On being undecided

dearcoquette:

What if I’ve decided to not vote for either candidate for President? I deeply believe in the democratic system but can’t bring myself to stand behind either candidate. Am I wrong for thinking that I’m better off voting for a third-party candidate, even though ultimately it won’t change the outcome? I just want to be able to stand proudly behind my decision and even though it’s insignificant and won’t matter in the end, make my voice heard.

If you can’t get behind a candidate at this point, then please just fuck off and die. All your hand-wringing and indecision is just a pathetic ploy for attention. You want to feel a fleeting sense of relevance as hardcore believers try and woo you to their side.

Well, fuck you. I’m not gonna give you the satisfaction. You’re a mealy-mouthed piece of shit, and you don’t deserve to make your voice heard.

My hair is now short again. It’s been so many months and I could do so many things with it, but over the past three months, I’ve managed to pick/break/pull off an uneven two to three inches in various places. (I run my hand through my hair when I’m stressed or working, and then tug, and then pull.)

I feel like a child who got gum stuck in my hair.

And according to Josh, if I can’t take care of my hair, I’m not allowed to have it. I’ve asked him to write a stylist excuse to work:

“Dear Cory’s Work, Please stop making him destroy his hair because it’s getting really bad and I have to fix it and if it goes on much longer, there will be nothing to fix.

“Also, please excuse him from gym class.”

I think I’m crashing from the past several weeks at work. It’s returned to it’s usual slightly-more-than-manageable level of work and stress from the what-day-is-it-because-I-haven’t-not-been-working-for-days-and-when-did-I-last-sleep level that it had been.

Now I have no idea what to do with myself. There are many things I can do and many I should do but nothing that I want to do.

Except, I want to do everything. Right now. All at once. And I can’t sleep because there’s so much to do!

So instead I’ll just sit here, doing nothing, restless as fuck.

Maybe I’ll drink drink a pot of coffee?

That might put me to sleep.

I really need to stop. I manage one relatively simple thing like buying a small food processor and making hummus—where the only difficulty is remembering the food processor on one of our four to five weekly trips to Target (because lists would be too logical) and locating tahini in the grocery store which is neither Whole Foods, the Giant Eagle Market District which contains all of the food (seriously, all of it, in the world—it even includes a greenhouse in the atrium (because yes, it has an atrium) in which they grow more food), or the small, terrifying, neighborhood Giant Eagle—and then decide that I should also make pitas.

And then I find a recipe for bagels, and decide that I should make those because wow, they have so few ingredients!

And since I’m making pitas and they are so cheap, hummus should be the one thing that I always have, so I need more chick peas.

And then it’s nearly eleven at night and I’m sitting in my kitchen, surrounded by cans of chick peas, covered—like the rest of the kitchen—in a fine layer of flour, gnawing at a pita which is very little more than hardtack.