With the second set of girls… since I left them behind last summer (not my fault they weren’t 21 in time). The little one just turned US-legal so we decided to be sinful for a weekend (like it doesn’t happen every other weekend).
Booked and ready to go. Just need to get through exams first…
So here’s something that’s really been grinding my gears. TMI on Twitter… and Facebook… and pretty much every other social networking site. I’m kind of over this whole updating-everyone-I-know-about-everything-about-my-life.
My last few facebook status updates have been general observations, lyrics from a songs stuck in my head and a funny incident that happened a few days ago. They’ve been spread out over the past few weeks and other than that, I’ve posted a few music videos that I thought my friends would be interested in seeing. I don’t know, maybe I have too much of the blogger mentality where everything is pretty much private unless you think someone else would find it interesting or have something to contribute.
Facebook and Twitter has become the epitome of self-indulgent narcissism. It’s basically a lot of egocentricity disguised as a convenient way to “keep in touch”. Lets be honest here, when you put out something like “Omg stupid bitch just cut me off! Get off the phone!” are you looking for attention or are you looking to get in touch with your 5th grade jump rope partner? Never mind the fact that maybe you should get off the phone. Not just while you’re driving but in general. Hooking up Twitter and Facebook to your mobiles was probably the worst idea ever. Not going to lie, I kind of love it since I can check on everyone from my bed but at the same time it’s given these self-obsessed idiots an excuse to spam my newsfeed.
I’m am no way a social networking fiend and don’t claim to be an expert in internet etiquette but I do live in the real world and I know what is acceptable and what isn’t. And here’s what isn’t…
1) Updating your twitter constantly. Like, constantly. With information nobody gives a crap about. Update if you want. All the time. But why not stick in stuff that I actually want to hear? You’re eating the best cheesecake of your life… cool… how does this help me in any shape or form? Are you telling me where you’re eating the cheesecake? Are you inviting everyone on your list to meet you there? Are you planning on going for a run by my house after? What part of your tweet is relevant to my life? Maybe once a day, you can put out some irrelevant information just for shits but it gets just a tad bit annoying when I’m being updated on how your shoes are killing you every fifteen minutes.
2) TMI. TMI. TMI. No, I don’t want to know that you’re having your period or the current state of your bladder. I don’t want to know your problems with your boyfriend. I don’t want to know how much of a bitch your mom is. I don’t want to know how depressed you are about your life. It’s mostly cringe-worthy because if I don’t want to hear it, I definitely don’t want to hear it on a website where about a million other people can hear it too. If you need to tell me, call me.
By the way, number two gets so much worse when combined with number one.
I have this friend who is having a hard time in her life (she’s just starting to see someone for the first time after getting out of her long relationship and she’s isn’t in love with her job anymore). This is basically how her facebook/twitter feed goes (although thank god, I think she’s realized that she can’t put up half that stuff on Facebook since everyone she has met in her life is on there but she kind of missed out on the fact that her twitter isn’t protected and there’s a direct link to it from her facebook):
9:03 AM: Waking up for another day at work. Want to kill myself. Smell if breakfast is making me sick.
10:39 AM: I hate public transport. Wish I had a car! Screw the environment!
11:02 AM: Cute fedex guy came in. Winked at me. Take me away fedex man to your fedex castle!! Hahaha
1:54 PM: Salad leaked all over the inside of my bag. Yep, today is looking like a good day. At least I get to see Jason later! Am debating texting him right now but I don’t know.
1:57 PM: Texted Jason, hope he texts me back!
2:15 PM: He texted me!
4:32 PM: Finally off work! Quickly going to fix makeup. He’s picking me up in ten 
5:30 PM: Waiting for him to get out of the bathroom. We talked so much, my coffee is cold!
5:50 PM: Says he isn’t ready for a relationship right now. Can’t he see my heart breaking?
6:42 PM: Sitting next to Jason on the couch, I want to rest my head on his shoulder but I don’t want to push him.
7:10 PM: This sucks! Why can’t he just put his arm around me or something? I feel so alone and I let him pick the movie because I figured we’d just be talking but no…
8:02 PM: Having a talk with him about how I feel.
