I am, yes I am. I am and you know I am.|
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A snake and a crow and a cat without a tree's LiveJournal:
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|Saturday, August 28th, 2004|
|Oh for crying out loud.
So today I get another mass email entitled: "Why do Republicans Hate Gays and Blacks?" From the same dude as last time. (And in ansewr to hulacalhoun
, no, it's not our Least Favorite Dinner Companion...although that's a good guess! Actually, though, this guy makes LFDC look like a paragon of bipartisan reason.) Anyway, here is his latest:"I was TRYING to walk around in Manhattan yesterday between all the throngs of smug republicans.
I finally got so sick of them I started walking up and asking them to their face
why Republicans hate gays, why republicans hate black people,
and why they choose to go where nobody wants them.
Those seem like all relevent and fair questions to ask of people
who have never done anything good for our City
and who are coming here now to exploit our honored dead."
The thing is, I don't even know why I'm on this guy's mailing list except that he used to be friends with an aquaintence of mine who he hates now anyway. BUT, he's obviously such a raving nutjob that I'm actually afraid to ask to be removed from the list.
|Monday, August 23rd, 2004|
|This makes me want to vote for Bush out of sheer spite.
I got this in a mass email today. Things like this probably only annoy me because it reminds me of my parents."TO ALL NYC PROTESTORS:
Seeing that the FBI has said it expects violence from protestors at the
upcoming Republican Convention,
and Mayor Bloominidiotberg has declared that free speech
is not a right but a mere "privilege" which can be taken away,
If one of you don't get violent, I'm sure the Bushies will send a
Roger Stone or a Michael Kumpfner (or whatever other
undercover operative they have pretending to be a democrat that week) in
to s tart throwing bottles and make the democrats look bad on national TV.
IF YOU GO, BRING CAMERAS AND RECORDERS
so we can later prove that the press coverage was biased
when it blamed the democrats for the violence.
Also: BRING EARPLUGS because the police are using new military weapons
against the crowd, including a device that can broadcast at
a level of volume that can cause permanent hearing loss if you're in the wrong place.
Then again, the Feds may NOT be planning a riot, they may just
be spreading fear to try to keep the crowd sizes down."
I can't even begin to go into everything aggravating about this because I'd end up writing an essay and I don't have time. Current Mood: sigh
|Thursday, July 22nd, 2004|
|The way I feel about the news
Man, let me tell you about "news."
Call me a jaded cynic...
AUDIENCE: "YOU'RE A JADED CYNIC!"
...but I tend to look at the news the exact same way that I look at advertising. I just assume that it's tailored to provoke a response or propagate an agenda...and I don't even know that this is a bad thing, it's just kind of how things are. Even if everything reported in the news is absolutely true, there is enough truth that one can pick and choose from that it's ridiculously easy to manipulate.
Like, here's a hypothetical situation for how I see it:
Let's say that...oh...Donald Rumsfeld encounters a burning building with four babies trapped inside. He runs inside, grabs two babies and runs out.
The conservative media headline would read:
AMERICAN HERO RUMSFELD RISKS LIFE TO SAVE TWO BABIES FROM BURNING BUILDING
The liberal media headline would read:
DECISION MADE BY REPUBLICAN SECRETARY OF DEFENSE RUMSFELD RESULTS IN TWO BABIES BURNING TO DEATH IN FIRE
So, both headlines are true, but, you know, obviously not the same agenda. Even when I wrote this hypothetical situation, I totally biased it to make liberals look more insane. It's just that easy.
Anyway, this is also why I keep refusing to see "Farenheit 9-11." Why pay $10 to watch a two hour mudslinging politcal advertisement?
Okay, back to work.
|Wednesday, March 24th, 2004|
So it's time again where I decide to embark on a regimen of self-improvement as well as life improvement. Partly it's based on the roommate moving out and finally having my own place and partly it's because every time I'm exposed to a person who is totally intolerable and everyone hates, I start getting paranoid that perhaps I, too, am intolerable and that people are hating me without my knowing it. Also, it occasionally crosses my mind that maybe there is a reason
why I never have boyfriends and that it might not just be because I'm picky and hyper-critical (although I'm sure that contributes greatly).
At one point I assessed that one unifying characteristic of intolerable people who everyone hates is that they talk too damn much. So I started making an effort to talk less, but I think people were more weirded out by it than pleased. To be honest, I think I'm okay with all the "win friends and influence people" stuff, but still, I'm always trying to fix the problem areas. I'm trying to cut down on sarcasm and any form of self-aggrandizement which is hard because sarcasm is so ingrained and there is such a fine line between being proud of something you've accomplished and bragging about it.
