Last night's post was in part a product of a few too many beers and a bad mood. On waking up only slightly hungover, I have found that I would rather clarify it than delete it.
Item 1: I'm a good listener. It happens in my life that people think they know me well even when I have never really confided much in them but HAVE been there for them a great deal. This is strange to me but I accept it. I am always happy to count someone as my friend, but this does not mean I consider them particularly close or a confidante. I will be friends with anyone I like and think is basically a good person, but the bar for me being willing to confide in someone is considerably higher than that.
Item 2: I am connected with many different kinds of people. I view that as a big positive. I like that I attract vastly different individuals to my life. A side effect, however, is that many of the people in my network don't get along or actively dislike each other. That's fine with me because I don't choose my friends' friends -- it's not my business.
Item 3: However, some of these people don't understand that it is not THEIR business to choose who I am friends with, and also that it is not particularly polite to verbally bash someone they know I care about. I draw a line that I am always quite happy to explain to others: It's fine with me if you need to let me know you don't like someone once. Example: "I'd rather not come to ____ because I don't really like so-and-so." It's not OK with me when someone repeatedly talks shit about someone they know I care about -- particularly when they expect me to understand and be supportive! IT IS NOT MY JOB TO COUNSEL YOU THROUGH NOT LIKING SOMEONE I CARE ABOUT. THE END.
Item 4: Furthermore, to put it quite bluntly, I am not willing to entertain anybody's opinions but mine regarding who I should and should not have in my life. The person who knows what is best for me is me. The person who understands me the best is me. If you don't understand that basic fact, hey! Let's not be friends. It is one of my few dealbreakers.
This is NOT aimed at one particular person because this situation has happened way more than once in my life.
It is not meant to make anyone feel guilty or to draw an apology.
It IS meant to draw a very clear boundary of what I find acceptable and what I do not.
Sun, Jul. 8th, 2012, 01:22 am
Let me explain.
I could give a shit what you think.
It is what I think that counts.
If you don't understand, I do not care about that either.
Have a good one I guess.
I've been playing housewife to myself for the long weekend. Am I really so antisocial that I would rather scrub my tub than go to a barbecue with family and friends on Memorial Day? YES. And that's just fine.
I cleaned the way people used to clean before corporations realized housewives were full of delicious purchasing power and started aggressively marketing to them. Baking soda on the tub. Salt and lemon juice on the rust stains. Vinegar on the tile floor. (Then some eucalyptus to make my bathroom not smell like potato chips.) One trusty little sponge that saw me through the whole ordeal.
It felt nice -- I actually enjoy cleaning. Like many things, I have let it go in the past because I've felt that I need to pour all of my time into my goals and ambitions rather than worry about pesky things like having a pleasant home environment. I decided a while ago that I wanted to put an effort into making a nice habitat for myself, and I've been slowly making my new place more and more awesome. It feels good to take good care of it. And me. And I think looking around and feeling at home actually has a beneficial effect on my ability to pursue my goals. I hope so, anyway. Workaholic Rorbot gets a little anxious about it sometimes.
My cable repair guy's important diagnostic questions:
Do you have kids yet?
Are you married yet?
Are you Irish, or Jewish?
My cat Mama clearly agrees since she has crawled under some blankets in disgust.
Inspiring and relaxing the first time I get out in the summer without wearing much. I went to a bridal shower yesterday in a sleeveless dress and sandals that laced up my legs. Got a lot of positive comments on the sandals and not a single comment one way or the other about the fact that I don't shave. Which is kind of the way it should be.
I know that a lot of natural women get very stressed about summer attire and some opt out of shorts and/or tank tops altogether for fear of ostracism. My own attitude is that I would prefer to meet that ostracism head on and challenge it, and also that I'm proud of my body and don't think I should have to cover it up. But in reality, I have to say I have received very little direct criticism despite being all about tank tops and not-long skirts in the summer. A few startled looks on the subway and a few idiots asking me "Are you French?" over the years.
