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Category Archives: Ponderings

Ok, so I’m posting this here, instead of writing it all down in my little Word document, because right now, in my little moment of rage, I want them to see it. I just want sooo effing badly to send them (both!) this in a bleeding Facebook message, because I just want them to see this, and read this, and understand this THAT badly.

But I won’t. I…well, I don’t really like confrontation, and I don’t think them reading this would change anything. Besides, I’d feel bad; like I was dumping all of my bad feelings on them. It’s why I don’t tend to share my feelings: they’re my feelings, my load to carry, and mine alone. Just because I feel bad, doesn’t mean I should make everyone around me feel just as horrible, right? Though, that might be why I’m in this situation to begin with, because, for all my friends know, I’m perfectly fine with what’s going down. I’m all smiles, and cheer, and “you do whatever makes you happy!” God, I’m such a pushover…but I really don’t want to stand in the way of them having fun and enjoying themselves.

Although, I suppose in the event that something does end up happening, I’m not in a very good situation. I’d be forced to repress my reaction, probably. Or, if I do end up reacting badly, they’d all be able to say stuff like “well you said it was okay to go”, or “you didn’t give me any indication that you were upset with it”, and it’d be all my fault. Oh dear…

So, I’m posting it. On my little side blog, in plain view of anyone who bothers to come across this. Here goes…

Okay, so here’s the situation: me and my ex broke up…about 1.5 years ago. Well, he broke up with me. It kinda sucked. And then he decided to go to a school in the same city as mine, you know, of all possible cities, right? But it’s a really popular city, and it was different schools (not like we’d see each other much if we were going to the same school anyway), so I was (eventually) totally fine with it. Every Christmas, I travel home, and me and my high school friends see each other, because that’s pretty much the one time of year we’re all in the same place. I guess you could say this year it’s extra important that we all spend time together, because one of the group is in friggin’ Germany doing an exchange this year, so…yikes! We usually do something extra special with everyone around Christmas, and then possibly something a little smaller for New Years as well. However, this year, two of the group (to be frank, this is out of a group of 3 that I consider to be my closest friends) are going to the city where I (and my ex) go to school, specifically to attend a party hosted by my ex for New Years. And they weren’t even that close of friends to begin with! At least, I don’t think… Anyway, this is to them:

The point is, I feel like you’re abandoning me for my ex. My closest friends are ditching me in favour of my ex-boyfriend, and…you don’t do that! People just don’t do that! In my mind, Christmas is that one, sunny time where I go home, and see all of my friends from home. Even though we might not be that close, and even though we don’t really talk to each other while I’m at school, it all doesn’t matter, come Christmas. And Christmas IS that much more special than summer, not because of the holiday itself, but because that’s pretty much the one time of year when everyone is finally together. During summer, everyone’s off at camps, doing internships, taking summer courses, travelling, and working, and I’m pretty sure nobody ends up seeing much of each other by the end anyway, least of all together. But Christmas, on the other hand…

So, to me, this feels like a travesty. This feels like a betrayal. It’s just a bitch move (Okay, that might be a little harsh…). During that one sacred time of year when we’re finally all in the same damn place, and I finally get to see everyone, and spend time with everyone all together, you do NOT go running off to the place where I pretty much live during the year, to go see my EFFING EX-BOYFRIEND. Isn’t there some sort of code? Like a bro code, but for girls? Or even just “guidelines not to piss off your friends and act like a little bitch” (Not that you’re acting bitchy in the slightest…but if such a set of guidelines do exist, I think that’d be a nice name for them, don’t you?); there should be one. And I mean, granted, this definitely isn’t as bad as hooking up with my ex. It doesn’t remotely come close; but I’m still not exactly doing cartwheels about it.

And even worse, you tell me (indirectly, of course) that you might be leaving on this precious New Year’s trip on the 29th. Really? You’re leaving, in the middle of our special time together, to go gallivanting off to see my ex, ON MY BIRTHDAY? I don’t know how, but that just makes it feel more personal. Not only are you leaving during our special time, but possibly on the ONE day in 365 that society deems as MINE? And now that I think about it, you’re not leaving on any ordinary birthday, No, you’re leaving on my TWENTIETH birthday. A milestone birthday. Because you’d prefer to spend time with my ex-boyfriend over me. Thank, you guys. Really, just, thanks. It makes me feel so effing WARM and CUDDLY on the inside. I mean, sure, I don’t tend to do much for, or even really acknowledge my birthday most years. But you know what? I come from a society that does. And you all come from families that do. So the fact that you might be pulling this on my birthday still smarts.