Otherwise, I find that baked goods are always a good means of currying favor.
I've also been trying for awhile to improve my appearance. I've gotten half a closet full of new, more ladylike clothes and I'm trying to leave the house looking like a slob less often. I know that looking presentable will be easier once it's warmer, since Winter is no time to be a lady. I've been sucking it up and actually spending money on things like pretty shoes and moisturizer. My attempts to bouffant my hair, however, have been a rousing failure.
As for the apartment, I feel that the incompleteness and disarray of my home has infected the rest of my life and that until I can establish a solid and manageable environment, I am always going to exist in this haphazard, transitory state where I'm always waiting until some undefined "later" to make my life what I would wish. Honestly, maybe I'm putting to much weight on this, but I just think that once I have the apartment cleaned and painted and furnished and I have space that's all my own where I needn't compromise, that I will become a complete person and the rest of my life will fall into place. I know that's lofty expectations for some paint and new curtains, but that's the feeling I have.
|Tuesday, March 16th, 2004|
So I was just looking at the journal of a girl who is in a relationship with a guy I was kinda sorta dating ages ago and kinda sorta dumped (well, since according to him we weren't "really dating" I just started sleeping with a new guy and quit sleeping with him since I wasn't that into him to begin with).
Anyway, she's writing fondly and affectionately about all these things about him and I'm getting totally annoyed just reading it and I realize: Everything about him that she seems to find so endearing and lovable are the EXACT SAME THINGS that I found so irritating about him.
And I thought: is this what love is all about? Being delighted by someone's qualities that others would find annoying? Finding someone who is delighted by your annoying qualities?
I guess it must be because I think everyone was annoyed by my ex-boyfriend but me.
|Sunday, March 14th, 2004|
So, for the second time in the past month, I went somewhere alone, got freaked out and left crying. FOR NO REAL REASON. Can someone get Social Anxiety Disorder out of nowhere?
Did I catch it from a toilet seat or something? What the hell?
So I had this hairbrained idea that I might start performing again because someone referred me to someone and I got intrigued and thought that maybe performing again would help me "network" and give me more "cred." So I went out to a show to meet up with this guy and the place was SO LOUD and SO CROWDED and I became almost instantly agitated to the point of wanting to flee and every time someone bumped into me I wanted to start punching them violently. Still, I figured I should stick it out like a trouper. So after the show I'm talking to the guy and he says he'll be with me in about 20 minutes, so I go back into the crowded room and I start to feel REALLY REALLY agitated. Like, I start shaking and feeling like I can't breathe. Then I start to feel really upset and start to cry and figure there's no way I can last 20 minutes and run away. So I guess I will not be coming out of retirement.
This is why I don't get it: I'm not necessarily afraid of confined areas, crowds, or social situations, since I'm not phased by being on crowded subways or going to parties or public speaking or anything. BUT, if I am in a crowded and loud bar or club (or even a large party where I don't know people), I become overwhelmed by the extreme feeling of NOT WANTING TO BE THERE AT ALL and wanting to RUN AWAY and subsequently feeling either upset or enraged. I guess I first noticed it on New Years when I was at a big loft party and ditched my friends and left right before midnight because "I just can't deal with being in a crowd of strangers right now." Then I had another incident where I went out to some club at the insistence of some friends and it was really crowded and people kept bumping into me and I got so wound up that when one of my friends tried to pull me by the arm, I slapped her hand and yelled at her and left. I felt so embarrassed about it that I didn't go out anywhere for the next two weeks. Recently I even tried to go into a small restaurant by myself but felt panicked and left.
At first I was thinking that maybe I was always like this and just didn't notice it because I was drunk all the time. I do know that most times in recent memory when I was in a situation like that and I started to get that feeling of disconnection and agitation, I'd make a beeline for the liquor. Then I recalled that when I was younger, I practically LIVED in bars and clubs and places that were loud and crowded and had no qualms about being there alone...and I didn't even drink much back in those days. I know that with age I've developed a distinct preference for NOT going places which are loud or crowded, but I don't understand why I've suddenly developed such a strong negative emotional reaction. Current Mood: ashamed
|Friday, February 27th, 2004|
I have lately been in a state of physical/mental conflict where I am very inspired but feel very tired. I'm mentally excited, but physically lethargic, which hinders me in making progress on the things I'm so excited to do. Also, as usual, I am completely averse to drawing. I think I have only drawn one thing since the new year. I hate it when things don't turn out and so I never want to even start. I know I'll have to start eventually, though, or go broke. Also, all my exciting ideas involve drawing in some capacity and I really want to see them happen. Mostly, though, I just lay in bed and watch DVDs or shop on ebay for teapots or other lazy things.
