I Want to Be Where the Normal People Are

by Rachel Bloom

There’s always that one shitty spot in every school that feels as if the architect said, “Hmm, I need to design someplace secluded and moist for the uncool kids.”

It was like some sort of old rabbinic parable about a man and his goats and the moral of the story ends up being “Be grateful for the soup you have.”

He wasn’t even one of my main bullies. He sat on the bully bench and would only sub in when another bully got injured.

Find T-shirts with positive affirmations on them—the more nonsensical the better. BREATHE TRUTH is good, DO HUMBLY is great, but #TASTETHEAIR is best.

I don’t see Child Me as an Other. I see her as a very logical start to the conclusion that is current me.

Find out in the Crazy Ex-Girlfriend writers’ room that other people regularly pee in the shower, start peeing in the shower, life changed

Don’t feel too sorry for me that the whole thing is on videotape, by the way. In a bizarre moment, my mother sympathetically asks, “Do you want me to turn off the camera?” And I say, through my tears, “No, keep going.”

Oh-God-I-Have-to-Puke-but-the-Puke-Is-My-Thoughts.

I began to get crippling stomachaches that accompanied those thoughts. I started missing class a lot to be in the nurse’s office.

Oh god, that sounds familiar.

There was too much going on in my mind; I didn’t have time to focus on the outside of me.

She searched for the correct words and then said: “What I mean to say is…normal kids don’t dress the way you do.”

Ah, clueless teachers/adults who have just no idea what to do with mental health problems.

I wasn’t there when my mother ripped my teacher a new asshole, but I heard her shouting at her from inside the bathroom. Way to earn that pageant, Mom.

before we walked to the park. She then said, “You know, class, sometimes people say things that aren’t nice. And instead of being upset, in those moments, you know what we need to do?” I looked down. Hi, ground. Please eat me. I’m ready. She continued. “We need to SHAKE IT OFF.

WOW

I had started to confess a lot less when I realized intuitively that the confessions seemed to make the obsessions worse. (Which, incidentally, is exactly how OCD works.)

I grew up in the type of Jewish household in which I didn’t know a word of Hebrew, but I knew EVERY celebrity that had ever said anything anti-Semitic.

Our Shabbat prayer was basically, “Baruch Atah Adonoi, Jesse Jackson, Vanessa Redgrave, Marlon Brando said ‘kike’ once.”

This book might get 5 stars for this sentence alone.

Then the princess went to see his band play that night anyway, after which she smoked her first cigarette to make her lungs hurt as much as her heart.

Until, that is, the Earl of Chuckleshire reached out to the current director of the sketch group and asked him to strip the princess of her “assistant director” title as punishment. To be clear: The princess was no longer assistant director of her sketch comedy group because she was in a love triangle with two people who’d already graduated. And then she was instructed by the current director to tell everyone else on the group that she quit being assistant director because she “couldn’t handle the workload.”

Wooow, fuck you, Chucklefuck.

At any point, the princess could have left each of these relationships, but she didn’t. The problem wasn’t who she fell in love with, the problem was how she stayed in unhappy situations long after the writing was on the wall.

For most of my life, I loved everything about the theater (spelled “theatre” if you’re that guy).

OR CANADIAN

I was constantly tired not because I had trouble regulating my sleep and setting boundaries for myself—I was just a night owl meant to be sipping martinis at Sardi’s while everyone else was snoozin’!

OOH, IT FEELS SO FINE WHEN YOU DO NOT TRY! NOT TRY AT ALL! BECAUSE GOD FORBID I WORKED MY HARDEST AND DOUBLED DOWN ON BEING AN ARTIST AND I STILL WASN’T THE BEST. THE THOUGHT GIVES ME A PAIN IN MY CHEST. SO IT’S BETTER TO NOT TRY NOT TRY AT ALL

Im in this photo and I don't like it

“We’ll hide your book if you tell us what your vocal range is!”

