You kill me with your charms November 29, 2007

This week’s assignment for my class is to find a news article and write a story based on someone in the article. The professor wants the article to be “preferably international.” Since I only read entertainment and celebrity and local news, my options are a little limited. I have never travelled outside the US (except to take that short car ride through Tijuana ) so how in the world could I write something about another country, in the perspective of someone who is not an American? Yeah, yeah, stretch my perceptions I suppose but isn’t the rule to “write what you know?” Ugh…whatever.

As I pissed around online, looking for some kind of article (no luck yet, by the way) I found Blog Strings and Dear Rockers (which I will have to contribute to and post here) courtesy of Pop Candy I also found Youtube Widgetbox but since the server was down I ended up with the simpler My YouTube Favorites instead. I added some Dave Chappelle and She Wants Revenge videos to try it out.

Okay, so I wrote a narrative for an article. It was the local one about the lady dumping her mother’s body alongside the road so she could keep getting the retirement checks by not reporting the death. I hate that the best shit I do is totally fucking weird. Ah, maybe it’s a gift.

All right, lemme go outside to smoke, making sure I have on my long jammie bottoms and completely unattractive while I pray that George doesn’t show up to ogle me. Seriously, aren’t their laws against this shit anymore?

Just got into a fight with my parents. I swear, I need to not talk to them for a week.
What Laura said helped though: “Don’t worry. You are not like them, so don’t fall into the trap they set for you in making you thing that you are the crazy one.”
I just get tired of having to explain to my mother that I’m not their friend or their marriage counselor, I’m their daughter. Apparently it’s all in the same in my family. Sigh… Now I know how Drew Barrymore felt in that movie where she divorced her parents. At least I could ask for alimony and child support to tide me over.

And I got a bill from my school for my class. After all that back and forth crap of them saying they would send me the tuition money in a check and make me responsible for it later on, or keeping the money at the school and it was available when I needed it (this was the last option I agreed to by the way but they still sent the check.) Now I don’t remember where I put the check so I can pay my tuition. Because I am a scatterbrain. It’s like all this shit I have is so useless that I don’t care what I do with it so I just put it anywhere. Stupid bills. I tried to keep all of them in a shoe box but the cat got into them and made a mess, now I just throw the white envelopes anywhere. Even when I put something I want to keep in plain sight, like this check, I still end up throwing it somewhere so it gets hidden among all the other crap.

I actually got a reply email from Full Sail, asking me to do a questionnaire about being an educator. It’s funny, when you get older and more cynical, you don’t get as happy thinking that “this may be it!” or afraid to do something because you know if it goes wrong, there isn’t anything you can do about it. Fran and I had this conversation yesterday, actually. The worst feeling is knowing that you can’t do anything about something when you want control. Not having control, knowing what’s going to happen or not being able to do in order to get what you want is a very impotent feeling. And I wish I had understood this whole concept earlier in life but of course I didn’t and now that I’m older and wiser and went through my little life lesson, I do know. I know that if something is or is not going to happen, no matter how much I’m told that it just means I’m not doing enough, or good enough or whatever, then I can’t really do anything about it. But I sent the questionnaire back, had Laura edit it for me so…fingers crossed I guess.
I’m so freaking bored all day that I want to work. TV is boring as hell since the strike started. I don’t want to go out and drink and bother with hanging out at the club; I wish I could want to do that but I’m just so over it that I can’t even make myself care anymore. Working would give me something other than sitting at the computer and reading and eating and taking a nap and having to fight with my mother for kicks. I even considered taking up drinking last night but was too bored to bother with that either. Hey, at least I’m not just in it for the money.

I added another blog site for cross linking (as good or as bad as it may be): http://deloresdefacto.ebloggy.com/

Photo credit: dearrockers

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Heaven, I Need A Hug November 26, 2007

I got an email from Blog About Your Blog that said there was a new website called RssHugger that “is the latest way for bloggers to promote their blogs. It gives bloggers the exposure theyre looking for while offering readers a way to find new blogs to read. The intent, of course, is that bloggers will see an increase in their RSS feed subscriptions.” Right now the $20 registration fee has been waved, so it’s obviously worth setting up an account. The guy who runs the site, Collin LaHay has been really nice about my setting up the account (the trick is to leave off the “http://www” part of your domain name.)
Anyway, I just set up the account, so I’ll get back to you all about how it all works once I get things going.

