Things I Don't Understand

I've noticed a new trend recently amongst my friends.

Blowing things off/flaking out.

Three times in three weeks it has happened to me, with one particular friend. On two occasions he was too tired to go out. I wasn't angry that he was tired. I was angry that once he never called to let me know what was going on.

The other occasion I hadn't invited him along. I had a game group with some other friends and he asked if he could come. I told him he'd have to ask the host of the game group, though I would like for him to come. So after asking, he decided about two minutes before I picked him up that he was too tired to go.

And I had to call him to figure that out! I HAD TO CALL TO FIGURE THAT OUT. I. HAD. TO. CALL. If someone is too tired to go somewhere, I think they know before two minutes before pick up. Like say, a half hour before.

Look, I don't deny that things come up. If someone got sick, that's fine. Please don't come along, rest and relax! If an emergency comes up, go and take care of it! Let me know what I can do to help you!

I don't think say, staying up all night to play DnD when you knew you had plans is an emergency. (This didn't happen to me, another friend.) I don't think that staying up to watch My Little Pony is an emergency. See what I mean here?

Am I weird? Is it common courtesy? What?

I Won't Say Anything At All

I am flawed in the sense that I have learned very early on when to keep my mouth shut. Alco-Pop always taught me that if I didn't want to get hit, I shouldn't say anything at all.

There are some people, my Bubby's fiancee, Belinda, that I just don't say things to anymore. She consistently says things that are cruel and hurtful, disguising them as jokes.

In the past, I have called her out on nasty things she has said to me. Like in high school, when I once told her that if she didn't like the way I ran my life, feel free to take yourself out of it. Like the whole Halloween incident I previously blogged about. In the end, I don't really bring things up to her, because she doesn't listen.

Instead of taking what you say as something like you trying to help her, or just make her aware of something she does hurting you, she tries to pick your feelings apart. She tries to make you "aware" that she was "making a joke" so you don't need to feel "hurt".

And I can't take it anymore. So when she says something to hurt me, and she isn't ignorant, she knows when jokes she makes are going to hurt you, I ignore it. I shut my mouth. I don't say anything at all. I don't see the point in wasting my breath.

It all comes down to wasted breath. She exhausts me. She emotionally drains me. The only reason I still come around is that Bubby is so very dear to me. Bubby is one of maybe three people in the world (the other two being Mistah Jay and my Charliam) that know how to settle me down. And know when to let me cry. I have held my tongue about their relationship, even though I don't think it is right for either one of them.

I won't waste my breath.

So tonight, she started in on me again. Being hurtful. Calling me hurtful names. And I was upset, visibly, and then she instantly said I was IMing about her or blogging about her. And I wasn't, I was role playing (a guilty pleasure of mine) with my friend Daisy.

Belinda started in demanding to know what I was RPing about, and I refused to tell her. Because every time she finds out about something I like, she goes out of her way to make fun of it if she doesn't understand it. And there are few things I really like that she does, mainly because I have some out there tastes. Just like she hates on my love interests, Mistah Jay included. Just like she hates on She Who Must Be Kept. Or even my other friends.

Tonight she tried to deny nasty things she had said to me. About the things I like... About crocheting... She got defensive. In her mind, Belinda is never wrong. And that's why I don't bother to try and talk about it. I ended the conversation because I have better things to do than bang my head against a brick wall.

She later came to me crying, Belinda did. Crying about how I'm one of her best friends and she loves me and and and and and. I just looked at her coldly. I'm not--not up for that anymore It felt like hot air. We've had this conversation before. We've done this all many times. She always says she won't do it anymore; and she does. I know why she makes these jokes. She makes them to feel better about herself. Putting other people down makes her feel better.

Awesome. Good for her!

I just don't want to deal with it anymore.

She makes me tired.

Happy... Taima Day?

Perhaps I've gotten way more pathetic than previously thought. On Valentine's Day, even though I'm working on a present for Mistah Jay, I didn't think that anyone was going to get me anything.

I was clearly mistaken.

From my "school daughter"; two feather roses, an LED light up rose, a chocolate rose, a red stuffed puppy.

My BFF; a silver butterfly necklace with blue stones, lovely! And perfect for wearing every day.

My future roommate; a stuffed hippo.

My fake boyfriend; a bunch of carnations in a red vase with a white bear and red heart attached.

Why did I get all these things? Because everyone thought no one else was getting me something, and that I'd be sad. I've never really mentioned Valentine's Day, only bumming slightly that Mistah Jay wouldn't acknowledge me (and he didn't). Still working on his present.

