A Recipe for Being Miserable

Taken from Grandma's Old Recipebook

Start of with a big cup entitlement. Go through life believing that the world owes you something. Pretend as though you have signed a contract at birth, that secured the responsibility of the world for taking care of your happiness. So, when things don't go the way you want them to, get angry at the world for rudely breaching contract. Claim the world is being unfair and out to get you. Firmly believe in your victimhood, and disregard the fact that the world hasn't promised you shit.

Add a dash of judgement to give the entitlement a bit more jazz. Judge everything and everyone you see. Don't you dare emphatize or put yourself in their shoes. Like you would want to step in those cheap-looking, bad-smelling pieces of trash anyway. You'd probably get five infections from looking at them.

Continue with three spoons of envy. Notice everything others have that you don't. Count them, catogorise them and create a whole list of it. Lose eye for the things you do have, because they're not as shiny and green as on the other side. Put the list on your fridge, on your favourite Edward Cullen poster and tattoo it on your skin. Never forget, or let it out of your sight.

Add some self-absorption to the brew. Disregard everybody else on this planet, and ignore the other planets as well. When it's raining, it's  your hair that gets messed up. So can that old lady please stop whining about her pneumonia? When you're mom is making spaghetti the second night in a row, understand that this is probably the most unfair thing in the world. She knows you don't like her meatballs. Ignore the starving people in other parts of the world. At least they don't have to eat meatballs twice in a row.

Sprinkle some resentment on top. Resent everything. Nothing is ever the way you want it to be. Get annoyed by everything, so you'll never feel inner peace. Get annoyed by people's voices, tv commericals, the colour yellow and Josef Stalins mustache. Let these annoyances simmer in the back of your mind at all times. Whenever you feel happy, think about the colour yellow and be reminded that happiness does not exist. See Josef Stalin's mustache everywhere.

Now, add three tea cups of iron-clutched issues. Never let things go Hold on to everything that has ever made you feel down. Always think of the things you should have done. Go through all the possible scenarios and never forgive yourself for making the other, and therefore wrong, choice. Let the what-ifs of life envelop you and swallow you whole. Obsessively overanalyze the time you dropped your lollipop when you were twelve. It taught you how nothing ever lasts.

Tip: If you've had a crappy childhood, this part is really easy. Blame your parents for everything, and be constantly reminded on how crappy they are. Bad day? Because your Mom forgot to buy you strawberry icecream when you were nine. Bad haircut? It's because your father never showed appreciation for your interest in otters. Ripped tights? Your Mom didn't understand your haikus.

Mix all these ingredients down to tasty dough, put it in the oven and late it back. Congratulations, this way you will be miserable in everything you ever do.

Nietzsche and Rain

One downside, of the very many downsides, of living in Holland, is that the weather has a nasty moodswing problem. This can not be innocent.  I sincerely believe there is a diabolical plot in this somewhere, and the weather forecast is secretly conspiring with the weather gods ( which I'm guessing are Zeus and Taylor Swift, who can have it rain whenever she feels something emotional is about to happen) to break everybody's fragile spirits.

This morning, I woke up with the sun streaming through my blinds. Let this be a lesson to you; never trust the morning sun. It's an elaborate lie. You see, as I was glancing out of my windows at this yellow beast, I didn't know the sun was trying to set me up. The morning sun was so brazen, I had even decided against wearing a jacket.

Yes, I'm aware that that's stupid. Unfortunately, this entire week has been filled with stupid decisions as such. Why not go to bed at two am when I have to get up at six? Why not miss the bus in favor of my morning coffee? Why wear a jacket during autumn? Why take notes when I can just stare blankly at the teacher? Why not agree to have coffee with the creepy German guy who has had a past with stalking me? The only thing missing from this list is: why be a civilized member of society when you can also go around stabbing everyone?
Thankfully, I am not that stage. Yet.

The point is, the sun fooled me. I had my mind set on a sunny day, and all I got was rain in return. Yes, I am a fan of metaphors the way thirteen-year-olds are a fan of Justin Bieber. My notebooks are also filled with I <3 Metaphors.

To make it more obvious, there is a metaphor in the weather-line. Sometimes metaphors just aren't enough. And that was a metaphor too. INCEPTION.

There was literal rain too, today. Sometimes the weather is very accomodating towards my life events. But you know those days when anything, anything at all, can make you reach unknown levels of rage. Like, someone has to sneeze in your direction and all your suppressed rage comes boiling out? Today was one of those days. Though, to be fair, there was justified reasoning behind my outburst as well.   But it was all so very high school. Typical trash talking reaches its tipping point, and you want to stop the pretense and just be a complete raging bitch in their face intead of behind it. So, I did.  I am not known for being nice. In fact, when I stop being my level of nice, and go full-blown bitch, Cruella Deville can take pointers from me. Unfortunately, when the beast is out, it is all out.

I literally couldn't be any meaner, or a bigger cliche today. Example: "See, I'm sitting in front of you. That should make it easier for you to talk behind my back."

Maybe I should work on my people skills.

It is raining all weekend. I have to study for three huge tests. This is just the world conspiring against me. I am sure of it.

And to end this happy blog, I present to you a picture of Nietzsche, who is more depressing to hang out with than I am. And trust me, dear readers, that is a true accomplishment.

Look at that mustache, isn't it marvelous?

 “My genius is in my nostrils.”
― Friedrich Nietzsche, Index