Monthly Archives: May 2011

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The Plan

I have made a plan. I like my plan. I know life will probably screw with my plan because that is what life does.

Everyone knows I want to teach in American Samoa for a year. I would leave in a year. In that year, I would like to find a job and work really hard to save money. I plan to finally actually take steps to get healthier. I want to get my stuff in order to be packed and stored for a year and I want to write as much as possible. What I do not plan for nor want is a relationship.

This isn’t some over emotional declaration of swearing of the male gender forever. I like men and some men I like a really lot. I plan on trying the whole dating thing again when I get back. I just don’t see the point in working to find a relationship when I am working to be gone on a year long adventure.  As Spock (the new hot one, not Leonard Nimoy) would say, that is just not logical. Besides, I am a bit crazy right now and maybe that isn’t the best state to start a relationship.

So moving along, the plan after I get home from my fabulous year in Samoa is to come home and find some job in Oklahoma City or Norman. I know I should feel pickier about it but I am going to set my sights on anything that pays me enough to live and doesn’t make me hate my life. I want to get a really crappy apartment in a neighborhood in which I worry about getting shot whilst going out to my car. It will be my crappy apartment and I will have bookshelves for all of my crazy lady books and comfortable ugly furniture. It will have a great bathtub though. It might have a vermin issue but it would have the sexiest internet in the history of internet in shitty apartment.

In my crappy apartment with fantastic internet I probably won’t have a T.V. I will have awesome computers. I am going to have a gigantic monitor. I don’t need a T.V if I have a great computer, sexy internet, and a gigantic monitor. Also, a comfortable computer chair is a must. I want a desk with many cubbyholes and places to stash the evidence of my office supply obsession. I will have a crazy comfortable chair with a lamp beside it so I have a great reading spot. I am probably going to give in and buy some sort of e-reader. I love books, real paper books, but they take up so much room and it is far easier to get e-books. Also, I am going to have a guinea pig or chinchilla. I am going to name it something highly ridiculous and take pictures of it and post them on Facebook. I will blog about it like it is some sad child stand in.

I am going to find a cafe or bookstore to visit every week and sit there and drink coffee and write on my laptop like I am something awesome. Some days I might just sit there and drink over priced fancy coffee and play Zuma. I will find some sort of club or group to get involved with but not a writer’s group because some other writers drive me insane. I don’t want to ever be around someone who wears a vest and calls himself a “word smyth.” There would be tremendous amounts of mocking and maybe a little violence.

This is my dream. It is a small dream but I am pretty in love with it. Let us see how it plays out.

 
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Ego-Tastic!

I am starting this blog off with a disclaimer. I know, even before I start writing this, that people who read this site probably think I am a man hating, ball-snatching, hell beast. I’m not. I can try to defend myself by saying I’m not a man hater and I have many male friends but I feel like that person who says they really are not a racist and they have friends who are minorities. Everyone in the room rolls their eyes and discounts everything else that comes out of that person’s mouth as racist drivel. Truth is, I am not a sexist man hater. I really love good men. I have the privilege of knowing many good men. It is the bad ones that we all hate. This is a tongue-in-cheek look at something that I am noticing lately.

The Human Male and His Ego

Everyone knows the female of our human species is the emotional, weak, and irrational gender. Men are always the calm, well-reasoned, logical, and strong gender. It is the male ego that causes their problems.

I have always been aware of the male ego. I have had many males friends all throughout my life. I am now only beginning to see the all-important the ego is to a normal man.

I cannot pretend that I am some expert on the minds of men. I have only anecdotal evidence from friends and observations. I have also learned that I clearly have no understanding of the male brain when I am in a relationship with them. With that said, the male ego seems to be a fascinating driving force.

It is a delicate thing, the ego of a male. It is also a defining thing for a man.

To Know His Ego

I postulate that if you know the basics of a man’s ego, you know him. I believe it is a complicated, multifaceted thing that shifts and morphs as his life changes.  Knowing what drives it at any point in time helps you understand what drives the man.

What drives a man’s ego?

Most people (especially women) would snort and say sex first and foremost. I believe this is true to a certain extent. Sexual reproduction is a necessary drive for the survival of the species. If humans were not sexual we would not have survived those many hard times in the history of the species. Men seem to be even further hard wired than women for it. I don’t know how much but I suspect it is a pretty big driving factor especially in young males. Sex as a driving force is still complicated. Some guys get ego boosts from sheer numbers of partners or the physical attractiveness of their partners.  Some men get the bigger ego boost from being good in bed. I am sure there are a billion other sexual factors that are beyond comprehension to even the men that have them.

