Bleu Blues

By Jaye A. Jones

Hey guys!
My name is Parker Bleu, and—prepare yourself for a massive understatement—I have not always made the best decisions. Not financially, not in boyfriends, and definitely not in the wine-fueled mishap that has led me to your computer screens. But, instead of community service to pay my debt to society, my court-ordered therapist has assigned me a daily vlog. Lucky me. So, as unorthodox as it may seem, here I am, spending the next sixty days trying to find something interesting to record and post online so I can finally put this particular mistake behind me. What will I talk about? Will anything happen? Will I make a laughing stock of myself?
̄I_(ツ)_/ ̄
I just hope this vlog doesn’t end up being the shiny cherry topping on my giant pile of regrettable decisions.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jaye A. Jones
• Release date: May 15, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463354049

Jaye A. Jones

Jaye A. Jones lives in a beautiful suburb of St. Louis. Jaye is obsessed with musicals, Marvel comics, and sci/fi and fantasy stories whether they be movies, television shows, or novels. Joss Whedon is her story-telling idol. She's addicted to the Cooking Channel, to good food, and to attempting new recipes. A lifetime of absorbing pop culture, of reading when she should have been working, and of having eclectic interests that span contradictory subjects was her writing school. Her degree in Psychology from St. Louis University comes in handy every now and again too. Visit http://www.jayeajones.com for more.

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BLEU BLUES

By Jaye A. Jones

PUBLISHED BY:

Jaye A. Jones at Smashwords

Bleu Blues

Copyright 2018 Jaye A. Jones

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Day 1

"Is this thing on? Oh geez, I seriously have no idea what I’m doing. I don’t think—

"…

"Was there an instruction manual with—

"Ow! Oh crap! Giles—oof!

"Great. Hello, internet. Here is a close-up of my nostrils. Real nice.

"…

"How do I…just…hmm—

"Wait, is it recording? Are you recording me right now?

"…

"I don’t get it. The thingy is on on, the light is on, there is no image. What—

"…

"Oh wow… Is this really what I look like? Eesh… HiDef is brutal.

"Um, okay. So, vlogging. To vlog. Right.

"…

"…

"Hm.

This…might be more complicated than I thought.

DAY 2

"Okay, let’s try this again. At least I didn’t trip over my dog and fall face first into the camera this time.

"So, my therapist says…ugh, how awkward can this get. My therapist says? Geez.

"…

"No, okay. My therapist says I have to do this ridiculous vlog. It was either this or community service and with this I at least have the illusion of being at home alone. My life’s ultimate goal.

"Yes, this is crazy, antisocial behavior. Yes, I am acutely aware of it.

"You know, the thing is…what’s with the name? I mean, vlog? Vlog. V-L-O-G. Vloooog. What does it even mean? Video log? Video blog? Blog is what, web log? So, Video Web Log.

"Oh.

"I guess that does make sense, doesn’t it.

"But still! Why is this country obsessed with shortening every single little word and phrase? LMAO this, SMH that. ROTFL? No, sir, you are not. I’d blame it on my generation, texting, that we’re too busy, whatever. But that’s all bullshit. My father texts me T-H-X all the time. Not thanks, like an adult human…but T-H-X.

"Puh!

"It’s like, come on Dad, you are retired! I know you have the time to type the extra letters. Nope, my thumbs are too taxed as it is, Clark, and you just don’t warrant those additional letters. You get t-h-x. Sometimes, I’ll deign to grace you with a thumbs up emoji. But only when you’re good. Now go drink your milk.

"And yes, this is also crazy behavior. So aware of it!

"…

"I dated this guy once who used LOL in every text message. Every. Text. Message. He obviously could not be trusted.

"Oh, I guess I should probably introduce myself before you start thinking my name is actually Clark. I’m Parker. Then why Clark? Yeah. My dad calls me various boys names. Like nicknames I guess. Clark, Nick, George. I was Eduardo through high school. I do not know why.

"…

"Actually, I may know why. I think he always harbored some resentment towards my mom because he is more conservative and traditional than she is and she wanted me to be named something unique. So I’m Parker Bethany Bleu instead of Beth or Jill or…Bambi or whatever, and people, especially people like my father, joke with the truth. It was never a wonder to me why my parents got divorced.

