The Effects of Coffee:

I thought that by now I would have posted a blog about coffee, considering my name and all. I'm sure I meant to, but inadvertently got distracted by something shiny. I blame my (maybe psychosomatic?) A.D.D...or the large amount of shiny things in the world.



There are many things that can happen in the event of consuming too much coffee. The effects can either be dire or magnificent. In fact, they should let me write a disclaimer for it like they do on cigarettes or alcohol:

ANYWAY, here's what happens to me (and might happen to you too).

Scenario #1: Magnificent (may include running, jumping, and horrendously long strings of words).
By my secondthirdfourth cup of coffee, I am carelessly bouncing without a care in the world. Words are slipping out of my mouth like gigantic snakes and slithering into the air without much meaning (occasionally in story form). It's either very entertaining, or very annoying, depending on the person.

Example:


I essentially act like some horrible drug addict with entirely too much energy and words in my head.

So, a list of things I normally do when extremely hyper:
1. Sing ONE line from a song occasionally throughout the "high." It gets annoying, even to myself.
2. Lay down and stick my legs in the air. Why? I'm not really sure.
3. Run around. In circles, from wall to wall, into other rooms, around tables. Everywhere, so long as there's room to do so.
4. Talk incessantly. About everything and anything that pops into my constantly spinning brain.
5. Sleep for maybe 2-3 hours, wake up still energized.



Now on to scenario #2: Horrible (may include irritability, complete immobility, and a tendency to groan against your will).
Eventually, one of two things will happen. You will either crash with a insatiable vengeance like that of the Holocaust or you will ingest so much caffeine that it actually has the reverse effect. The later is very rare, or so it seems.

List of things that happen when NOT hyper:
1. Lay flat and complain about lack of hyperactivity.
2. Get annoyed at the smallest of things.
3. Murmur mean/sarcastic things under my breath about how idiotic the population of the world is and/or how much I hate everything.
4. Have the inability to write about how much life "sucks."
5. Search for a way to regain hyperactivity.



I sound like a junkie, but really...I'm just generally a happy-go-lucky person. So in the event that I don't feel energy surging through my body or my brain seems to be malfunctioning with laziness, I get concerned...and to say the least, extremely agitated.

Just to give you a little bit of insight, I'm writing this after drinking 48oz of coffee mixed with like 4 shots of espresso.

Hey, guys!

I'm moving to Tumblr. That site has more to offer me than this one, so follow me there!

coffeeismylover.tumblr.com
All the same awesomeness, just a new site.

Are You Afraid of the Dark?

I'll start out by saying that I am terrified of many things: the dark, spiders, clowns, scary men hiding under my bed, vast spaces, confined areas, strange and/or loud noises, creepy trees, heights, sketchy-looking people/places, and the list goes on for a while. But I have a justifiable reason for each of these fears.


See? This is a scary clown. They’re all this scary. Totally sensible.

People tell me that I have a bunch of irrational fears. I think they’re wrong and my fears are completely rational, each of them justified. It's possible that only I will find them rational, but this means that they are indeed, rational, not irrational.

You have to understand that it's all in perception.

A common fear is a fear of heights (or if you want to be nit picky, a fear of falling that is induced by heights). This fear is seen as rational. Why? Because it's normal and, apparently, justifiable. How I see it: the possibly of falling is greater than the possibility of dying in the ocean, therefore a fear of heights is more rational than a fear of the ocean.

If you were deathly afraid of spiders, one might consider this a rational fear seeing as they are tiny death traps that have the ability to drain your life away with one bite. If you were deathly afraid of bumblebees, people point and laugh at you because, "Everyone knows they can't sting you!" This may be true, but they can also buzz very loudly and scare anxious people into thinking a gigantic hornet has magically appeared and is going to eat them.



Being scared of heights and lethal creepy crawlies is perfectly okay, whereas a fear of clowns or a large man hiding under your bed with the intent of killing you are irrational and silly. Not to me! In fact, it is quite the contrary.


How would you feel if this was hiding in your closet?

Breaking into a person's house is a common crime. That's why they have a name and law against breaking and entering. Murder is also (way too) common. Though both of these things are frowned upon, they also still occur.