8:42 PM: I don’t understand what I should do. I feel so depressed. Why do I even exist?
9:20 PM: He wants to drop me off because he has work in the morning. I guess I’m not spending the night 
9:20 PM: And I shaved my legs too!
10:13 PM: I am so upset. Why does this always happen to me? I feel so crushed.
1:12 AM: I can’t sleep. Keep thinking about him. I want my stomach to stop aching.
Just wanted to make clear that this isn’t exaggerated in any way or form. I have a few friends like these, this one actually has the same mood swings every day with the dude. I just can’t believe it. In what world is it okay to broadcast this? What if he sees this? You have got to be kidding me!
3) Being so damned negative in all your tweets. Trust me, no one wants to deal with you and your sucky life. They don’t want to be brought down by your attitude and they have more important things to worry about… like their own sucky lives.
And it gets worse when once in a while I take pity and say something like “@soandso: Aww it can’t be that bad. Nothing some margaritas couldn’t fix ?” and I get a “@me: If it were as easy as that”
What am I supposed to do with that? You want attention so you’re airing all your dirty laundry. But when I take the bait and try to chuck it in the washing machine for you, you’re not having any of it. Listen to me, no one likes a girl who wears dirty panties.
There’s probably a million more things wrong that I can think of but I’m not going to bother listing them. I’m just going to go do something productive. Like update my twitter.
I knew it had to happen some day but I am choked beyond belief
Honestly, everyone should read this. I keep coming across it over and over again. God, I love her.
Source: http://www.margaretcho.com/content/2006/03/23/beautiful/
Beautiful
March 23rd, 2006
A DJ asked me, “What if you woke up tomorrow, and you were beautiful? I mean really beautiful. You were 19, blonde, weighed 110 pounds, 5′11″ and beautiful. What would you do?”
Maybe I mentioned this before. But I can’t let it go.
Once a friend was upset about going home.
Me: “Why?”
Her: “Because you can take a cab, but I can’t.”
Me: “Why not?”
Her: “Because I am really pretty. You are so lucky because nobody bothers you. I could get raped.”
Me: “I could get raped too!”
Her: “Marg. Ok, get real now. You would not get raped. They don’t go for girls like you.”
Me: “Like what?”
Her: “Whatever…”I am beautiful now.
The DJ says, “You know what I mean.”No. I don’t. Just because you are blind, and unable to see my beauty doesn’t mean it does not exist. I am so fucking beautiful I have players lined up around the block around the clock waiting for me, and they ain’t even getting any then. The line is just for the wristband yo! I am so fine, 17 year old girls draw my face on their hands and pledge undying love, and lean in too close to me to ask me if I want to buy some candy for their basketball team. “No sweetie. I already bought some from those boys over there, you know, the ones crying?”
I don’t like them too young. Tastes like pee.I am so beautiful lots of gay men who would never consider being with a woman say, “I am a big ol queen but oh yeah, I would definitely get it up for her! Just so I could tell my boyfriend. He’d be so jealous!”
I flashed my vagina at a show in P-Town once, because I was supposed to sing, and my vocal range is somewhat limited, and a leatherdaddy in the audience said he got an erection, and had to question the integrity of his own existence. I didn’t know whether to hug him or spank him.
I am pussy without borders.
My father told me that I was not a pretty girl and that I would need to develop a good personality in order to have people like me. My mother said, “Don’t worry, nobody hate daddy like I hate daddy.”
They were so relieved I got married, “SHE NOT GAY!!!”
Their proudest moment…A ticker tape parade and shit….They don’t really know anything.