At least I'm not too preoccupied with boys for a change. Thinking about boys makes me tired because they are so much work and I don't have the energy for it. Plus, my hyper-obsessiveness is currently being diverted to the work for my gallery show in June which I think could be the best work I've ever done (If I actually do it.) Still, I look at men sometimes and want to gnaw on their forearms and press myself against them in an unwholesome manner. Sexual desire for men is much easier to deal with, though, than being interested in them as people. At least the ones I just want to fuck I know what to do with. Still, men will have to wait until I have the apartment in order.
The fact that I am now pretty certain that my roommate is moving out in a month is also exciting. I spend too much time online looking at furniture and painting ideas. I know that come April the apartment will become my biggest project, so I should finish others in the meantime. I can't wait for everything to be nice and orderly. I keep telling myself that once things are nice and orderly, I will be able to work more efficiently, but I don't know if it's true.
|Sunday, December 21st, 2003|
|Apres la guerre, la paix
Well it just figures.
The day after "the grisly train derailment", I meet someone at a party, develop an immediate raging crush on him and, for the first time in as long as I remember, I didn't go to bed thinking of DreamyManCrush.
Anyway, I'm probably going to be stalking this new guy for a little while. Current Mood: enamoured
|Friday, November 21st, 2003|
So after drinking nearly every day for three weeks, I decided to abstain in the week leading up to my birthday since I felt that ongoing boozing was making me "impotent" in the girl way.
Still, I only have about five hours left of my 20's and I've decided I want to cruise into my 30's with a good buzz on. And so sweet mother tequilla has clutched me to her bosom. Most people seem to regard tequilla as "trouble," but I've always fared well with it. I attribute it to my "heritage" of growing up so close to mexico...down where you could still get it with the worm in the bottom (although I never ate the worm. eew!)
Anyway, I've discovered in the past month or so that my ability to hold my liquor has miraculously returned! I can now drink hard liquor and not be deathly ill the next day! While this could bode ill, I'm nonetheless psyched.
In other news of cured problems, the healing power of dick seems to have cured me of all my minor neuroses: paranoia, depression, lethargy, anxiety, etc. I can't remember ever feeling better. I haven't been on any meds in a month and I'm feeling tip-top.
|Monday, September 15th, 2003|
I think there may be a mole in my other journal. Certain non-LJ persons are behaving in such a manner as to make me suspicion that they know more than they should.
I guess I should quit being dumb on two points:
1. The world is too small to talk about anyone without SOMEONE knowing them or knowing someone who knows them.
2. I can't feign focusing my attention on someone as a diversion and a red-herring for too long before I start ACTUALLY focusing my attention on them. This is the problem with being obsessive. Current Mood: suspicious
|Wednesday, August 27th, 2003|
|Once bitten twice shy
So, as my closer friends know, there was this guy who I had a bad "relationship" with for six years. Technically, we were just friends. We met in college and lived together for awhile. I usually call him "the guy I don't talk about" becuase I usually don't talk about him. This is not because the memory is too painful, it's more just because I'm so embarrassed about the whole circumstance and don't want to talk about how stupid I was because it makes me look bad.
Essentially, I believed that I loved him. He said that he loved me "but not in that way" and I always thought he'd come around eventually...you know, like in the movies. Like one day he would have an epiphany and realize "silly me, of course, I AM in love with her!" and we'd live happily ever after.
Naturally, of course, this was insanely stupid. Also insanely stupid was my constant justifying to myself that his presence was some how necessary for my wellbeing in spite of the fact that he unrelentingly chiseled at my self-esteem until I was suicidal. Also insanely stupid was my insistence that his "friendship" was valuable enough to me to put up with what was essentially psychological sadism. Whether he did it on purpose or not is debatable, but he would do things like:
-Tell me some reason he could never have a relationship with me. If I corrected the flaw or accomplished the task, he would then tell me he could never have a relationship with me for the exact opposite reason.
-Tell me he didn't find me attractive and then fawn over women who looked exactly like me. (actually, when he met me, he told me and several people we knew that he thought I was attractive and was interested in me...and later insisted that he'd never said that and that I was being delusional.)
