"My worst enemies are those who presume me to be harmless. They cannot imagine how much I resent and disdain them, or just how great a threat they would face if I could get at them. Everything in their behavior speaks of insult and presumptuousness, and for now it is all I can do to make constructive use of my anger toward them. At this time, I just make a list of them and keep a watch on. Some day, with the help of time, space, and circumstance, I will be able to humiliate them properly - not in a manner they would enjoy, but in a style calculated to make them wish that they had never been born." ~A.S.L.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Don't touch me
Disclaimer: I'm unloading a rant on you all. Like that's anything new.
I left the house in a pretty bad mood earlier. Don't ask why, I'm not entirely sure where it all went downhill from the time I woke up totally happy, but spiral downward it did.
It was a list of simple errands I was crossing off to do before the start of work/school tomorrow. Pet store, pedicure and pharmacy. Simple, right? No. Wrong. I mind my own business in public. If someone smiles at me or addresses me for some reason, I am kind at best and civil at the very least… probably about 90% of the time. Today tells me that I should really rethink that whole life strategy.
Look, I'm the queen of making small talk when I have to be. I can find something to talk about with a brick wall. That doesn't mean I want to. I believe everyone should have a 'social use' word limit and if you go over, you should shut the hell up for the rest of the day. Now, I'm not complaining because people spoke to me. I'm pissed because two different people TOUCHED me today. On purpose. Strangers. That is so off putting I don't know what to do with myself.
Minding my business at the pet store, a man put his hand on my shoulder while asking me how many pets I have. Raise your hand if you've ever heard the term 'personal space'. Yep, I thought so. My kid even knows it. This is not ok. Don't touch me.
While getting my pedicure, a woman that was seated next to me in the salon grabbed my arm and yanked it closer to her so that she could see my tattoos. Then she decided to ask me five million questions and even though she received a look that ought to have killed and bordering on my worst demeanor and tone, she just kept on flapping those gums. The kicker of the whole thing is that she had permanent stink face, nose wrinkled and everything as she kept proclaiming how she didn't understand why people did that to their bodies. There was an actual moment when I thought someone was playing a joke on me, and that quickly turned into such blind fury that I was scared I was going to get arrested for punching her in the face. As I replay the entire scenario over and over in my head, I simply can't work out what would make this behavior acceptable in someone's mind. Seriously, don't touch me. Matter of fact, don't even talk to me. There's no reason for it.
FOR FUCK'S SAKE. What happened to the days where I was so unapproachable that people may stare at me from afar but would rather poke their eyes out with a stick than come near me? Yeah, I want a piece of those days back. My approachability factor really needs work. I've swung too far over to the other side, apparently.
Side note: I give people a lot of rope before freaking out. I'm no cold fish, either. I am quite possibly the most affectionate and touchy/feely person I know amongst my friends. I have no issue whatsoever with physical contact between myself and those in my circle.
I'm not entirely sure what is so difficult to understand about this stuff.
If you don't know me, don't touch me.
If you know me on a strictly professional level, don't touch me.
If I'm ok with you touching me, you'd be an idiot to not know it… you can touch me.
Simple, right?
People are total morons.
I left the house in a pretty bad mood earlier. Don't ask why, I'm not entirely sure where it all went downhill from the time I woke up totally happy, but spiral downward it did.
It was a list of simple errands I was crossing off to do before the start of work/school tomorrow. Pet store, pedicure and pharmacy. Simple, right? No. Wrong. I mind my own business in public. If someone smiles at me or addresses me for some reason, I am kind at best and civil at the very least… probably about 90% of the time. Today tells me that I should really rethink that whole life strategy.
Look, I'm the queen of making small talk when I have to be. I can find something to talk about with a brick wall. That doesn't mean I want to. I believe everyone should have a 'social use' word limit and if you go over, you should shut the hell up for the rest of the day. Now, I'm not complaining because people spoke to me. I'm pissed because two different people TOUCHED me today. On purpose. Strangers. That is so off putting I don't know what to do with myself.
Minding my business at the pet store, a man put his hand on my shoulder while asking me how many pets I have. Raise your hand if you've ever heard the term 'personal space'. Yep, I thought so. My kid even knows it. This is not ok. Don't touch me.