In personal news, I called the landlord and apparently George Costanza is allowed to hang outside my apartment all he wants because it doesn’t say in the lease that he can’t loiter in the hallways. What a pain in the arse. I’ve made it a point to check to see if his light is on when I come home to see if I can anticipate an annoying visit by him outside my porch. He was gone all Thanksgiving weekend and I was damn happy about it. Now today as I just walk out here to water the plants, he shows up, just standing there, two feet away. Shouldn’t there be an invasion of privacy policy or something? He’s the only neighbor I have who has to make their presence known and he does this on purpose, tries to talk to me when he sees me in the parking lot and in the hallway and I ignore him each time. Freaks me out and irritates the hell out of me.
I just wish all people knew the definition of common courtesy.
Anyone have any suggestions as to what to do about this doofus? Sigh…I wish I had a paintball gun…that would solve so many of my problems.

But, on a good note. My new Advanced II class started today and my books were only $12 at alibris. I’ve been using them more often than Amazon. They seem to have the cheapest prices.
I have a professor I’ve never had before this time around and because of the holidays, the whole thing will extend into February. There seems to be more work involved with this one each week too. Eh, I won’t complain. At least I’m getting my time and money’s worth, right?

And last night, when I went to Wal-Mart late to do my grocery shopping, I witnessed a young, nicely dressed couple in line behind me in the checkout line, have this conversation:
Girl: “Well what you want?”
Guy: “I done told you. I ain’t care.”
Girl: “Why you can’t just tell me what you want?”
Guy: “It ain’t my decision. You the one who can’t make no decision. I told you…I don’t give a fuck.”
With that, the girl calmly set her stuff down and walked out. The guy shook his head, muttered, “well shit…” and quietly followed her out of the store. Cracked my ass up. Lord knows what they were talking about or what she was pissed at him to begin with about before they even got into the store.
My mother’s advice to this story was, “See, she shouldn’t have persued it at all. The minute they say they don’t care, don’t keep asking. All you’re going to do is piss him off and get into a fight.”

Photo credit: rsshugger

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If you’re going to try, go all the way. November 25, 2007

Yesterday.

01:30

I haven’t written anything for a while now. I just haven’t wanted to. Whenever I think about writing an entry, I think about how there’s nothing to really talk about so I just don’t bother. Today though I have to do the last two things for my class so I have to sit at the computer and work. I figured I’d write an entry while I was at it. I haven’t had to work on my class much in the last week because we finished up our workshop stories and mine was, as always, critiqued on my tense shifts and my lack of detail. That will be my task today; to rewrite the story. My writing teacher said that when she re-writes, she prints the original out, lays it beside her, and then writes in a fresh, new document file from scratch. I’ve always done it that way since she explained that to me some five years ago. I need to flesh out the whole conflict and add some more scenery. I wasn’t going to go into that before because I like the telling it like it is type of writing. I don’t like bogging myself down with the intricate details of each characters facial expression, body language, backdrop and surroundings. I like giving a taste of where they are and a bit about what they look like and then let the rest rely on imagination. But I guess in this age of modern literature, the extensive detail and the trying too upscale everything is more to everyone’s liking. Not me. I can understand needing to go into extensive detail with sci-fi and fantasy, where the world and the situation have to be explained in clear detail. But for a story that I would just as soon write to someone in an email, no, that’s in desperate need of an explanation of every crack on every sidewalk.

