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This Is How You Survive The Unsurvivable, This Is How You Lose That Which You Cannot Bear To Lose, This Is How You Reinvent Yourself, Overcome Your Abusers, Fulfill Your Ambitions And Meet The Love Of Your Life: By Following What Is True, No Matter Where It Leads You.

-Augusten Burroughs

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This Is How You

Augusten Burroughs

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This Is How You Survive The Unsurvivable, This Is How You Lose That Which You Cannot Bear To Lose, This Is How You Reinvent Yourself, Overcome Your Abusers, Fulfill Your Ambitions And Meet The Love Of Your Life: By Following What Is True, No Matter Where It Leads You.

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More From Augusten Burroughs

But I Am Not Here Ironically; I Am Here Sincerely.

While I Liked Hamsters, Too, The Habitrail Cage Was Expensive. Even I Could See That The Interconnecting Boxes, Tubes, And Spheres Could Easily Bankrupt A Family And Lead To Addiction Later In Life. Because, How Would You Know When To Stop? How Could You Stop? An Entire City Could Be Built With A Habitrail.

What Nobody Understood Then Is This: The Only Way That You Achieve What You Want And Fulfill Your Dreams And Become Great Is By Demanding That Sort Of Attention. You Have To Make It Happen.

Each Time My Mother Went Psychotic, I Hoped It Would Be The Last Time. Afterward She Would Tell Me, 'i Think That Was The Final Episode. I Think I Had A Breakthrough.' And I Would Believe-for A Few Months-that It Was True. That She Was Back To Stay. Maybe It Was Like Having A Rock Star Mother Who Was Always On The Road. Were There Benatar Children? Did They Sit Around And Wonder If Their Mom's Hell Is For Children Tour Was Going To Be Her Last Tour?

I Love To Both Give And Receive Very Old Books.

Giving And Receiving

I Really Look At My Childhood As Being One Giant Rusty Tuna Can That I Continue To Recycle In Many Different Shapes.

I'm Always Prepared For The Worst.

A Lot Of Being A Writer Doesn't Have Anything To Do With Writing. It's Ironic - I Have To Squeeze The Books In, Even Though That's What It's All About.

The Truth Is Humbling, Terrifying, And Often Exhilarating. It Blows The Doors Off The Hinges And Fills The World With Fresh Air.

I Like, Though, That People Have A Hunger To Connect With Other People. They're Desperate To Know That You're Not Lying To Them Or Misleading Them.

But My Favorite Band Is Curbside Life, Out Of Chicago.

No Matter What I've Written, Someone Somewhere Has Come Up To Me And Said, "me Too." The Truth Can Be Offensive, But It's Always Nourishing, In A Way. You Recognize It. You Can Feel It. And Even If [readers] Think, "my God, I Would Never Get In Those Situations," Within Those Ridiculous Circumstances That I Have Created For Myself, They Know The Way I Respond Is Probably What They Would Do Too.

I Gazed Around The Room And My Eyes Stopped Dead On A Little Boy Standing In The Corner. This Was A Particularly Eerie Doll. Life-sized And Blond-haired And Blue-eyed. I Saw A Little Nazi Boy, Pockets Probably Stuffed With Scissors And Retractable Blades. My Grandfather On My Mother's Side Was Rumored To Be Half Jewish, Which Practically Makes Me Jerry Seinfeld's Brother, And Thus Wary Of Blond German Boys With Their Hands Out Of Sight.

The More Obsessed One Is With Getting Thin, The More Certain It Becomes That One Will Never Get There.

Even When We Lose An Arm Or A Leg, There's Not Less Of Us But More. Human Experience Weighs More Than Human Tissue.

I Suppose Home Is, For Me, More Of A State Of Mind. It's Really More Of About Being Where I Want To Be With People I Care About.

The Truth Is That Nobody Is Owed An Apology For Anything. Apologies Are Lovely When They Happen. But They Change Nothing. They Do Not Reverse Actions Or Correct Damage. They Are Merely Nice To Hear.

As A Writer, You Can't Allow Yourself The Luxury Of Being Discouraged And Giving Up When You Are Rejected, Either By Agents Or Publishers. You Absolutely Must Plow Forward.

This Is What You Should Know About Losing Someone You Love. They Do Not Travel Alone. You Go With Them.

Someone You Love

Red Hair Is Great. It's Rare, And Therefore Superior.

I've Just Finished My Next Collection, Possible Side Effects, And I'm Now Working On A Collection Of Holiday Stories As Well As A Memoir About My Relationship With My Father.

The Dark Side Of Blogging Is, Of Course, People Can Be (and Are) Just Savage And Uncivilized, Deeply Cruel And Fully Unaccountable.

It Turned Out I Had Always Been A Smoker. I Just Hadn't Had Any Cigarettes.

I Knew That If I Wrote A New Book Every Six Months Or Every Year, If I Continued To Read Great Books, Eventually I Would Write Something Worthy Of Publication. I Understood I Might Be In My Forties Or My Fifties Or Even My Sixties, But I Felt Confident That It Would Happen.

The Most Valuable Moments And Experiences That Life Has To Offer Are Found Only Along Its Most Treacherous Paths.

