Marginally mediocre.

Every time the dude in the apartment below me comes home he says to his girlfriend: “schmoopy! Your schmoopy pants is home.” That or some iteration of it involving the word schmoopy. This used to annoy me a lot. Now I kind of find it endearing. I mean, I don’t know them. They could be awful people who put cigarettes out on babies. But who am I to get annoyed by the way couples talk to each other, especially when they don’t think anyone else is listening? Emily and I say stupid nothings in dumb voices to each other all the time.

When I was 13 I was really into D&D but I also felt really guilty about it because of my good Christian upbringing and had heard all of these stories about how “that’s how the devil gets in.” I mean, it makes sense. Of course the devil gets inside you when your druid rolls a miss with her +3 sickle. Anyway, of my own 13 year-old, misguided and guilt ridden volition, I literally chopped up like eight D&D dungeon master guides and players manuals and other ephemera with an axe in my mom’s backyard (with an axe!). I was trying to be symbolic in the best way a 13 year-old knows how to (and some adults too, unfortunately). My mom came out and asked me what I was doing and I said something dramatic like “I can’t do this anymore!” and I teared up and she was really confused because she didn’t give a shit if I liked fantasy stuff, devil or no. The whole experience has colored and stitched itself into everything I have ever done since. EYE E: to this day, I still feel guilty about the things I like, try to destroy them and harbor resent towards anything that gives me comfort. It’s dumb.

Thanks everyone, this has been a really great therapy session.