-occasionally making vague hints that our relationship might "progress" so that I'd keep up hope, then acting like I was crazy and stupid for thinking our relationship might ever "progress."
-Insist that I tell him everything about me and my personal life and then tell me that he couldn't tell me his personal info because we weren't "intimate."
-Always try to include me in his personal failures, even if they didn't apply to me. (ie "We're such losers. All our friends are more successful than us. Our life is so difficult.")
And these special quirks were just the icing on the cake of his constant criticisms of my opinions and insistence that everything I said was unreasonable, foolish and wrong.
In spite of all this, he was INSISTENT on being my friend. I tried to "dump" him twice before I ditched him for good, and both times he actively endeavored to get me back and I crumbled.
Now what kind of idiot would keep that in their life for six fucking years? Well, I did and I'm really embarrassed about it now. I also don't need anyone to pity me, because he gave me more than enough of that. I would tell him I loved him and he would be so so sorry that I felt that way about him when he didn't feel that way about me. He would give me a nice sympathetic hug to console me for being so undesired by him and having such fruitless feelings. There there.
Finally getting him out of my life was like having a tumor removed. Suddenly, everything just got a lot, lot better. Once he was gone, I couldn't believe I hadn't clued in to how awful he was earlier. I couldn't believe how stupid I'd been. That was 3 years ago and I never spoke to him again. On the occasions that he crosses my mind, I hate him and imagine that I will forever.
The last time I conversed with The Prick, I was totally creeped out by how much he sounded like The-Guy-I-Don't-Talk-About. There was nothing said overtly, just that subtle undercurrent that, after those six years, I can recognize immediately: The pity toward me for caring about him, the implication that I was being irrational for thinking he might have feelings for me (after he'd previously told me he did.) Telling me how much fun he was having without me, with people who were preferrable to me. Telling me that gosh, he still wanted to be my buddy and my pal and that I could tell him everything...just as long as I didn't expect anything back because, sorry, I'm
the one who's hung-up on him
and not vice versa, DUH...
When it was over, I was like "Oh no, you ditt'n!"
(*cue sound of big metal door slamming)
And that's pretty much the end of that forever. Current Mood: h8
|Tuesday, August 26th, 2003|
|Drop that Zero
So for a couple of weeks after the big "revelation," I didn't call my Mom. I guess I was afraid that her husband would pick up the phone and I would be madly creeped out. I spoke to her at length a few days ago, though, and much to my relief, she's planning on divorcing him.
This was a huge relief because I had started to assume that she wouldn't and she would just be a martyr and bear his "awful secret" because she wanted to "help" him or some nonsense. Her statement was "If he had really been a knight in shining armor and made my life radically better, it would be a hard decision...but the truth is that he hasn't been that great of a husband." Which is true, as he is fault-finding and distant and other annoying things. Truth be told, although I only lived in the house with him for a few years, I never really liked him. He IS fault finding...and he thinks he's always right and is insulting to you if you disagree (gee sounds like my ex...) but I always kind of dealt with these things becuase he was my Mother's husband. The fact that he's a CHILD MOLESTER is a little more inexcusable. I even told my Mom that I wouldn't feel comfortable visiting her if he lived there.
So, thankfully, my Mother has decided to leave him. I'm not too worried about her since my Mom is a mack and will inevitably have a new boyfriend in no time. I'm also glad that she decided not to bear this cross and to NOT TOLERATE THAT HER HUSBAND WAS RUBBING HIS DICK ON HER TEN YEAR OLD DAUGHTER. Really, I was seriously bugged that she was going to stay with him, so this is a huge relief. Current Mood: relieved
|Wednesday, August 13th, 2003|
|The Old Guy
So I continue to go out with The Old Guy and try to figure out what's going on with that. There is no hanky-panky, so the verdict is that we're friend-dating, although I get the feeling he wouldn't mind if it went further.
As it is, we go out for dinner and drinks at least once a week and talk on the phone at other times about what's going on with our lives and work, etc. He's so lousy with redeeming qualities that I kept figuring that I'd start finding him attractive eventually. Still, the more I scrutinize, the more I continue to not have the slightest desire to make out with him.
All things considered, I think it's best if I don't try to go the romantic route with this guy. I mean, as much as it seems to be jumping the gun to consider such things so early on, the purpose of dating is, in a sense, to find "the one", so if someone just straight-up isn't, then there's no point in pressing the issue. First off, he's just too old for me. I think that 20 years is just too much of an age gap, I mean, he's almost the same age as my parents. I mean, let's say I want to think long-term and serious: would I want to marry someone who might be dead by the time our kids graduated high school?