I have to believe that I am beautiful because if I don’t I will die. How I lived when I was convinced I was ugly: I starved myself, and fucking fucked as many people as possible- “This body is not going to last!”-but when I was fat again I was still doing it with anyone who was even vaguely interested because I thought I had to. I didn’t know I had the right to turn them down. It was my duty as an ‘ugly’ girl and I should be grateful for whatever I could get. All you had to do was ask me. It was like being a prostitute but I never made anything. I just wore myself down. With bad bad sex. Men who were way too old for me, and should have been arrested, but since it was consensual, I was saying yes to it, because I thought I deserved it. I was an accomplice, victim and perpetrator, and in the act it was like I was being punished for their crime. And that was terrible and lonely. So when some man says to me, “Don’t you wish you were beautiful?” those are like killing words. That’s my death, if I don’t pummel it into his soft, not yet completely formed radio disc jockey skull that I am already beautiful, and I wish for nothing, other than for him to go away.
I am so beautiful, sometimes people weep when they see me. And it has nothing to do with what I look like really, it is just that I gave myself the power to say that I am beautiful, and if I could do that, maybe there is hope for them too. And the great divide between the beautiful and the ugly will cease to be. Because we are all what we choose.
You can’t even get to me. I got special service, boundaries like the rings of Saturn. I am protected. I am four, five faggots deep all around me, who don’t see your name on the list, who will not let you in here looking like that, who will hold you in a cold, hard, unflinching stare or back hand compliment you until you cry. Yes I have security tighter than Ryan Seacrest’s asshole, at least as tight as his publicist says it is.
If you even had the courage to ask me out you would have to do it by mail, sent months in advance, on a single 5 by 7 sheet of eggshell vellum, signed in blood and sealed in gold and scented with a light mist of the new fragrance by alan cumming, just so I could throw it away without becoming repulsed.
I feel as if I’m not good enough. Underneath it all, I don’t even know if I’m worth the trouble. I don’t know if I’m worthy of being loved by anyone. I’ve spent so much time chasing that one guy who I wasn’t good enough for. I feel like I’m never good enough. It’s conditioning I guess. But I can tell myself that over and over but inside… I believe it. I honestly think I do. I just have terrible terrible self confidence when it comes to the opposite sex. I kind of understood it but now… like, wow. I believe it. I really really don’t think I’m worth it. Knowing what I know and feeling how I do right now, if I were a third party, I’d tell a guy not to date me. I guess it is because of him: the asshole who ruined my life (see above). That’s what it feels like to have seven years of something dangled in front of your nose and trying as hard as you can to grab at it, looking like an idiot in the process, but having this understanding that you’re never going to get it. You just think you’ll never get anything.
Here’s an example… whenever a guy looks at me, he’s not looking at me. Because why would anyone look at me? (unless I’m drunk or high… then everyone is looking at me). If he wants to dance with me he is either…
a. funny (prepare to see a group of guys laughing in the background)
b. drunk
c. both
It’s this constant insecurity and I feel as if I’ve had a breakthrough. I’ve always tried to identify pieces of myself in girls I see who have any guy interested in them. A girl my age (she’s hotter), a brown girl (she’s skinnier), an overweight girl (what does she have that I don’t? Right, a lack of self loathing). Okay, it’s not that I loathe myself. I’m just unwilling to put myself out there because I’m just starting to realize that I have this idea that I’m not worth it. And who can say I am? You guys can’t. My friends can’t. My family can’t. There’s only one person who can and I’m not even sure if he exists.
So take my current situation, my dear friend could quite possibly be extremely interested in me. I even revealed my little crush to a mutual friend who assured me that it wouldn’t be a problem with the group if we got together and that whatever cons would come with it (him being teased, the coupleness starting to get annoying, a potential messy breakup) could be remedied (we promise to be friends if it doesn’t work, not be coupley) and the pros would outweight them (we would be so cute together). So now that this issue is out of the way… here’s a new one… does he actually like me?
Friend: He is definitely into you
Me: I don’t know
Because I don’t know. When I didn’t like him, I was certain he was into me. Now I’m not. And there’s this other girl he likes who is totally inappropriate for him and he knows it. She’s making me insecure. He’s making me insecure. I’m too much of a pussy to ask him because I don’t want to know that he isn’t into me.
