Things That Scare Me

***THINGS THAT SCARE ME***

It seems as though you can’t go anywhere on the internet without seeing inspirational memes telling you to “do what scares you”. I’m not talking about overcoming phobias like spiders and snakes. I’m not talking about watching the scene in Tales From the Hood where they stick straws up Crazy K’s nose. I’m not even talking about the idea of being flirted with by the demon chick Lucy Butler from Millennium. I’m talking about bigger fears than that. I’m talking about the little things in life that everyone else takes for granted. Since I spent most of my day zombie-walking around and watching WWE Raw, I figured I’d salvage the early dark of morning by writing a blog entry about what scares me more than having a bucket of tarantulas poured over my head. Starting with…

***MARKETING MY BOOKS***

Since I love to write so much, it should stand to reason that I’d want to commit to this career full time, which entails marketing the shit out of my books. But to hear other authors describe how much they have to do, you’d swear they were having a 24/7 root canal. I must confess that I’m only dimly aware of what marketers go through on a day-to-day basis. Being social media savvy, dealing with trolls, giving interviews, and being away from your family are only some of the responsibilities I’ve heard. At least two of those things scare me more than the rest, and I don’t even know what the other steps are. They say “treat this like a real job”. Well, I’ve had a writing job before and it lasted less than a full day. During that internet job, I was so fucking stressed out that I snapped at my family members while wrapping my head around how to write one stupid article about my Coby MP3 player. So many rules…so much shattered creativity…Is it any wonder that I went postal? What if the actual job of marketing makes me even angrier with the people I love? What if it makes me angry at total strangers? Ugh…

***SCHIZOPHRENIC ATTACKS***

Speaking of stress, have you ever wondered why I don’t write blog entries about my schizophrenia anymore? It’s because from 2015 on, I’ve been living a stress-free life. The less stress a schizophrenic has, the less likely he is to experience hallucinations. Being stress-free is important no matter what Penn & Teller say on Showtime. It’s part of the reason why schizophrenics qualify for social security. If they had stressful employment, they’d fall to pieces within seconds. It’s not about being a “snowflake”. It’s biology. It’s psychology. It’s natural fucking brain chemistry. If you feel uncomfortable at the idea of your tax dollars paying for a schizophrenic’s living expenses, maybe YOU’RE the one who needs to have your head examined. When a schizophrenic experiences hallucinations, you don’t know when those hallucinations are going away. Sometimes they go on for days. Sometimes they go on for weeks. Months. Half a year. There’s no timetable for recovery. And in case you’ve ever wondered why I write so many angry songs and stories, it’s because schizophrenics are easily irritated. I throw screaming fits whenever the phone rings or someone’s knocking at the door. Brain chemistry, people.

***LEAVING MY COMFORT ZONE***

They say the comfort zone is a beautiful place, but nothing ever grows there. So what happens when you venture outside the comfort zone and you fall on your ass? Do you still grow? Was the lesson worth the pain? Will the hallucinations come more frequently because of your colossal failure? Is coasting the answer? I asked an old college friend about this and her advice was to leave my comfort zone a little bit at a time. Don’t rush into making big decisions. Take time t think about it and edge slowly towards the outer reaches. While that sounds like great advice to a healthy-minded person, I on the other hand have no idea what slowly testing the waters would entail. Okay, so I leave my comfort zone and market my books. Then what? Do I join one new social media site at a time? Do I film one You Tube video and allow it to be complete shit? What is it? Maybe if I had a mentor to show me the way…

***TALKING TO BEAUTIFUL WOMEN***

As I write this next paragraph, I’m going to try my best not to sound like a desperate creep. That’s not who I am. In fact, the reason I stay away from women to begin with is because I DON’T like making them feel uncomfortable. Even saying hi to someone might be enough to make them turn the other way. Maybe it’s my lack of social skills. Maybe it’s my looks. Maybe it’s my economic status. But whatever it is, I’m pretty sure it’s not what women want. Having my actions rejected in a harsh manner would hurt much more than staying in the shadows and being my shy self. It might even result in a…I don’t know….schizophrenic attack! (Gasp) It’s true! I could be so embarrassed and humiliated at rejection that my hallucinations laugh at me for three months straight. Good god almighty…

***PUBLIC SPEAKING***

I mentioned shooting You Tube videos earlier in this blog. Well, that would mean having an audience. Even though the audience isn’t right there in front of me, knowing the judging eyes are watching me is frightening to me. Sometimes when I’d give presentations in school or college, I’d stumble over my words because I was too fucking nervous. Well, I think I’ve come up with a nice gimmick that will set the record straight. Before any public presentation, I will hold out my hand, place two Xanax tablets in them, say to my audience, “You’re making me do this!”, and then swallow them with Perrier. This is what it takes for me to feel comfortable around these people. It’s about time they feel the way that I feel every time I get up there. Yeah!