Another ego aspect is the drive for achievement. I think everyone has this, not just men, but some males take it to a special extreme. I also believe this drives the competitive nature and the desire to dominate or be better than others that some men with very obvious egos have. By achievement I do not mean purely winning, I think it is far more complicated than that. It can mean acquiring cars, women, positions of power, status symbols, or the desire to “be a good man.” The men I love and admire most consider caring for their loved ones as their most important achievements. The better their families are cared for, the better they feel about themselves. When they feel like they are failing at that then all hell breaks loose.

There is so much that can shape a way a man feels about himself I could write a small book and not cover them wrong and probably be wrong quite a bit. My point is that understanding what a man values in his self-images can help understand his behavior.

When Egos Attack

Here lies the rub. Sometimes when the male ego gets unbalanced, bruised, threatened, damaged, or major changes shit goes to hell. Women understand taking hits to the ego but not in the same way men do.

Women by nature can be nasty, evil piranhas socially. We are built to be loving and caring but we also enforce our groups social mores. We do this in some subtle and underhanded ways. We like shunning. We like back-biting. Some of the very worst female behavior is based on our drive to force the other women in our packs to behave the way we deem best for our survival. I think this leads to us having a less individual ego and more of a social one. (I know someone has phrased that better but I think other women would know what I mean.)  We have strong individual personalities but our sense of self is more fluid and less delicate.

Men seemed to be judged on more individual criteria. I think they are expected to adhere to the social mores of their group but that is not as much the focus as individual accomplishments. Their individual “manliness” is constantly being judged.

Women are judged on our femininity but we had a sexual revolution. We can define our “womanliness” in so many ways. We are no longer trapped being judged purely on our looks or domestic ability. Men are screwed in this department.

We live in a completely different society than the one that most masculine ideals were defined in. Men no longer have to hunt, build, or protect their women and young from bears. I imagine this makes things complicated.  There seems to be fairly well defined ideas of what it is to be male but the ways of conforming to that seem confusing as hell. I have no solutions, only sympathy.

Anyway, so the male ego gets severely  threatened and all hell breaks loose. I know from personal experience that a lot of the abuse that males perpetrate on the people around them comes from insecurity and diseased egos. It is human nature to sometimes want to tear people down when you are low yourself. Its a power thing. It is a dickhead thing. Don’t do it.

Midlife crisis is ego. Some cheating is ego. The man starts to feel bad about himself so he seeks other women to build it up or the idea of having multiple relationships makes them more manly. This is dumb. Get a hobby, or, better yet, try to build your ego on how well you take care of your loved ones.

Men, women want to love you. We find you fascinating, sexy, funny, or a billion other things. We just get annoyed by having to pander to your ego. Women, we love our men and they have their egos. Be aware of their ego and treat it with respect when you can. Your man can’t help it, he is just built that way.

 

 
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Doot Doot Do

I am working on several things in my head but my head is only semi-functional so I am not going to attempt anything good. I am going to write something though. It is Saturday and Saturday is a blog day.

I got a sunburn Wednesday and it is kicking my ass still. I felt like a wuss until I realized a good portion of my shoulders and upper back are a field of blisters. The white patches that are numb worry me a bit more. Mostly now it is just the headache and being worn out that annoys me. I am hot and pissy. I will put on my big girl panties and deal. Damn being a creamy skinned princess and a wuss.

Apparently my focus is even worse than normal. I hit the enter key to start another paragraph about something then took a drink of water and noticed a bug bite and in midst of poking at it I got totally lost in thought for a good three minutes.  I have NO CLUE what I was going to write.

 

 
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The Things That Were Saved

Yesterday was one of those days that will live with me forever.

As long as anyone can remember Chickasha proper has never been hit by a tornado. Tuesday ended that amazing streak.

Nature

Tuesday morning I was writing a blog and I realized the women in my life that I missed. Tuesday evening a tornado obliterated one of those women’s mom’s house. Her mom is one of the kindest and most caring women I know. It is rare to meet someone with such a giving spirit.  Yesterday I went out to help with what I could.

I have lived in Oklahoma for two decades and I have never seen anything like what I found yesterday morning. The destruction was the most terrifying and beautiful thing I have ever seen. I always read descriptions of tornado damage and snicker a bit at the cliches. Now I get it.