Today, I reconnected with a friend. He had previously been a dick to me, and he did admit that today, and apologized. He said he had no idea why he said the things he said, and he was wrong. He hadn't anticipated me being mad for almost a year about it.

Anyway.

The most wonderful part? We both dressed up fancy (and I'm one of three people he does that for) and sat in the ice cream parlor, eating onion rings for three hours and discussing out lives. We talked about Mistah Jay, his last relationship, our friends, our lives.

It was great.

Eating, Uniklubi, and NaNoWriMo

I finished NaNoWriMo--National Novel Writing Month. This makes five years I've participated in that madness, and four years that I've won. I know that "winning" here is a relative term. I don't win anything other than a picture to put up on my Facebook and the satisfaction that in less than thirty days, I wrote a fifty thousand word novel.

This year, it took me about eleven days. I have this nice little novel, one of four, just sitting on my flash drive. I've sent it, and the accompanying soundtrack, to some friends. One has read it so far and told me how much she loved it. Another friend asked for a hard copy, which I am happy to provide.

There are times when I feel like I've had little support with the whole "writing" thing from my friends. My best friend has all four of my novels and has never read one. Never. My other best friend hasn't even said if she started it, and I had another friend say he wanted to "finish his fan fics first." Well, hell, the novel only runs 73ish pages. It isn't going to take that long to read if you don't have to sound out the words!

And yet, these are the people who come running to me for help. It makes me not want to help them. Why should I bother? If they're not going to give me feedback (other than to say "You're such a gooooood writer!" OKAY!) why should I spend time trying to help them?

It's petty of me, I know that. I should help out of the kindness of my heart, not for the hope of reciprocity. Still, I get kind of irate. It'd be nice to have a little feedback and not just; I liked it. Okay, what specifically did you like? What didn't you like? What worked? What didn't?

I've been listening to Uniklubi a lot tonight. I dreamed of Finland last night. I'm dying to go there, but things are so iffy with work, I don't think I'll ever save up the money. I wish I could even just have a Finnish penpal.

Know what's been pissing me off lately? Eating. Food. I've been in that hungry-kinda-nothing's good stage lately. I also just got over a nasty flu wherein I vomited profusely. The last thing I had to eat before I ate was chocolate covered pretzels. I won't be enjoying that snack anytime soon.

I don't want Ramen, I don't want pizza, I don't want spaghetti. I think I want steak, but no one else does. Ugh.

Open Oven; Insert Head

I just can't win with my friends this month.

I had one friend who gave me a poorly spelled TYPED love letter. Why types a love letter? Isn't the point that it is hand written? Either way, at the beginning of this letter, my friend stated that he knew he shouldn't give it to me.

And yet he proceeded to. It bothered me because I have told him quite nicely several times that I am not interested, and I never will be. It bothered me because he knows I am not over the confidence giver, and I have stated that even if I were, I'm really not into the dating scene right now. It bothered me because he stated in the letter that he would even "tape his mouth shut" so I would enjoy our date.

Well, if you have to do that, should you really be going out with me? Not that he would have to. I enjoy hanging out and being his friend. And that's all. He knew this very well. He also knew that I'm working through so much of my own drama, I just can't handle anyone else's.

I put our friendship on hiatus after I told him all this. I told him I needed time away from him, to work through my anger. I told him he clearly needed time away from me, to get over what I had said, and to think about some other things.

Well, we had gone bowling together the night he gave me this letter. Everyone in our party received a pass for a free game. Lovely, yes? It was good for about two weeks or a month. I don't remember. The Love Letter Guy and another boy had given me their passes to put in my purse. Fair enough. I still have both of those and mine.

One of the other boys I had gone with asked me tonight if I want to go tomorrow. Sure, that's fine. I have nothing else going on. I said I wasn't inviting Love Letter Guy. If they want to, go nuts. I just wasn't going to.

"Okay. Can we give (Love Letter Guy's) pass to (other guy's friend)?"
What? Can I just give away what doesn't belong to me to someone else? All nonchalantly, with malicious intent.

"It isn't mine to give." I said stiffly. "You'd have to ask (LLG)."

"Well, you're the only one who doesn't want him to go!"

"I never said that. I said I wouldn't ask him. Don't put words in my mouth." my friend apologized. "What does that have to do with giving away what isn't mine anyway?" which was the crux of the matter.

"But I can't contact (LLG)." my friend protested, like he suddenly forgot how Facebook worked! I gave him LLG's name, which he knew very well, and he messaged him. I'm not sure what the conversation entailed.

LLG then posted a status update about how he had "earned" the pass (we got them for a broken lane), and how it was being "given to someone else." I was quick to tell him if he wanted it, he could just say so. Nothing would be given away without him saying it was okay.