Anyway, so back to earlier this week. Fran and her husband left for her in-laws on Wednesday so I had to dog sit that afternoon, Thanksgiving Day and the morning after. So there I was at eight in the morning on Thursday, driving my happy ass to Circle K for coffee and then traipsing through Fran’s back yard to get into the house. Then I got back home a couple of hours later and my parents were ready to have dinner already. At ten in the morning. They even made some dramatic, grandiose comment like they would just eat their dinner and I could come over whenever I felt like it…Just to make me feel guilty. Absurd. So I took my shower and left the apartment again to have Thanksgiving brunch with my parents. It was damn good too. In our family we have always had the same things for every special occasion; a dinner passed through our Irish German Appalachian family forever. Turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, bread dressing, scalloped oysters, noodles, chicken, lima beans, buttermilk, pumpkin pie and Cool Whip. Granted most of it is typical Thanksgiving but we have this for everything; Easter, birthdays, Thanksgiving and Christmas. Sometimes we even have it when it just simply sounds good. No wonder Thanksgiving dinner has become a little hackneyed in my opinion. Anyway, so after the dinner and watching the dog show on TV with Mom (Dad, of course, wants to watch football alone in the garage), I went back to Fran’s, took the dogs out again. I came home and passed out all to get up at dinner time and do the whole bit over again. I went over to Fran’s again and talked to her on the phone about what was on TV (which was nothing and I’m pissed that the networks didn’t come up with good holiday television this year. No cutesy reruns, only a couple of Christmas movies, nothing special, nothing interesting.) Afterwards, I went back to my parents, had leftovers, felt stuffed all over again, came home and went back to bed. That was my Thanksgiving.

The next morning I had to get up at eight again and I damn near fell asleep on the couch on Friday morning while I was waiting for the dogs to do their breakfast, morning run business due to the massive carb intake. Then that night, last night, I went to her house and ate the leftovers she brought back from her in-laws (the yellow squash dressing was awesome by the way) and we watched Knocked Up. Fran and I had seen it in the theater but her husband hadn’t so we watched the unedited version. It just wasn’t as funny the second time around. I think it was because I couldn’t focus on it as much as I did in the theater and had no idea what to expect of it, walking in to the show. Some of it was still making me laugh harder than any movie has in a long time though.

02:15

Money. Another subject. Supposedly this is the time to start Christmas shopping and I just am not going to do it. I have Mom, Dad, Fran and Laura to buy for and when I think of something to get I will. I’m not going out to purposely shop for Christmas because I just don’t have any money and I’m totally not caring about the whole season at all right now. I have that little Christmas tree that I can put up and I can try to decorate and feel festive but, eh, apathy is a reaction most relevant to this whole time of year. I like the cold but I don’t go out to wear the cute clothes. I gained weight so I don’t look that great anyway. I’m have an overwhelming feeling of whatever-ness that may or may not pass in a few weeks.

Today

Watched Factotum. It was pretty good. I’d known nothing about Charles Bukowski until I looked the movie up. Apparently “frontman Al Jourgensen of the industrial-metal band, Ministry, has a Bukowski tattoo.” Cool.

Here’s the trailer, to give you an idea of what the movie is like: Factotum trailer

My favorite quote from the movie is this one that I found at Wikiquote — Charles Bukowski. I didn’t know they had such a site today. Damn.

Even at my lowest times, I can feel the words bubbling inside of me. And I had to get the words down or be overcome by something worse than death. Words not as precious things, but as necessary things. Yet when I begin to doubt my ability to work the word, I simply read another writer, and then I know I have nothing to worry about. My contest is only with myself to do it right, with power and force and delight and gamble.

It sucks that writing requires this overwhelming beat down sort of feeling. It requires being isolated and unsure of yourself and confident in your mission all at once.

Photo credit: liquorsnob

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Things get broken November 15, 2007

Hell yeah!

‘Lost’ stars Evangeline Lilly, Dominic Monaghan split
BANG Showbiz Nov. 7, 2007 08:58 AM
“Lost” stars Evangeline Lilly and Dominic Monaghan have reportedly split. The British-born actor – whose rock star character Charlie Pace was killed off in the hit US TV show – was seen crying in the arms of another woman at a Los Angeles restaurant on Saturday night. Onlookers at the El Coyote eatery also claim the pair spent a lot of time kissing and cuddling.
A source told the New York Post newspaper, “They were right in the middle of the room, they weren’t interested in privacy. They looked very intimate. They were nursing margaritas, leaning in, chain-smoking, having an intense conversation. “Earlier this year, it was claimed Evangeline and Dominic were engaged after the ‘Lord of the Rings’ star proposed during a holiday in Hawaii. A source said, “They want to spend the rest of their lives together.” The couple began dating over two years after meeting on the set of ‘Lost’. Both have repeatedly refused to speak publicly about their relationship.