Furthermore…you might not know this, but I’ve got what you might call “esteem issues” for my breakup. And even though it was 2 years ago, I still haven’t gotten past them to the point where I can’t get triggered. Where I don’t get those hurt feelings rushing back at the slightest mention of certain things. Sure, I’m fine 99.996% of the time. I can talk vaguely about him when giving relationship advice. I can see his Facebook status updates and feel nothing but a vague annoyance, the same way you’d feel about any other attention-seeking Facebook friend. I feel nothing for or about him anymore.

But he broke up with me for another girl. So when the break up occurred, in the midst of all the normal break-up crap, a part of me kept feeling like there was something wrong with me. You know, like in Taylor Swift’s some You Belong With Me (a rather pathetic song example, I know, but it’s the one that hits the widest audience), would I be “the other girl”? The horrible girlfriend who’s all wrong for the boy and clearly deserves to suffer? Well, we were wrong for each other anyway, but that’s beside the point. He demonstrated that there was someone else that he’d rather spend his time with, which, at that time, implied that there was something wrong with me, that this other girl was, in all ways, better than me. And as much as I hate to admit it, especially among all of the other breakup feelings, that left a slight impression on me.

And now, after all that, you’ve chosen to spend New Years, during one of the only times in a year that we have the opportunity to see each other, to go see him. There it is: the trigger. It just brings back all those feelings and thoughts from the breakup. That you’d rather spend time with him, who you’re not even close friends with, than with me. That he’s better, more fun, more deserving of good things, than me. That there’s something so fundamentally wrong with me, that I deserve misery, that I deserve to be alone, even though I’m pretty sure that’s not true. And what makes it worse is that it’s coming from you: people who, from perhaps sheer force of nostalgia alone, I identify as my best friends. People who I believe to give me at least an inkling of though while making decisions; I would like to think that I at least crossed your mind. After all, it’s right there: Montreal…hey, that’s where she goes to school! December 29th…hey, that’s her birthday! I turned 20 this year…hey, she’s turning 20 as well! And I don’t know which presents the worst implications: that I didn’t cross your minds at all, or that I did, but you chose to ignore it.

It’s not like I expect anything from you or that I want anything from you; before, or after reading this (if you do at all). The more logical side of my brain keeps telling me that I really have no right to object at all, and I’m in agreement. It’s your lives, your New Years, you know? You have full reign to do whatever makes you happy, and I have no right to make you do anything but enjoy your trip. Besides, it’s not like this trip is all about my ex, and it definitely shouldn’t be all about me. You’ll be going to a great and exciting city, which may very well be the reason you’re leaving for the trip a day early (on my birthday) (sorry about that incidental guilt trip). And though I kind of want to go with you, because, come on, it’s a really fun city, it just doesn’t work out for me. I’d be going home, and then there, and the back home, and then back there, because New Years is just too far from when school starts, in the span of 2 weeks. It just…wouldn’t work out. But after spending 2.5 years there, I’ve kind of grown to thinking about it as my city, you know? And this whole thing just lines up a bit too well in my head…my friends, my city, my ex, my birthday…and all without me. I’m making no excuses here; I know I can be a bit (understatement!) possessive. If my roommate so much as leaves a ring on my bathroom shelf, so help me…

So yeah, that’s how I feel. If either of you end up reading this, first: dear lord, you read all that?! And also, please, please understand: I’m not asking you to not go, or to change your plans. The last thing I want is to interfere, or to make you resent me, or to make you feel guilty. It’s just…how I feel, and I thought it was a good idea to put it out there before it comes to bite me in the ass. Also, I feel a lot better just having written it out. I’m still really excited to see you in December! 😀 We’ll definitely hang out and have fun, just…not on New Year’s (again, sorry about that second incidental guilt trip).

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I think you’re slipping…away… — Dr. Horrible

It’s times like these, when I am half asleep, yet still awake, that I am the most irritable. And it is times like now, when I am the most irritable, that I pick up on all the itty bitty flaws.

I tend to notice just exactly how much one person likes to talk about him/herself.

I tend to notice just how hard one person tries to take attention from the storyteller and bring it on her/himself.

I tend to idly observe those who need, those who crave, those who yearn, and how they differ from those who truly need nothing.