The first thing you think when you drive through is that all that rubble used to be houses. The colored smears littering the sides of the roads and in the trees where someone’s life. The tank the size of a small house wedged in the tree tops takes a moment to process. The sheet metal wrapped around a tree is so incredible it makes your brain stop and rewind a bit.

Later that day after the shock wore off I got to really see the scene. The trees amazed me the most. When you live in Oklahoma you know intellectually what tornadoes can do to trees. Actually seeing the trees stripped down past their bark and some picked up whole and thrown down a few feet away like an arbor graveyard is completely different from knowing anything intellectually. I still don’t know how I feel about thinking it was so beautiful.

The things that the tornado saved was stunning and random and sometimes heart breaking. The house was completely ripped off it’s foundations and dashed against the side of the road or into trees. Yet, we found things like an unharmed bottle of cheap champagne. I found a mirror that was completely undamaged. There were pictures scattered among the broken glass, raw bacon, and insulation. Delicate little porcelain figurines survived without even a chip. The most fragile was a four day old puppy. He lost his mother and siblings but he lived and is getting the best of care.

The People

The bad

The police had road blocks set up on the road that lead into the area I was helping in yesterday. One could hope that it would prevent the ghouls away with their cameras and their gawking. No such luck. I know it is natural curiosity but when you are there with the person whose life it is mangled and strewn out naked before the world, it is hard to understand that curiosity.

The incredible

When I showed up at about 10:30 am a few people had shown up to help but it was pretty quiet. I realized that we needed tools and there were some cats that needed caring for so I left to handle that. When I got back about an hour and a half later there was an army there.

People from this woman’s work took vacation days to show up and help her. They had shown up with pizza, chairs, bags, ice chests, and sunscreen. About nine women and one man came over simply because they loved this woman. Karma did not cause the tornado but her kind and giving spirit did bring her friends out to help her.  She got offer upon offer for places to stay and people were practically begging to help her.

By this time, too, the traffic had started to pick up. I was annoyed honestly and I had to pretend they were on their way to help others down the road. I was about to start getting hostile with the vehicles until the first complete stranger stopped to ask if we had water.

The other army mobilized. People had bought flats of water and were driving around offering water to everyone they saw working. As the day went on more and more offers of water came by and one woman had went and bought packages of cookies and baby wipes and handed them out. The effect of a cookie and a wipe to clean your face is astounding when you have spent the day sweating and worrying. I am tearing up thinking of it.

There are many many things that I do not care for about this state. Everyone has heard me bitch about it. This is why it is worth staying. The people of Oklahoma care. They will judge the crap out of you but if you are in trouble they will open their hearts and help with everything they can. Helping and caring is not a choice here, it is the way of life.

Today I am sunburned and sore as hell. I don’t know that I did much good yesterday but I do know I saw the best of what people have to offer here. I am thankful.

 
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If There Ever Was

I got a Facebook message today from I woman I had been friends with in World of Warcraft until some guild drama ended our friendship. It really got me thinking about that period in my life.

awesome worgen image I stopped playing WoW about two months ago. I do not miss it.

God has it really only been two months? It feels like my life fell apart ages ago and I have been scrambling to put it back together while being emo and moody for far longer than that.  I might not being too bad for two months out.

Anyway, I stopped playing WoW and there is not a part of me that misses it.  I miss some of the people. I miss the feeling of community I had since I haven’t really formed bonds in Rift. I do not miss the overwhelming spot I let WoW have in my life.

I am not one of those reformed WoWheads that believe it is evil and will destroy your life if you play it. I believe it is addictive and that it is very easy to lose perspective when you play, but I feel like that is true for many many things. I think it is also true that if you lose balance and let WoW take over your life then it is most likely because something was wrong in your life.

My biggest issue with the game was that I always invested far too much emotionally into it. I allowed myself to get wrapped up in the drama that is inherent with 12 million emo gamers doing anything. My very nature is to be social and to care about people. I forgot to draw the line between caring about my other gamers who are real and do matter and the game which means nothing. I also became very comfortable allowing World of Warcraft to fill some very important roles in my life.

I need social interaction. I need friends. When I moved back here, I felt my lack of friends painfully and distinctly. I could get that big group social dynamic from the game really easily. This is the thing non-gamers don’t understand and it is very important to try to wrap your brain around, the relationships you form with other players are real. We do form relationships with genuine emotion in them. “Normal” people have a hard time understanding that since people have a tendency to put such emphasis on face to face interaction. MMOs are a bonding experience for gamers. We have a big community of people like us. We are a subculture that crosses most socio-economic barriers and most of us delight in this world of people like us.