He went on to state in a much injured way that he wouldn't go because he didn't want to upset me. Well, I don't own bowling, and I told him so. I'm an adult, and if I'm not comfortable with who goes, I won't go. Problem solved! So I told LLG that.

He got pissy when I told him not to be a martyr and said he wanted to go. Awesome, fine, go. He made a comment about me "screaming like a stray fighting over tuna." I told him to knock it off and grow up, and added 'kid'.

He apologized then carried on to say he resented that.

I said I adored that he didn't just let it go and KEPT GOING ON AFTER HE SAID HE DIDN'T WANT TO BOTHER ME.

I HATE MY FRIENDS!!!!

And When Did It Become Protocol?

It's been something of an interesting week. I got kicked out of my best friend's house. Mainly because his fiancee started swearing and screaming at me. I told her that she shouldn't talk to me like she knew what she was talking about when she didn't. She told me to "shut up and get the fuck out" and that it was "my apartment, and I'll talk however I want."

For the record, I don't have a problem with the fact that she thought she was right about something that she wasn't. I had a problem with the fact that she took an attitude with me when I gently told her she wasn't right.

So I left. Because if you're going to pretend that you can talk to me however you'd like, that's perfectly fine. But I don't think I should have to put myself through that if I don't feel like it.

Since when did it become protocol to treat your company like that anyway? I always thought that when you had people over, you were supposed to treat them with respect so they'd like seeing you and want to come again. If they said something you took umbrage to, you needed to say it in a respect way.

Sure it's your house. They're also your company that you invited over and wanted to see, ostensibly. So why would you treat them shitty and then be shocked when they took your advice and left? If you're really that bothered by something says, you should just ask them politely to leave.

She did apologize by the way, but was then upset when I merely accepted her apology and didn't want to discuss the matter. Why should I? She apologized, I accepted, and made it known that for the time being I would no longer be placing myself in her home if that was the way she felt. She said she understood, then was certain to tell me that she was concerned for mine and my best friend's relationship.

Well, honestly, I don't think that's her damn business. Her business is her relationship with me. If my friend wants to see me, he knows all he has it do is tell me. He and I can figure it out. That's the magic of being an adult! She also said she didn't think it would be over until I discussed it.

Why? Because she wanted to unburden herself, rehash it, or get in one last dig? Or better yet, wanted to know how I felt so she could make sure to tell me I had misinterpreted everything, so she didn't actually have to feel bad?

Yeah, fuck you! I know it seems like I'm holding onto things. And you know, I probably am. I don't care. I don't feel like I want to subject myself to that if that's the way she's going to act. And I don't have to! ONCE AGAIN, THIS IS A PLUS OF BEING AN ADULT! Huffah!

Money--What the Hell?

I forgot that people at college like to breathe on other people, and get their nasty sicky germs all over everything. And me!I am a germ magnet! The thing that's going around now is some sort of viral bronchitis. I'm not sure if I have it yet, though. Urgh.

September is a very expensive month or me. There are four birthdays that I need to buy for. And while none of the people I am buying things for asked for anything complicated or expensive, I'm still worried. I always get worried. What if they don't like what I give them!?!?

A couple months ago, a friend of mine had his birthday. I asked him what he wanted. (The usual answer between my friends is a CD, a book, a DVD, something like that. My favorite present to give is a chance to go shopping and out to a meal with me. Not because I'm so fabulous people are gifted with my time, but so we can have quality time together not at a party, all my attention is on them, they get to pick out their present so I know it is exactly what they wanted, and the meal is just what they wanted. I've had a couple friends tell me they really like it, especially because I do it after their birthday, so they know what they got or didn't get and can pick something they really wanted and didn't receive.)

"Money," he said. Money. He looked me dead in the face and asked me for money.

"I am NOT giving you money." I spat haughtily. He shrugged and said that was fine. Money! How could you ask for MONEY!

Maybe it's just because of the way I was raised. We weren't even allowed to ask for gift certificates (with the exception of the used bookstore). We were to give a detailed list of what we wanted to someone who ASKED for it. I hated it! I wish I could have just asked for money, it would have saved me *years* of ugly sweaters, ill fitting shoes, and age inappropriate toys.

You know, it seems like if you were going to ask for money, you'd ask your relatives, and not one of your friends. I don't even know why that bothered me so much! But my God, MONEY! I want MONEY.

Prick.

I didn't give him anything, by the way.

How Do I Feel This Good Sober?

I really dislike going to parties. I know that's one of the strangest things you can ever hear a twenty something say. Actually, let me rephrase that--

I don't like the sort of parties that people my age throw.

