMO!

When I took an introductory psychology course in university, I remember that one of the modules made mention of a book called WHY ZEBRAS DON’T GET ULCERS. It touches on the body’s fight or flight responses as well as explaining the differences between how certain species respond to high stress environments and how we humans have the wonderful added cognitive power to PERCEIVE AND WORRY RELENTLESSLY ABOUT EVERYTHING until we make ourselves sick and die.

You’d think it would be the other way around. Us, so high on the food chain vs them, our herbivorous prey. I never thought I’d be jealous of a grazing land mammal, but I really am!

I often wonder why I handle things so poorly compared to others I know. I also stress out over really dumb things. I remember when I was 7 I tearfully confided to my uncle after watching The Simpson’s episode about Homer having a heart attack that I was pretty sure that my heart was also gonna explode right outta me because I was having those good ol’ benign childhood growing pains. A 7 year old otherwise healthy girl should not even have organ malfunction on her radar. At least NOW as an adult my anxieties and worrisome thoughts make a bit more sense and are way more valid.


I think my next tattoo is gonna be an elaborate cursive piece that says “Don’t sweat the small stuff”. I’m also gonna situate it on my ass, which isn’t small by any means, but is certainly sweaty. I think everyone should have at least one funny tattoo on their posterior to brighten the day of the medical personnel or morticians that will one day be privy to view it.