Quarter Life Crisis: Moisture

I lingered around my job at closing time the other day to see if my friend and coworker wanted a ride home. The only thing she has left to do is count the money in the register. She opened the drawer, then stepped away and came back with a small glass of water. As she grabbed a stack of bills, she dipped her fingers in the water.

Ohhhh I get it. I see what she’s doing there! Smart. Hygienic. Must borrow.

Then it hit me…




I remember back in school, my teachers passing back tests and homework assignments to the class. Licking their fingers every third packet and having the nerve to give me the now biohazard with the assumption that all is well.

I was disgusted every time.

And you could always see the saturated spot in the upper left corner.


I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. I couldn’t focus on anything but the atrocity committed against my health and well-being. We see these people more often than our own parents, and this is how they feel about us? The disrespect to just indirectly spit in our faces?

Get your saliva drenched clammy hands off of my work, and get your life together! Why do I have to suffer just because you’re oil deficient? How is that my fault? There are so many alternatives to licking my paper.

Ask a student to hand out papers.

Put that mountain of hand sanitizer you bribed all of your students to buy for you to good use.

Have you ever heard of lotion???

Or just get with the times and put everything on PDFs and online.

Something. Anything but licking my papers.

And I never understood what their problem was. I never needed an aid to separate papers or open plastic bags or count freshly printed bills. My skin did this thing called function properly, and therefore produced ample amounts of oils to ensure I went about my day without issue. These finger lickers were just sad, dry beings. I was clearly of another breed. The breed of the sufficiently moisturized, an elevated echelon of human. And I would never comprehend their plight.

I have never been so wrong.

Wait…there was that one time I hug/mauled a stranger thinking it was a friend who actually lived in a whole other state…

There was that other time where I cleaned my bathroom with both ammonia and bleach…

Oh, and when I worked an entire shift at one job just to find out I was scheduled at my other job…

Uh…well I was wrong. An arrogant youth I was. And a humbled…old I am now.

I have hit the next level of old. I’m a withered, un-supple shell of my former self. I cannot count freshly printed bills, separate bags, or file through papers without a synthetic external source of moisture. My goal each Winter is to make it to Spring without transforming into a scale-y, cracked reptillian humanoid creature. And I never thought I would see the day.

Do I apologize to the teachers who left me positively repulsed by their affinity for licking papers? Do I seek repentance for feeling superior?

Perhaps I should, but I won’t. I still, in my newfound lack, would not put myself in such desperate measures as to lick anything to get the job done. There are better ways. And we, albeit rapidly drying out, are the future. And we must advance past such barbaric means. And we will.

4 Days of Spazmas: Gifts

Christmas always has this way of sneaking up on me every single year. I don’t know how, I don’t know why, but by the time I’m ready to do the Christmas, it’s tomorrow and CRAP. Nothing is getting done and nobody is getting love in the form of feasible gifts until February. And I’m sorry. Christmas never ends in Storm’s world. And hey, that’s not the worst thing is it?

I feel the pressure now more than I ever have. You know how as a kid, you aren’t expected to get gifts for people? Like what can you do? You have no job or money, or any sense that others matter. So you get a pass. Your family is just happy to spend time with you and be a part of your memories.

I am well beyond that point. My presence isn’t enough anymore. I have employment. I receive help from family on a much larger scale than I ever have. I need to…write cards, and get gifts…and wrap them and stuff. I need to appreciate people and show them that I care, I really do. Now I’m in Philadelphia, where I intend on staying for the foreseeable future. That means I will have friendships for the first time in life that I won’t move away from after a few years. I’m actually in the same place as family now. I have no excuse for not being more giving. And I have gone one more year failing to mentally and financially prepare myself for that. Again, sorry.

And as for receiving gifts, that’s even more difficult than getting them for other people. I don’t want anything. Really, I have a very limited amount of things that I would ever ask for.

Here’s my thing. If I can’t eat it or use it on a regular basis, I DO NOT WANT IT. I don’t know if that makes me easier or more difficult to buy for. But keep your knick knacks. Have you seen my room? It looks like I moved in last week, and I’ve been in that apartment for like half a year now. That’s because I have no storage space for the junk I already own. If you give me something that I have to find a place for, it’s not going to be a good time for me. Please don’t clutter my life. I don’t want a candle. I don’t want a plushie animal thing. What do they do for my life besides sit in the corner of my room and leave me paranoid at night because DAMMIT I SAW IT MOVE ITS ARM, I SWEAR TO YOU THAT JUST HAPPENED.

Some people think it’s an insensitive and/or lazy gesture, but trust me just give me money. I like saving money for my weird things that I would never ask anyone to buy me because they’re expensive. Like a SpiritHood or a OnePiece suit, or Black Milk leggings, or custom Storm headphones So you would contribute to one of the few material things I value highly, and I’d appreciate that much more than you wracking your minds trying to think of what to get me.

Or give me gift cards. But ask me what stores I like but never go to. Then you can force me to indulge in things I like but never enjoy.

Or buy me socks. Families start way too early gifting socks. Nobody wants socks as a kid. But oh my Lord am I so happy to get socks from people. I love socks. Weird socks. Knee highs. Thigh highs. All the crazy patterns or jokes or kittens shooting lasers out of their eyes. Y’kno, whatever. Socks are just the greatest. Get me socks, I’ll love you forever.

I also collect Tshirts. I really dig fruit snacks. And coffee is my life source.

Ultimately though, I value time over anything tangible. I don’t have the best memory of my childhood and stuff. It’s a little frustrating. I don’t know why I can’t remember much of anything. It’s left me kind of crazy about making memories with people I love and care about. So let’s go do something, together. Or let’s do nothing together, maybe. Those are some of my best stories, doing nothing with good company.

So yeah, that’s my deal with gifts and whatever. I’m all about presence over presents. Anyways, more Spazmas ranting coming tomorrow!