He better pick someone cool this time. I’m tired of this hopeful trophy wife bullshit.
And that’s all I have to say.

Photo credit: igerm

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You’re nothing till the weekend November 12, 2007

Well, thanks to Friday night’s Anti*Pop 2007 at The Social, I now know who IAMX is. No, as I explained to the girl in the bathroom, I was not excited about seeing them because I had no idea who they were until I looked them up online. I came for The Hourly Radio and I really could have cared less about the headliner. (I wonder how often that happens, when second billing introduces the first.) But IAMX was interesting and the music was cool and I could totally dance to it at the club (as, apparently, everyone else at The Social believed.) But, The Hourly Radio was good and all I expected them to be.

Like Fran said (God love her for her observations) the singer, Aaron Closson, actually looked out and connected with the audience, whereas the first band’s singer didn’t do more than keep his head down and slur the “f” word through his sips of Pabst Blue Ribbon. (But they’re from Kentucky, so, it’s understandable.) Anyway, AC’s ability to sing pitch-perfect throughout the whole song, even if he mentioned technical difficulties, proved that the band has the “it” factor. The drummer, Adam, was intense, the guitar player, Ryan, was very cool and the bass player looks like our friend Jim, from FBI, back in the day; never can remember what his band’s name was because he changed it a few times. At any rate, they’re all good compliments. I thought I knew who everyone in the band was but apparently it was the guitar player, not the bassist, whom I actually got an email from one day about that post I made for ClearBlogs. Good to know.

I liked the new song a lot too. I was most excited about the band walking around me all night. Of course, I never said anything; even when the singer hung outside by us before the show started and when they all hung out in the back before the show started. I just thought it was cool that I could hang out with guys who, when you asked them what they did for a living, would reply with, “I’m a musician.” I’ve known tons of people who play music, but none who are actually paid to do so. Anyway, after the show, we decided to be official Orlando groupies for the band. I wonder if that entails any kind of actual work on our parts.

Then IAMX came out and we stood by the front door to leave after we watched them play a few songs. They were interesting, yes, and I’m intrigued enough to buy a CD now that I’ve heard about them from said girl in the bathroom and the excitement of the crowd. I remember someone telling me years ago that The Sneaker Pimps was the best show he had ever seen, so now I had the hands on knowledge for myself. I remember that conversation then went into how I should move elsewhere from the club and go see bands and experience music outside of my comfort zone. I guess if I had people to go with me more often, I would do just that. But, as life is now, it’s us in our “real life” struggling to find an out and we left early, went to the club, talked to some people and left by two. I had to escape to the bathroom when they played Dee-Lite. I got snippy with the new bouncer who wanted me to keep my Corona on the table next to the upstairs bathrooms. I told him, “no, because people will mess with it.” It was explained to me later that it’s because of the underage kids taking alcohol into the bathrooms, or having someone bring it to them there. Of course. So irritating to have to change my routine because of someone else’s behavior. But it wasn’t like I was in any big “yay” moment with that whole Dee-Lite thing going on downstairs. Bleck. That made us decide to “never go to the club on Fridays again.” What a waste of a good night to play that kind of crap.

The joke for the night was my comment on what other girls in the past have told me about how to pick up a guy; a novel idea for girls like us who never go out to throw ourselves into the meat market. I told them that what I was told is; you act like you’re having fun, giggle, smile and look fun and guys will approach you. The whole night we had moments of dip-shit-ness to pass the time and act out our professed acting jobs. Too bad the idea of passing a note to the handful of cute guys I saw downtown that night wouldn’t do the trick. Eh, I didn’t have my notebook and pen on me anyway. {shrug}

Afterwards, we walked to Planet Pizza, which was packed, drove by IHOP, Steak and Shake and Denny’s, then decided to just make a Wendy’s run, got gas and took our sweet time getting home. It was 56 outside when I got back into my car and on my way home so I took a hot shower and scrubbed the smoky club smell from my hair before getting into bed and sleeping soundly for a good six hours. I couldn’t go back to sleep as much as I tried, as is always the case in my after drinking days anymore and I spent Saturday lying on the couch, watching TV. I’ve had the worst time shaking off the grogginess of a hang over anymore. It’s not even from drinking a lot and I only drink beer anymore anyway, but man, I just am not use to it anymore. I cannot imagine downing shots or mixed drinks like I use to. It’s probably better that way. Hell, a margarita at a Mexican restaurant to go along with my dinner makes me need a nap directly after.