But then, just thinking short-term and not-serious: I don't feel like I'm entirely free to be "me" around him. First off, he's implied that he doesn't like off-color humor, which is kind of a staple of my existence. But mostly, I tend to act "youthful" and I definitely reign that in a lot around him...not because I think he wouldn't approve, but because I don't want to give him permission to act that way, too. A man of his age acting the way I act would be apalling and shameful. Also, just due to his age, I feel like I can't really include him in my other social activities without him being wildly out of place.
Then, meanwhile, my loins are aching for some guy who has "dead-end scenester whore" written all over him. I feel like such a stereotypical woman.
|Sunday, August 3rd, 2003|
So there is this guy I've been hanging out with and I can't tell if we are friend dating or real dating. Our first "date" was handshake, second was cheek-kiss. Agenda seems nebulous.
I met him about a month ago when I was out drinking pina coladas in the middle of the afternoon with some lady friends and he was sitting next to me at the bar drinking Sangria in the middle of the afternoon. When my lady friends went outside to smoke, we started conversing about language and whatnot. We decided we should go out sometime and eat some food and talk some more. We have now done this twice and it's been rather enjoyable.
Of course, all potential dating situations are nebulous anyhow because I am "on the rebound", but this guy is a humdinger of a rebound.
First of all, he is 20 years older than me. As those who know me are aware, I tend to favor the fetuses over the fossils. Pretty much every time I've dated an older man, he has been a recent devorcee who was trying to recapture his lost youth via my young ass, and, generally, if I'm going to hang out with men who act juvenile, I'd rather if it's because they are actually juveniles. Anyhow, this guy doesn't act particularly juvenile and although I've determined that he's been married and divorced twice, I'm not sure how recent was the last split.
So anyhow, he also has two masters degrees (mathematics and economics) from Princeton and was classmates with [senate majority leader] Bill Frist. He's aparrently changed his career a few times between finance and computer programming. He was a VP for Citibank, then a consultant for Microsoft, and now is self-employed trading currency futures. Thankfully, he has none of the grating smarm I usually associate with men who work in finance and more of the affable geekiness I usually associate with men who work in computer programming. Also he has his own apartment and a car, which in New York is pretty oo la la. (and although I did not believe him to be bullshitting, I nonetheless fact-checked and at least the Princeton thing and the microsoft thing are true, from what I could find on google).
Of course, then the question is raised: What the heck is this guy doing hanging out with the likes of me? I mean, we get along fairly well and can converse pretty easily and if he thinks I'm a fruity youngster, he's not letting on. Of course, there's still the "young ass" factor, but a well-to-do man in New York could probably find some more trophy-style young ass to tote around if that was his inclination. Still, I tend to have the "exotic" factor that appeals to the recent devorcees.
Anyhow, he's interesting and it's nice to have met a guy in Williamsburg who does not wear a trucker hat or have his "own label." I don't know what's the what, but I'll just keep going with it.
|Wednesday, July 30th, 2003|
|My awful family
I remember when the term "dysfunctional family" became the hot new buzzword. Soon, it was decided that every family was dysfunctional.
Still, I am often dismayed by my own family's resemblance to a daytime talk show (circa the eighties...before all the chair-throwing). This is the root of my "familial detatchment." I don't believe that I'm required to like people just because I'm related to them. Interestingly, although I am the one who distances myself the most from family drama, I am also the one who seems to know the most. Still, this is all preamble, I should get to the story:
I suppose it begins with my Niece. She's 13 and already heading down the devil's highway of promiscuity, booze, drug dabbling, etc. She is the second child of my older brother (and alchoholic) and his first wife (a crack addict). Their first child, my nephew, is 15 and already in Juvie for auto-theft, although he has weekend visitation.
Anyhow, my Sister (a pathological liar) told my Mom (who is an overall nice lady), that the Niece told her that the Nephew was pimping her out to his friends for money and booze and that she had been raped by some 24 year old guy. My Mom was upset and was telling me that she thought that she should tell the Mother about it, although the Mother (having kicked crack and now working at a drug rehab center) over-works to the point of complete negligence of her children.
I informed my Mom that although I do not doubt that Niece and Nephew are going down the devil's highway, I think that my Sister is full of shit about the pimping and whatnot. This is just based on the fact that my sister is a drama queen and notoriously full of shit about everything.