I don’t apologize for using WoW to make friends and get a social group. I don’t even actually regret it. Now, though, with two months out of it, I miss my “real life” friends more than ever. My regret is that I lost some motivation to hang out with friends I have had for years because I had a readily accessible social core just by turning on my computer. I write blog entries and get responses from Renee, Jill, Lynsie, and Amanda and I realize just how much I miss these women. I may be the fifth wheel when I hang out with the Kreigers and the Hagans but I miss it. It is my own fault too. When I was WoWing all the time, I started to feel awkward around groups of friends and I thought it was the WoW, now I realize that it is me. I have always been awkward and I need to not let that worry stop me.

I also let WoW fulfill my need for a sense of accomplishment. I have a strange sense of self-worth. In order to be happy I have to feel like I am doing something with my life. When my WoW was at it’s most insane, I was not in school and if I did have a job, it was a half time job with no chances of advancement. My self esteem was low because I felt like I was wasting my life away. That wasn’t World of Warcraft’s fault, it was mine.

I don’t know that I have any conclusions yet. I don’t feel like I wasted years of my life. I don’t have regrets because I feel like there are lessons in there, I just have to be willing to look for them. Every small thing in my life has led me to this point. World of Warcraft was one of those things. Things may hurt, things may be hard, and I still have moments of intense melancholy but feel like I am where I need to be in my life. I feel like once I get through this there will be something wonderful, even if it is just a lot more knowledge. I need to think some more.

 
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The Thing is…

I was trying to avoid writing about the rapture predictions. I really was. I cannot though. It is just too beautiful.

Most people are a little fuzzy about my religious beliefs, I am a bit fuzzy about my religious beliefs, but most people think I am an atheist. I’m not. I believe in faith and belief. I don’t care about what you what you have faith in (God, family, science, the great flying spaghetti monster, anything) , just that you have it. I believe that faith should bring us together not separate us. I also kind of get a rap for being anti-Christian. I have earned this one a bit. Let us get something straight. I am not actually anti-Christian, I am kind of anti organized religion in general. I don’t think there shouldn’t be organized religion, I just think it needs to take itself a bit less seriously. I am not okay with religion dictating current social policies. I am not okay with being preached at by people who know less about their faith than I do.  (And, btw, part of the reason for Christianity’s early success was that it accepted everyone and taught them love. I wish anyone who tried to convert me would remember and tried that angle not the “fiery pit of hell” and “be right or be punished” angle.)

Oh god!

So know when I make fun of the rapture nutjobs it is not because they are Christian, it is because they are idiots. I look at it this way: if they are right, they have eternity to be filled with smug self satisfaction, if they are wrong, then, seriously, don’t they look silly for following Harold Camping.

This is not Harold Camping’s first go at this rodeo. He predicted the apocalypse in 1994. He was sure about it to then. He and is followers packed into an auditorium and waited for the Rapture. I really wish I was there for that “Aw, fuck” moment. So he goes home redoes some math, revamps his media spin machine, waits for mother nature to go freaking bonkers, then comes back out and says, “Dood, this time it is for realz.” Life is hard right now. The world is in turmoil and people are scared and insecure so people buy into it. I am not surprised that people bought into it, I am just surprised about how many people drank that kool-aid.

I read a bit of his methodology. I know faith is about, well, faith and not proof but that does not mean you should completely divorce commonsense from your beliefs. Seriously.  Billboards and radio talk programs do not mean it is legitimate.  Also, these are the same people who mock me for believing in evolution.

So, to you folks who believe that Harold Camp is another prophet and at 6pm you will shuffle off this mortal life and ascend to Heaven, please understand we don’t feel bad for poking fun of you. The entire internet is mocking you. Also understand that at 7pm, if you are still here, the world will giggle at you but tomorrow morning all will be forgotten. You will have to take some teasing but the people who loved you at 5:45 pm today will love you tomorrow morning. They will just think you are a sucker.

Personally, if the rapture happens, after my chagrin at my  arrogant assumption that I knew it possibly couldn’t happen passes, then I am really stoked at the shorter wal-mart lines.