There's Never A False Note In A Berg Novel.

You Must Never Allow Something That Happened To You To Become A Morbidly Treasured Heirloom That You Carry, Show People, Put Back In Its Black Velvet Pouch And Then Tuck Back Into Your Jacket Where You Can Keep It Close To Your Heart.

Throwing Things Horrified Me. I Suffered Extreme, Paralyzing Anxiety When It Came To Anything Remotely Athletic. I Wouldn't Even Run To Catch The School Bus Because I Knew I'd Trip And Then Get Teased For A Year.

Any Damage That's Been Done, You Have To Fix Yourself Because It Needs Fixing And There Is Nobody Else To Do The Work. Blame May Well Be Justified, But It's Not Going To Move You Forward In Your Life.

Stars Should Not Be Seen Alone. That's Why There Are So Many. Two People Should Stand Together And Look At Them. One Person Alone Will Surely Miss The Good Ones.

New York City Is A Place Where You Can Lock Yourself Up In Your Little Studio Apartment, And Not Go Outside At All, And Not Feel In The Slightest Guilty About It.

Not Crazy In A 'let's Paint The Kitchen Bright Red!' Sort Of Way. But Crazy In A 'gas Oven, Toothpaste Sandwich, I Am God' Sort Of Way. Gone Were The Days When She Would Stand On The Deck Lighting Lemon-scented Candles Without Then Having To Eat The Wax.p28

I'll Always Write About What's Going On In My Life And The Reason For That Is It's Not Actually Because I'm So Fascinated With Myself, It's Because I Can't Think. I Can't Think Like Have Thoughts In My Head And Think Them Through And Come To A Conclusion. It's Like Math For Me.

And Human Instinct Is Ancient And Reliable, Utterly Mysterious And Possibly Capable Of Great Genius. I Believe That Refined, Fluent Instincts Are A Person's Most Valuable Asset. My Own Instincts Have Repeatedly Guided Me Against The Grain Of Logic And Probability. When I Have Trusted And Followed Their Direction, They Have Never Been Wrong. I Don't Know How Or Why. But I Know That Every Significant Experience-positive Or Negative-sharpens Them And Makes Them More Accurate.

God, I Felt Certain, Did Not Mind That I Didn’t Press My Hands Together To Pray. I Was Casual, But I Was Sincere. I Knew That God Existed As The Correct Answer Inside My Chest.

But Feelings, No Matter How Strong Or “ugly,” Are Not A Part Of Who You Are. They Are The Radio Stations Your Mind Listens To If You Don’t Give It Something Better To Do. Feelings Are Fluid And Dynamic; They Change Frequently. Feelings Are Something You Have, Not Something You Are. Like Physical Beauty, A Cold Sore, Or An Opinion. Admitting You Feel Rage Or Terrible Pain Or Regret Or Some Old, Rotten Blame Does Not Mean These Feelings Are Part Of Who You Are As A Person. What These Feelings Mean Is, You Have To Change Your Thinking To Be Free Of Them.

So We Can Be Filled With Holes And Loss And Wide Expanses Of Unhealed Geography - And We Can Also Be Excited By Life And In Love And Content At The Exact Same Moment.

I Was In Advertising For Years. That Was Cushy, You Know? It's Pretty Cushy In A Lot Of Ways, But I Hated It.

Our Lives Are One Endless Stretch Of Misery Punctuated By Processed Fast Foods And The Occasional Crisis Or Amusing Curiosity.

You Deserve To Need Me, Not To Have Me.

Imperfections Are Attractive When Their Owners Are Happy With Them.

I'm Grateful For A Lot Of Things. One Is Not Being A Drunk Wreck. Or Losing All Four Limbs In Some Ridiculous East Village Bus Accident That I Was So Destined For.

To Me, These People Were As Exotic As Animals In A Zoo. I'd Never Seen Anything Like Them. I Wasn't Sure Whether I Wanted To Be One Of Them Or Simply Live Among Them Taking Notes And Photographs.

I Am Prone To Envy. It Is One Of My Three Default Emotions, The Others Being Greed And Rage. I Have Also Experienced Compassion And Generosity, But Only Fleetingly And Usually While Drunk, So I Have Little Memory.

I Know Exactly How That Is. To Love Somebody Who Doesn't Deserve It.

Long Marriages Have Ended In Ruin Over Tiny And Insignificant Grievances That Were Never Properly Aired And Instead Grew Into A Brittle Barnacle Of Hatred.

(the New Boyfriend) Knows I Write Every Day For Hours But Has No Idea That All I’m Writing About Is Me. It Seems Wiser To Let Him Think I’m An Aspiring Novelist Instead Of Just An Alcoholic With A Year Of Sobriety Who Spends Eight Hours A Day Writing About The Other 16.

I Never Listen To Music When I Write.

Listening To Music

The Schnauzer Listens To Jazz. I Listen To Jazz Because He Likes It, And I Have Even Gone To Jazz Concerts With Him, But Truthfully I Would Rather Listen To Retarded Children Pounding On Pan Lids With Wooden Spoons.