I tend to see those who laugh, those who join, and those who stand at the edges, grinning half-heartedly.

I tend to wonder about those who surround me, why they surround me, and how my life would be different if I was more like them.

Take the holidays, for example. Would I be a happier person if I had more of a connection with my extended family? If I had more people to surround myself with, to smile with me and out up with me because we share DNA and wedding rings, would I be more cheerful, more self-assured? If I was a person who was less afraid to speak up, and ask for what I wanted, would I be better off? Would I be more confident? Would I have more stories to tell? Would I be more apt to look upon someone like myself with pity? Would I be less apt to be thankful for my non-existent holidays, since they offer less opportunity for awkwardness and disappointment?

It’s times like these when I turn inward, no matter who I’m with. Even when I’m surrounded by dozens of friends, all laughing away, if I am tired, I will start to drift, and think, and wonder. I wonder if, somewhere along the line, I was damaged. I wonder if, given the right circumstances, I could be a better person than I am now. I wonder if life is ever going to be as good as it is now. I wonder if I will ever be more secure, more free, more relaxed than I am now. I wonder how serious the ramifications would be if it all ended now (and then I remember that the ramifications of “it all ending now” would be quite serious indeed, and in no way worth serious consideration). I wonder if there isn’t some part of me that I’m deliberately hiding from everyone else in the world, including myself, and if it would ever become possible or beneficial to reveal it.

It’s like…sometimes I feel like I’m wearing a mask (clichéd, I know…), but the thing is, I’m not even sure if I like that mask, or if I would like that mask but I’m just not wearing it right. But then, if I don’t really like the mask I’m wearing, then would it be a good thing to let it slide a little? How could letting it slide ever be a good thing if I’m not ever sure what’s underneath the damn mask?

It’s times like these when, honestly, I just want to go to sleep, if that’s alright with you.

It’s not really that hard for someone like me to disappear off the face of the earth.

“Someone like me” being an introvert who has a bad habit of not keeping up with correspondences.

I mean, if it happened at the right time, if I told the right people the right things, I could be gone for a rather long time before anyone started to ask questions.

Jeez, that’s a depressing thought…if I were abducted, my case would probably be “cold” before it even became a case…

Then again, if I were abducted, that’d be another story…since I live with people, they’d most likely notice after a bit…I think.

But if I wanted to disappear for a small age, I think it’d be perfectly possible. Living in two different cities tends to help with this. I’d have to plan for a while, of course. I am still rather dependent on my parental(s) for support, so I’d have to start off my withdrawing small amounts of money from my bank account for a long time. You know, $20-60 every week, something like that.

Then, I think the perfect time to leave would be summer. Right after exams end. All I’d have to do is tell the roommate and school friends that I’m going home for the summer, and tell the parental(s) and the home friends that I’m staying at school for…research or a job of summer school…some crap like that.

Then, with my accumulated cash, I suppose I’d be free to, I dunno, run off to Disneyland or something.

If I really didn’t want to be found, if I really didn’t want people to look for me, then in case people try to contact me, then I shouldn’t give them any reason to believe that I’m where I’m not… The parental(s), though they don’t contact me much, do tend to send me emails, and if a semi-urgent issue did come up and I didn’t reply at all to even that, then they’d probably get worried. And if the parentals get worried, then my friends will get called. And if the friends get called, then eventually, something’s gonna pop up on Facebook, or Twitter, or something. That’s when the manhunt (girlhunt?) would start, wouldn’t it…

So, maybe the occasional email to home, the nonfrequent Facebook status saying something like “suuuper busyy!! I thought summer was supposed to be relaxing! lol” would quell everyone’s suspicions.

Of course, does it really count as disappearing if I keep up minor contact?

Then again, is my goal here really to disappear, or just to hide?

Well, that’s to be decided by the disappear-er, isn’t it?

So, I suppose that plan would work…either until someone starts creating Facebook groups called “INTROVERTED UNIVERSITY STUDENT MISSING!!”, or until the summer term ended. Then shiz would really fall apart, and that would not be good. Not good at all…

Of course, with my current life, the disappearing act is impossible, long-term, anyway. Maybe it’d get easier once I graduate. Once I’m out in the real world. It’d require quitting any job I have, but still, hey, it’d be possible to pull off in terms of years by then.

