personal stuff

When I moved out of my parents’ house, my mom gave me a lot of old furniture. One of these was a gliding rocking chair which kinda weirded me out because like… that’s a very sentimental chair, that’s the chair my sibs and I were rocked to sleep and fed in, why would she give that to the one kid who has spent her entire life saying she doesn’t want kids? Why not save the chair for my sisters who both want them, or even my brother, who is neutral? And is it weird for a late 20s something to have a rocking chair? What was I supposed to do with it?

So I told her I would just have Dad take it back home in the trailer after he moved me back, and her response was to get angry and fat-shame me, saying that i just didn’t want it because I didn’t fit in it.

Looking back, that’s fucked up, right? Like, if she thought I was too fat to fit in the chair, why did she send it? Also it’s… not like I am or was too fat to sit in this chair. That had nothing to do with it, but she didn’t want to listen to me saying it was weird to have the family’s rocking chair and why not save it for the actual next generation?

So anyways, I kept the chair because I wasn’t gonna give her the satisfaction, but I didn’t really use it as anything other than a stuff holder. This, however, was a mistake and now, four years later, I’ve come to a conclusion:

Rocking chairs are comfy as hell.

I swapped it in for my desk chair recently and I am never going back. Taking a break from work to rock in it for a few seconds is so incredibly soothing. Obviously it’s not as manoeuvrable as a wheeled desk chair, but when you’re this comfortable, who cares?

It probably says a lot about me that, rather than a teddy bear, my beloved stuffed animal as a child was a Tyrannosaurus Rex. 

“Do you want a teddy, sweetie?” -My mother 27 years ago. 

“T-REX!”-My 2 year old self. 

“A…T-Rex?”- My mildly confused mother. 

“T REX T REX T REX.” -my stubborn 2 year old ass, who’d been watching dinosaur documentaries taped off of PBS on repeat for six months straight. 

“Okay.” -My resigned mother. 

She then proceeded to make one because of fucking course they don’t have stuffed T Rexes at Target. 

I got him for Christmas. I named him T-Rex. I love him. He went everywhere with me. I threatened people I didn’t like by saying I would feed them to T-rex. He sits on my vanity now as a protector. I’ve carefully patched him a couple times with the leftover fabric from when Mom made him; she bought extra and saved it because she is a wise woman and Knew. 

“Why does your daughter have a stuffed dinosaur. Wouldn’t you like a nice doll or bear more?” -many, many people throughout my childhood. 

“Why’s playing with a stuffed bear better than a T rex. They’re both apex predators.” -My mother. 

“What.”-those same befuddled people. 

I know most people hate the Pickle Rick meme cause they’re pretty fed up with the show. I totally understand that. Personally, though, I hate the meme because of how much I LOVE the show and that episode in particular.

Pickle Rick was the episode that convinced me to go to therapy. And it wasn’t a conclusion that I came to by myself. It’s the whole fucking message of the episode; Therapy isn’t fun. It’s going to be tedious, and it’s going to make you face some hard truths about yourself. That’s what scared me about it, and the episode made me realize that it’s also why I need it. In the end I only went five times cause it was very expensive, but it did help a lot.

The Pickle Rick meme is especially irritating because it reduced something that helped me through a difficult time in my life into a dumb gag. I’ll admit, it stings a bit when people who never saw the episode jump to conclusions based on that meme, but if I were in their shoes, I’d probably do the same.

I dunno. Rick and Morty is a great show with cool visuals and fun gags. It’s got its flaws, and it’s not completely blameless for the toxicity of its fandom, but I still like it in the end.

T̺͕̤w̖̦͓͓i̩̣̲n̘̘͇͕͙̭̕k̴̙͙͙ḽ̻̭̲̗̫̻e͢,̰̦͎̺ͅͅͅ ̥̺̻̲͠T̺ͅw̵̳͔̪iǹ̤̜̼̥̩̜ͅk̼͍̺͍̖̼͜l̜͡e͉̥͟,̖̥ ̨̜͚̙̰L͝it҉̤̮t̞̟͇͔l̺͓̮͙̱e҉̖̗ ̶̗̬̟S̯̱͚ͅt̨̲͈̙͈̹͎a͓̩̝͜r̹͈̜̲̟
̛̲̲̖H͚̙͔o̱̝̬̜̮̕w̴͕͙̼͙ I̡̜̻ ̥W̫̼̤͚o̻n͖̹̻d̪̱̝̣̙͝ͅe̺͙̠͘r͉ ̡̘W̺̰͓̩̜͎h͇̘̘̩̳̹̙͘a̹͉͎̟̖͍̞t̶ ̶Y͍͕͔̙̬̻̞o̗̻ṵ̥ ̰̫̫͈̲̕A̤̘͖̜̦̹ͅr̛̰̥̠͎̣̘ͅe


Jack is the glue that keeps the crew together.

 He’s the one that always makes sure Gavin gets home safe after a wild night. He’s the one to patch up Michael and Jeremy when their mistakes almost get them killed. He’s the one that cares for Ryan when he works himself to death. He’s the one right beside Geoff when he’s fighting to keep his crew alive. 

And he’s the one none of them could live without.