Dennis Looked At The Puppy In The Window. We Both Did. It Was The Oddest Thing. Normally, Puppies In Pet Store Windows Sleep Or Pee Or Roll Around On Top Of Other Dogs. This One Ignored Us Its Window-mates And Was Instead Sitting With Its Nose Pressed Against The Glass, Looking At Us With An Extremely Serious Little Expression On Its Face. An Expression That Seemed To Me To Be Saying, "i Am A Sacred Cow. Get Out Your Wallet.

I Don't Read Memoirs. But If You Write A Memoir, I Would Think You'd Want People To Know, "o.k., Look, I've Taken Some Liberties Here." It's Just A Matter Of Being Open With Your Readers.

There Is No Shame In Being Hungry For Another Person. There Is No Shame In Wanting Very Much To Share Your Life With Somebody.

Fact: Upon Locking Yourself Our Of Your Apartment You Will Immediately Need To Use The Bathroom. Fact: And Then You Will Stand In Place And Watch Your Door. You Will Just Stare. As Though Rebuffed By It. As Though It Has Done This To You.

I Told Myself, 'all I Want Is A Normal Life'. But Was That True? I Wasn't So Sure. Because There Was A Part Of Me That Enjoyed Hating School, And The Drama Of Not Going, The Potential Consequences Whatever They Were. I Was Intrigued By The Unknown. I Was Even Slightly Thrilled That My Mother Was Such A Mess. Had I Become Addicted To Crisis? I Traced My Finger Along The Windowsill. 'want Something Normal, Want Something Normal, Want Something Normal', I Told Myself.

In The Same Way That A Tornado Rips The Roof Off A Double-wide Trailer, Leaving The Occupants Dazed And Staring At The Clouds From The Splinters Of What Used To Be Their Living Room, It Was Over.

It Was A Salad Bar Of Phobias

My Mistake Was In Underestimating The Emotional Force Of A Song You Have Already Hear A Thousand Times.

Glen Had A Disability More Disfiguring Than A Burn And More Terrifying Than Cancer. Glen Had Been Born On The Day After Christmas. "my Parents Just Combine My Birthday With Christmas, That's All," He Explained. But We Knew This Was A Lie. Glen's Parents Just Wrapped A Couple Of His Christmas Presents In Birthday-themed Wrapping Paper, Stuck Some Candles In A Supermarket Cake, And Had A Dinner Of Christmas Leftovers.

As I Sat In The Hot, Salty Water, I Thought, 'no Wonder Mr. Bubble Always Gives Me A Urinary Tract Infection And Hives.' Mr. Bubble Was For Common People. Mr. Bubble Was For My So-called Brother, Their True Child. I Was A Vanderbilt. I Should Bathe In Condiments And Seasonings.

I Was Like A Packet Of Powdered Sea Monkeys And They Were Like Water.

Writing Has Enriched My Life In Ways I Never Imaged.

My Subconscious Does The Writing; I Don't Have Control Over That.

The Thing For Someone Just Starting Off [in Writing] Is To Write. You Need To Have Limber Fingers, Whether You Write With Your Fingers Or You Type On Your Laptop, But You Need To Have A Limber Mind And You Need To Be Able To Write Without Judging What You've Written, At Least Right Away, And Without Editing Right Away.

I Think People Might Think, Oh, I Don't Want To Approach The Big Famous Author Because It's Embarrassing, But Then They Think For Two Seconds About It And Realize, This Is, Like, A Toilet Bowl Reader.

In Some Ways, Blogging Is Like Drinking - It Gives A Person Permission To Be A Total Asshole.

In Order For Us [people] To Progress, We Need Brilliance And Brilliance Isn't Fair And It's Not Polite And We Can't Grow It. It Happens. Genius Happens And It Doesn't Always Happen In A Zip Code Where We Can Access It. Therefore, We Kind Of Need [internet] Not To Keep Tabs On Everybody But We Need To Give Them Access To Everybody Else.

My Attraction Had Been Immediate And Profound. And It Had Nothing To Do With The Way He Looked. My Attraction Was To What Resided Between His Lines.

Think Of The Actual Physical Elements That Compose Our Bodies: We Are 98 Percent Hydrogen And Oxygen And Carbon. That's Table Sugar. You Are Made Of The Same Stuff As Table Sugar. Just A Couple Of Tiny Differences Here And There And Look What Happened To The Sugar: It Can Stand Upright And Send Tweets.

He Was Raised Without A Proper Diagnosis.

Freshly Brainwashed From Rehab, I Carry The Bottle Into The Bathroom. I Hold It Up To The Light. See The Pretty Bottle? Isn't It Beautiful? Yes, It's Beautiful. I Unscrew The Cap And Pour It Into The Toilet. I Flush Twice. And Then I Think, Why Did I Flush Twice? The Answer, Is Of Course, Because I Truly Do Know Myself. I Cannot Be Sure I Won't Attempt To Drink From The Toilet, Like A Dog.

We Were Young. We Were Bored. And The Old Electroshock Therapy Machine Was Just Under The Stairs In A Box Next To The Hoover.

I Read A Lot Of Science Books - I Love Cosmology, Quantum Theory, Particle Physics. So My Idea Of A Great Read Would Probably Put You Directly Into A Coma.