Harry whipped around, his heart racing. He drew out his wand, preparing to say “Expelliarmus” to whoever had just walked in because that continued to be the only defensive spell he could retain since, let’s face it, Hermione was the real hero of this book series.

“Uh, that bitch couldn’t give less of a shit about the arts at this school. Next time you’re palling around with that wannabe Gandalf to find Horcruxes or whatever, ask to take a peek at the yearly budget. I bet it’s buried deep in the closet just like everything else.”

It had been sold out online for months, but Harry was banking on the hope a witch or wizard might be working the box office and he could play the “I saved the world” card.

Love to her husband and Jesus…Christ Superstar.

I can’t get over that pleasure is essentially Mother Nature’s tricky sleight of hand.

The correct amount of being into Disneyland is the exact same amount that I am into Disneyland. If you are into Disneyland less than I am then you are an unimaginative cynic. If you are into Disneyland any more than I am, it’s like, I DON’T CARE ABOUT YOUR PIN COLLECTION, FREAK.

They are actors playing the characters in the Harry Potter books, all of whom are real, and I will meet them someday.

If someone in your party gets sick on a ride, then it is perfectly acceptable to abandon that person in the nurse’s station and continue on with your day. I have done this to my husband on three separate occasions and feel no guilt.

If English is your native language and you always mix up “their” and “they’re,” then YOU ARE NOT A RAVENCLAW.

Had this part of my life been a movie sequel, the critics would have called it, “An unsurprising and obvious installment in the series.”

That night, the fear of not sleeping kept me from sleeping.

I was screaming at myself, This is the best night of your life! Don’t feel dread! Don’t be an anxious cunt! Be! Happy!

The best therapist I had during this time was actually my voice teacher. He was a chill opera singer from the South who said, “My mama always compared bad thoughts to a bird in a barn. If a bird flies into the barn, you can acknowledge that there’s a bird in the barn, but you don’t have to suddenly make a nest for it. Just let the bird fly in and it’ll eventually fly out.” Which is, in essence, cognitive behavioral therapy.

It akso kind of sounds like something Ted Lasso would say.

when the fear of death falls in love with spite, the two of them make a beautiful baby named ambition.

Thirteen-year-old Rachel: Your handwriting looks like a serial killer.

I’ve always been bad at translating the urge to fight back into a coherent takedown of my enemies.

As I loaded up my bags, I felt like Little Orphan Annie singing, “I Think I’m Gonna Like It Here.” But in this version, it was about my ashamed delight at benefiting off the inherent unfairness of capitalism.

the work was the point. So I said to Aline and all the publicists, “I’m gonna wear this sweatshirt for the New York Times photo shoot. I will wear no shapewear under it.”

Without this bathroom break, I would be taking people by the shoulders and screaming Ebenezer Scrooge–style, “Tell me, good sir: what day is it?!”

Outcome: ACCEPTED. My in-depth reading of What’s Happening to Me? has finally come full circle.

Stepdad Lady’s feet not as stinky so I only lick them for a sort of aperitif before Mommy Man’s feet.

Gold toy too hard for Wiley to chew and destroy. 4. Gold toy is trash.

I lick my pussy, I lick my asshole, I lick Mommy Man’s feet, I lick Stepdad Lady’s face just so she won’t feel left out, then I go to sleep.

I found out at the doctor the next day that the bleeding was caused by my amniotic sac momentarily separating from my uterine wall—something that is actually super normal in early pregnancy.

What the fuck, pregnancy?!

Here’s my official celebrity cause: Amusement parks should be smarter.

This haunted house explores something even scarier than ghosts and ghouls—the prospect of nothing coming after death! Grab your kids and travel from empty void to empty void symbolizing the endless, emotionless nothing of what is most likely everyone’s fate. Can you say, “Boo”?

KIDZ KORNER (For Ages 3 and Under) Attractions: 24. A Bunch of Cardboard Boxes for the Kids to Tear Apart: We’d rather not waste precious resources on an age group that can’t form real memories.