I’m doing stupid things. I’m not replying to his texts because I don’t want it to him to think it’s too easy and get bored. I’m pretending to be indifferent and then trading that with paying him compliments. I don’t know how to act right now, that’s my problem. My friend is encouraging me to hang out with him more but that troubles me because again, I don’t want to make it too easy and I really really don’t want to friend-zone myself (is that even possible for a girl?).
I don’t know. I don’t really want to know- it’s not worth the risk. Maybe that’s why I’m happy being single. Because I’m just not a hundred percent there. I don’t see in myself what I would want to give anyone else. Especially friend-guy (which is what I’m calling him from now on, I guess) because he is such a good guy. He deserves better than me. And better than that idiot he likes.
I sometimes stop liking him but I think that’s me trying to protect myself from getting hurt.
And then I like him a lot. Then I creep his facebook. Then I see a picture of that bitch he likes. Then I look at the size of her hips. Then I want to go work out.
P.S. I had a dream where he commented on a post in this blog. And I was like WTF DID I GIVE HIM A LINK TO THE WRONG BLOG? Yeah, little freakout session there.
via Is MTV’s ‘Jersey Shore’ Invading ‘The Hills’?.
The Hills (hate)
Jersey Shore (also hate but it’s interesting as shit)
Half the time I want to help these people, the other fifty percent of the time, I want to kill them.
What a mess.
Article is completely right though. I love my life. I feel like a classy broad compared to these people.
Ok, I want to warn everyone that I’m a little tipsy right now so forgive offensive I say… and trust me, I will…
So here’s something else I’ve been wanting to address but have been too busy selfishly shoving my opinion about weight issues and the corrupt youth down your throats. I think it’s time for you to swallow this one too.
Before you swallow that, here’s something else you should swallow that will make it easier for you to understand this (don’t complain, I know you’re used to swallowing).
Actually. I should actually make a list of things you should swallow.
1. Learn how to take a joke
I am a brown girl and I joke about every race and culture (my own most of all). My friends and I make jokes about black people, brown people, white people, jews, christians, muslims, hindus, asians, latinos, whatever. I’m not talking about that.
See when people make a joke about Jewish people, they don’t mean you. You are not the jew who walked into the bar. Just like if someone makes a joke about a guy who does something stupid. They’re not talking about you. Just because you have a penis and the guy in the joke has a penis. The joke isn’t about you. And just like the jew who walked into a bar. Just because he had a bat mitzvah and you had a bat mitzvah, this doesn’t mean the joke is about you.
And lets get real, most racist jokes interchangeable. Where do you hide money so a brown guy doesn’t find it? Under a bar of soap. But see, you could put the money under there for an asian guy too. For a black guy, try his office. For a latino, try his shampoo bottle. These are off colour jokes. We make them about blondes. About men. About women. They’re not to make you feel as if you are inferior in any way whatsoever because there are enough jokes out there to cover all the races and pretty much even it up. Get over it. Don’t get pissy. Don’t take offense. The more you fight it, the more you’re drawing attention to the fact that you suck. And please, especially when a white guy does it.
Which brings me to number two.
2. Reverse racism is only okay if you’re Ricky Bobby and trying to win Talladega Nights backwards
Let me give you a little background on this. I’ve been living in Canada in a fairly multicultural community for the past ten years. The dominant race or “people” in my area are east asians (Chinese, Japanese etc), then maybe persian (Iranians, Lebanese etc), then caucasian (white old school Canadians) and then we have a small mix of eurasians (Bosnian, Turkish), south asians (Indians, Fijians etc), Latinos (Mexicans, Brazilians etc). I am lucky enough to live in a affluent, extremely mixed part of town and can honestly say that I have never directly experienced anyone being racist towards me. My other brown friend lived in a dominantly white middle-classed area of town and said he did experience some in the beginning until they got used to him. He figures that they were suspicious of his culture and not the colour of his skin which sounds about right, really. Because racist white people aren’t usually racist. They’re just ignorant. They’re told to accept you and like idiots, they do. It’s the white man’s burden right? What else.
But people don’t understand that. They don’t care. People of other races and so… freaking… racist.
How is it okay for you to call someone a cracker and them not call you a nigger or a towel head?