The Reason I Know What We Are To Each Other Is Because We Fight Freely And Almost Constantly, About Even The Smallest Thing. In Fact, Once We Didn't Speak For An Entire Week Because He Didn't Like The Way I Loaded His Dishwasher...i Can't Decide If We're Exact Opposites, Or Somehow Exactly The Same Except For Minor Cosmetic Differences. I Do Know That All Of His Friends Hate Me And All Of My Friends Hate Him. We Drive Each Other Crazy In Ways That Nobody Else Can Even Touch. We Never Bore Each Other. And We Both Realize What A Rare Thing This Is.

But She Did Love Him. I Believe It. I Know Exactly How That Is. To Love Somebody Who Doesn't Deserve It. Because They Are All You Have. Because Any Attention Is Better Than No Attention.

The Problem With Not Having Anybody To Tell You What To Do, I Understood, Is That There Was Nobody To Tell You What Not To Do.

The Only Other People Who Have Had Experiences Similar To Those Of This Man Were Locked Up Inside Institutions For The Criminally Insane. The Difference Is, This Guy Gets Business Cards.

There's Not Enough Of Me Left Over.

Most Everybody Had Made At Least One Bad, Drunken Decision In Their Lives. Called An Ex At Two In The Morning. Or Perhaps Has A Little Too Much To Drink On A Second Date And Wept Inconsolably While Revealing How Simply Damaged One Was, While Nonetheless Retaining An Uncommonly Large Capacity For Love. That Kind Of Thing Was, While Regrettable, At Least Comprehensible. But Waking Up With Someone Generationally Inappropriate, Like Your Grandfather's Best Buddy?

The Past Does Not Haunt Us. We Haunt The Past. We Allow Our Minds To Focus In That Direction. We Open Memories And Examine Them. We Reexperience Emotions We Felt During The Painful Events We Experienced Because We Are Recalling Them In As Much Detail As We Can.

In General, Advertising Isn't A "creative" Atmosphere. It's A Business Atmosphere And Your Job Is Puzzle Solving. My Favorite Aspect Of The Business, I Guess, Was Presenting To Clients. What I Enjoyed Least Were The Clients. Worried Corporate Brand Managers, Trying To Dumb-down Their Ads For The Stupid American Population. I Hated The Disrespect That These People Had For "consumers."

My Instinct Was Always Have Your Gun In Your Hand. Especially When You Are Telling Somebody To Do Something. But, In Fact, The Police Academy Discourages This. They Feel Your Gun Should Rarely, If Ever, Be Brought Out Of Its Holster. Most Certainly Not When Children Are Involved, Which Is Exactly When I Saw Myself Using My Gun Most Often. A Truant Teenager Loitering Outside A Movie Theater Is Going To Be Far More Motivated To Return To School When He Has The Barrel Of A .45 Pressed Against His Cheek.

Saying Just The Right Thing After A Considerable, Awkward Pause Is Far Less Effective Than Saying The Wrong Thing With Perfect Timing. I'm Telling You.

What I Really Want Is To Sit Next To Someone Under An L.l. Bean Blanket On The Beach In The Fall And Drink Coffee From The Same Mug. I Don't Want Some Rusty '73 Ford Pinto With A Factory-defective Gas Tank That Causes It To Explode When It's Rear-ended In The Parking Lot Of The Supermarket. So Why Do I Keep Looking For Pintos?

The Line Between Normal And Crazy Seemed Impossibly Thin. A Person Would Have To Be An Expert Tightrope Walker In Order Not To Fall.

I Thought, I Can't Do Advertising Any More, So I Was Downloading All These Pdf Applications From Community Colleges. And I Thought, I'll Become A Paramedic. I'll Get A Two-year Associate Degree, If I Can Get In.

You Would Be Amazed By What You Can Give Up, Lose, Or Break, And Yet Still Be A Person Who Gets Happy Over Brownies.

I Think I Love Him, But I Also Think That You Can Love People Who Aren't Good For You.

I Always Tried To Learn Greek, But All I Got Out Of It Was, "poulaki Mou." ["my Little Chicken."]

I Don't Really Think Of My Blog As A Real Blog. It's A Lame Blog. It's More Like My When-the-mood-strikes Update, Or Smoke Signal.

Women Smirk At Baldness. How Adorable Would They Find It If They Began To Lose Their Breasts In Their Late Twenties? If Both Tits Just Shrunk Up - Unevenly I Might Add - And Eventually Turned Into Wine-cork Nubs. Then It Would Be A Different Story. Then Men Would Get The Pity That They Deserve. As Far As I'm Concerned, Baldness Is The Male Breast Cancer Only Worse, Because Almost Everyone Gets It. True, It's Not Life Threatening. Just Social-life Threatening. But In New York City, There Is No Difference.

Although I Was Able To Maintain A Pleasant Expression, I Was Mentally Throwing Up In Her Face.

My Only Ritual Is To Just Sit Down And Write, Write Every Day.