***CRYING IN FRONT OF PEOPLE***

If you’ve read my first draft novel Beautiful Monster or Jenna Moreci’s fully-published book The Savior’s Champion, you know how powerful of a gesture it is to be able to show weakness in front of another person. It’s a sign of trust. It’s a sign of love. But being vulnerable in front of others is yet another thing that scares me. What if after the crying spell is over they want to talk about the incident some more? What if during these new conversations…you guessed it, a schizophrenic attack happens? Talking about bad shit doesn’t make a schizophrenic feel better. It makes him feel worse. I haven’t cried since 2007. Don’t make me break my record. Please?

***BEING AROUND AGGRESSIVE PEOPLE***

When I say aggressive people, I don’t mean psychopaths who wield knives and punch people in the face. I’m talking about socially aggressive people. The loud ones. The crazy ones. The ones who invade your space and think nothing of it (even if they’re trying to be “friendly”). These people annoy me. They also scare me. I had to sit next to a drunken moron at Pain in the Grass 2016 and he fit this bill to a fault. I was secretly hoping security would arrest him for public intoxication, but I’m not aware of his fate at this moment. And then there was a guy who walked into Quizno’s bragging loudly and vulgarly about how he was going to get a sandwich with all these certain trimmings on it after a hard day of work. Shut the fuck up! Take your sandwich and fuck off! And don’t get me started on the drunken Seahawks fans I had to ride a night train with in 2008. I could have strangled every last one of them with my massive hands. Lesson of the day: be humble or fuck off!

***TRAVELING***

Ever since I took a “vacation” in 2009 to Pennsylvania, I’ve had this fear of traveling because of all the things that could go wrong. What if my airplane ride has a drunken lunatic or a loud baby onboard? What if I forget my medicine? What if I have to sit for six hours straight and have a painful ass and spine afterwards? As much as I love my international friends, there’s no way I’m getting on an airplane for god knows how long just to see them. There better be soft beds and soundproof booths on that flight or there’s no deal. Traveling wouldn’t be so bad if I could just teleport from place to place, but that’ll never happen, because we’re too busy building our own Space Force. Ugh….

***CONCLUSION***

So basically what all of these fears boil down to is that I need to take good care of my schizophrenic/autistic brain. I don’t drink caffeine. I don’t drink alcohol. I don’t do drugs. And most importantly, I don’t do stressful shit that could send me down a dark path. Is it wrong? Is it right? Does it even matter? Is coasting the answer? Am I eventually going to have to be forced into making these big decisions in my life? I could be screaming into the abyss here, but…I’m going to keep asking these questions for as long as I have to. I’m Garrison Kelly and…fuck it.

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“Sick and tired of living with this grief. Done with all the sorrow and the pain. Asphyxiated, can no longer breathe. Anesthetized until I’ve gone insane. So carry all this baggage when you leave. Swallow all those bitter pills you take. Blame it on the world, blame it on me. Tolerated too much of your game. A change of weather comes around too much. A sign of a deeper cut. Lying dormant on a bed of nails. Without warning, violently erupt. So bleed the molten river from my veins. Collapse upon myself, disintegrate. Shame upon the world and shame on me. Hate the player, but don’t hate the game. So condescend and patronize my lead. Persecute the innocent again. Rain down on the world and rain on me. Ticking like a bomb that’s got your name. Temperamental, unpredictable. The sky turns black when I exhale.”