In other news, I figured out that the deadline for submissions was Saturday instead of today, so I don’t have to concern myself with any book reviews or new short stories just yet. It’s a damn shame because I knew I would pissed at myself if I didn’t submit to the school’s lit journal but, eh, I knew I would flake on it anyway. I don’t know why I have such a hard time committing to anything. Like if I work hard and put myself in some kind of situation I’ll do well and have to keep working on it to maintain my momentum. It’s a weird feeling. Like not wanting to jump into the river because you know you’ll just be treading water instead of letting the force take you downstream.

While we’re on the subject of money, I did get some money from school the day after I wrote the last post complaining about how the school denied me my fair share of funds. It’s not enough to keep me going at this rate for long and, honestly, I don’t even think it will get me through Christmas, but I keep applying to the community colleges in hopes of finding some kind of income. I keep buying $10 pizzas so I’ll have food for two days rather than one. It sucks and it’s not great for my diet either. No wonder my jeans are so snug these days. This starving artist bit is losing its mystique rather quickly.

Stupidly, I took a nap instead of watching The Big Bang Theory last week and I mistakenly set my VCR (no, I don’t have TiVo, dammit) to take the wrong channel. Much to my dismay, I realized I had taped a full episode of Wheel of Fortune instead and missed the Halo episode, which was supposedly the best so far. I can’t believe I missed Sheldon and his Dorothy Parker reference. Dammit. Oh well, maybe the Writer’s Strike will make it possible for me to see re-runs sooner than later. At least tonight’s episode shows Koothrappali’s blind date being more interested in Sheldon, so it should be good. I’m glad they’re agreeing with me on the notion that Sheldon is making this show.

• Big Bang Theory – Halo 3 – Part 1
• Big Bang Theory – Halo 3 – Part 2

“You laugh now, but wait until you need tech support.”

Photo credit: sint (I didn’t even think to bring a camera in to take pictures myself.)

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I’m bone broke. Broke as I’ll ever be. November 6, 2007

Sigh…
I kept checking the mailbox because supposedly my student loan money was coming to me. Since nothing showed up yesterday and it had been since Wednesday when my money was finally “posted to my account”, I called my school today and found out some disappointing news.
I am in a 10 course, 20 month program for my MFA. Well, I had gotten money from my first few classes but now that this new “term” has started (in October) a lot of money was to be given to me to pay my classes and then the rest sent to me for books, spending, etc. Money that I freaking need. Well, according to the lady I spoke to today, I will only have $800 left over if I choose to have them hold my money and pay for each class, every two months. I could also opt for them to take out the $2000 for the class I’m currently taking (which is listed as a late payment thanks to my loan disbursement being backed up because of my professor not posting the grades on time; thanks a bunch) and then have the remaining money sent to me.
Also, since the school is only allowed to give me so much money in a 365 day period, my last class to get my MFA wouldn’t be paid for anyway and I’d have to “find another source of payment.” Yeah, I don’t have money to pay my credit card bills, let alone pay $2000 for a freaking class.
I told them to pay for my class now and send me the rest of the money. I’m getting a check for half of what I should be getting for a full term of graduate classes and that doesn’t even pay for all of my classes! If I get a job by the time the loan money runs out, after I pay my rent, my utilities (thank God those are paid for this month already) and the other bullshit that I’m behind on, then I can keep paying for my classes.
And I have no idea if I’ll be eligible for more loans for next year. As far as they’re saying I’m not, which is total bull because every professor and friend that I’ve had who went on this extended education track, said that they took out scads of money to complete their education and are still paying on those loans. But it was worth it.
So I’m at a crossroads and ready to freak out. The loan money should have been way more than what they’re giving me as far as the paperwork I filled out indicated. With only a handful of cash and a constant urge to shop, I’m really worried about being able to finish this degree. If I end up working an hourly wage job then I will prove to myself, once again, that an education and a determination to better oneself is worthless in the eyes of the general public.
I’ve searched for jobs that require a B.A. and found nothing. I was hoping that, at least, with an MFA under my belt, that I could go the community college instructional route, as I’d planned, or even be a curriculum specialist or something that was in my education and experience range. (But, of course, all of those things need extra education and certificates to go along with it and apparently that’s pointless too if you can’t get hired on, pay for your classes, or keep your job.) Now this hope is turning out to not be as logically possible as I’d hoped.
Totally freaking sucks, especially, if I have to end up working at Publix with a bunch of high school kids who have no education. Wasn’t the desire to do something with yourself suppose to be the right, smart choice? What a sham.
I’m not expecting to make a ton of money or anything like a computer programmer or an engineer or something would make but, shit. I should at least be able to stop categorizing myself as on the verge of a welfare recipient.
I guess that’s just the flaw of doing what you want to do with your life. You starve through your economic crisis and all you have left is your priceless integrity.
Now all I can do is keep working on my own stories, trying to get published, writing for the lit journal, writing articles and reviews for free to add to my portfolio (as Dave suggests) and waiting for the other shoe to drop.
I’m just so freaking sick of stuff not working out. I try to not look at things in such a negative light but when I hit these barriers I wonder what signs I didn’t see. I hate feeling naive; like I should have done something else, saw the signs earlier, pushed something else or stood still instead of being so stubborn to get my way. Then when I can’t get what I want, I get pissed at myself and wonder if I’m just doomed to be paranoid and taking a step of trepidation in every direction.