A Lot Of People Can Be Afraid Of The Masking Because People Can Misrepresent Themselves [in The Internet] And They Can Pose As People They're Not. Well, Yeah; That's True. That's One Side Of It. But The Other Side Of It Is That It Equalizes You And If You Happen To Be A Person Who Is Not Equal In The Eyes Of The Greater Society That's A Damn Good Thing.

People Generally Like Happy Endings, Which Is Something I Learned From My Years In Advertising. I Like Happy Endings Myself, But Only If They're Honest. I'm Just As Happy With A Terrible, Hopeless Ending.

You Need To Grab Your Dream Out Of The Sky Like It's A Kite And Pinch The String Through Your Fingers Until You Reach The Spool.

I Don't Think Writers - In General - Ever Achieve The Fame Of Movie Stars. For The Simple Reason That Only A Fraction Of The Population Reads. But I Guess There Are Exceptions.

Maybe You Feel Pressure To Be Positive Because So Many People Rely On Your Good, Fake-positive Energy? If That's The Case, Screw Everybody Else. You're Not A Bottle Of Valium.

Positive Energy

This Is How You Survive The Unsurvivable, This Is How You Lose That Which You Cannot Bear To Lose, This Is How You Reinvent Yourself, Overcome Your Abusers, Fulfill Your Ambitions And Meet The Love Of Your Life: By Following What Is True, No Matter Where It Leads You.

Everybody In Recovery Smokes. If You Don't Like Smoking, Don't Even Bother Trying To Get Sober. Just Stay Drunk.

Marriage Is Overdone. As Long As There Are People, People Are Going To Find It Interesting.

If I Were A Serial Killer, I Would Not Be The Kind That Stabs And Then Eats The Victim. I Would Be The Kind That Hides In A Tree And Shoots At The Aerobics Class.

I Myself Am Made Entirely Of Flaws, Stitched Together With Good Intentions.

I Did Not Consider Him To Be Any Kind Of A Genius. I Considered Him Deeply Lacking In The Area That Mattered Most In Life. Star Quality.

After Was Better. Before Was Only There So After Could Happen.

Miracles Do Happen. You Must Believe This. No Matter What Else You Believe About Life, You Must Believe In Miracles.

I Was On The Cover Of A Lot Of Newspapers. I Was On The Cover Of Usa Today For Every Single Day For A Month. I Was On The Masthead, So I Tend To Get Recognized A Lot, And In Weird Places. It's Always Flattering, And It's Always Odd. It's Always At The Worst Possible Time.

Do Not Wait For The Healing To Arrive. It Will Never Come. The Holes Will Never Leave Or Be Filled With Anything At All. But Holes Are Interesting Things.

And I Began To Let Him Go. Hour By Hour. Days Into Months. It Was A Physical Sensation, Like Letting Out The String Of A Kite. Except That The String Was Coming From My Center.

I Felt A Bottomless Sadness. So Completely Alone. Like One Of My Stuffed Animals At Home That I Was Too Old For Now, That Sat On The Shelf In My Closet, Mashed Against The Back Wall.

As A Child, I Was Never Drawn Toward Depraved Or Extreme Situations; I Really Wanted A Normal Little Childhood. Unfortunately, That's Just Not What Happened.

In The Opening To The Mary Tyler Moore Show Mary's In The Supermarket, Hurrying Through The Aisles. She Pauses At The Meat Case, Picks Up A Steak And Checks The Price. Then Rolls Her Eyes, Shrugs And Tosses It In The Cart. That's Kind Of How I Feel. Sure I Would Have Liked Things To Be Different. But, 'roll Of Eyes' What Can You Do? 'shrug' I Threw The Meat In My Cart And Moved On.

I Missed Him So Much That I Had Physical Sensations Of Loss, All Over My Body. Like One Minute I Was Missing An Arm, The Next My Spleen. It Was Making Me Feel Sick, Like Throwing Up.

It’s A Wonder I’m Even Alive. Sometimes I Think That. I Think That I Can’t Believe I Haven’t Killed Myself. But There’s Something In Me That Just Keeps Going On. I Think It Has Something To Do With Tomorrow, That There Is Always One, And That Everything Can Change When It Comes.

I Knew That He Was As Reliable As A Mathematical Formula.

Reading Takes Solitude And It Takes Focus.

I Was Struck With A Bolt Of Distilled Horror Like I Have Never Known Before. Far Worse Than Suddenly Finding Yourself Walking Through A Prison Cafeteria Wearing Daisy Duke Shorts And A Jane Fonda Headband.

Finding Yourself

I Once Read About A Guy Who Lost His Arms In A Fire. The Nurse Took Pity On Him And Gave Him A Hand Job. I Don't Even Get That.

If You Find You Require Willpower, You Aren't Ready To Lose Weight.

There Is Nothing About Myself That I Wouldn't Reveal Or Write About. I Don't Care How Horrendous Or Ridiculous I May Appear In Person Or In Print. There Is Great Freedom In Not Caring What Other People Think.

I Hate Feelings. Why Does Sobriety Have To Come With Feelings?

No Matter Your Spiritual Beliefs, If You Hold Any, The Answer Is The Same: Sometimes, Why Is Not Knowable. If You Open The Refrigerator Door And A Tub Of Kozy Shack Tapioca Pudding Tumbles Out And Splats Open Onto The Floor, You Clean It. You Don’t Stand There And Question Why It Happened, How It Was Possible. Why Doesn’t Matter Now.