Hmm? What? Me? Oh no, I’m not actually thinking of doing this. Well, maybe, replace “whole summer” with, like, a day, a weekend max, and replace “Disneyland” with…um…okay, so I don’t really have anywhere to disappear to, but still… Oh, and I’d probably have to come clean to my mom from the beginning and (try to) swear her to secrecy. If I so much as go on a solo bike ride for a few hours without leaving a note and bringing a cellphone, she starts dialing my friends. Definitely a hindrance. And if I was at school, I’d probably have to lie to my roommate…if I’m at a lab partner’s house working on a lab report past 1am, she freaks out and FBs me if I don’t leave a note (even though I did leave a not…she just didn’t see it somehow…).

Oh, right…so what’s the point of this? No point really. I just really need to study for an exam, and I’m procrastinating – the time when my thoughts flow the most freely, of course. :/

Okay, so today (while procrastinating on my homework…), I took a quick look at this blog, and I came to a conclusion: it’s a rather negative presentation of who I am, doesn’t it?

And of course it would…I tend to only blog when it’s three in the morning, I’m half-awake, yet unwilling to go to bed, deliriously airing out whatever dirty laundry happens to be hanging out in my brain at the moment. And while it may be good for my psyche, it sure as hell isn’t good for the impression I’m putting out there.

So, just to clear up: you must know that about 90% of the posts are created out of sleep-deprivation, and in no way paints a clear picture of who I am after a good night’s sleep (though I’m not to clear on what exactly that is anymore…stupid uni…).

There…all fixed?

Okay, so I’m sure this isn’t exactly a revelation, but, well, here goes:

Remember when (depending on your generation) you were about 11 to 15 years old, and all the girls started…”blooming”, some at different rates than the others? And remember how there were at least one or two flat-chested girls with low self-esteem who sought to “increase their bust” the artificial way?

No, sicko, not with plastic surgery…we’re talking about preteens here! I meant by “stuffing”.

By buying larger sized bras, and filling up the extra space between skin and fabric with toilet paper, those tiny little future attention whores were able to convincingly pretend to be more well-endowed than they actually were. Well, it was convincing until it came time to change for gym class, but that’s a different matter…

So anyway, I was thinking about bras today (no, not randomly…I went bra shopping with my roomie), and it occurred to me that the “push-up bras” that are so popular are basically Stuffing 2.0, is it not?

It’s basically a bra that is one or two (or several) cup sizes to large for the woman who will be buying it, with foam/gel/air cushions sewn in to make up the cup size difference!

Right, so like I said before, it’s not exactly a revelation…any idiot can see this.

What wows me, though, is that the existence of such bras implies the existence of some poor flat-chested dame (or perverted sucker) in history who managed to take the juvenile art of stuffing, something that many a girl has been ostracized for, and turn it into something that is widely accepted among grown women. Think  about it…if you saw a woman walking down the street with a stray sheet of TP hanging out of her shirt, you’d point and laugh, or at least scoff, wouldn’t you? But on the other hand, if a female friend of yours starts bragging about how fantastic her boobs are looking thanks to her new push-up bra, at most you’d probably be, depending on your previous relationship, a bit creeped that she was suddenly sharing so much about the state of her chest.

AND, on top of shifting the cultural view on semi-fake breasts, they’ve also turned Stuffing 2.0 into a runaway moneymaker! Seriously; push-up bras are now their own category of bra type, and they are usually much more expensive than their counterparts without the extra stuffing.

I mean, really, they’re charging women an extra 10-20 dollars per bra for something that basically amounts to getting a plain bra in a C cup instead of a A, and maybe picking up a few dozen rolls of Charmin on the way home from the mall! And no one even bats an eyelash!

It’s genius, I tell you! Sheer genius!

Okay, so it is 3:33am, and I have class tomorrow morning at 8:30am! Do you what that means?! That’s right! More half-truths and outrageous lies that only I will ever read! W00t.

  1. I will wake up perfectly refreshed and wide awake tomorrow morning! Honest!
  2. I am very, very excited for the season premiere of Glee. I am in no way worried that the awesome-ness of last year’s season will be tarnished by a less awesome second season that may contain no more Idina Menzel and Jonathan Groff (Oh Melchior…), and that may contain a lackluster attempt to get Kurt a boyfriend that either pisses off the Gay community or ruins Kurt’s awesomeness. Also not on my list of worries is that the new focus to be put on the silent Asian and Black Football Players will fall flat as they simply become annoying character with no real issues that distracts from more interesting drama, and that the revelation that Sue doesn’t hate the Glee club as much as she thought will deprive the show of a deliciously nasty “foe”. Yupp, totally stoked!
  3. I’ve noticed that my sense of humor has moved away from its old target of self deprecation…it is making me a lot more comfortable with presenting an image of myself to the public.
  4. I got asked for my number by a random dude at a Harvey’s today. I gave it to him (or, technically, his friend), but not because I was too shell-shocked to say no. I am, in no way, kind of creeped out and I totally know how to proceed from here.
  5. It is not totally late, and I will not be heading off to bed now.

