Prozac Made Me A Better Dancer

Prozac made me a better dancer.
It also did wonders for my fashion sense.
Some might say the same about my haiku writing capacities.
And haircutting skills.

Prozac did wonders for my fashion sense.
So glad I decided this outfit sparked joy. A Winners Special.

Also, I clean like a madwoman

Which is excellent for Roommate Relations. I think.
Although this morning I got molasses on the floor.
Besides that, my closet radiates order
Filled with clothes that rejoice in their origami folds.

The Tidying Festival Never Ends.

All the Prozac induced bouncing

Stimulates my lymphatic system.
Surely this prevents cancer. And ulcers. And back pain.

Here is a haiku I wrote about Prozac:

Prozac is like a
Big orgasm all the time.
It’s a fucking blast.

(In case you were worried about the sexual side effects.)

If you work for Prozac, and need a poster girl, I am not beyond this.

Prozac, Probiotics, Kumbucha.
I can advocate all of these things.

Prozac gives me an open mind.

The End.

Fun Drug Combinations, by the Exuberant Bodhisattva

Prozac + Caffeine:  this goes without saying.

Prozac + Caffeine + High School Reunion:  You will say the most surprising things.
Prozac + Caffeine + Neon Shorts + Daybreaker Morning Dance Party:  Oh Boy!

Here I am post-Daybreaker. Glistening.
What a delightful and outstanding event.
Stay tuned for the next one!
#Daybreaker

Prozac + Caffeine + Glute Camp Montreal:  The Butt Ledge has never looked better.

Family Glute Camp on Lakewood Road, with Sister and Dog-Niece.

 You and your Butt Ledge are welcome to join me this evening at 6 PM in Parc Laurier
Over the Hump Glute Camp: Tomorrow (Tomorrow = Today) 
Prozac + Summer in Montreal: One of the best combos ever.

Hope to see you soon!

 

My Grandma and I practicing our Interpretive Dance Moves. She just turned 90. We have generously offered to perform at my cousin's wedding. Prozac made me more generous. Grandma comes by her generosity and spectacular-ness naturally.

Exuberant Bodhisattva on Facebook
Twitter: @mypelvicfloor
I Let Go, a self-help book by Erica J. Schmidt

Prozac Made Me A Better Person
High School Reunion
Deep Unyielding Depression, Part One
Deep Unyielding Depression, Part Two
Memoirs of a Brief Affair

 

Prozac Made Me A Better Person

Prozac made me a better person.
I think it awakened my crown chakra.
I feel more beautiful on the inside and the outside, and the rest of the world is not so irritating.
Also, the orgasms came back.
A joy and a Fucking Relief.

The above lines do not form a Haiku,
That said:

It seems I missed my
calling. Writing haikus to
tortured Married Men.

Haikus provide an excellent format for performative text messages.

Did I scare you off?
Oh well. Go deal with your shit.
I’ll be waiting here.

On the stove, I’m steaming broccoli right in the middle of the heat wave. Sometimes the dress does not match the day, and vice versa.

In other news, I am translating two different documents for money.

A novel excerpt about terrorists on a cruise ship, and a riveting manual about project management. Sometimes I have a tendency to make my sentences choppy. Like the waves on the ocean in questionable literary device. The novel is top secret. As for the manual, all I will say is that sometimes project management involves hierarchical decomposition.

In other other news, I have acquired a Facebook Rehab Coach to help me quit my habit of perpetually checking Facebook when the hierarchical decomposition bores me.

Today is Day Two. I am allowed to check Facebook three times. So far, I have only checked it once. For those of you who are also attempting a Facebook cleanse or any kind of cleanse, beware of the Secondary Vice.  Twitter is not adequate. Espresso has its limits, as does humping the duvet. And haikus to the Married Man run the risk of canning the whole thing.

Haiku Interlude:

I think the problem is.
I need too much attention.
Not sustainable.

I need too much attention. Hence, the Bananas.

Sentences I wrote to my Facebook Rehab Coach Interlude:

I agree about it making me feel terrible pretty much every single time. Jealous, inadequate, underachieving, FOMO, guilt, there are so many negative sensations I can associate with Facebook, and yet I plunge into the black hole over and over again. I have somewhat of an addictive personality. Also, when I'm stressed out, my brain likes to do a whole bunch of things all at once, even though this rarely resolves the source of stress and often makes it much worse.

A couple of weekends ago I went to a cottage and didn't check my phone for two days. It was so easy. I thought I'd evolve to a brand new Erica and yet as soon as I got home, I was masturbating all over my phone all the time all over again. Self-forgiveness is so important.

I like narrating my life, and having virtual audiences. I want my life to be affirmed. Maybe that is why I like Facebook. There is maybe the possibility of having people affirm my life.  Also, I am translating this jargonny manual about project management and it so boring.

Recently I read somewhere that everyone needs a base level of food, money, power and sex. Due to social media, there is also a base requirement for attention which is actually quite high.

 

The Project Management document is talking about subtracting actual competencies from expected competencies. Guess I should get back to it.



Wink, Grin, Pear = Tell me I'm cute

End of Sentences I wrote to my Facebook Rehab Coach Interlude.
I really like my new dress. It matches the day.

The End.

The Dress that Matches the Day
Exuberant Bodhisattva on Crackbook
Twitter: @mypelvicfloor

I Let Go, by Erica J. Schmidt

Performative Text Messages
Performative Crying in Alleys
The O's in the Tôtô have Hats

Why I am Like  Oprah
Deep Unyielding Depression, Part Two

 

Karma is Simple: Haikus for People Who Like Counting syllables

Now it is 2016. I am giving the blog a mini makeover.
Although the simplicity of Karma is up for debate, I still love haikus, so this one made the cut.
 
Karma is Simple, Haikus by Erica J. Schmidt
 
Karma is simple.
Scratch your head and dandruff falls.
Flakes on your shoulders.

 Karma is simple. 
Drink, pee.  Eat, pooh.  Sex, herpes.
Fall, break.  Onion Breath.

Karma is simple.

Call yourself a piece of shit,
You won't feel awesome.

Jesus brought great news,

But he's not the Karmic boss.
Karma hates bosses.

Karma's on Facebook.

You can give it a thumbs up.
Become Karma's fan.

Crucify, redeem.

Karma does both these things.
Between flakes and gold.
 
The End.
 

 

Karma is simple.
Feet in Ganga, feet get cold.
Smile anyway.
-Rishakesh, 2015
 
Exuberant Bodhisattva on Facebook
Twitter: @mypelvicfloor
I Let Go, by Erica J. Schmidt

Memoirs of a Brief Affair
Prozac Made Me A Better Person
Prozac Made Me A Better Dancer

The O's in the Totos Have Hats
High School Reunion, Part One