 
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A New Day

Anyone who read Tuesday’s blog knew I was in strange place in my mind. I was sad and worn down. I could not gather the strength to be positive and optimistic. I did the best thing I knew how to do; I wrote. I wrote honestly and openly and I cried the entire time. I stayed moody all day and had to work hard to not yell at people. I play video games moodily. I did not know a person could play video games moodily but I managed to do it. I felt tired and done with it.

Yesterday, I woke up and made coffee. I checked around the interwebz.  Then I decided to revisit my abandoned WorldTeach application. I had stopped working on it because I needed my transcript and I needed a resume. Things, of course, did not go smoothly with getting my transcript and I gave up because the process seemed too big. I had not looked at it in about a month until yesterday.

Yesterday when I went back I realized there were a lot of smaller things I could get done. Instead of concentrating on my transcript and resume I sent my two references the materials they needed to fill out. I printed out the essay questions. The questions are a bit complex and the essays are only 200-300 words so I would have to be concise. I am not so good at concise. I started to get a bit discouraged until I decided I did not have to write them immediately, I just had to start working on them in my head. Things seemed a lot easier.

I have tendency to be stubborn. (Shocker, right?) I have been trying so hard to do the right thing and be strong. I felt like I had to push to be strong and be healthy. I believe happiness is a choice and I believed I was not working hard enough for it. Tuesday it broke. I had nothing left. I admitted it and I felt it. There was no perky and positive left. Wednesday, I woke up and things seemed brighter.

The things I did yesterday seem small when I look at them. I got my references lined out and I started one of my essays. I worked out. I did some housework and I did some things with some pictures. I made steps though and that is the most I have done in a few weeks. I felt hopeful and stronger.

Today there is still hope. I still feel like I can handle the things I need to do.  I don’t know how long it will last. I am pretty sure I will go through more whiny bitch patches. I just love that I know for sure there is something better behind them.  I’m excited that I might stop writing these wordy, self-introspective posts. I am excited to be excited again. So, for today at least, I am happy. I am going to enjoy it and figure out how to handle what comes next when it comes.

I also promise Saturday’s blog won’t be so crappy angry teenage poetry. Even I am bored with my own angst.

 
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The Problem with Monsters

Sunday I cut all ties with my ex. I can still e-mail him but there is no way to erase the email address from my mind. He could e-mail me or leave comments on the site if he wanted to but I have done all that I know to do to move on. It sucks. It is painful. It is lonely. I will live through it.

The Problem with Monsters

Truth is I still love him. I have a feeling I will always love him. In some ways, he was a great guy. We had some really great times. When things were good, it was the happiest I had ever been in my life. He was smart, funny, sexy, and very good at World of Warcraft. He was also emotionally abusive.

The problem is that he was not a monster. He was confused and emotionally damaged. I felt him working very hard to overcome and become a better person and that is why I stayed. I saw so much good in him. I had hope that if I loved him enough and just hung in there, things would be okay.  I was pretty dumb about that. (Did I drink that kool-aid?)

I think that is the problem most people in emotionally abusive relationships face. The abusers are not some monsters with dripping fangs or we don’t have to cover bruises or make lame excuses during hospital trips. We have to make smaller, more subtle excuses. Most of them, we only have to make to ourselves.  After awhile we become really good at these excuses and they automatically spring to our minds and we don’t even notice we are making them.

One of my friends and my role model for internet goddess Sara O’Flaherty said:

It’s easy to make excuses for people we love, and as it starts to hurt less we tend to not think it was as bad. Sometimes you have to take that shard of glass and dig it back in the wound to remind yourself how utterly awful it was.

When it began I knew it was abuse. I thought I was strong enough to face it. Somewhere in the middle of all of it I forgot to face it and just took it. I had my reasons. By the time he broke up with me, I was so confused I didn’t know to be outraged. I had lost track of how I was supposed to be treated. I had gotten so wrapped up in forgiving him and loving him, I had forgotten about me.

I hate admitting this, it is part of the shame, but I only knew something was wrong by the reactions of my friends. I feel like I should have come out of it mad and outraged. I am still ashamed at my lack of indigence.  It should not have taken Tina’s rage, Sara’s swearing and name calling, and Lanell holding my handing telling me “honey, he abused you, you were abused,” to make me see things were desperately wrong.  I am even more ashamed that I made excuses for it in the beginning. Truth is that the shame isn’t helpful. Truth is that I went through what way too many women (and men) go through.

Now all I can do is try to look back at what happened and examine it without the excuses and the shame.