While getting my pedicure, a woman that was seated next to me in the salon grabbed my arm and yanked it closer to her so that she could see my tattoos. Then she decided to ask me five million questions and even though she received a look that ought to have killed and bordering on my worst demeanor and tone, she just kept on flapping those gums. The kicker of the whole thing is that she had permanent stink face, nose wrinkled and everything as she kept proclaiming how she didn't understand why people did that to their bodies. There was an actual moment when I thought someone was playing a joke on me, and that quickly turned into such blind fury that I was scared I was going to get arrested for punching her in the face. As I replay the entire scenario over and over in my head, I simply can't work out what would make this behavior acceptable in someone's mind. Seriously, don't touch me. Matter of fact, don't even talk to me. There's no reason for it.
FOR FUCK'S SAKE. What happened to the days where I was so unapproachable that people may stare at me from afar but would rather poke their eyes out with a stick than come near me? Yeah, I want a piece of those days back. My approachability factor really needs work. I've swung too far over to the other side, apparently.
Side note: I give people a lot of rope before freaking out. I'm no cold fish, either. I am quite possibly the most affectionate and touchy/feely person I know amongst my friends. I have no issue whatsoever with physical contact between myself and those in my circle.
I'm not entirely sure what is so difficult to understand about this stuff.
If you don't know me, don't touch me.
If you know me on a strictly professional level, don't touch me.
If I'm ok with you touching me, you'd be an idiot to not know it… you can touch me.
Simple, right?
People are total morons.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Worthless
Worthless. That is what I've been all damn summer long. Make no mistake, it's been a mildly interesting couple of months. Let's see. I went to Savannah and swam in the ocean, got a new best friend (in the form of a dog), tried to change my hair color, attempted to stop obsessing over my fitness level and ate whatever I wanted for weeks on end, got another couple of tattoos, let go of some bullshit friendships and made headway on some new ones.
Now to the things I did not accomplish. I did not mark anything off of my 'project' list and virtually quit going to the gym. I was totally unproductive in terms of home upkeep, no deep cleaning or organizing was accomplished, I did not even think of writing for this blog on a regular basis like I vowed to. Really, it just goes to show that when you remove my schedule and structure from my life, I fall apart completely. Only now that I'm neck deep in work have I been inspired to get back on the blogging saddle. It's with a certain relief that I anticipate officially starting back to work on Monday, though I've been working from home for a couple of weeks now.
Tomorrow is my birthday. I know that it's supposed to be my all time favorite holiday, but I've got all sorts of childhood crap attached to it, so it's basically been ruined for me. Not ruined in the sense of 'Boo hoo, I'm a whiny baby who needs a therapist to help me deal with my shitty younger years'… that's just not me and I'm a pretty happy and well adjusted gal considering I was raised in a religious cult. I'm not even mad or really bitter about it anymore, but birthdays are still sort of warped in my brain.
Fact: I have never had a birthday party. I grew up as a Jehovah's Witness….. like totally oddball little me needed yet another reason to stick out like a sore thumb amongst my peers. Month after month, I would watch invitations handed out to princess parties and would wish mightily that I got gifts and was the center of attention on a special day, too. (as an aside, I also think that this whole thing stemmed my total obsession with birthday cake, which is the best food item in the world) I believed with every fiber of my being that I'd only have the splashiest of parties as an adult… full of balloons, lavish presents all showered on me and there I would be, with some sparkly crown or something, waving at all my guests and pretending to be surprised that I was so adored by the masses. It sort of never turned out that way.
First of all, I was poor once on my own. My friends were equally poor. One year, a boyfriend actually bought me a bottle of Mad Dog and put it in an empty Neiman Marcus box and wrapped that shit up. It was supposed to be a funny joke, but when I opened that damn box, all I could envision doing was smashing that bottle on the table and slitting his stupid throat. He didn't last long after that, how could he? Even super poor me had standards.
As I grew up and became less poor, it dawned on me that birthdays were sort of par for the course for everyone around me (after all, we'd all had many of them by that time and for most the novelty had worn off), so no one went too far out of their way to make mine super special. Even with the attempts that were made, I would find myself somehow unhappy. I couldn't ever figure out why, until I realized that in the back of my head I was comparing it to my little girl fantasies.. and there I was, not a damn tiara in sight. Gosh, when I write it down, it does seem so stupid, but I'm nothing if not honest about this stuff. I don't mind putting it out there.
Anyway, it's too late now. I'm completely uncomfortable at this stage of my life being the center of attention and would rather crawl in a hole than be the 'birthday girl'. I'd probably scream, "YOU KNOW I HATE SURPRISES" and go tearing ass out of the room if someone were to make the horrible mistake of trying to do something like that nowadays. I'm actually more comfortable just pretending it's another day… well, except for the gift thing. I so shamelessly love to get presents, it's almost funny. Especially good ones from people that know what makes me tick. (Ever realize how much you can tell about a person by the gift they deem appropriate to give you? Yep, me too. But that's a subject for another day.)