As I take these into consideration (while also watching a handful of murder investigation shows [i.e. Law & Order, The Mentalist, and Criminal Minds]), I begin to wonder about the probability of this happening to me. This sends me into a frantic, panicky state of being that leads to me scrambling about, checking my window locks, looking under my bed, and checking for scary men (Freddy Krueger) hiding in my closets.



I tried to explain to my father that fears are all about perception, not necessarily reality. The mind is a powerful weapon that can create legitimate fear in the hearts of many. Just because something does not frighten you doesn’t mean that it can’t make another person run crying to their mommy.

I am often told that I am a pansy. This makes me indignant, belligerent, and very upset. I am not a wuss; I am strong and intelligent, and am alive today because my fears make me cautious, dang it.

I have not yet drowned in the ocean, been murdered or stung by a wasp, attacked by a man under my bed, kidnapped in the middle of the night, or eaten by a scary clown. Precaution saves lives!

It’s also quite possible that I am a wuss. Who knows? It's all up to your perception.

The Liz's Survival Guide

"How do you keep going and not give up on it all?"

A good friend asked me that today. That, my dear, is a wonderful, loaded question. Well, a Liz is programmed to attack negative emotions like a super ninja. High five if you think that’s plausible!

Okay, there are a few things that have actually kept me from blowing my brains onto the wall over the past eighteen years. That may sound melodramatic, and possibly too graphic, but hey...it's the truth.

Everybody feels like a useless tool that only exists to take up space sometimes. That's a pretty nasty feeling, so this is what I do to counter those feelings.

1. This might mean I'm severely optimistic or naive, but I live for the future. It's the only thing that comforts me when I'm at my lowest point. Rather than wanting to ravenously attack either myself or the next human to walk by...I think that, "Hey, this feeling can't last forever. Negativity is a pansy, so it'll shrivel up and die soon." If I didn't think like that, one of a few things would happen:


(I’m crossing my fingers that #3 will happen…but that’s not probable.)

2. Run around in circles. If you get winded easily, run in small ones. If you’re more experienced, big circles are totally the way to go. Run around the room. Or do the running man. Maybe, if you’re daring, spin around a little (or a lot).

I swear, you’ll feel so much better. Partly because running releases endorphins, but also because you will eventually feel silly…then you’ll laugh at yourself (which also releases endorphins!). The only downside to this is if you’re clumsy, you might fall a lot (I do), but the pros still totally outweigh the cons.


Do like that little gold man. Just go ‘round and ‘round.

3. Talk about the situation. This sounds cliché, but just hold on.

Talk about whatever’s freaking you out, but make it as theatrical as possible. Rather than saying, “It’s been a bad day…” then continue sulking, say something like, “Today was so bad that Hitler could have come back and taken me hostage, and I wouldn’t have cared; it would have gotten me away from the sheer stupidity of today.”

This may only happen to me, but if I begin to tell an over dramatic story, I have to see it through until the end, or until someone shuts me up. But, if you do it right, you’ll get caught up in making the event so theatrical that what actually happened seems like a mere spec compare to what could have happened. You see? It’s perfect.


Look at this little guy. He’s just screamin’ about his terrible day.

4. Being easily amused has saved me several times. I mean, it really isn’t that hard to please me. Here’s an equation to demonstrate:

(Sad Liz x Easily amused) + Somebody falling = Way happier day

Next time you find something even slightly humorous, laugh. Laugh out loud and make yourself heard. I previously said that laughing releases endorphins…so doing that can only have a positive effect! If you’re in a bad mood and you just let yourself laugh at something idiotic, you’ll realize that the bad just isn’t so bad after all.

These things are what get me through every day. It’ll keep you from making dinosaurs attack towns and punching people in the face. Call me crazy, but it works.

Now here’s a funny picture to make your day happy:

Caution: This may get confusing.

Sentences that never end make me laugh (and also annoy me) because it seems like they might over soon, but then they don't end because they feel as though run-on sentences are hip and wonderful and everything good in the world is located in this one sentence, and they are aware that they are full of vagueness and ambiguity, so there's the possibility that they're also aware that they aren't making the slightest bit of sense to anyone but themselves, yet they keep on trucking, going on and on forever until someone finally yells, "SHUT UP!" Then they are over and also very sad.

I am an addict...

It's my fix. It's like heroin. It's always there for me. It makes my brain wheels turn. It keeps me company when I'm lonely. It keeps me quiet and calm when I need it the most. I'm pretty sure it's even saved my life a time or two. Yes, I love FreeCell; it is my addiction.