This Is What Happens When You Go Against The Grain Of Truth. You Get Splinters Later On.

If You Believe Suicide Will Bring You Peace, Or At The Very Least Just An End To Everything You Hate- You Are Displaying Self-caring Behavior. You Are Still Able To Actively Seek Solutions To Your Problems. You Are Willing To Go To Great Lengths To Provide What You Believe Will Be Soothing To Yourself. This Strikes Me As Optimistic.

I Couldn't Help But Think, This Car Is Taking Me To A Mental Hospital And My Mother Is Treating It Like Open-mic Night At A Greenwich Village Café.

I Came To Think That Maybe God Was What You Believed In Because You Needed To Feel You Weren’t Alone. Maybe God Was Simply That Part Of Yourself That Was Always There And Always Strong, Even When You Were Not.

When People Meet Me, Many Times They're Very Surprised Because They Expect Someone Who Is Kind Of Wacky With Seven Piercings And Very Hip And Cool And New York City, And I'm Not.

Love Is A Helium-based Emotion; Love Always Takes The High Road.

Taking The High Road

My Mother Is From Cairo, Georgia. This Makes Everything She Says Sound Like It Went Through A Curling Iron.

My Window Fogs And This Makes Me Feel Like There Is No World Outside Of The Car.

After I Got My Coffee, I Leaned Against A Stop Sign And Sipped, Pretending It Was A Normal Day And I Was Only Up This Early So That I Could Go Running And Not Because I'd Just Been On A Killing Spree.

My Parents Had This Relationship That Was Really Terrifying. I Mean, The Level Of Hatred That They Had, And The Level Of Physical Abuse - My Mother Would Beat Up My Father, Basically - And I Think I Was Drawn To Images On Television That Were Bright And Reflective.

The Past Doesn't Haunt Us, We Haunt The Past.

But Then, Look At Me. My Brain Is Incorrectly Formed, And I'm Shaped Like A Tube. Plus, I'm An Alcoholic, A "survivor" Of Childhood Sexual Abuse, Was Raised In A Cult And Have No Education. So, Really, If You Think About It, The Only Thing That Separates Me From The Guy With The Stinky Foot And No Teeth Is A Book Deal And Some Cologne.

I Saw A Monkey Walking On A Leash And Thought It Was An Ugly Foreign Child.

I Think That The Internet Is Our Most Profound And Beautiful Achievement. It Is Magnificent. We Have The Internet As A Layer Of Our Thinking That Doesn't Control Us, We Control It, Yet We Don't Have To Be Aware Of It. It Will Be Like A Suit That Really Fits Well.

Confidence Is A Reduction Of Your Own Interest In Whether Others Are Thinking About You And If So, What They're Thinking.

Thinking About You

I Tend To Really Enjoy Being Swept Up In Fiction. I Love A Good Story And I Admire Fiction Authors.

I Realized I Could Really Become Hooked On These Happy Pills. They Gave Me A Glorious Feeling Of General Well-being And Didn't Make Me Fat, Like Alcohol. I Wondered If There Was Any Harm In Being Addicted To Only These.

Should I Just Sit Down, Right Here At Carousel Seven, And Shake Until Somebody's Arms Are Around Me And They're Saying, 'it's Okay, I'm Here, I'm Here, Come With Me To The Institute.

I Used To Feel So Alone In The City. All Those Gazillions Of People And Then Me, On The Outside. Because How Do You Meet A New Person? I Was Very Stunned By This For Many Years. And Then I Realized, You Just Say, "hi." They May Ignore You. Or You May Marry Them. And That Possibility Is Worth That One Word.

He's A Really Nice Guy, If Only I Weren't Me.

I Was Learning That If I Lived Slightly In The Future-what Will Happen Next-i Didn't Have To Feel So Much About What Was Going On In The Present.

Smoking Had Become My Favorite Thing In The World To Do. It Was Like Having Instant Comfort, No Matter Where Or When.

I Wouldn't Want To Waste Any Of My Brain Cells On Forgiving If It's Holding Me Back.

Just As I Had Long Suspected, A Person Didn't Really Need Math For Anything Anyway. Maybe Some People Did. Some Limited People.

Are You One Of Those People Who Says On A First Date, 'i'm Really Not In A Hurry To Meet Somebody, I Figure If It Happens, It Happens'? Because Those Are The Most Desperate People Of All. I'm Just Saying This So That If You Are This Person, You Aren't Hiding It From Anybody. There Is No Shame In Being Hungry For Another Person. There Is No Shame In Wanting Very Much To Share Your Life With Somebody.

But Even With My Minimal Amount Of Fame, There Are Certain Perks. Recently, I Was At A Movie Premier, And At The Party After The Movie, Meryl Streep Was Loose, Walking Around The Room Like A Normal Person. Absolutely Nothing Was Preventing Me From Lunging Toward Her And Shrieking "dingoes Ate My Baby! Dingoes Ate My Baby!

