Yesterday, I wrote about how there's a difference between helping a depressed friend and enabling an abuser. My intention was to inform those whose friends suffer from mental illness to be compassionate... but remember to think critically about your actions and the effects they may have on your friend and his/her partner. 

Today, I'm writing a quick reminder to those who are, or may be, affected by mental illness:

Your partner is not your emotional slave.

Image: @TheHappyTalent on Instagram

Last night, I debuted my first-ever original Christmas song -- and, a few mistakes notwithstanding, it went pretty well! 

Which is funny, because when I decided to write a Christmas song, I thought there was about a 1% chance I'd create something that wasn't embarrassingly awful and cheesy. 

​So how did I do it?

Simple. 

​I tied a hand behind my back.

Image: @TheHappyTalent on Instagram

Last Wednesday, I was at the rock wall, waiting for my climbing partner, who was running late. Mindlessly, I started scrolling through my newsfeed... when I saw an ad for a Fleetwood Mac concert! 

I clicked the link, even though I was pretty sure I wouldn't actually go, since I'm bad at planning things in advance. But it turns out the concert was that night! In the moments before my climbing buddy arrived, I texted a friend to see if he was game, and booked our tickets. I had time for about 45 minutes of climbing before the show! 

Next thing I knew, I was in the 5th row at Fleetwood Mac, about to take a selfie during the chorus of Landslide, one of the most legendary songs of all time... when Stevie Nicks suddenly stopped singing and said, "What's happening? What happened? I lost the key!"
​

One of the most ridiculous (not rediculous) things you hear about dating is the absurd claim that "girls like jerks" and "nice guys finish last."

The reality is that, sure. Some girls like guys who are kinda jerks. But they don't like them because they're jerks. They like them in spite of it. 

Most likely because they have so much else to offer. 

From: Candytopia on Facebook

A "critic" who writes for the New York Times was recently paid to attend several (five?) ​Instagramable  museums, factories and mansions. In her own words, "They nearly broke me."

And that made my heart break a little... for her.

Something major happens on the first day of October (and, sometimes, the first day of September) every year:

The menu at your favorite coffee shop changes. Just a little. But it is a very big deal.

We've all heard dudes lament that flirting/hitting on girls/commenting on women's bodies is "only creepy when the guy is unattractive."

​Some women boldly declare the same.

Image: @TheHappyTalent on Instagram

You know what sucks about human psychology? We're hardwired to be scared, lonely, ableist, and jealous. Happiness and contentment feel good -- but from an evolutionary perspective, they're worthless.

​Meanwhile, people who felt scared avoided dangerous activities. People who felt jealous were less likely to raise offspring that weren't theirs. People who were never satisfied with what they had hoarded resources that kept them alive during droughts and famines. People who gossiped knew whom to trust and whom to avoid.

Evolutionarily, fear is an extremely important emotion... but in the modern world, it's often maladaptive. For example, people's obsession with the idea that women should never run/travel/leave the house alone, because if they do, they'll totally get raped and murdered. 

The reality is: No. They won't.

​Everyone knows that basketball is the best sport of all time. One of the best things about it is that it’s accessible to basically anyone. Even if you haven’t touched a ball since middle school, you can probably find a fun pickup game at your local YMCA, 24 Hour Fitness, or even an outdoor court.

Guys! I'm, like, super proud of myself right now, for a relatively stupid and minor reason. To save myself from watching, like, 10 more hours of HBO's new show, Sharp Objects...

I Googled a plot summary of Gillian Flynn's 2007 novel of the same name so I will no longer feel the vague urge to waste my time seeing what happens next.