I know this is not every woman's experience. And, one has only to spend five minutes looking at magazines or on the internet to know there is a lot of gross hatred and distaste towards women's natural bodies. (I am using the term "natural bodies" globally here, because I don't just mean women who don't shave, but also women of different sizes, shapes, skin tones, etc...) Maybe my own experiences are because I surround myself with (or attract) people who are not judgmental idiots, or because I live in New York City where people are more used to seeing diversity, or simply because I carry myself in a way that makes it clear I am not ashamed of my body. Possibly, too, the fact that I'm white, young, and of a socially-accepted size plays a role. I'm aware of my own social privilege but it's disheartening to think about, because being treated respectfully by others should be a global right, not a privilege.
At any rate, I'm glad to be able to go out as I am without much fuss and wish the same for everyone else.
I dreamed George W. Bush was still president and the country was recovering from a terrorist attack on 9/11/2011, which everyone was calling the "Anniversary Attack" and which was so clearly government-orchestrated it made me sick to my stomach. I was in school and we had to write a last minute paper on who were the three bravest government people that day, in order to graduate. The whole thing was disgusting and the only person I wanted to name was some air force captain who I think wasn't actually in on the scheme, but was genuinely acting to save lives out of a sense of duty to his fellow humans. I couldn't think of two more and I wasn't willing to pretend I thought George W. Bush was brave.
Perhaps my dystopian YA fiction penchant is getting to me. On the flip side, I figured out why I like the genre so much:
1-YA fiction books are considerably less fraught with sexist idiocy than their adult literary counterparts. Every "adult fiction" book with a female lead character seems to center around her love life, and possibly about her vague attempts at being career-ful as a sidenote. And they all feel the need to describe the outfits she wears, in great detail, during important moments. As though her getting dressed is a very key part of her overall strategy to deal with a challenge.
2-All of the dystopian YA fiction I read focuses on characters acknowledging their dystopian society as repressive and false, banding together, and fighting back against it. I wish the characters in my dystopian society would do that. I had high hopes for Occupy Wall Street...
...As Soon as I Find One Who Speaks English And Does Not Look at Me Like I'm the Devil Because I Let My Hair Show and Wear Trousers
1. Did the super's wife try to extort money from you too when you moved in? Does she still?
2. Do any of the electrical outlets in YOUR living room work?
The super (who is very nice) came and looked at my fuses and announced he had to go get a new fuse from his place and come back up.
He also now thinks I'm a lying box-leaver-outer, because apartment 4A just left a bunch of boxes in the hall instead of taking them down to the garbage, and they wrote 4A poorly on their boxes so it looks a little like it could be 4H. He asked me if they were mine and I said no, and he pointed to the 4A that looks like 4H and said are you sure? Why is my life like an unfortunate Seinfeld episode since I moved into this place?
...I swear It is not me! I believe in passing boxes along to other moving friends anyway! And I'm very excited to bring my first batch of empty boxes down to the basement because then I might learn where the laundry is! Clean clothes: getting to be an urgent need.
Oh good. I think I hear him confronting 4A in the hallway. But I think 4A is lying and saying it is me. WTF, 4A! Never lending YOU a cup of sugar if you need one!
1. Finding an apartment. An awesome apartment, please! One with hardwood floors and good soundproofing and pretty windows. Oh yes indeed.
2. Having time to practice music. (If item one were accomplished tomorrow, this could happen!)
3. Having time for SLEEP. I am pretty good at being insanely busy... until several weeks go by where I can't sleep in Saturday OR Sunday. I sleep much better in the mornings than at night (it's not about staying up late, it's about insomnia). Looking ahead at several weeks without an opportunity for enough sleep kind of makes me want to scream.
4. If Mama would just pack up the apartment for me. (That's my cat Little Mama, not my actual mom.)
5. Having time to prepare for my tour (see items 1 and 2).
On the upside, I bought a bottle of Apothic Red the other day to celebrate my new apartment. (I haven't found a new apartment yet but I'm trying to trick the universe into sending me one.) It's very tasty indeed. I recommend it to both my wine snob friends and my I-don't-know-fuckall-about-wine friends.
Tue, Apr. 10th, 2012, 08:21 pm
Am I the only one who has a really visceral upset reaction when some guy who is completely full of himself totally misses that I am not interested in him and trying to get away and repeatedly tries to get me to go on a date with him?
Especially when he pulls out lines like "I could teach you a lot"? Buddy, I don't want you to teach me anything.
Sat, Jan. 21st, 2012, 11:55 am
I'm on it now. I want to follow you if you are, too. Halp.