Tuppence.

Do you take sacagaweas?

My Little Apocalypse Pony

It's about to get real, My Little Death Ponies!

Sometimes things aren't what they seem. I am, of course, using this as a loose metaphor to compare people to My Little Ponies. As I feel like I am back on the elementary playground with all the secrets and fair-weathered friendships, I suppose a toy is an appropriate comparison. Like how they were once cute bathtub companions that filled Barbie's stall, and out of no where, they are evil creatures with no compassion or care for the feelings of others. My Little Spawns of Death! (I'm looking at the mid-to-late half of my mid-to-late 20's, I am old enough to embellish a bit.) What was once rainbows and glitter is now forgotten words and not getting invited to the sleep over flashbacks. So dumb. So enlightening. So hurtful. So boring. I really did like those cute little equines! C'est la vie.

Mad Haters and the Hare

Sometimes I feel like this. A tired rabbit mask person just trying to catch the carrot.

You think you have people in this world, friend people, to help swing the carrot in your direction, but it turns out they don't want to help you. They wanted to hop around with you when you had lots of carrots or when they thought they could have your carrot or when they felt sad and needed someone to make them feel better about their carrots. Then they drop you, say mean spirited things about you, and share their carrots with someone else. These friend people suck.

Well, fuck that and fuck them! When you get stuck in a carrot chasing rut, you just gotta get your shit together long enough to put things into perspective, like this little furry friend!

There are so many things for which to be thankful. I am lucky in so many ways. And I don't really like most of the dummies I let get me down, so that's silly! If that carrot is out of reach, fine! Grab something else. You'll get the carrot eventually. And when you feel like a sad rabbit, relax and give yourself a hand... to metaphorically bitch slap the haters!

Haters make me famous.

TARHEELS ACC CHAMPS!

I'm a Tarheel Born

I'm a Tarheel bred

And when I die

I'll be a Tarheel dead

So rah rah Carolina-lina

Rah rah Carolina-line

Rah rah Carolina-line

GO TO HELL, DOOK!

It's So Hard...

When you're rich and famous you are the dominant force in a relationship, even if you try hard not to be. I've talked of sacrificing everything for Fleetwood Mac, but I realize now that it is simply the only thing I've ever wanted to do.

-Stevie Nicks

Sing it, Siren Sister! Being an artist person is hard. It's what I eat, sleep, breathe, preach, and love the most. Sometimes it makes everything else confusing and hard and complicated. I just want to do what I love always! You know?

Tis the Season!

I Don't Care! I'll Pull Down My Underwear!

I didn't have a single one of these delicious treats this year! And they are my favorite! I went to drug stores and grocery store today for the sale bags. Nope! None for me. LAME.

If you have any laying around, please send to:

Erin McCarson

24-50 28th St #6

Astoria, NY 11102

I will also accept love letters.

HAPPY HALLOWEENIS!!

Can you guess our costume??

*Hint*

My bow is a heavy flow lady pad.

Those blue thingies on my shirt? Tampons.

I had a blue stained panty liner on my butt crotch.

I wish I were this brave.

Brain, Brain, Go Away! Little Erin wants to Play!

My head is all a mess.

I can't seem to shake this gloomy, blue, sad, stay-in-bed-and-stop-participating-in-society feeling.

What to do?! Well, blog about it, for one! Who knows, maybe it leads to an answer. I'm willing to take the risk.

I try working out, talking it out, stuffing it, starving it, forgetting it, writing about it, rising above it, sinking below it, drugging it, sleeping it off... everything. I even resorted to seeking advise from my 10 year old friend. Surprisingly, more compassionate and valid than most adults, she still couldn't hit the nail on the head.

Although I am prone to, let's say, strong changes in emotion that affect everyone around me, I can usually shake the negative ones in a few days and hold on to the positive ones for months. As I am obnoxiously aware of myself and the people around me, I am pretty good about pinpointing the problem, using my words to process the feelings, and pushing through to the other side. I have a grasp on the epic disappointment that was the catalyst for the whole shitstorm, the ever present and never present straw that broke this camels back, but can't make my sparkle come back.

Equally frustrating, I am the mothertherapist in my circle of friendfamily. I am never the one you call to grab a drink, giggle over boys, and compare glitter. (Nonetheless, I am quite sure my regaled tales and glitter collection are above par.) I am the one you call when you are going to jump off the bridge. Or when you need someone with you at the cat hospital at 3am. Or when you are too sad and confused. Or when something bad happens. Or when revenge must be had. I need that friend for me now. Hell, I would settle for the grab-a-drink friend. Just someone who is sincere and tries to straighten things out in my brainhole. And who can talk and make sense and see things I can't. I don't know how to convey this or find this, but I need it.

A list of immediate thoughts to help my sanity-

My life would be easier with the following changes:
I am paying for my lifestyle in art alone.
The gym is more fun with easier results.
Food isn't yummy and expensive.
I make more money. Like enough to pay rent, for starters.
I don't have a job that comes home with me every day.
The cat litter doesn't smell so fucking bad ALL the time.
The cats don't tread said litter into my room ALL the time.
Friends are more.
Family is closer.
Relationships are always sparkly.
Babies are easy to have and be responsible for.
Karma comes around.
People aren't so selfish.
I learn to sleep.
I go on a secret dinosaur ride that I never share with anyone.

See, that helped a little. My friend Kirky helps put things into perspective. Not really making me feel any better or resolving anything, just reminding me that everything contains humor and we are going to be alright. We are smart people with strong support systems. And if there were anything else in the whole universe that made us even almost as happy as being an artist person, we are smart enough to have been doing that already. But there isn't. Thusly, we suffer with cause and ambition.

If I could just part the clouds and get back on track...

Are you my hero?

Mope

I have studiously tried to avoid ever using the word 'madness' to describe my condition. Now and again, the word slips out, but I hate it. 'Madness' is too glamorous a term to convey what happens to most people who are losing their minds. That word is too exciting, too literary, too interesting in its connotations, to convey the boredom, the slowness, the dreariness, the dampness of depression.