I then went on to tell my Mom about something that my sister had told me about six years ago that I had always meant to tell her, but hadn't: My sister claimed to me that our Step-Father had molested her. I had believed her at first, but soon her story was so full of holes, inconsistencies and downright factual impossibilities that I decided that she was, as usual, lying through her damned teeth.
My sister (who is 4 years younger than me) has lied for effect and attention since she was a young child. I remember her once telling people at the day-care center that I had fallen off a ladder and broken my leg, when nothing of the sort had happened. I always felt that she was never properly negatively reinforced for that, and therefore only got worse over time.
When she was 15, she was date-raped and I often harshly say that she was "asking for it." Although I don't believe that rape is ever justifiable, my sister had a knack for deliberately putting herself in harm's way as an act of defiance, so that when harm came, you couldn't help but throw up your hands in frustration and say "I TOLD YOU SO!" She was asking to get raped the way that someone who runs across a freeway wearing a blindfold is asking to get hit by a car. That incident exacerbated both her victim complex and her penchant for tall tales and thereafter she was constantly fabricating incidents of victimization in order to garner pity, sympathy and otherwise special treatment.
Anyhow, I finally told my Mom about what she had said about our Step-Father, in order that she know that my Sister has cried wolf enough to be of no credibility. I also reminded her of the time that my sister had said things to the school counselor that had caused the counselor to call in our whole family in distress, apparently thinking from whatever my sister told her that my brother was molesting ME (perhaps her too? I don’t know what she told).
I think I was about 11 at the time and I remember trying to explain to the counselor that it was nothing of the sort. I remember trying to explain to her that my brother’s actions were crude and mean, but not sexual. That although there was occasional nudity involved (like he’d pull down his pants to fart on me, or he’d sneak into the bathroom while I was showering to throw a glass of cold water on me), it was not pervy, just obnoxious. Still, I remember the counselor looking at me with that “look” and even at 11, I knew what it meant. She thought that I was “covering up” because I was scared. I tried to explain, with the limited articulation of an 11 year old, but I could tell that it was MY credibility that was questioned.
That was so long ago that I don’t remember what the outcome was. My brother was never “sent away” or anything. Anyway, talking to my Mother the other night, she said that she was relieved to finally know that my brother had NOT molested me, because she said she had always harbored suspicion after that and never been sure.
ANYWAY, the day after our discussion, my Mother apparently tells the Step-Father about the allegations that the sister was making and , to everyone’s shock, he admits that it’s true. Of course, my sister had exaggerated and embellished, but there was, it seems, one incident where he had gotten into bed with her and some “inappropriate fondling.”
Now, my Mother is naturally very upset, as one should be upon learning that their husband has molested their daughter, and has not yet decided what to do. Speculation is that she will probably not divorce him. My Mother, being a psychologist and a Mother by nature, always seems to think it’s her responsibility to fix broken people, although I don’t know that she has ever succeeded in doing so. She’s been married to him too long and it was too long ago. Now I think she just sees herself as the Keeper of the Secret.
I can’t say I’m not a little bothered by my Mother’s penchant for bearing other people’s crosses. She hides other people’s secrets because she thinks it will make life appear more as it should…and she hides secrets that aren’t even secrets, and probably shouldn’t be. It’s like the way she refused to finally admit me to me that there was no Santa Clause until I was 15 (although a little junior detective work had figured that out many years prior), and even then only after some bullying confrontation on my part.
For example, another thing that came out while we were talking was that I told her that I have known all my life that my Dad is into bondage porn. I am a snoop and Dad is terrible at hiding things. I’ve known about it forever and it’s not a big deal to me and I joke about it all the time, although not to his face because the essence of my Dad’s creepiness is not his habits, but that he flatly denies he has them. Like I’ve known all my life that my Dad’s closet is full of booze and porn, but if I said to my Dad, “Hey, Dad, I know that you drink vodka and look at porn.” He’d look at me blankly like I was crazy and say the had no idea what I was talking about.
Anyway, I know that my Mother had occasionally made cryptic references to some secret reason why she had left him and I never came right out and said “THE PORN, RIGHT?” So, anyway, I told my Mom that I knew about the porn and she said that yes, she had found his secret porn stash and been totally creeped out by it and that was the “dark secret” she had kept about him and never told a soul. I guess this only bothers me because I don’t feel like it was a secret worth keeping and that by making it a secret, it only becomes more sinister and fosters an environment of denial. Like when my sister was asked why she never told about my Step-Father, her response was “because Mom was so happy.”