And on a side note, did anyone think that if this girl can be running around making videos then she must not be too anxious about traveling? Just something to think about.

Also, Laura’s work disabled the Flash player so they can’t watch YouTube videos anymore. We had to have a moment of silence on that one. She wrote me an email saying, “I feel numb…”

Photo credit: emacs1969

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You get mistaken for strangers November 3, 2007

The title has nothing to do with this post (as far as I can tell) but I just love this song: The National – Mistaken For Strangers. I love his voice.

So as I eat my very disgusting Lean Gourmet, Chicken Alfredo Florentine (why does this stuff get freezer burn so easily?) I will get down to the topic of conversation for today:

There are a few people in this world, as far as I have gathered from my extensive interactive research, who would rather be alone than settle for a crappy relationship. There are girls, like myself, who aren’t under some kind of addictive chemical, who aren’t ex cons, or former strippers. We are, apparently, the chosen few who aren’t out to devastate our lives or any man’s for that matter. It seems that we, as a subgroup from the norm, have the worst time finding a guy.

Now I know that finding a potential mate is not the most obscure topics on the market, but, look at what kinds of men myself and the girls I know, have succumbed to:

• My mother doesn’t think any girl is good enough for me and she’s all the woman I need anyway.
• I got busted for driving drunk.
• I got busted for selling drugs.
• I got busted for fighting.
• Oh, I forgot to tell you; I have to appear in court.
• Why can’t you ever do anything right?
• You’re not leaving this apartment tonight.
• I’m going to break the door down in you don’t let me in.
• That’s not ours, it’s mine.
• Saying that you don’t want me to hang out with other girls is smothering me.
• My father was an asshole so, therefore, I have to be an asshole because it makes me a man.
• How can I resist, her breasts were in my face!
• If you leave me, I’ll kill myself.
• I don’t love you anyway.
• It’s none of your business who else I sleep with.
• What, you want a relationship now?
• I’m no good; why would you want me?
• I use to beat up my girlfriends.
• My girlfriends use to beat me up.
• If you hit me, I’ll hit you back.
• Ow! What the hell was that for?
• I’d never hurt you, I swear.
• I didn’t lie; you just misunderstood how I told you the story I came up with out of my ass.
• You can’t prove that I ever lied to you.
• You’re the one who’s screwed up.
• You need me.
• You need to find yourself.
• I know you’re cheating on me.
• You’re suppose to be making me happy.
• My ex girlfriend wants us to still be friends.
• My mother had a thing with my half brother.
• Hey, honey, look at that girl. She’s hot.
• What? What did I say?
• Just because I sleep with other girls, doesn’t mean I don’t want to still sleep with you.
• I’ll call. I promise.
• Just wait for me, I’ll be there in ten minutes.
• Why are you wearing that? Are you trying to pick up another guy?
• I tried to love you, but I can’t.
• I like all kinds of music. (My personal blazing red flag alert to mind the gap.)