"Anyway…

"So I’m doing this vlog for sixty days. Why a vlog and not a nice, personal, completely non-public journal you ask? Or, oh, I don’t know, a regular blog? Or a nice podcast for crying out loud?

"My therapist, Dr. Looney—actually Dr. Loon but I can’t really help myself, since, come on. A shrink named Dr. Loon? That is hilaaarious. Anyway, Dr. Looney says I have to step out of my comfort zone to…what was it…to change the pattern of my destructive self-sabotage and foster personal growth. Or something like that.

"Or…yeah. Exactly that.

"So here I am, talking to a camera, to the multitudes of absolutely nobody who are going to watch some random almost thirty-year-old mess…not even a hot mess…babble about I don’t even know what kind of fuck all—

"Hhhh…

"But that is what this is about, Dr. Looney said. Just…actually doing it. Commitment and follow-through or some such touchy-feely psychobabble that actually makes a lot of sense but as I am still currently in grouchy-pants mode about it, I intend to be righteously grumpy.

"So. Sixty days. Two days down. Only fifty-eight to go!

"Ugh.

"Oh god, and please, whatever you do, don’t like or subscribe."

DAY 3

"So I got a phone call from Dr. Looney this morning, who is the one and only viewer, I’m sure, for my hideous vlogs. Oops, already did what she told me not to!

"First she said, stop calling me Dr. Looney, Ms. Bleu. My name is Dr. Nadia Loon. She said making fun of her name is juvenile and played out. But, cuh! Come on! She’s a therapist! And her name is Loon!

"Wonder what she would say if she knew, in my head, I actually use her full name, Dr. Looney Tooney Balooney. Because I’m twelve.

"Let me have my fun, doc. I need these tiny joys in life.

"You know, I wonder if she married into that name. My sister, Amy, married a man named Brent Trapp a billion years ago. If getting married and changing your last name to Trapp isn’t an omen, then I’ve never heard one.

"Aaaanyway, Dr. Looney has laid out some guidelines for these vlogs. She says I can’t fuss about the vlog on the vlog, and forbade me to say negative things about myself while on the vlog.

"I said, then it will be me just staring at the wall cuz that’s what I do!

"She said I can talk about whatever I want, but I am not allowed to belittle myself or talk about how much I do not like myself, how I look, etcetera.

"She actually said, you’re a hot mess, Ms. Bleu. You need to recognize it.

"I don’t think she knows what that means, actually.

"Nonetheless, she is not wrong. I can admit to being a hot mess…as long as the whole mess part is still a part of it.

"She also said, this will not be a forum for you to perpetuate your negative self-image, Ms. Bleu.

"Hhh…

"I told my dear doctor she can’t be critiquing everything I say on here and calling me up the next day to give me notes. I didn’t sign up for daily therapy sessions with this. Weekly is enough, thanks. And, thankfully, she acquiesced. Which is good because I’m about this close to saying screw this and doing those sixty hours of community service instead. How bad could it be? I can pick up trash or whatever.

"But, I’m not stupid. I did the math. Sixty community service hours while trying to still live my life and work my job? It’s a super lot. It would be my weekends until next year! Besides, I made it to day three. Only fifty-seven to go!

"Uuugh.

"I suspected this was part of her motivation for making me do this thing, to which she would say I didn’t make you do this, Ms. Bleu. You chose to do it.

"Dr. Looney says my name a lot. Like, all the time. The only people who do that are people trying to sell you something. Is Dr. Looney trying to sell me something? Mental stability for four easy payments of $29.99? Two metal stabilities for the price of one if you call now!

"Anyway, yes, I’m aware I talk down to myself. I’m fat. I know it’s not politically correct nowadays to have a problem with the fact that I am fat. Body-positivity is great. Hooray for broadening beauty standards and all that. There are plus-sized swimsuit models. Sure. I just don’t happen to be one of them.

"Besides, it’s not like I’m not fat saying I am fat. I know I am fat. I have eyeballs! If something is able to be scientifically proven, then I don’t think it’s opinion anymore and therefore cannot be argued by my therapist. I’m not talking down to myself, I’m describing myself. Fat!

"No, I am not obese. I can even admit, fine, that I’m not all that fat. Generally, not too terrible to look at. But I’ve gained five to ten pounds every year since graduating college, plus a few more in the past year, and it’s starting to become uncomfortable. My internal, mental image of myself no longer matches my external image of myself. In other words, reality! So, when I say fat, this is what I mean. But isn’t just saying the word fat a whole lot simpler than explaining the entire thought process? I think so. So work with me.