It is hard to know when it all began. He had been tempestuous before we even got together. I didn’t know enough to see that as a warning sign. He very obviously loved me, even in the beginning.  In the beginning, he would tell me how smart, beautiful, and talented I was. I was like a flower growing in summer sunlight. I liked the me I was with him in the beginning.

He had a temper even then and I was afraid of it even then. In the beginning, though, he always knew when he overstepped. So many times in the relationship, I would be on the brink of leaving and he would do something that kept me there. Everyone seemed to noticed that he had a sixth sense of right when he was about to push me too far. I still remember things being good most of the time. I have no idea if I was wrong or not.

Then the big bad happened. I called it “the rough patch.” That is like calling Mel Gibson a little unbalanced. I think this is when the excuses started to flow like spice on Dune. I understood why he acted the way he did. I think I forgot that understand why someone is acting they do is not the same as it being okay. I know I knew there were things that were not okay but I was going to wait for things to calm down to talk about them. Things never really got good after that. I was stubborn and I loved him so I kept pushing.

I am coming to realize that the details don’t really matter except to help remind me of how things that happened where not okay. I know how a man is supposed to treat a woman. I know how a woman is supposed to treat a man. I know I wasn’t being treated like that. It is so damned hard to admit that I have issues believing I can be treated well and loved and cherished. I see men bending over backwards for the women they love. I was raised by a good man. I am surrounded by good men. I know what they are supposed to be like. My self esteem is so low that I have a hard time believing I will ever be treated like that. It is a hard truth to face. Strong woman is screaming.

There is just so much. One thing leads to another to another. I get lost in it in my head. I don’t really know how to best handle it all. I do think it is best to take Sara’s advice and keep poking at it until all the poison drains from the wound and all I have is a scar. I know I need to get a job. I know I should be doing a billion other things. Knowing something and making it happen are often different things. Some days I don’t have the bravery to face the immensity of the world. Most days I don’t have the bravery. I will try and start then something else will come up and I just get too discouraged. I try so hard to be positive but some days I just don’t have it in me. Every once in awhile it becomes so much that part of me just wants to not exist for a few minutes.  Bah I am getting way off track.

The point was supposed to be that many people that do this are not the monsters we want to believe they are. The effects are profound. The damage emotional abuse causes is real and painful and scarring, just as scarring as physical abuse. I am not saying that because these abusers are not monsters that what happens isn’t monstrous. I needed to realize this. I needed to come to grips with the fact that I stayed not because I was weak but because I am human. It is a hard balance to walk. I loved him for a good reason and I have to remember that while realizing why I couldn’t stay.

If you do happen to read this, know that part of me will always love you. There is good in you and I believe in that good. My greatest hope for you is that somehow you heal enough so when you are ready, you can be happy and you can have the kind of relationship the best parts of you deserve. Closing that door was the hardest thing I have ever done. I know you have it in you to be an incredible man someday. I just can’t wait for that someday.

 

 
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But I AM Right!

I have fully embraced the world of the internet. I love the interwebs. I love the good, the bad, and the truly disgusting. No, I don’t want to read about your sexual exploits or look at your heinous wounds but I love that you feel okay with posting it. There are things I don’t like such as posting embarrassing or exploitative photos of others without permission or of course stuff that harms kids. It makes me a bit uncomfortable that you can find information on how to create bloody mayhem on the internet and other dangerous and damaging things. Truth is, though, the internet didn’t create any new problems, it just made the old bad things easier to do. So I open my arms and heart wide to the flawed dirty being that is the internet.

Trust me, the denizens of the internet are dirty, flawed, and sometimes nasty little shits. Trolls abound. Mostly these are sad little people who got picked last for teams one too many times and decided to take revenge by anonymously cutting down other people. Some people like the internet for pretending to be someone else and creating havoc for others. Mostly, though, the bad internet creatures are like me, well-meaning, over-sharing, self-righteous twits.

The internet proves the old saying: opinions are like assholes, everyone has one and they all smell bad.

Earlier in the week I was having a conversation with Tina that got me thinking about this. We were talking about a facebook post from a mutual friend. Neither of us remember what the post  was about but she told me about a response that really got me thinking. She said someone replied “no one cares what you think until you prove that you do” or something along those lines. It is so true.