Seems like I'm the hardest person in the world to shop for, if you ask folks around me, though I don't see how that's actually the case. So I've decided to make life easy for everyone. I requested a gun and that's what I'm getting. There. The perfect gift for an outlaw in life. I'm so tickled by the idea that I'm probably not even going to have another birthday meltdown like I did last year. I've decided to put that shit on hold until I actually start looking my age. Then all systems can be a go.
Soon I'll have a CC permit. That thought should lull all of you right to sleep tonight. (insert evil grin right about here) What more could I ask for? Happy Birthday to me. Now someone pass me some cake.
Now to the things I did not accomplish. I did not mark anything off of my 'project' list and virtually quit going to the gym. I was totally unproductive in terms of home upkeep, no deep cleaning or organizing was accomplished, I did not even think of writing for this blog on a regular basis like I vowed to. Really, it just goes to show that when you remove my schedule and structure from my life, I fall apart completely. Only now that I'm neck deep in work have I been inspired to get back on the blogging saddle. It's with a certain relief that I anticipate officially starting back to work on Monday, though I've been working from home for a couple of weeks now.
Tomorrow is my birthday. I know that it's supposed to be my all time favorite holiday, but I've got all sorts of childhood crap attached to it, so it's basically been ruined for me. Not ruined in the sense of 'Boo hoo, I'm a whiny baby who needs a therapist to help me deal with my shitty younger years'… that's just not me and I'm a pretty happy and well adjusted gal considering I was raised in a religious cult. I'm not even mad or really bitter about it anymore, but birthdays are still sort of warped in my brain.
Fact: I have never had a birthday party. I grew up as a Jehovah's Witness….. like totally oddball little me needed yet another reason to stick out like a sore thumb amongst my peers. Month after month, I would watch invitations handed out to princess parties and would wish mightily that I got gifts and was the center of attention on a special day, too. (as an aside, I also think that this whole thing stemmed my total obsession with birthday cake, which is the best food item in the world) I believed with every fiber of my being that I'd only have the splashiest of parties as an adult… full of balloons, lavish presents all showered on me and there I would be, with some sparkly crown or something, waving at all my guests and pretending to be surprised that I was so adored by the masses. It sort of never turned out that way.
First of all, I was poor once on my own. My friends were equally poor. One year, a boyfriend actually bought me a bottle of Mad Dog and put it in an empty Neiman Marcus box and wrapped that shit up. It was supposed to be a funny joke, but when I opened that damn box, all I could envision doing was smashing that bottle on the table and slitting his stupid throat. He didn't last long after that, how could he? Even super poor me had standards.
As I grew up and became less poor, it dawned on me that birthdays were sort of par for the course for everyone around me (after all, we'd all had many of them by that time and for most the novelty had worn off), so no one went too far out of their way to make mine super special. Even with the attempts that were made, I would find myself somehow unhappy. I couldn't ever figure out why, until I realized that in the back of my head I was comparing it to my little girl fantasies.. and there I was, not a damn tiara in sight. Gosh, when I write it down, it does seem so stupid, but I'm nothing if not honest about this stuff. I don't mind putting it out there.
Anyway, it's too late now. I'm completely uncomfortable at this stage of my life being the center of attention and would rather crawl in a hole than be the 'birthday girl'. I'd probably scream, "YOU KNOW I HATE SURPRISES" and go tearing ass out of the room if someone were to make the horrible mistake of trying to do something like that nowadays. I'm actually more comfortable just pretending it's another day… well, except for the gift thing. I so shamelessly love to get presents, it's almost funny. Especially good ones from people that know what makes me tick. (Ever realize how much you can tell about a person by the gift they deem appropriate to give you? Yep, me too. But that's a subject for another day.)
Seems like I'm the hardest person in the world to shop for, if you ask folks around me, though I don't see how that's actually the case. So I've decided to make life easy for everyone. I requested a gun and that's what I'm getting. There. The perfect gift for an outlaw in life. I'm so tickled by the idea that I'm probably not even going to have another birthday meltdown like I did last year. I've decided to put that shit on hold until I actually start looking my age. Then all systems can be a go.
Soon I'll have a CC permit. That thought should lull all of you right to sleep tonight. (insert evil grin right about here) What more could I ask for? Happy Birthday to me. Now someone pass me some cake.
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