Oh Facebook, I Know It’s Not Your Fault

November 24, 2011 § Leave a comment

So here’s the thing.

I’ve been in a relationship with the most amazing man in the world (research pending) for 6+ years.  We’ve had our ups and downs but he’s the best and you don’t have to click far on Facebook to see that that is my feeling. And yet, for some reason, I seem to carry the reputation of a girl who is interested in just peacing out on her relationship to hook up with people who she is friends with on Facebook but hasn’t actually spoken to in real life since high school or early college.  I feel like it’s weird that this happens with somewhat regularity, but maybe it’s not.

The other night was an example of just such a situation.  A person, I will call him TDJ*, that Mr. B and I have known since high school, messaged me with overt intentions of and-I-use-this-term-loosely courtship. I politely declined, and he persisted. That part was not too strange, since he had tried this before through Facebook and the rumor mill (we come from a small town; people love gossip).  I felt bad for the guy for having such a bizarrely persistent crush on a girl that he didn’t even know anymore**, so I continued to try to be nice, but firm.  Then he insulted Mr. B in the most hurtful, high school way and insinuated that I am the kind of girl who would not only find insults toward my long term boyfriend a turn on, but who would also cheat on said boyfriend. I believe (some of) the exact words were “that doesnt mean anything to me that your [sic] taken..u aint married are you?”

I probably should not have gotten as riled as I did (and clearly still am) but I did, and told him on no uncertain terms that um beeteedubs it means a lot to ME that I’m taken, regardless of legal status. I even wish that I hadn’t been too flustered to say what I really thought, which was more along the lines of SCREW YOU DUDE MY LIFE IS AWESOME.  But alas,  you must know by now how words escape me in the heat of the moment.  Mr. B ultimately took over and politely*** requested that TDJ leave me alone, and while my feminist side had a (very) momentary roar at its cages, the rest of me was thrilled that he defended my honor in such a way.  Because seriously. Eff that guy.

If I dated a person like TDJ, my life would be completely different, and not in a good way.  Mr. B is smart, honest, kind, responsible, sensitive, and freaking hilarious, not to mention easy on the eyes (hey-o!)  TDJ is the kind of boy I was attracted to when I was younger: good looking but emotionally unattached and “funny” in that not funny at all but actually really mean way****.  So suffice it to say, I am so thankful that Mr. B found me before I permanently attached myself to one of them. Mr. B supports my goals and aspirations, even when they are jumbled and don’t make sense (ie. always,) and even when they don’t make rent (or birthdays…) on time.  He keeps me sane in an insane career path: he talks me down (or up) when I’m ready to fly off the handle because of something someone said, or something that happened at work, or my ever conflicted feelings about what I’m doing and where I’m going and why.

It’s been so long since I’ve been single that I can’t properly imagine the kinds of decisions I would have made given that situation, but I know for a fact that if I was still with any person I dated or was attracted to leading up to Mr. B, I would not have had the strength or support to leave my day job to pursue the arts full time, especially after crashing and burning so hard the first time.  I would not have had the financial or emotional support to continue living on my own, or doubtfully even with a roommate. The past two months have been hard but doable, often only because every night I could come home to reassurance that everything will be okay in the end.

So no, TDJ, I am not interested in your advances. I felt bad for you, and for some reason when I feel bad for a person I more readily allow them to abuse me, but now I pity you in a whole new way.  As long as you talk to girls the way you do, you will never be happy.  High school ended seven years ago and you never recovered, so, that sucks for you and all, but I just can’t be bothered with your plight. Facebook may have made it more complicated to defriend, but some bridges are worth burning.

*Token Dumb Jock. Every high school has at least one; you know yours did.
**and honestly, barely knew in high school
***j/k it wasn’t polite. It was AWESOME.
****And DUMB. Holy crap is this kid dumb.