"Anywhoo, I digress.

"The good doctor is right. I have enough crap going against me. I don’t need to be putting myself down. At least for the few minutes I have to be…I will be vlogging, I will not be a total bitch. To myself anyway.

"This will likely be harder than I think.

"She also suggested I find a theme, some sort of focus for the vlog. That’s all fine and great, but I don’t know anything about anything. And that is not putting myself down. It’s a fact. As you can plainly see, I can’t exactly do makeup tutorials. I hardly wear any. Restaurant reviews are out. Poor girls can’t go to nice places for dinner. And I can’t DIY squat. I’m only funny in very specific circumstances…and then, I’m probably only funny to myself. My perspective on anything is not unique or interesting. My life isn’t special.

"I caaan cook. A little. But really only passable Mexican food and the occasional baked good. I make these little breakfast puff pastry thingies that people go crazy for. But they’re pretty involved and I only make them when I feel like treating someone…or torturing myself.

"…

"I wonder, is Bridget Jones’s Diary Dr. Looney’s favorite book? Or movie? Like, therapy via vlog instead of therapy via diary?

"Except Bridget had no therapist and was not compelled to self-betterment by a colorful criminal history. Not the only ways we differ, but a few good examples. Like, Bridget was British and there was Mr. Darcy and my life sadly does not have Colin Firth in it.

"Well…there is actually a British gentleman in my life, but Simon is not Colin Firth. Who is? Sorry Simon. What can you do?

"I guess, in a way, I see the point of it…of therapy via vlog. I mean, it is cathartic, in a way, just to talk about stuff. I like that I’m not in an oppressive office being stared down by a licensed professional. And I’m sure Dr. Loon thinks I’ll discover something groundbreaking about myself and therefore be on a path to maybe fix things.

"She thinks I can be fixed.

"This…fundamentally, is the problem with therapists."

DAY 4

"So…okay. A little vent sesh. Apologies in advance. This might be a long one.

"I discovered this blog yesterday, about this chick who spent a year trying to make herself happy. You know, be more active, try to see the good, be more patient, blah blah blah. The blog was interesting, but here’s the thing. This blogger started out pretty much happy! She had a husband she loved and a couple children and a career she loved and money and comfort and time.

"Time. I think this is the thing that rich people don’t understand that poor people do not have. Free, contemplative time.

"Anyway, she was healthy, she had a college education. She said on the blog that everyone’s journey is different and she’s not trying to relate her life to other’s lives, and I totally get that. In no way do I begrudge this woman trying to improve her mood and her relationship and declutter her house, because, you know, life is pretty crappy and we’ve gotta grasp onto any good stuff we can possibly hold on to.

"It’s just…you know what I want? I wanna read that blog written by someone who is not happy. How about the unhappily married person? Or the person who just had a baby and suddenly realizes maaaybe being a parent isn’t actually for her. Post-partum depression? Hm? Or any depression. How about a blog about taking a year to try to make every genuinely crappy thing they don’t like about their life better?

"Probably most unhappy people have more pressing matters to attend to.

"Hm.

"Or, more like, every one of these blogs does already exist, I just haven’t discovered them.

"But anyway, take me, for instance. I’ll be thirty-years-old soon. Crazy to think…I used to think thirty was pretty old. Not old-old, just regular-old. Now, I am not one of those girls who wants to hide my age or feels like they want to be younger. My twenties sucked donkey dick and it’s a miracle I made it to thirty with my sanity even semi intact, thank you very much. Besides, contrary to what my eighteen-year-old self thought, thirty is certainly still on the younger side of things. Right?

"But, let’s see. I’m, a) unmarried, b) without kids, c) unhappy at my job, d) living pay-check to pay-check, and e) renting this shitty apartment. And fat. And slightly mentally unstable. And on. And on.

"Plus, my sister hates me. Don’t ask. I have a difficult and complicated relationship with both of my parents. I do have a few good friends, yes, but they are so far beyond where I am at this point that I can’t help but wonder if we’re all on the brink of drifting apart from each other. Simon…well, as soon as he decides he wants to, as they say, settle down, he will have no problem finding a girl, as he is pretty much everything anyone could possibly ever want in a guy. Kelsi owns her own business, has paid off her student loans already, and has a steady, happy relationship. And over here, there’s me, with none of those things. I’m healthy, mostly, though I could lose those aforementioned twenty pounds, and my mental stability has come into question lately a little more than I’d prefer.