A latina can bitch about a white girl and call her white trash.
But if the white girl calls her a spic, the girl will find her and scratch her face out.
And it’s not even about that because most of the time, white people don’t do shit all.
My white friends have been called the most despicable names and they can’t really do anything about it.
Hell, even if they’re standing around in a pub, they’ll be shoved by and told to “move, whiteboy”
That’s not okay. Especially when I’m out with my friends and they get into it with someone from another race. It’s just stupid. If you hate the guy, I’m pretty sure you can come up with a million other things to bully him about other than his light complexion.
And people get really upset. They honestly believe that white people deserve that kind of treatment and should just put up with it. Why though? Because they’re the oppressors? Who has ever tried to oppress you? Pretty sure you do whatever you want which is why you’re not listening to me when I tell you your collar is meant to be folded down.
White people haven’t had a choice about anything. They just ended up in the white person sperm pool. How is that their fault? My friends are average people. They make average incomes, live average lives, have average babies. They’re not imperialists, they’re not slave drivers, they’re not the dickheads on wallstreet who won’t give you a job. They’re just people trying to make it through. They’re probably poorer than you and less educated than you and completely open minded because they have been through all of their K-12 life being taught about sensitivity and acceptance. I guess all the persians were sleeping through that?
I think it’s about time we got over the they-took-our-land/they-enslaved-my-people/they-took-over-my-country-then-pieced-it-up-and-left-us-to-rot bit. They? Who is they? They definitely aren’t the Potters who live next door. Pretty sure they spent last summer camping with their kids and spend the rest of the time working their asses off to pay the ridiculous taxes they have here (that the brown people usually don’t bother paying).
We need to stop thinking about people in terms of their race. It’s fucking retarded. Are your own accomplishments really that mediocre that you have to group yourselves within a subtype of people who have nothing in common other than what part of the world their great-great-great-great grandparents were born in? Stop thinking of people as them.
Go out and make your own life. Do what you want with it and stop blaming other people for your own failures. Especially since you don’t even know them.
Seriously, those poor guys. It’s like the whiter skin a spotlight for someone to come pick on them. Sad, really.
Anyway, lets move on…
3. His testicles aren’t trying to suppress the independent tiger in you
I can’t even get started on reverse-sexism. I’ll talk about feminism showing signs of PMS next week.
NTS: Format this tomorrow or like delete it
Yeah so… I have this guy in mind.
I have a sorta feasible, genuineish, conceivable kindacrush.
I think.
I don’t know… I don’t know. I don’t know. Idon’tknow.
The thing is… he’s a friend
That’s the most amazing and absolutely worst thing about him.
He’s a friend. But I don’t know if he likes me.
Actually, I’m fairly confident he likes me. But I have doubts. Many doubts.
Is this what it’s like? To like someone who likes you back?
To have someone like you and you like him back?
Weird.
We’re part of a group of friends. A group of very platonic friends.
That’s the hard part.
Messing up the group of friends.
Terrible part.
The possibility that we could stop being friends if it ends badly.
That would be an absolute disaster.
Ugh I hate how melodramatic that sounds written out.
Okay so, he’s a friend.
And we always had this super engaging friendly banter.
He’d reference our banter. A lot.
I am being such a girl right now. Ew.
I just want to know for sure, ok?
Anyway, it’s kind of like flirty. Like I tease him and he laughs.
And then he started saying things and calling me.
Then he started not wanting to talk about other girls that he might/used to have a thing with in front of me.
Then he started sending me his favourite music and letting me pick the music even if all my other friends cried at the third rendition of Fly Me to the Moon and complimenting me on my outfits and giving me his coat.
At first, I was a little thrown off. I didn’t really see it coming.
I had the idea that he liked me but he just wasn’t really my type. Not the savvy intellectual.
He’s the hilarious boy-next-door type. The guitar-playing, break-dancing kinda average guy. Like a real guy. Not a type.
So anyway, I think it started then. Especially after I got back from the trip and he said it was lame without me.