My parties always involve sleeping on the floor while watching Aqua Teen Hunger Force, after playing Rock Band and watching endless movies, having gorged ourselves on pizza and one another's company. My festive companions tend to wake up, dragging themselves from the room to the kitchen to sip leftover pop and munch on cold pizza.

I don't understand this whole LET'S GET WAAAAAAAAAASTED mentality that most people under the age of twenty seven seem to have. Wasted? What? Why? Why is that fun!!! You get drunk and then you either A) hit on someone early and sleep with them, typically with tragic results B) do something really stupid and get in a fight with someone, typically with tragic results C) puke, with tragic results D) pass out, with tragic results or E) get in a vehicle intoxicated, typically with tragic results, and not always tragic results that are only going to affect you.

Know what I'm seeing that's a common thread in all of this?

Tragic. Results. Tragic, tragic, TRAGIC results. And yet, once people have shaken off their hangovers, wiped the puke off their furniture, their clothes, their hair, once they've chewed their arms off to get away from that ugly person they spent last night with, or once they've woken up in someone else's bathtub---all they can think about is going out to do it again.

Wait--wait--WHAT? You were completely trashed, you have little to no memory of any of the hare brained things that you got up to last night (and not many of them are as innocent as wearing a lampshade on your head) but you want to do it AGAIN? NEXT WEEKEND?!?! And every weekend after?!?!

(I want to note here that for some of those drunk driving accident victims, there is no waking up to shake off their hang overs. For some of them, there is no waking up at all... Please, please, please if you're going to indulge in this point of excess, be responsible enough not to climb behind a wheel.)

Maybe this is because I grew up with Drunk!Dad, maybe it's because I just don't like the taste of alcohol--because no, I am not innocent. I have indulged, and while I have done dumb shit, thankfully there was no long term damage, except perhaps to my ego--but I really, really don't understand this.

But what bothers me even more is the fact that drunk people my age seem to have little to no responsibility for their own actions. They seem to believe that the sober people at the party will keep track of them, make sure they are safe, and clean up any messes that they make, simply because they are SOBER.

I don't know about anyone else, but when I go to a party, I go to have fun. I get paid when I baby sit. And that's not to say that I'm going to let someone drown in vomit, or I'm going to leave broken glass laying around. You better believe I'll clean that up so no one gets hurt...

But I don't want to have to do it in the first place. If you can't hold your liquor, don't drink! Or at least don't drink somewhere that you could get hurt (which is just about everywhere, unless your Sober!friend(s) have agreed to watch you). Like I've said, maybe it's just me who finds the way drunk people act so unattractive.

I understand I sound like a priss in this, but Jesus Christ, I just--I just hate it.

Make Me A Witness

So last night, one of my friends was having an especially difficult time, and mentioned falling out of favor with God.

I spent a good chunk of time telling him that I dont' believe we can everfall out of favor. That we're never half as alone as we think we are, and the two most important things I have ever learned about being a Christian;

1. Nothing we are given in the world is ever going to be TOO MUCH. It won't kill us. I understand (and agree) this is nothing but a cliche, but I really still think it's true.

2. All the burdens that we carry, all the things that are weighing us down... We don't have to carry them alone. We're so fortunate in that we have someone--something--however you need to think of God--to help us carry the burdens.

When my friend asked me if it hurt God or was too hard for God to help us, I quickly jumped in with the fact that no, no it was not. God's like a parent. If you can picture your parent standing at the top of a mountain while you're trudging up it, carryigna huge load, don't you think your parent would come rushing down to help you carry some? So you didn't fall?

In a way, it was really cool to be able to do t hat, because he said a lot of the things I said were pretty helpful to him. I have to confess that I'm surprised he said anything about it to me at all though. I've had people tell me I'm "too cool to be a Christian". And I will admit I'm not the first thing that even pops into my head when I think about Christians.

I dye my hair... I have piercings. I like HIM. I wear leather mini skirts. It's not something I talk about all the time. And when it does come up in conversation, I make an effort not to shove it down my friend's throats. They're not into Jesus? That's cool, I am. Let's share ideas and be surprised about how much common ground we actually have.

(That's not to say I haven't had that fun experience of people who are NOT Christian going on a rampage about how all Christian people are hypocrites, and how they shove it down EVERYONE'S throat! These are also the people that try and tell you how dumb it is to believe in God, and how wrong you are, and how you should just stop... They don't see the irony in it. I get the lulz.)

But hey, here's to hoping I made a difference in someone's life. I did the best I could, and I'm just hoping that what I said will do SOMETHING for him.