Good day!

…I said GOOD DAY!

I predict that nobody but myself will read this text. Even though I will post this on the internet, and make it fuuuully public, NOBODY will read this. I guarantee it.

So, in light of this “no one will read this” mentality, I will write down a few things that I believe may provoke somebody to comment should they read it, so’s to test the un-read-ness of this text:

  1. Frankly, the Last Airbender movie was excellent. Although I haven’t seen it myself, judging by the previews, I can safely say that the movie is of excellent quality.
  2. I believe that my place of employment is somehow cursed to become some sort of homing beacon to ex-boyfriends. I have, so far, seen two of my friends’ exes (as well as my high school’s ex student council president – does he count? He was, after all, sort of like a boyfriend to the entire school, for a while…sorta…). I do not look forward to the day when my own walks through those commercial-grade glass doors, seeking ice cream…
  3. As I type this, I am fully nude. Well, underneath my PJs and underwear, of course…but I choose not to acknowledge that.

Hmm…this is fun. I may continue with this practice of posting of titillating half-truths that no one will ever read…

With very bad sentence structure and grammar, of course!!

Okay, so today, I was entered into a debate about, of all things, Twilight. Oh boy…

It started because earlier today, I read an article (this one, in fact), and happened to mention it. The point it brings up about the movies/series that I found most interesting was its first point: that through Team Jacob’s epic (and later on, very creepy) loss to Team Edward, the Twilight series subtly implies that interracial relationships with non-Anglo-Saxons are wrong, evil, and will most likely lead directly to the apocalypse (all implied non-consciously by Ms. Meyers, I’m sure). Now, I just brought it up in conversation to mention that, of the myriad of anti-Twilight media I’ve seen, non have ever pointed out to me Twilight’s apparent stance on race. I mean, I thought I’d heard everything: Bella as the epitome of uncreative, idiotic, bland and pathetic protagonist; Edward as the ultimate creepy boyfriend; Meyer’s not-so-subtle uberMormon agenda; the horrendous implications about the intelligence of our society, judging by the overwhelming popularity of Twilight as a whole; the damn sparkly-ness. And yet, this was the first time I’d seen anyone ever bring up race. Whoa…

But I never got to bring up this particular point, because somehow, I got roped into a yelling match about how “it’s just ridiculous that people are drawing these absurd negativities about Twilight from nowhere! Why can’t everyone just leave it alone and just have fun with it?! I’m sure the books aren’t teaching everyone to be racist. Besides, one of the nicest, happiest, purest people we know leads her life very heavily based on religious ideals! So what’s exactly so wrong with instilling some old-fashioned morals into today’s generation?! I mean, all of today’s songs are all about objectifying women based on their Apple Bottom Jeans and ability to shake their booties! So isn’t it nice that girls are being taught that, despite all this liberal stuff floating around nowadays, it’s okay to wait until marriage to have sex, since, you know, some girls actually still want their first times to be special, and they might be deeply traumatized if it turns out to not be special?”

Okay, so there’s a lot of crap in there that I’ll just briefly address because, well, I want to respond to my argument-mate directly later on (she has a bit of a bad habit of not letting me make a complete point before interrupting me, so I get distracted and forget my original train of thought easily). Also, if I were to respond to all of that in-depth, I’m sure it would take be a loooong time, since most if it irks me at a level that I’m not sure I completely understand, and I don’t exactly have the concrete proof stored in my head (like divorce figures, the complete implications of “old morality”, and what the hell exactly happened in those damned books). So, here goes, real quick-like:

  1. Sex…really isn’t all that big of a deal. I don’t see what it should be, and why everyone get’s in such a tizzy about how special and intimate is has to be.
  2. Screw songs. So the dudes are all singing about objectifying women, but all the girls are all singing about being independent, and how they’re just as willing to objectify guys (except for Taylor Swift, but, you know…). So, in my eyes, that balances out.
  3. There’s a reason old-fashioned morals are considered outdated. They are repressive; they don’t allow anyone (even the men) to make any decisions that make them completely happy. Frankly, the reason the divorce rates are rising isn’t because marriages are getting unhappier, it’s because it’s becoming more and more acceptable for a couple to say “screw this, I refuse to put up with this, and deny myself true happiness anymore,” and not get judged for being defective human beings.
  4. Religion is relatively harmless, but left in the hands of idiots (as it sometimes has been), it is one of the most illogical creations of humankind, and I feel like it breeds more animosity and ignorance than any bonds of friendship and community it creates are worth.
  5. Just because I know one person who lives a happy life based off religion is, in no way, an endorsement of the lifestyle for the masses. To each their own, you know?
  6. Of course the books aren’t teaching anyone anything, except that should you run into a blood-drinking humanoid in the woods, only stay to chat if it has amber eyes. Remember, Amber is Amicable, but Red means RUN!!!! (Not that you could escape their superspeed anyway…)
  7. But see, they’re not absurd. Negative, yes, but firstly, they’re not drawn from nowhere; there are thought processes going into these. Secondly, any massive cultural phenomenon such as Twilight deserves to be analyzed in full for complete contemplation of the implications it poses on our society.

But, still, the above 7 points are mostly my opinion, and not fully valid as reasonable arguments on their own.

Now, see, what get’s to me the most is that, well, Twilight is a massively huge part of our present-day culture, and many people (mostly young females) are so obsessed with it that much of its hidden messages have probably been ingrained into their psyches, to have much effect on their behavior later in their lives. So, obviously, we should seek out what the “messages” are to try to understand what’s being communicated to the younger (and sometimes older) generation, just in case these “messages” could lead straight to the creation of a dystopia. I am of this though process because I have seen something similar before: I was a Harry Potter fan.

I read the book over, and over, and over again. I regularly visited websites devoted to announcing any details about upcoming books and movies, and obsessing over every intricate detail in essay format to try to determine future plots, analyse character motivations, and identify real-world inspirations used by the author. All of my playtime fantasies evolved to include my ability to manipulate magic (my regular viewings of Sabrina the Teenage Witch reruns also served to amplify this particular portion of my obsession). Clearly, Harry Potter had a much larger effect on my life than as “just some fun novels about a boy wizard’s fight against evil”. For all I know, despite my having lost interest in the release of the movies (let’s face it: aside from them being bad adaptations, they don’t do so hot as actual movies, either), Harry Potter continues to influence the decisions I make to this day.

So, what I’m curious about is, well, is there anything as horrendously wrong with Harry Potter that I simply didn’t see because I was too young and in love? Have I also been unknowingly indoctrinated with JK Rowling’s secret repressive/evil/anarchist agenda? And, also, for funsies, what are your thoughts on the whole Twilight debacle?

It’s this…nagging feeling that rises up in your throat. That churns your stomach. That just makes you want to scream…

“Okay, is it even remotely possible for you to just shut your ‘effing yap for, like, one minute?!?!”

I mean, some people. They just go on, and on, and on, and even when they’re not speaking, they find ways to annoy you. Like, with facebook. ‘Effing facebook.

Seriously, some people, updating their status every other minute, always “liking” all of these stupid, useless groups/things/ughs! Do they not realize that people (namely me) simply do not care?! How is that not absolutely drilled through their massively thick skulls?!

I don’t care if they like that photo.

I don’t care if they’re hungry.

I don’t care if they’re simply heartbroken about the end of a relationship that, frankly, was an idiotic endeavor to begin with.

Ooh…I just had a thought: I’m not exactly being subtle, am I? Anyone who knows me would know who is behind this blog in an instant…

Oh well, if they don’t like what’s written here, they can go suck their own asses.

But, back to the point; why are these people incapable of just, you know, shutting up?! And, well, Betty White has a point: looking at someone else’s vacation photos is a punishment, especially if the damn albums are all 200 photos long, and I have a slow ISP.

And another thing: what makes a photo good? Especially if it’s just a shot of some scenery or some ancient building? Especially if I know very well that, behind the (dSLR) camera, is just a clueless tourist on auto mode? (Okay, maybe “clueless” is a little harsh, but hey, it makes the phrasing sound good?)