Now I’m not saying that girls, including myself honestly, haven’t gone to the outer limits of impossible to deal with. But, for myself, it was never in a way to disregard anyone’s feelings. Someone put it this way once; I find guys who feed off of the insecurities I have of never quite understanding what is going on with the guy. And I think this goes for a lot of girls who simply want something simple. I know, I know, life is not simple and if it were, we wouldn’t feel that excitement and adrenaline rush of what could happen with our new found crush. However, when the lying, the distance, the all out cruelness of what the person you’ve allowed to sit by you for a few months starts to settle in, the reality of knowing the relationship is simply not going to work out makes us more than disillusioned.

So it’s better to be by ourselves than deal with a rat bastard, correct? And it’s hard to see what’s really going on with your relationship when you’re in the throws of confusion. But why does it end up like this? Nice girls who want nothing more than the comfort of an honest, nice guy, get the attention of guys who are anything but honest or nice. Then we put up with it for way too long because we’re use to it. Then when they leave we’re relieved and think, “Why in the hell did I put up with that for so long?”

I’m sure there are nice guys somewhere and they just don’t present themselves as available. Not at work, not at school, not at the club. And if there are, who the hell do they get? The girls who are the female versions of the rat bastards that the nice girls get. A whole new Catch-22 for the X Generation.

Haven’t you guys all noticed that too? That most of us are still going out and looking and not married with kids? We’re spending more time concentrating on ourselves, which is good, but why does it take so long for our soul’s counterpoint to come into our lives?

I have seen hundreds of nice guys who get pummeled by bitches and they run back and forth for more and dismiss our constant query of, “Why do even bother with her? You could do so much better!” But they don’t and someone the nices can’t play together. And seldom, but thankfully, the means get together to live their torrid, bullshit love affair that we all get to stand on the side line with our arms crossed, listening to their tales of domestic disturbance and we think, “You guys deserve each other.”

A lot of times we fall into this weird mid-way ground. I’m not the innocent fawn, but I’m not Courtney Love either. I can pull some shit, but I know what I’m doing and when it comes to the point of being so upset about my male companion’s behavior, I resort to the crying jags and the angry tantrums. But that’s my fault for not seeing the signs way ahead of time or, worse yet, seeing the signs and justifying them as “not that bad.”

Now the trues has going to have to be held. For gals like us, we see the potential train wreck ahead and get off at the first available stop. I’ve been lured in to a jerk’s car plenty of times, been taken for a ride, placed in the back seat and then eventually left at the curb. And I’d like to think that now I’m not going to let myself be mesmerized by their tactics anymore, but if I do, I’m leaving the window down so I can jump out of the car before it’s too late. At least knowing that whatever kind of bullshit they’ll pull, I’m more the wiser after seeing the worst of the worst, not just by myself, but through the stories of the other girls out there who put up with the chaos.

I’ve heard that there are guys who aren’t shady but I have no idea where the Queen Bee is hiding them. They usually won’t retreat either unless you play your cards right. I don’t play my cards at all and just sort of lay them out on the table. Usually some girl with a better hand is the winner and I walk away broke.

But someday hopefully there will be a nice, honest cute one who is sick of bitches and who doesn’t have a bag full of problems that they want to dump on me and drag me down with them. I’ve seen it happen to girls and guys I know already so I’ll just sit with all of my chips and wait for a better hand I guess.

Well, the subject title did have something to do with my post. Huh. I like when it works out that way.

The National – Mistaken For Strangers

Make up something to believe in your heart of hearts
so you have something to wear on your sleeve of sleeves
so you swear you just saw a feathery woman
carry a blindfolded man through the trees
showered and blue-blazered, fill yourself with quarters
showered and blue-blazered, fill yourself with quartersYou get mistaken for strangers by your own friends
when you pass them at night under the silvery, silvery citibank lights
arm in arm in arm and eyes and eyes glazing under
oh you wouldnt want an angel watching oversurprise, surprise they wouldnt wannna watch
another uninnocent, elegant fall into the unmagnificent lives of adults

Photo credit: sophiemuc

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