Tag Archives: Despair

Music I Love: Rock Mix 1

Track listing:

  1. Black Night – Deep Purple (1970)
  2. Sweet Dreams – Marilyn Manson (1995)
  3. Enter Sandman (S&M) – Metallica (1999)
  4. Amish Paradise – Weird Al Yankovic (1996)
  5. Synthetic – Spineshank (2000)
  6. Coma White – Marilyn Manson (1998)
  7. Smoke on the Water (Live) – Deep Purple (unknown year)
  8. Long Hard Road out of Hell – Marilyn Manson (1999)
  9. Fade to Black – Metallica (1984)
  10. New Disease – Spineshank (2000)
  11. The Night Santa Went Crazy – Weird Al Yankovic (1996)
  12. Californication – Red Hot Chili Peppers (1999)

This is the story of how my life was saved by music, and two kids in high school. If that seems like hyperbole, I’d argue you’ve never known a teenager suffering from clinical depression. There was once a time when I was desperately close to suicide, and this set of twelve songs quite literally stopped me.

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Tales of Despair: Scars and Scratches

I have alluded to this many times in the course of this blog (in fact, I’ve probably outright stated it before), but I used to self-harm. For the peace of mind of Mrs. Satis, who sometimes reads these posts, I should state that I haven’t lifted a blade to hurt myself in over ten years; in fact, I stopped around when we met, and partly because of her. But there was a time in my life when cutting my skin was an enormous part of my identity, and I of course bear the scars (both physical and emotional) to this day.

I’m not ‘better’, and I doubt I ever will be.

There’s a wide range of reasons why people hurt themselves, and just as wide a variety of methods. From cutting to burning to starving oneself (Princess Diana once said she used to throw herself down stairs), self-harm can often be an outward reflection of the emotional pain someone is enduring every day. It’s often associated with suicide ideation, but I don’t think that’s quite fair; the people who hurt themselves (myself included) might often dream of and think of ending their lives, but the harm itself is born out of a burning desire not to die, but to feel alive. Although it might not look (or feel) like it, self-harm is usually topical and superficial, leaving little lasting harm. My deepest scars are not on my wrists; they’re on my upper arm, a fleshy place that was easy to cut deep without doing serious damage.

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Thought of the Week: The Seventh Magpie (Review)

Last week I introduced you to a new book by first-time author, Nancy Chase, called The Seventh Magpie. This week I come to you bearing good tidings: it is everything I hoped it would be, and more.

The Seventh Magpie is billed as a “dark fairy tale of loss and renewal”. I would possibly debate the tag “dark”; so many things these days are dark, and inasmuch as death, grief and despair are dark, this story has just as much darkness as a traditional Hans Christian Anderson tale. As far as calling it a fairy tale … it is on par with the aforementioned master, if not, in places, better.

[the writing is] minimal, yet laced with a lyricism that never feels dull.

In it, we witness young Princess Catrin sent away from her home and her father in the wake of her mother’s mysterious disappearance, left with a single token to remind her of what she left behind: a golden book, containing The Best Story in the World. It comes at a price, though—she can read but one page a day. The book, however, is confiscated for twelve long years, and when she finally has the chance to read it again, she defies this warning—to the loss of all she loves. Striking a bargain with seven devilish magpies, she sets out to redeem her losses, and save her life.

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