The job search continues, and the holidays are fast approaching. Why do I have a feeling that if I don’t find something this month, I’m pretty much screwed and shouldn’t expect to get anything until next year?
Seriously, is every day of being an adult full of paralyzing fear?
I’m at the point where I would sell my firstborn for $5,000. Does anyone want my eggs (also is it possible to do this without getting bloated from hormones/sticking a needle into my thigh every day)?
@yourfriendsav said: this was me 6 months ago. STRONGLY CONSIDERED. i lost weight to do it. and then i didn’t. like, i know you’re jk in frustration, but i was near dire. but hey. down 20. feelin’ gr8. lol. lol. crey.
Other things I’ve considered - finding a site where I can nap all day (in my PJs, no sound, duh) to a web cam and get paid for it. That’s got to be someone’s fetish, right?
Learning how to apply false lashes, wearing 2 bras to crazy enhance my bust line, wearing a corset, and being a hostess at a korean karaoke bar (because I just saw an ad for it on Craigslist).
Yes, I’m getting to that point, guys. I’ve been looking for legit work and I’ve been hustling at this current job, but how come life just always seems so dramatic?
I'm confused about what Beethoven was doing in the black composers post. He was German.
By golly gee! I keep forgetting that Black people didn’t exist until the Fresh Prince of Bel Air came on television! Or that Black people existed in anywhere else than Africa even with slavery going on :) My apologies.
Anyway, here’s proof that Beethoven was Black:
"… Said directly, Beethoven was a black man. Specifically, his mother was a Moor, that group of Muslim Northern Africans who conquered parts of Europe—making Spain their capital—for some 800 years.
In order to make such a substantial statement, presentation of verifiable evidence is compulsory. Let’s start with what some of Beethoven’s contemporaries and biographers say about his brown complexion:
"Frederick Hertz, German anthropologist, used these terms to describe him: ‘Negroid traits, dark skin, flat, thick nose.’
Emil Ludwig, in his book ‘Beethoven,’ says: ‘His face reveals no trace of the German. He was so dark that people dubbed him Spagnol [dark-skinned].’
Fanny Giannatasio del Rio, in her book ‘An Unrequited Love: An Episode in the Life of Beethoven,’ wrote ‘His somewhat flat broad nose and rather wide mouth, his small piercing eyes and swarthy [dark] complexion, pockmarked into the bargain, gave him a strong resemblance to a mulatto.’
Beethoven’s death mask: profile and full face
C. Czerny stated, ‘His beard—he had not shaved for several days—made the lower part of his already brown face still darker.’
Following are one word descriptions of Beethoven from various writers: Grillparzer, ‘dark’; Bettina von Armin, ‘brown’; Schindler, ‘red and brown’; Rellstab, ‘brownish’; Gelinek, ‘short, dark.’
In Alexander Thayer’s Life of Beethoven, vol.1, p. 134, the author states, “there is none of that obscurity which exalts one to write history as he would have it and not as it really was. The facts are too patent.” On this same page, he states that the German composer Franz Josef Haydn was referred to as a “Moor” by Prince Esterhazy, and Beethoven had “even more of the Moor in his looks.’ On p. 72, a Beethoven contemporary, Gottfried Fischer, describes him as round-nosed and of dark complexion. Also, he was called ‘der Spagnol’ (the Spaniard).
Other “patent” sources, of which there are many, include, but are not limited to, Beethoven by Maynard Solomon, p.78. He is described as having “thick, bristly coal-black hair” (in today’s parlance, we proudly call it ‘kinky’) and a ‘ruddy-complexioned face.’ In Beethoven: His Life and Times by Artes Orga, p.72, Beethoven’s pupil, Carl Czerny of the ‘School of Velocity’ fame, recalls that Beethoven’s ‘coal-black hair, cut a la Titus, stood up around his head [sounds almost like an Afro]. His black beard…darkened the lower part of his dark-complexioned face.’
Engraving by Blasius Hofel, Beethoven, 1814, color facsimile of engraving after a pencil drawing by Louis Letronne. This engraving was regarded in Beethoven’s circle as particularly lifelike. Beethoven himself thought highly of it, and gave several copies to his friends.
Almost every single person I’ve ever liked or dated is engaged or married. In addition, my feed has been flooded with wedding photos lately.
What that says about my social circles (Christians love getting married early!) is beside the point because I basically had a moment of crisis after all the weekend announcements.
Jumbled thoughts of, “omg omg omg what am I doing in life, why is everyone growing up - please stop getting old - seriously what happened to just dating for a few years - omg” and then a very strong desire to buy new shoes flooded me for a few moments.
Only, that threw me into another crisis because I’m too broke right now to buy shoes I don’t need.
But seriously, everyone is moving on to the next stage of life and here I am wondering where I can get this pair of sneakers for cheaper than current list price.
Despite not accepting adulthood gracefully, I’m actually pretty good at my job. So sometimes I think I’ve just made some mistakes along the way. I just have to make things right and everything will start to progress again.
Not to be all special snowflake and all, but I guess I sometimes think of myself as a star. It’s just not yet my time, I’m young, I’m finding myself, etc,.
And then sometimes I think I’m the wagon, and I’ve been hitching myself to the wrong star over and over again. Every time I unhook myself, I fall back to earth and have to find a new ride.
When I head back up, I wonder if this is the right star for me. Will it shine as brightly as I hope? I get a little higher and brighter each time. Falling back to earth is a longer, harder, and more painful journey.
I ask mom what’s for dinner tonight and she mentions that Grandma is making chicken soup.
I tell my parents I plan to go to the gym today, so they ask me to stop by and visit my grandparents beforehand.
A few hours later I get an email from my dad saying we’re having dumplings tonight and can everyone help make them.
I don’t know how I got so fragile, but I read that email and almost burst into tears. I’m hovering on the edge of absolutely crippling anxiety because I can’t get a handle on being an adult. I’m paying for an expensive gym membership but I never go to the gym, and it seems like every time I think it’s a good time to go to the gym something happens where I feel like I can’t go.
I’m having a nervous breakdown, maybe. Anything at this point could set it off. Is this a life crisis?
I can’t do anything except look at photos of bunnies and puppies. I can barely get out of bed most mornings without scrolling through happy photos of fat small dogs on instagram first.
“If someone were to die at the age of 63 after a lifelong battle with MS or Sickle Cell, we’d all say they were a “fighter” or an “inspiration.” But when someone dies after a lifelong battle with severe mental illness and drug addiction, we say it was a tragedy and tell everyone “don’t be like him, please seek help.” That’s bullshit. Robin Williams sought help his entire life. He saw a psychiatrist. He quit drinking. He went to rehab. He did this for decades. That’s HOW he made it to 63. For some people, 63 is a fucking miracle. I know several people who didn’t make it past 23 and I’d do anything to have 40 more years with them.”—