Two Thoughts Diverged in a Wine Bottle

November 14, 2011 § Leave a comment

I should be in bed right now, but that’s how much I love you*. I just spent the loveliest weekend + two days off to attend a wedding for one of my very oldest and very dearest, and I’m hanging on to that wonderful, relaxing, full of love feeling as much as possible before I go back into the belly of the beast**.

I’ll be honest, this tv thing is hard. I didn’t expect it to be so hard. I think a lot of it is just the learning curve, and the level of embarrassment and/or shame I feel every time I don’t automatically pick up on or know something, regardless of the fact that I have zero prior film experience so why would I know certain nuggets of information pertaining only to costuming for film. And the fact that I’m spoiled and have been the boss or first hand for every project I’ve worked on since, oh, 2007, and I straight up forgot what it is like to be the least experienced, lowest rung on the totem pole. And let me tell you, it is not my favorite.

Lucky for me, everyone I work with is so incredibly nice and actively wants to help me learn the biz. In that way, it’s a great learning experience. I just really hate learning experiences. I read an article once about my people, “smart kids,” and it really rang true for me. “Smart kids” (with the quotation marks) are the kids who had no trouble in school; every class we came across was a breeze, until our late teens or early twenties when things finally started getting hard for us. Suddenly we struggled, and instead of furrowing our brows, putting our heads down, and working at the things that were hard for us like everyone else did, we quit. Because, oh yeah, being naturally ahead your whole life makes you lazy.

I’m aware of my laziness, and my inexplicable shame at not immediately knowing how to do things, so I try to work through it. But at this point I’m so used to my comfort zone, it’s hard. Which brings me to the other thought that diverged in this winey, and somewhat cheesy***, wood. Here is the most pressing thing I have learned through this experience so far: apparently, I am still so very, very, incredibly awkward with new groups of people. Apparently, I’m the type of person who stands conspicuously near a group of people, eavesdropping, laughing when they laugh, but never actually saying anything above a mutter and NEVER actually making eye contact for more than an accidental second.

I did not know this about myself. I thought I was rather gregarious and comfortable with new people. I thought I was friendly, dammit! But, apparently, the truth of the matter is, when I am thrown into a totally new situation with totally new people who know a whole hell of a lot more than I do in the most important subject of the day, I am the most awkward person who ever lived.

Since I don’t live in New York and I come from either an office or casual/non-mountainous background, I don’t know how to dress in a way that is warm, comfortable, AND fashionable. I wake up at a time that makes contacts only barely doable, and makeup impossible. Since I’m incredibly aware of the fact that I don’t actually know anyone very well because I go home every night, I am incredibly awkward to speak to. I make inside jokes with people who have no idea what I’m talking about. I blush. I get confused. I mutter. I avoid eye contact. It’s like an out of body experience. It’s not that it’s not me, because it is me… fifteen years ago. 1996 me would absolutely have all of these traits; I just thought I had gotten better at this thing, man.

It seems like people like me, though I can’t imagine why. It seems like I’m picking up things, though it doesn’t feel fast enough. I’m holding out judgement until I’ve worked for longer than three weeks, though it feels like three months. Basically, I can’t wait until I’m good at this thing.

I will like it a lot more then.

*Also how much I’m pretending I don’t have to go back to work tomorrow, plus also this cheap ass wine from the bottle is inexplicably delicious today. Please don’t be sad, the love you part is first.
**Though I’ve heard/read that it’s better this week.
***And even more hummus-y, which is a delight. Hooray for Mr. B’s taste in groceries!

Always a Draft, Never a Published

November 11, 2011 § Leave a comment

Remember that time when I was supposed to be writing about my freelancing and then I got an insane job through my freelancing and never blogged again? Yeah, I know. To my credit, I have a handful of draft posts that I started but never published because I’m great at starting things but terrible at ending them.

That said, I’m still not going to tell you about my kickass crazy life because I’m currently in Georgia to see one of my oldest and dearest get herself hitched. Just wanted to let you know I’m still alive and I love you. 🙂

Oh, also, Mr. B and I both survived food poisoning. Our trashcan in the 2nd bathroom, however, did not.

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