Ties that Byne[s]

Who lights a fire in someone’s driveway?

Sorry, I digress.

This post was originally supposed to be how mental illness is serious and should be something that people find ways to help or throw money at. Whatever, I have one of those and no one throws money at me. In fact, I cannot even afford the “help” that people say is “out there” for people like me. But Amanda Bynes, I’m sure she can afford that, right? She just has no idea how to think without that voice in her head telling her to be insane.

Of course, that’s what makes crazy people so interesting. It’s the element of surprise. Don’t show all your cards until your enemies are thoroughly confused. In my opinion, accepting the crazy gene within your family tree will ensure that you are one step ahead of the “normal” people that tend to want to put you away. Who needs to be normal when you could be considered dangerous to yourself and others? Besides, its like riding a roller coaster that never ends and constantly makes you feel like your life is more exciting that it truly is.

Imagine, you’re eating dinner with your parents and your mom asks you what you’ll do with the rest of your life.

You say, “kill myself.”

Suddenly, you’re admitted to a mental hospital.

Lights, camera, roll film.

Otherwise, your life is school, love, marriage, kids and then death. And that just boring. Honestly, how does anyone live life without some kind of medication to stop the crazy from taking over. Without mine, I’d be laughing one moment then crying in another for the entire day. I’m not at all condoning acting insane, just trying to explain how acknowledging it will make you a better person. Demi Lovato, Catherine Zeta Jones, Paris Jackson all realized after an “episode,” that confronting the illness was the only way to actually make it through.

Take off that wig girl and get yourself together.


Review: LG Optimus Elite

I hate my phone.

I didn’t hate it when I got it but I sure hate it now. I am cheap when it comes to things that I rarely use and therefore, purchased this phone because it was on sale. As one of the few young people to disregard cell phones as a “necessary evil”, I didn’t even get my first cell phone till I was out of high school.

The phone has great memory space for someone who likes alot of music, likes to take pictures of food and ducks, and is the best size for gals who don’t carry purses as the phone does not make you look like you have a boxy ass implant. I have no idea what the Android system is but its something like Fudge Brownie v.5000 or Toasted Marshmellow or some crap, whatever, it works great and only makes me want to throw it into oncoming traffic SOME times.

No, my issues began after I found myself downloading frivolous yet very valuable applications that help me function on a daily basis. Where would I be if I didn’t have my weight loss app to tell me when to eat and how many calories yogurt has? How would I know that five matching red jelly beans would create some kind of awesome chocolate sprinkled bomb? If I didn’t download my Siri ripoff for Android, I would have no clue what my text messages said.

However, this phone was not made with the battery power to withstand the important things in life. Even after charging all night, the phone dies after 3 hours of usage. If I can’t have my apps, then why do I have a cell phone? I only get calls if I somehow become involved with some kind of socializing with other human beings and that just seems unreasonable.

In short, I’d give the phone 4 out of 5 stars and the deducted point should definitely be addressed by LG as to make sure they do not shut out the app addicted hermit clientele they carry.

Addictions – Ode to Cory Monteith

A few years ago, I spent some time at a lovely “behavioral center” across the street from Sea World. Of the various group sessions I attended, I’ve found myself continually recollecting one particular session about addictions. I remember sitting there trying to decide what I was going to share as my addiction in the group. I listened to the others, crying over stories of crack addicts, alcoholics, dope fiends, and meth heads.

I finally just said that I was addicted to hurting myself.

For weeks afterward, I shook my head as I remembered the smiling faces of the addicts. They probably wondered what a girl like me would even know about pain.

Last week, Cory Monteith was found dead from a combination of heroin and alcohol. For years, he said he had struggled from drug addiction and even stopped by a few rehabs along the way to his rise to fame in Glee. But even with the help of on screen and off screen love, Lea Michele, the act of injecting and imbibing drugs to feel better about himself became too much for him to ignore.

Cory Monteith, gone too soon.

Or maybe not as soon as he wanted. I have found in my experience that those who do drugs do so to heal a pain there is no cure for: Self-Loathing. Those smiling faces in the group weren’t mocking me, they were supporting me by saying “dude, we like to hurt ourselves too”. People willing to destroy themselves physically are most likely feeling destroyed mentally already. The fact that he was on Glee and probably had enough money to life the rest of his life doesn’t mean much if you consider that he probably didn’t feel all so hot about himself in recent months. All speculation but could you really imagine a happy drug addict?

Alas, Glee will return in September, without Finn Hudson. And not only will writers have the difficult task of writing the beloved and well developed character out of the show, but the cast will have to perform in the same room where they had once stood with their fallen co-star.

Not Guilty…not so much…

This Saturday marked the end of the State vs Zimmerman trial here in Orlando, Florida. The case began small, from the city of Sanford then to the entire Central Florida area, then to the Nation. As a resident of Central Florida, the case of a 17 year old black “boy” murdered by a 30-something (I can’t be bothered to learn his actual age) mixed race Hispanic man only made Floridians, as a community, to feel like we are again at the butt of all the jokes.

Thank goodness Jodi Arias was from Arizona.

If the Casey Anthony fiasco was any representation of what was approaching with the Zimmerman case, Central Florida was in for another wild ride and we were not disappointed. With the whole nation, most especially the black community, eyeing that Sanford courtroom, our corner of the world became a petri dish representing the social climate of the United States of America in 2013. Attorneys Mark O’Mara and Don West, who represented George Zimmerman, spent most of the trial post week appearing on both national and local news and talk outlets to reiterate the lack of racial focus in the trial.

Wait, I’m sorry. This wasn’t a race issue?

Despite the fact that Zimmerman is half white, half hispanic, many in the community misidentify him as strictly white. In one case, I heard him referred to as a “Jew” due to his last name. Talk about racial profiling. The fact is that although racism is not as obvious as it had been with separate schools and water fountains, it still remains today and that bulge we swept under the carpet keeps tripping us along as we press through life. Racial stereotypes can’t disappear if we continue to perpetuate it. Rioting in response to a not guilty verdict…maybe not the most rational of responses.

In terms of law, the trial was not, in my opinion, a miscarriage of justice. The time and money wasted by the State in trying to find items that proved Zimmerman profiled Trayvon Martin was all for naught. ¬†They should have spent more time developing their case and maybe then they wouldn’t have had to worry about all their witnesses flipping for the defense. Granted, it’s possible that Martin defended himself, its possible he fought Zimmerman to try to get away, its possible Zimmerman wasn’t really as hurt as he said. But we have nothing that actually contradicts the evidence that the defense had proving that Zimmerman was hurt, and there was an altercation.

Possible but not proven.

There were only two people there that night and one of them is dead. Now all we have is moldy clothing and sour-faced Zimmerman relatives.

I have sympathy for the Martin family, sympathy for the Zimmerman family. But most especially, I have sympathy for the jury whose duty it was to decide Zimmerman’s fate and ultimately, the Martin family’s fate. Do we depend on our emotions to decide one’s life or do we do what is right and use facts and evidence to make a choice? As Zimmerman heads into hiding, it’s these folks that will be the only ones left to answer for their choices.