The Most Mortifying Fact Of My Life Is Something That Happened When I Was Fourteen And I Have Never Admitted To Anyone: Not To Friends Nor Therapists; Not Even In Rehab When We Were Detailing Our Own Personal Spirals Of Shame Did I Confess. It Is This: I Am A Graduate Of The Barbizon School Of Modeling.

Real Optimism Is Not The Pep Talk You Give Yourself. It Is Earned Through The Labor Involved In Emotional Housekeeping.

It's Weird - Sort Of Not Terribly Wise - To Take A Book That Was Successful And Then Change Its Cover.

...handsome People Are Always Interesting To Watch. But A Handsome Person In Crisis Is Riveting.

My Mother Began To Go Crazy. Not In A 'let's Paint The Kitchen Red!' Sort Of Way. But Crazy In A 'gas Oven, Toothpaste Sandwhich, I Am God' Sort Of Way.

And I Tend To Listen To Npr When I'm Not Writing.

Once I Decided To Write, To Be Published, I Knew It Would Happen.

I Hate News And Information And Anything That Threatens To Puncture The Bubble Of Oblivion In Which I Live.

I've Overcome A Lot - Sexual Abuse, Death Of A Loved One, Bad Parents And Experienced Life. My Nature Is Such I Not Only Survived All This But I Have Thrived. I've Always Been Psychologically Ambitious In That I've Never Been Willing To Settle Emotionally For Anything Less Then What's Needed. I've Wanted More Then That From Life.

Death Of A Loved One

And She's A Nurse. Do You Know How Hard Nursing School Is? It's Like Medical School. So She's Obviously Smart.

The Truth About Not Having Everything You Need, Not Being Fully Equipped Or Qualified Or Allowed Is That These Limits Are The Nebula Of Creative Genius. When You Have Total Freedom I.e: No Limits At All. You Stop Trying To Make The Best Of Things

The Most Important Thing For A Writer To Do Is To Write. It Really Doesn't Matter What You Write As Long As You Are Able To Write Fluidly, Very Quickly, Very Effortlessly. It Needs To Become Not Second Nature But Really First Nature To You. And Read; You Need To Read And You Need To Read Excellent Books And Then Some Bad Books. Not As Many Bad Books, But Some Bad Books, So That You Can See What Both Look Like And Why Both Are What They Are.

I Loved Most When His Eyelashes Twitched And He Blinked, And Suddenly Happiness Was There Inside His Eyes. Unmistakable. Like A Single Word Printed On A Clean White Page.

When I Ate Vanilla Frosting Straight From The Can, I Could Feel God Standing Right Nest To Me Like A Real Best Friend, Watching, And Smiling, And Wishing He Had A Mouth.

Optimism Sprouts From The Knowledge That You Are In Control Of Your Own Life, Not Your Past And Not Those Around You. Part Of Being In Control Is Taking Responsibility For How You Feel. This Means Not Just Admitting To Uncomfortable Feelings But Then Examining Your Circumstances To See What Can Be Done To Change These Feelings At The Source.

If I Were Blind I'd Rather Have Another Blind Person Leading Me Around Because They Know What I'm Dealing With And They're Experiencing The Same Things.

So That's What I'm Here To Become. And Suddenly, This Word Fills Me With A Brand Of Sadness I Haven't Felt Since Childhood. The Kind Of Sadness You Feel At The End Of Summer. When The Fireflies Are Gone, The Ponds Have Dried Up And The Plants Are Wilted, Weary From Being So Green.

Thanksgiving Was Nothing More Than A Pilgrim-created Obstacle In The Way Of Christmas; A Dead Bird In The Street That Forced A Brief Detour.

I Sit There And Think How It Isn't Fair That I Can't Drink At All, Even A Little. I Realize I Have Crammed An Entire Lifetime Of Moderate Drinking Into A Decade Of Hard-core Drinking And That Is Why. I Blew My Wad.

Like Cubic Zirconia, I Only Look Real. I'm An Imposter. The Fact Is, I Am Not Like Other People.

It Was Unnerving, The Way She Could Go From Cool Efficiency To Sarcastic To Sweet Within The Space Of Thirty Seconds. I Found It Very Manipulative And Controlling. It Put The Other Person Constantly On-guard. And It Was Extremely Intimidating Because You Never Knew When She Was Going To Snap. I Made A Mental Note To Refine These Skills Within Myself.

For Exactly The Same Reason, It Is Sometimes Satisfying To Cut Yourself And Bleed. On Those Gray [sic] Days Where Eight In The Morning Looks No Different From Noon And Nothing Has Happened And Nothing Is Going To Happen And You Are Washing A Glass In The Sink And It Breaks - Accidentally - And Punctures Your Skin. And Then There Is This Shocking Red, The Brightest Thing In The Day, So Vibrant It Buzzes, This Blood Of Yours. That Is Okay Sometimes Because At Least You Know You're Alive.

What Police Officer Would Dare Ticket Death's Minivan?

When I First Thought Of Being A Writer I Had Visions Of Stacks Of Books In Stores With My Name On Them, That Sort Of Thing. But I Never Imagined This Would Be The Reaction.