Anyway, I feel really bad for my Mom right now. I also feel all the more weary and disgusted with my excuse for a family. Current Mood: weary
|Saturday, July 26th, 2003|
So I realized today that my level of depression seems to correlate with how much time I spend on the computer. And now I'm on the computer bitching about being depressed, how not-proactive of me.
The problem, as I see it, is that I get unhappy because my life is not as I would like it to be. I can achieve temporary happiness by chatting with folks or looking at stuff on the internet. This, however, wastes time and hinders me from doing anything that would make my life more as I would like it to be, thus creating a vicious cycle. Also, I seem to think somehow that each ding of my email bell could be all my answers to everything, and then am in a constant state of disappointment when it is only viagra online and huge black cocks, which--before anyone says it--are NOT the answers to everything.
My other problem is that I go out a lot and also think that THIS could yeild me my answers to everything. Like all I have to do is meet the right people and my life could be full of zest and I could get a glamorous new job and meet some dreamboat who will mend my broken heart and make me feel okay again. This is also not so because everywhere I go is full of dirty indie-rockers in trucker hats who I fail to relate to and the only reason I go to these places is because I'm the sort of Faggoty McFaggot who likes to hear Velvet Underground on the jukebox every now and then. Basically, I have some notion of a fantasy miracle-bar I could go to where I find all sorts of interesting people who I get along with, but it does not exist...
...unless you want to speak metaphorically of the internet. The internet seems to be the only place where I consistently meet people who interest me and who I find humorous and clever and intellectually stimulating and who share many of my nerdy-ass interests. So, you know, I spend a lot of time on the internet, but the internet does not deliver miracles, either.
So, I guess I'd better get off it right now, huh? Current Mood: discontent
|Friday, July 11th, 2003|
So I've recently been thinking about the concept of "friend dating." Not dating friends, but, you know, when you meet some new person, via work or online or out and about and you say "we should hang out!" and you begin the "friending" process with a few cursory hanging-outs ("friend dates") and see if it sticks.
My trouble with friends is that I'm very lazy and all about convenience, so the friends I hang out with most are the ones who either live near me, are friends with more of my other friends (so I see them for group activity sorts of things), or who have a lot of free time. Still, I like to meet new people and get some fresh blood in the mix every now and then, so then come the "friend dates." The thing I'm finding is that, like with romantic dating, often it just doesn't work out.
For instance, I recently started "friend dating" someone from LJ and I've already decided that it's not going to last. The first "date" was fun and we had lots to talk about, but she invited her boyfriend who is this insufferable Wall street guy who acted like he was slumming by hanging out with the likes of me and who generally seemed like a complete ass. By the second "date," I could see that it was not working out. She was already calling in favors, and it's way to early for that to be happening. Also, I don't see her meshing well with my pre-existent friend group and she does this kind of bothersome thing where she keeps suggesting things I do with my career that are completely hairbrained and baffling. Like she doesn't really know the field, but is just having this brainstorming session where she keeps saying "Have you ever thought of doing this?
" and I'm either like "uh...that's not what I do." or like "Uh...that's what I'm already doing...weren't you listening?" So I think I'm going to "stop seeing her."
Meanwhile, I'm arranging another "friend date" with one of my other internet friends which I'm hoping will be more fruitful. My worry with this one is actually that she
will be the one who's way cooler and may be disenchanted with me
It's really just like dating, only without the sexual tension.
|Wednesday, July 2nd, 2003|
|The Latest Sex Dream
Well, I continue to have sex dreams and I continue to have dreams about the Guy. This last one was both:
Okay, so in the dream, me and the guy bought a hooker. The hooker looked like one of the women in my drawings: cute and curvaceous, with thick, dark hair. She was nude throughout the entirety of the dream and she was very friendly and nice. After we hired her, we just lay in bed with her between us (no sex) and we both held her until she had to go. Then, I got an idea to hire her again and have the Guy have sex with her while I watched. I was very excited about the idea and called her up so that she could come over and then I could explain to the Guy what I wanted. My feeling in the dream was not so much that it would turn me on to watch him have sex with her, but that I thought it was an important thing for him to do and I was excited for it to happen.
I've been puzzling all day about what this dream means. I think I've figured out the last part: That I wanted him to get life experience, but only if I was in some control position where I felt unthreatened. The rest, I don't know. Current Mood: pensive
|Saturday, June 21st, 2003|
|married with children
So I've never really wanted to have children. It's not that I'm adverse to the notion if circumstances were just so, but having children, as a concept, has never been something that I endeavored toward.