-Death Angel singing “Volcanic”-

"Shout" by Tears For Fears

Ever have moments where you’re being held down so tightly that you have no alternative than to shout? There certainly is no shortage of people holding the less fortunate down. This isn’t just a conspiracy theory that a bunch of stoner teenagers came up with. This is real. If it wasn’t real, we’d have a much quieter volume going on around the country. Whether we’re authors with a mile high stack of rejection letters, broken down workers who need a break, high school students with a brain full of insulting words, or anybody else who feels a gigantic thumb pressing firmly against their backs, sooner or later, we feel the need to raise our voices in one moment of angry passion. The places in which we can perform this hell raising action are very limited. If you did it in the classroom, you’d get detention. If you did it in jail, you’d get your ass kicked by the guards. If you did it on the street, people would go out of their way to avoid you. You might be able to get away with a screaming burst in your own home, provided you live in an empty space. The only places where I could envision getting away with a loud tantrum would be rock concerts. Pick a band, any band, a good band. It could be a heavy and violent act like Soulfly or Five Finger Death Punch or it could be something a little lighter like Pink Floyd or Toto. Yelling is not only allowed, it’s encouraged. Or since we’re talking about a Tears For Fears song, you could very easily get away with it there since they’re technically labeled alternative rock. Yes, your throat will be sore, scratchy, and numb after all that screaming. Yes, you might get a nasty headache even Excedrin couldn’t cure. But you know what the alternative to lacking an outlet for your voice is? Violence. If there’s no channel for our anger and rage, we make one. We could cause a riot and create a citywide bonfire. We could punch in a car window and steal a radio. We could beat each other up in a five on one assault. We all have aggression. But it’s the ones who can create something beautiful and orgasmic out of it that will see a light at the end of the tunnel. How do I channel my anger? Writing. I create scenarios in which two barbarians battle it out or I write a poem so aggressive that even Sworn In would mellow out after a while. But the key with writing is to create something beautiful from the burning ashes. If you create hatred, you can expect hatred in return. Neo-Nazis, gangsters, KKK members, these are all people who thrive on hate and make life miserable for the rest of us because of it. If you absolutely need a channel for your aggression, just remember to “shout, shout, let it all out. These are the things I can do without. Come on. I’m talking to you. Come on.”

　

***COMEDIC QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“The whole idea of battered distant relatives strikes me as a little strange. To get on a bus for six or seven hours a day just to beat the shit out of someone you hardly ever see.”

-George Carlin-

Relatable Characters

I was surfing DeviantART’s daily deviation section one day and I found a gem in the form of a critique of typical internet stories. The premise was that every story he came across on the internet had the same basic plotline: the main character was a victim and every bad thing imaginable was happening to him or her. He went on to say that bad happenings were not enough to get the reader to give a damn about the main character. Harsh tone aside, the guy who wrote this editorial actually made a good point there. The question now is, how does an author make likable characters? To my understanding, a main character, no matter what the alignment, should NOT be perfect in every way and should have qualities that the reader would find interesting such as witty dialogue, an indomitable will, or even a sweet disposition. Suppose you had a big beefy barbarian who had a special place in his heart for puppies. That would make him more interesting. What if you had a super villain who made dark jokes that actually tickled funny bones more often than offended people. That might also be a reason to care. But in order to have these things in a main character, there has to be enough narration in the prose to develop him beyond the guy who has a lot of bad shit happen to him. Short stories, particularly in the flash fiction genre, don’t always allow the space for such development. So then what, Mr. Snappy Pants? Do short story authors just fuck off from the face of the internet? Bzzt! Wrong! They do what UFC commentator Joe Rogan likes to call “fighting in a phone booth”, which means make the most of the space you’re granted. Perhaps that would mean expanding a short story beyond the 2000 or 5000 word limit. But you could get the job done. Your sanity depends on it. Judging from the aggression in the daily deviation author’s voice, you can’t afford to make huge mistakes. In that case, do as much horrible shit to your main character as possible. It may be your only chance despite going against Mr. Drill Instructor’s advice. If you need help editing your story afterwards, seek the council of someone with the disposition of a baby bunny. I’ll bet you anything that the editor you seek out will give you a set of questions to answer within the space of your prose and once you have those questions emphatically answered, everything will work out right and you may get published. While this may not have been the most entertaining blog post I’ve done, I hope it was one of the more helpful ones. In the end, that’s pretty much all that counts.

　

***MOVIE QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“You get me slapped with a fine, you argue with the customers and I have to patch everything up, you get us thrown out of a funeral home for violating a corpse, and to top it all off, you ruin my relationship! What is your encore?! Do you anally rape my mother while pouring sugar in my gas tank?!”

-Dante Hicks from “Clerks”-