Before I'm A Writer, I'm Definitely A Reader And When I Read Memoir, I Really Want It To Be True.

I Never Could Have Written The Screenplay Because I Would Have Been Forced To Learn New Software And I Can't Learn One More Thing.

I Never Question The Way I Write. Writing Is The Only Thing That's Without Seams For Me. It's An Effort To Talk Because My Pictures Have To Be Turned Into These Sounds. It's An Effort To Be Alive. It's Work. But Writing Is Wonderful.

I Remember, No Matter How Impossible It Seemed That Any Given Day Would End, It Always Did. This One Would, Too.

Even Painfully Shy And Awkward People Are Not Painfully Shy Or Awkward When They Are Alone. The Way To Access This Natural, Comfortable Alone-self When You Are With Others Is By Choosing To Forbid Yourself To Wonder What "they" Are Thinking. Instead, Force Yourself To Exist In The Instant, Then Take It- And Give It- As It Comes.

You Are Allowed To Be Alive. You Are Allowed To Be Somebody Different. You Are Allowed To Not Say Goodbye To Anybody Or Explain A Single Thing To Anyone, Ever.

Life Would Be Fabric-softener, Tuna-salad-on-white, Pta-meeting Normal.

I Don't Believe In The Concept Of A Soul Mate. Because We Are All Unique, But We're Also Simply Too Similar.

But I Can Also Write In Crappy Motel Rooms, While Standing In Line, Or Sitting In The Dentist's Chair.

Because Here Is The Truth: If You Want To Have A Chance At Meeting Somebody With Whom You Are Genuinely Compatible, Never Put Your Best Foot Forward.

I Never Get Sick Of Writing My Own Stories Because There's A Certain Comfort In Knowing You Will Never Run Out Of Material. It's Relaxing, Actually, To Write.

You Manufacture Beauty With Your Mind

Acceptance, When It Comes, Arrives In Waves: Listen With Your Chest. You Will Feel A Pendulum Swing Within You, Favoring One Direction Or Another. And That Is Your Answer. The Answer Is Always Inside Your Chest. The Right Choice Weighs More. That's How You Know. It Causes You To Lean In Its Direction.

As A Young Child I Had Santa And Jesus All Mixed Up. I Could Identify Coke Or Pepsi With Just One Sip, But I Could Not Tell You For Sure Why They Strapped Santa To A Cross. Had He Missed A House? Had A Good Little Girl Somewhere In The World Not Received The Doll He'd Promised Her, Making The Father Angry?

I Don't Sit Down At Nine In The Morning And Begin Writing And Then Take A Break For Lunch And Stop At Four. I Have No Structure Like That. I Am At My Computer Constantly, More Or Less Attached To It. I Live On-line And Hate Being Off-line And Don't Care How Unhealthy It Is.

Childhood Is What Ended Me Up In The Hospital And Teetering On The Edge Of Deathly Alcoholism. It Was Really Good For Me To Accept It. To Accept All The Embarrassment And The Shame So I Don't Feel Like I Used To.

I Love You," She Said, And I Knew She Meant It Because She Spoke The Words From The Heart At The Center Of Her Chest. This, At Least, Had Not Been Left Behind At The Hospital.

I Don't Have A Fixed Routine. I Write Every Day But I Don't "write" Every Day, If That Makes Any Sense. In Other Words, I Email With My Friends Constantly And Sometimes I'll Pull Out Something I've Written And Save It.

Tracy, The Leader Of The Cdh Group, Looks At Me With Eyes That Seem To Belong To Someone Three Times Her Age. It's Something Beyond Wisdom, All The Way To Insanity And Back. It's Like Her Eyes Are Scarred From All The Things She's Seen.

His Laugh Is Made If Porch Swings And Lemonade

Perfection Is The Satin-lined Casket Of Creativity And Originality. If You Are A Perfectionist, At Least Stop Telling Everybody You're One And Try To Get Over It Yourself, Alone In Your Home With The Lights Off

It Was Like Living In A New House. I Saw The Undersides Of Tables, Walked Through The Tangle Of Chair Legs. It Would Be Good To Be A Dog, I Thought. You Would Feel Safe Surrounded By All Of These Leggy Objects That Never Tried To Run Away.

Most Of Us Have Love In Our Lives. Most Of Us Love Other People Are Are Ourselves Loved By Others. But Make No Mistake: You Are Alone In The World. You Were Born Alone, Even If You Were Born Conjoined. And You Die Alone, Unable To Bring A Single Person With You.

Truthfulness Itself Is Almost Medication, Even When It’s Served Without Advice Or Insight.

Other People Sound Flat To My Ear; Their Words Just Hang In The Air. But When My Mother Says Something, The Ends Curl.

Bad News Should Be Followed With Soup. Then A Nap.

And In My Mind, This Settles The Issue. I Would Never Drink Cologne, And Am Therefore Not An Alcoholic.

All Of Us Are Richer And More Fascinating And More Complex Than We Can Ever Know.

What I Think Of Blogs Is Just This: Some Are Beautifully Written And Many Are Not. But Even Blogs That Aren't Necessarily "well" Written Are Great For The Person Writing Them.

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Michael K. Simpson

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