For a long time I thought that I didn't want children, period. This is mostly because I have "baby issues" due to their being so loud and unpredictable and the whole shitting/vomiting uncontrollably and not speaking english thing. When I was about 7 or so, someone gave me a baby doll for christmas and I cried because I've had these baby issues as long as I can remember. I've never been--as one of my old roommates would refer to it-- "kid horny." That is, there are people who are totally into kids, as soon as they are confronted with kids they want to play with them and talk to them and hold them and dote on them. Now, I get along with kids okay because we have a lot of common interests, but babies I generally want nothing to do with.
Still, with age I've softened a bit and have actually had pregnancy scares where the first thought wasn't "well, I'm obviously getting an abortion because there's no way in hell I'm having a baby" and more like "gee, I wonder what it would be like to have a baby?" Also, the notions of family and domesticity become more alluring. Suddenly the idea of having a child that was mine to raise seems kind of intriguing in spite of my being conceptually repulsed by babies.
I heard someone talking about a year back, however, about some article they read that said something to the effect of women over 32 or somesuch not being able to have babies or having "weak eggs" or something, so I got into my head the notion that I only had about three years left in which I could have children. This didn't stress me out much, as I was pretty ambivalent on the children thing to begin with. I've always felt that it was a decision that I would not make myself and that someone else would have to make it for me. Like, if I was happily married to someone who wanted to have babies, I'd have babies. If not, it wasn't something I wanted enough to do by myself. So, since I figured the odds of being happily married within three years was pretty slim, I figured there would be no offspring for me.
Of course, since then, I've met several fourty-ish women who are crankin' em out with no conception problems whatsoever, so that whole idea got shot to hell. So now I've got an entire decade--in which it is not an impossible notion for me to conceivably get married and possibly spawn. But, again, neither of these has ever been a "goal." When I was younger and people would ask me if I ever wanted to get married, I'd answer "I want a house." Somehow, in my mind, they were sort of the same thing: stability, committment, accomplishment, etc. Yes, I wanted THAT.
Now, don't get me wrong, I'd LIKE to get married, but because I was never motivated by a goal of having children, it is entirely based on antiquated romantic notions. My desire to get married is only because I want to be THAT MUCH in love, and since being THAT MUCH in love is usually just luck-of-the-draw, it's not something I can define as a "goal." Mostly, I only have goals that I can monitor with graphs (giraffes).
I think when I got upset about the situation with my sister, it was misinterpreted by some as jealousy that she'd had a baby when really it was jealousy that she had a house. I've got such horrible credit that I will never own a house unless I either marry someone with good credit or become independently wealthy. Strangely, independent wealth has always seemed like the more realistic option. I suppose this is probably why I'm such a vehement defender of capitalism.
|Wednesday, June 4th, 2003|
|Why I don't talk to exes.
I do not talk to any of my exes. At this point, not a single one. I'm not even just talking "official" exes...I'm talking even guys I dated once or twice. Mind you, there are a few (mostly "flings") that I'm not on icy terms with, who may, if given occasion, say "hey," but most of them don't anymore anyway.
The reason I do not befriend exes is because the nature of an ex is that they have probably informed you at some point, in so many words, that you are inadequite, not good enough, not up to their standards, too much hassle, etc. This is not something I want in my friendships. This is something I've learned over time the hard way, from being told that befriending exes was the "mature" and "reasonable" thing to do and doing it in spite of the fact that it made me insane. I can't help but percieve everything they do as some glaring reminder of the fact that they rejected me.
Guy says: I'd really like to still be friends.
Translation: You have several nice qualities that I'd like to continue exploiting until I find someone I really
like, and then I can tell you how much better than you she is.
Guy says: You're a really great person. I'm sure you'll find someone in no time.
Translation: Don't feel bad because I
think you're inadequite, there are lots of guys out there with lower standards and it's statistically likely that you'll find one who can tolerate you. The sooner the better, because I want to get you off my case so I can stop feeling guilty.
Guy says: I really care about you.
Translation: Unfortunately, I don't love you anymore. Have I mentioned yet that you're inadequite?
Guy says: I'm not really at a point in life where I can have a serious relationship.
Translation: I don't want to have a serious relationship with you
, but if I were to meet a girl who was better, well, that's another story.
Guy says: I don't really know what I want from my life right now.
Translation: The only thing I'm certain of right now is that I don't want you
Long story short, I don't want to deal with it. I'd rather just pretend they didn't exist and go on with my life.