Saturday, July 02, 2005
So I start a revolution from my bed
Cause you said the brains I have went to my head
Step outside -- the summertime's in bloom
Stand up beside the fireplace
Take that look from off your face
You ain't ever gonna burn my heart out...
-Oasis - Don't Look Back in Anger
I knew those photos I posted would cause a bit of a stir, and they have. Combined with my perchant for saying provocative and frequently foolish things, the shit was bound to hit the fan.
That said, I know I did it for a reason. You never get to see the true nature of the people you meet until you allow them to lob huge baseballs at you. It's an excellent opportunity to swing the bat as hard as humanly possible.
I could be bitter about the fact that every time I do something sweet and nice and considerate the reaction of others is by and large to try and take advantage of me. But then I remember Carrie. And if she's not bitter after all the shit that's gone down in her life, then I have no right to be bitter about mine. I can just chuckle at people's attempts to manipulate me, because living well is the best revenge. I'm not naive, I'm not stupid, and I am above all else NOT morally vacuous. I am not easy, and I am not accepting of very complicated justifications for bad behaviour. Sorry to disappoint, but I just don't buy that kind of garbage.
What is it about this blog that convinces some people that I'm an easy target for their odd little games of deception?
It's probably that when people do silly, silly things I am flattered rather than outraged. But perhaps it's time I demanded a little respect. Everyone is so surprised to discover that I do indeed have a backbone.
I'm not being terribly specific, because I'm so nice that I don't want to embarrass those involved. But I will say that I have seen enough broken hearts lately to not want to have to deal with more of them. And I have a bad feeling about this one.
One example that has nothing to do with this blog is that of a certain gentleman I met at the open-mike (ought it to be spelt 'mic?') a few weeks ago. He closely resembles Kevin Smith in Silent Bob garb, is rather diminutive, and he's in his mid-to-late 40s. He reads a lot of poetry about hallucinations he had on morphine (usually involving a combination of violent sex, transvestites, blood and gore, and Jack Kerouac), and he regaled me (irony alert) with tales of a screenplay he wrote entirely about a woman raping a man. He is also a pathological liar and Jack and I are pretty sure that he has a long-term girlfriend, who I feel very sorry for. For some inexplicable reason he asked Jack at the end of the night if I was his girlfriend, and when he said no he asked if he would "put in a good word" for him with me. Jack and I wondered for a full week what "good word" about this guy could possibly have made him sound like someone I'd want to go out with.
If I put out a personal ad right now, it would read something like this:
Single female, early twenties, looking for no-strings-attached with AVAILABLE 20s-30s male or female. NO CRAZIES!!
Haha. That would be rich.
Seriously, though, I'm trying to regain my sanity, not lose what I have left of it to some total wack-job.
End of rant.