I have many different friends of many different religious beliefs, socio-economic standings, and sexual orientations. I have military friends, I have dirty hippie liberal friends.  Most of my friends are raging nerds but I do have some non-nerdy facebook friends. My sister is the most normal person I know and she is my facebook friend. Most of the time my posts are fairly innocuous. I try not to swear too much. I try to keep my posts mostly non-political. I also try to show sensitivity to the various religious belief systems of my friends. Sometimes, though, I cannot help myself. I’m a blogger. We have many many opinions and we are conceited enough to write about them.

I can really only think of two that really got responses from  a lot of people. One was my outrage about, well, everything Arizona seems to be doing politically. The other was my joy at the death of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.” I am not going to go into my feelings on this more because you guys have smelled my opinion enough on those.  The point is, people on both sides aired their opinions. I don’t believe I got any personal attacks and I think everyone stayed on topic. I actually thought it was pretty cool. Before I posted on the topics, no one cared the slightest bit how I felt about those topics. By posting about my opinions I opened myself up to having people disagree with me. I got lucky because everyone was civil.  The simple fact of internet life is that whenever we post anything we open ourselves up to the opinions of others.

Tina taught me something. Mommies are the most cutthroat, self-righteous group out there. Tina Fey posted a bit of her book BossyPants and it was a prayer for her daughter. She wrote a few cuss words. The mommies brought out the switchblades for that. I have seen mommies tell other mommies that they are horrid for feeding their kids gluten and should have child protective services called on them. I personally think that any social worker would love to deal with a mommy who puts diaper cream on their child’s face and fed their child processed sugar over the kids that have been beaten, molested, and neglected.

The other self righteous group is nerds. They are actually awesome in how freaking nuts they are. Nerd rage is glorious whether it is about games, electronics, or popular culture. I have seen people revert to third grade name calling over Batman Comics and computer processors.

In my pondering I have not come up with much in the way of conclusions but I do know if I open my mouth I bring the hell fire upon myself. That is what I get for airing my asshole… er, opinion. Also, seriously people, try to be more polite to each other. When you are writing in response to something think about what your kindergarten teacher would tell you. Respect.

 
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Atleast There is Coffee

So, like the day of the wasp (the picture of the wasp, not a white Anglo-Saxon Protestant), I have nothing cool and insightful to say. So I am just going to say a bunch of things until I have nothing else to say.

My mom looked at me yesterday and said “what is the deal with your face?” I am really glad I am not going through an emo, insecure period right after a bad break-up in which I am trying to deal with rebuild my image of myself. That might have stung then.

I really want a sarcasm font.

I have been moody as hell lately. I can’t tell if it is actual depression or hormones. That could explain the deal with my face. Either way I have been emo as crap. I am thinking about dying my hair dark and wearing lots of eyeliner. I will carry around an expensive looking bound journal and tell people I am journaling through my pain. Anyone know where I can get some large angry looking boots in a ladies size 10?

The good thing is I have been pleased with my writing. I don’t care if you guys are just being nice because I am that obviously unhinged, I like the approval and I am not above being lied to.

fuzzy bunny

Behold the fuzzy fuzzzy bunny.

 

Look at the fuzzy bunny. LOOK AT IT.

 

Look at it…

okay

 

So I have started working out again. I enjoy working out because I am strange. I am doing a strange work out cardio video and Pilates for the really out of shape folks. I have only been really sore one day. and on that day I rested.

I turn thirty in November. I have decided that I would like to have hot enough legs by then to wear a short skirt. Stacy London tells me that it is bad form to wear mini-skirts after 35 so I would like to wear a short skirt and have it look good atleast once before then.

Are you looking at the fuzzy bunny?

The only bad thing about working out is that my butt is constantly sore and you cannot complain about that like you can your legs or arms being sore. People think I was having waaay more fun than I actually did.

Speaking of sex, yesterday I was thinking about how rusty my flirting with intent skills have gotten. I can still flirt up a storm on accident or with someone I have no desire to sleep with but I found that my “game” is sadly lacking.  I was pouting about how bad fifteen months had damage my man getting skills until I had a realization. I never really had man catching skills. My “game” consisted of wearing low cut shirts and hoping that whomever I was lusting for found socially awkward and slightly insane incredibly sexy. Maybe by November I can up my game to socially awkward, mildly insane, sometimes funny, boobs hanging out, and in a short skirt. Hey it never hurts to have goals.

And now my coffee cup is empty. Good news is that I have an idea for Saturday’s blog. I just need to do a bit more writing in my head. I hope you enjoyed the fuzzy bunny.

 
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