Recipe for a Home-style Disaster: Haley’s 2014 Fall Semester

(Note: This is a roast of myself. I will preface by saying this is me giving myself shit. I deserve it. It’s funny to me. If you think it’s excessive, I’d gladly welcome that argument.)

  • 20lbs of Internal Voice of Crazy
  • A 30 foot pantry of dusty canned pressure
  • Freshly handpicked and delivered Pressure from the garden of GET A CLUE
  • Some handspun waxed and woven wool to clog your ears
  • As much panic and nonsense as you can bear, mashed up really small and mostly flavorless
  • (The 50,000lbs of advice you won’t listen to; specifics to follow)
  1. To begin concocting the perfect home-style disaster, you need to not listen to yourself. Ever.
  2. Change everything you possibly can at once. Pacing is for the weak.
  3. Tell Reverse Culture Shock to go f*** itself.
  4. Go to your many neighbors, and collect 50,000lbs of advice you won’t listen to. Sit it on the counter. Ignore it. Glare at it. Beat it with a stick. After all, “99% of it would have come even if you didn’t ask for it”, “this gives them an opportunity to express [how much the world hates you] all of it”, and it gives your selfish as a fine opportunity to daydream.
  5. Keep doing everything at once, but this time, have a lot of painful conversations that “needed to happen” anyways all around the same time. Make a couple necessary decisions and then FREAK THE HELL OUT and jump to some “necessary” conclusions, because duh. Remember: if you throw the baby out with the bath water, you’ve still got a clean bathtub (and a whole lot less obligations).
  6. Panic when you get sick. Panic more when there is “no productive way” to express the crazy except in large, public doses. If you’re not panicking by now, YOU SHOULD BE.
  7. Try to fail less, as in overthink, as in PANIC, as in share nothing you truly want to share, and ask for even more advice you won’t listen to. It’s a fine art; it doesn’t change.
  8. Push the limits. Break the limits. Shrug it off until it’s such a hot mess that you have to:
    1. Listen to yourself (idk what that means, but that’s what improv is for).
    2. Learn to ask for help. Barf.
    3. Learn to ask for the advice you’ll actually listen to.
    4. STOP panicking. If you need help with this, there is a 5th grade expert’s hand penned original manuscript sitting in a large pinkly plastic tub in your bedroom, I suggest you fish it out.
    5. Forgive yourself. Apologize more.
    6. Accept help you don’t want, but legitimately need. (Also barf)
    7. Do things for no good reason. Who the hell would sing in public?? You would. Start dancing spontaneously and literally Taylor Swift a party? Also you. Consume as much art as possible in every way? COME ON, THERE’S NOT BREAKING THIS PATTERN; jump into the flames, you idiot, don’t run away from them. *scoff*
    8. Make a conscious effort to listen like an adult.
    9. Do all the stuff you put off while you were trying not to fail. I suggest you start with the dishes in the sink; we have Christmas break for a reason, after all.
    10. If someone tells you something terrible about yourself or generally is an asshole, either ignore them, see the silver lining/see them as a person, or express your upsettedness in a way that contradicts the terrible. Bonus points if it can questionably pass as “appropriate” in public.
    11.  Remember the things that are stuck down deep. You’ve already got the Holy Spirit metal detector, so I suggest you pick up your imaginary shovel and cry as much as you need to, this shit is supposed to hurt. Keep dancing.
    12. Make your own damn list, in your own damn house, on your own damn time frame, and give absolutely 0 shits about it coming too late, too wrong, et. BECAUSE IT’S YOUR DAMN LIST, okay??
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Published by

haleylol

I am a teacher-to-be who loves people. I am not afraid of many things. I like to explain my thoughts logically on a very birds-eye view level--I was born thinking that way. I follow Jesus Christ, and I accept only that label to describe my identity--that I am a child of God, as are infinite others, regardless of their other identities. Christ is my one thing.

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