"Also, there’s the addictions.

"I’m not an addict or anything. No drugs, nothing like that. But I do eat too much. Drink too much coffee. And indulge in way too much wine. I think most people…most Millennials, anyway, do. Have self-control issues, that is. They seem to at least. Or maybe it’s just me, over here, in the doldrums with my debt and pounds and control issues.

"But it’s not my fault! It’s like my particular vices are encouraged. It’s everywhere. Coffee shops are not just on every corner, but even in grocery stores, libraries, department stores. Food is everywhere. Everywhere! Of the unhealthy variety, that is. With fast food and delivery services of every single restaurant within a ten-mile radius.

"And what about booze?

"I can buy alcohol at the drug store, at the grocery store, at the gas station. There are now a ton of ways to buy it online and have it shipped directly to my house. Plus, have you heard that some cities have this new one hour alcohol delivery? What is our country heading towards? Seems like every grocery store is having delivery services now too. One day, we’ll never have to leave the house. 5,000 calories delivered directly to your door, and zero calories burned. That’ll be the end of most of us, I think.

"Maybe that appeals to me personally, sure, but probably not a healthy direction for the entirety of our country.

"And don’t even get me started on the new trend of candy flavored liquor that’s swept the market recently. You, who needs bubble gum flavored vodka. Who…who are you? Who is this marketing to?

"Plus, happy hours and cocktail parties. Sporting events? Every movie theater seems to have a full bar now. It’s absolutely everywhere! We are clearly expected to drink at any event whatsoever that is away from our home. Recipe for DWI disaster. And who doesn’t know at least someone who has gotten a DWI?

"I made it through college without much of a drinking problem, but in the past few years…

"Granted, there are some additional factors involved in this particular problem. You see, I was in a bad relationship. Not the dangerous kind. He didn’t hit me or anything. But he was...

"Hmm.

"Maybe it’s not fair to him to talk about this on here…but no one’s gonna watch this anyway, right? And if this is my court-ordered community service substitute in the form of therapy, I may as well use it as therapy.

"So…my ex. Derrick. Fredrick actually but he went by Derrick cuz I guess Fred wasn’t cool enough for him. We were together for six years, lived together for a little over four. But…well, the bottom line is, he wasn’t my ride-or-die guy. End of story.

"The dirty details aren’t relevant. We were together. It was good. Time went by. It was no longer good. But I guess the fact that he was a lawyer is relevant since I supported him through law school. Yeah. Not my best decision ever. But really, how many people have done this? We do what needs to be done while in a relationship we think is going to last. My tale is not exclusive to me, I know.

"After we broke up, I blamed Derrick for a lot of my problems…for my depression, for my bad financial situation, and inevitably, for my drinking problem.

"Not that I really have a problem, per se.

"Maybe Derrick contributed, maybe he didn’t. Though I do think I associate drinking with the good times in our relationship because we always always always drank together. Then he was too busy for drinking, and for me, and here I was trying to hold on to—

"Ahem. Anyway.

"It all seems rather connected, doesn’t it? Depression leads to drinking leads to being super poor. And though the drinking certainly wasn’t the main reason for being broke, it did have a hand. And with being broke comes anxiety and with anxiety, with me, brings on a new bout of depression. Round and round and round it goes.

"Truth be told, I was drinking at home alone with the blinds drawn every night. Before the breakup some, but after the breakup all the time. Not so much for the few months when I was homeless…but that’s another story. Anyway, I was still managing to get up in the morning, walk the dog, feed both of us, and go to work. But I was a walking zombie extra in a disaster movie, not even one of the main zombies who gets to eat the hero’s liver on screen. Just one of the ones in the background that moans and stumbles around all vacant-eyed, a random zombie lost in the zombie crowd.

"What was I saying?

"Oh yeah, so Derrick was a lawyer. Is, I suppose is more accurate, but since he’s a was to me, he was a lawyer makes perfect sense.

"Isn’t it funny how someone that’s such a big part of your life for so long can suddenly become past tense? Derrick was. Even if he still exists out there somewhere, he’s only…was…to me now.

"Ahem.

"So he was a lawyer, at least partly thanks to me. And you know what? Besides maybe a cop