I mean, the subject matter is about as cool as it’s gonna be; if it’s the friggin’ Coliseum, then either way, no matter how it winds up getting captured in photography, it’s still the friggin’ Coliseum (ie. majorly awesome). So what makes it good? What makes you decide to “like” one on facebook and not the others? Composition? Colours? How much it makes you challenge society’s preconceptions on the Ancient Romans? Yeah, don’t really think so…

I’m serious here. I’m actually begging whoever’s reading this to answer me! I need to know. I don’t even care if how you decide is as simple as “well, I like this person, I’m jealous that s/he went on this vacation, and all the photos look sorta the same, so I’ll just “like” the ones that the least amount of other people have “liked”…you know, for variety”. Or even that you “like” the ones that the most other people have “liked”, because you too, have no idea what constitutes a good photo, and you figure that if other people “liked” it, then they must have some idea what constitutes a good photo, so…there.

Honestly, I have no clue. Is that really all there is? Are people so collectively clueless about the aesthetics of photography that this (see above paragraph) is all we’ve been reduced to? I hope not…

Come on, people, prove me wrong!

I am.

Really.

No joke.

Especially now, at 4am, when I’m in one of my, for lack of a better name, “hermit moods”. When I am obviously zoned out in some sort of pre-slumber funk, obviously sleepy, yet too lazy to get of my ass and actually go to bed. It is at these times when I aimlessly peruse the internet, traversing cyberspace, leaving no mark of my presence behind; no comments, no forum posts, no nothing, and that’s how I like it.

But then, what should appear but a disturbing aberration: a close friend had a birthday.

See, recently, out of laziness, I have stopped wishing people happy birthdays on facebook. I mean, I have over 200 facebook friends, most with posted birthdays to which I will be eventually notified, and if I continued wishing every one a happy birthday, then, seeing as I’m only barely acquaintances with most of them, it would mostly amount to me emotionlessly typing “Happy birthday so-and-so! :)” 200 times a year. I might as well just wish them all a happy belated birthday collectively every January 1st, and be done with it, really.

Sidenote: not to mention that if I took it upon myself to wish everyone a happy birthday, I would feel bad if I didn’t check the internet one day and missed the birthday of even the most insignificant facebook friend, so to save myself the emotional turmoil, I set limits!

Now, since facebook birthdays have very much become an international phenomena by themselves, I still feel compelled to participate, and, as such, I still wish a happy birthday via facebook to those who I sorta-remotely care about (when I remember to even check in the first place)

So, back to the main narrative, a close friend had a birthday, prompting my to want to post a somewhat uncharacteristically cheerful online greeting, you know, to show that I cared enough to try and deviate from the Happy birthday so-and-so! :)” template. Thus, in my pre-slumber zombie state, I mustered up a happy birthday greeting. But then, anxiety stuck in the form of tiny blue button; a tiny, square, blue button that read “Share”.

See, that’s when it hit me; I would be “sharing” this bout of uncharacteristic cheeriness with the world (okay, maybe not; but definitely with all of her facebook friends). This is something that displays a part of me that, while fully conscious, I am usually only comfortable displaying to the people to which I’m closest, and not, you know, the entirety of all people who know of my existence. It’s all very…unnerving.

Not only is it unnerving, but I also find it terribly intimidating. That word: share. Shaaaaaare. In other words: bare your soul, expose your innermost workings, let the vultures have free range over your intestines (sorry about the graphic imagery folks!)! How does no one else find this terrifying?! Granted, on a scale of exhibitionism from not to ten, I’m on the uncommonly low end of the scale, as in the “hide self behind a bookshelf in fetal position” end, but still…

Where does everyone else in the universe muster up the courage that I don’t? To forwardly state their opinions, make uninvited commentary, all at the risk of having whatever little thing they say be ripped apart word by word, their flaws exposed, be it by online reply or by offline vocal/mental criticism. Is there no one out there as scared of putting forth their worthless, meek thoughts as I am?

Yeah, yeah, the old argument returns: “but you’re commenting on all of this in your blog! How are you not similarly afraid of this?!”

Answer: I am still relatively anonymous here. I am fairly certain that nobody in this universe regularly reads it, judging by my lackluster pageview stats. So…there?

Nevertheless…

I have no conclusitory statement, and it is now 5am, and I must hasten to bed before my housemates wake up and I am judged for going to sleep after they wake up for the day.

Adieu, my nonexistant readers!!

I’m bored.

I’m sleepy.

I’m too comfy where I am to leave and move to my bed.

I have nothing interesting to write.

So…yeah.

Peace.

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