But I want to know for sure. If he likes me, I mean. Because he doesn’t make himself available for me all the time, I get anxious. If he’s busy already on a Saturday night when I tell him to come out with us or if he hasn’t texted me first recently (which he hasn’t by the way). I don’t know what it is.
I always told myself not to get in too deep without knowing for sure if the guys actually into me but… what if he’s just being a good friend and he just likes me better than he likes all of our other girl friends?
I feel the need to analyze each of his text messages but I don’t want to tell anyone. I’ve only told two people and they live out of the country.
I don’t know what to do know.
I want to be with him but what if he doesn’t actually like me like that. If he does like me like that, then I can’t not be with him so I’ll have to do what now? So if we start seeing each other, then we just broke our posse ? And if we start seeing each other, what if we don’t work? And plus there are so many religious differences that I’ll eventually have to account for. How can I even focus right now, I’m up to my neck in schoolwork. And why doesn’t he call me? Actually, he’s kind of been withdrawn lately but he waited for me at school today and I kinda ditched him- accidentally. Oh my god, that’s a revelation. He was waiting for me. And I ditched him. I strung him along for two hours while I was in class and then left to go see friends and then he told me to meet him and I had to go to class so he said he was heading home. Ahhh. I’m such an asshole. Sometimes I’m afraid that I take my teasing too far and I sound bitchy. He doesn’t like that I smoke. That’s too specific. This paragraph is all over the place and it’s driving my OCD crazy but I need to get it out.
What is wrong with me?
I’m so confused.
But kind of happy.
Why is this entry so long? I am such a dork.
This post should probably be on private.
Well, I’ve tried posting this through my iPhone about five times already. If this doesn’t work then I guess I’ll celebrate my new laptop which will be (hopefully) arriving before the new year with a WordPress post.
It’s been about a week since I returned and all I can really say is… wow. As my trip was concluding, I was getting increasingly depressed about leaving but at the same time deliriously happy to get back where I belong. I started missing everyone terribly (and by everyone, I mainly mean the Sephora sales associates at the mall).
That holiday was just the thing I needed. Going back to my roots really gave me that affirmation that I had been looking for. I haven’t felt this much of a confidence boost since right after high school when I went through a heavy I-love-myself phase.
I can’t even begin to elaborate why. I guess the first reason would be the assurance that everyone missed me like crazy. The constant facebook posts and text messages throughout the past three months were borderline creepy. When I returned, I was met with a lot of disbelief and excitement. It felt good.
Secondly, my parents were also relieved to have me back after so long. I’m not sure if I mentioned this but a few months ago, a sibling and I had a confrontation and hadn’t spoken to each other in a while. A few weeks back, we fixed it all up via skype and so I had another set of open arms to greet me.
I also got in touch with a very close friend who I lost a few years back. Becoming friends again just felt like coming home all over again and with this rekindled relationship, let’s just say a whole bunch of other doors have opened up.
I’ve figured out my school life and am totally ready to go. I figure I have enough motivation in me to last me until May.
As far as the romantic side goes, I’m still a virgin (thank god) but I’ve had my share of fun (albeit drunk) hook ups. I’ve realized that there’s always an out if I ever need it (read: arranged marriage). But other than that, I spent most of my holiday just taking a break and having a ridiculously amazing time.
Physically, I feel way better (probably thanks to the fifteen pounds I lost while I was back). What’s more amazing is that I never realized how good I would feel even when I came home.
Being away is best this that happened to me and I’m so grateful that I found my way over there. I am in such a great place right now and even the setbacks on the horizon aren’t making me upset. I feel more capable, more attractive, more outgoing…just like a better person in general.
I have no idea where life is leading me. There is no boyfriend or cemented career visible in the near future but that’s okay with me. I’m okay with just being happy for now.
With that note, I hope you all had a merry Christmas and that your new year will be filled with a lot of shiny, sparkly newness.
Just being in this place makes me realize how mediocre my life back home is.
It feels nice to be appreciated for a change. And fuck, I can be myself… not apologize… and be loved more for it.
I am going to be so depressed when I go home. Seriously. There’s nothing back there for me anymore.