Seriously, though...it is a very loyal companion. There is an unlimited amount of games to entertain me. I did just find out that some of them are legitimately impossible, though. I'll have a talk with them once they try to defeat me. We'll settle that nonsense and I'll continue on my merry, undefeated way.

When I'm having severe writers block, avoiding papers, or trying to be quiet for the benefit of those around me, I turn to this lovely game and begin a long, grueling process of beating as many games as possible. Which is like setting one of those police dogs to find something. Once they get started, there's not stopping until the task at hand is completed.

It's a workout, too. I have to rest for fear of hyperventilating or throwing my laptop across the room out of frustration. So it's almost  like cardio, it gets my blood pumping. So I don't have to go to the gym anymore, right?...But for real...it makes my brain muscles HUGE.

It's also kind of like being in a relationship. Sometimes it makes me really happy. We're on the same page, going along and everything is perfect...Sometimes it pisses me off no end. I get frustrated and yell mean words at it. And sometimes there's the agreement of...Okay I Hate You But I Must Push Through This Anyway. But mostly it just makes me happy.

Oh! And it predicts my day, I've decided. If I win the first game I play (which is either in the morning or the early afternoon), then it will be a dandy day. If I lose, though, it's most certainly an omen to which I'll pay much attention to. Bad days ensue when I lose a game of Freecell.

Anyway, Mr. FreeCell and I will always be best friends, I'm sure. Unless someone tries to send me to counseling for my over exessive love for it. But until then, we'll spend vast amounts of time together and be very lovely and happy together.

Hey, Just Clear Your Mind.

For an insomniac, waiting for sleep is like waiting for water to boil. And like they say, a watched pot never boils. Right? So a moderately sleepy, impatient person waiting for rest will never sleep? I suppose so because I fall victim to this every night.

I've been on a six year quest for a remedy to my sleeping difficulty...to no avail. I've been given several suggestions that have almost worked. At least occasionally. Or I still end up awake at 4AM, then realizing that I have to be awake in a few hours, then becoming either more hyped up or extremely ill.

One person told me to turn my clock around. If you check the time, it'll make you more anxious about needing to sleep now...because the more time you spend freaking out, the less time you'll have to sleep.

Other people generally tell me, "Just clear your mind. Then sleep will come." Or "Just relax." And for future reference, I am practically incapable of relaxation.

Not long ago, I had a realization. I was laying in bed one night, and I became captivated by the idea of trying to clear one's mind. By trying not to think, aren't you thinking of not thinking?...In turn thinking? Does this make sense to anyone but me?

Ir will always baffle me, I'm sure. I'll lay there, desperately craving sleep, but the thoughts keep coming. Then I will myself not to think. I calmly tell myself, "Stop thinking. STOP IT." I begin to lose my cool quickly when words and images keep on dancing despite my distinct order to knock it off.

Then I try...
"Think of a blank sheet of paper, that ought to help." Twenty seconds later, I'm filling the imaginary blank sheet of paper with words and doodles of extinct dinosaurs and creatures with flashing smiles. So I attempt another tactic.

"Don't think don't think don't think stop it think of nothing. Nothingness is what you are trying to imagine. Blank, empty space...black, dark space...Or is emptiness white and glowing? I mean, really, Liz...If you were falling into big pit of nothing, would it be black or white? Ugh, I'm thinking again...But now that I've started, I need to see this one through..."

It's an endless cycle, let me tell you.

I had a conversation with someone that went like this:
Him: "It's like moving. It takes effort to move, but it doesn't take effort to not move. So it would take effort to not sleep, right?"
Me: "You don't know me very well. It takes effort for me not to move."

As a side note: I said this while squirming around, unintentionally proving my point. I then laughed at myself, given the irony.

I actually have to expend more effort trying not to move than I do to flail my arms about. It takes more conscious thought to clear my mind than it does to let my thoughts run rampant. So, I'm back to the beginning. How is one supposed to think about not thinking? Enlighten me.

Unless I can find the cure for sleeplessness or the inability to clear my mind, I will eventually explode into twelve thousand pieces. That leaves someone else with the responsibility of picking up my remains....and no one wants to see a person in that many pieces. Am I right, or am I right?