Saturday, November 19, 2005
Drama King (or androgynous royal personage, or whatever)
*Surgeon General's Warning: Reading this blog entry may be hazardous to your health. DO NOT READ if you suffer from any of the following conditions: allergy to angst, being in a hurry, requiring reading material to eventually get to some kind of point, inability to stomach long and rambling sentences, stupidity, intolerance, homophobia, ignorance, or ingrown toe nails.*
SO...I was going to write this long, breezy tongue-in-cheek blog with a nice sarcastic review of the new Harry Potter movie and leave you basking in the glow of my brilliant wit as an apology for not posting for so many days. BUT...I just had a really pathetically awkward and gut-wrenching argument with my ex-girlfriend/best friend, and I have some serious venting and explaining (and maybe a little apologizing) to do.
As usual, I managed to stick my foot in my mouth and not be able to explain what I really meant, and as usual she wasn't willing to stick around long enough to hear me out. Granted, I'm a long-winded kind of girl, especially when I'm feeling angsty (and boy am I feeling angsty--my stomach is in the tight little knots only she knows how to tie), but I feel like she's not really listening to me, sometimes not even willing to listen, and it kinda pisses me off. She's always twisting my words and telling me that the things I value in life aren't what's really important, and she knows better so I should always listen to her. I doubt she really means it that way, and I'm sure she's just trying to get me to do what's best for me...but...she's sounding like she's trying to be my mom, and I don't need that from her. I need her to be a supportive best friend kinda person, not a nagging mom kinda person. Her current approach reminds me a bit of my dad, or maybe even my grandmother (obsessive manipulative alcoholic, in case you were wondering), which I think is part of why it freaks me out and puts my back up so much.
I think all two of you who read this blog with any kind of regularity know that my ex was my first relationship of any kind, I was head-over-heels, foolish, blind, stupid naive in love. It didn't last (does it ever?), and we managed to salvage our friendship out of the wreckage, although it was touch-and-go for a while, mostly because I was an idiot and couldn't seem to fall out of love with her as easily as I fell into it.
I'm probably about 90% over her now. I still think about her a lot (she is my best friend), and we talk a lot, etc., but I don't daydream about her all the time anymore or invent those pathetic little white picket fence scenarios with her playing the female lead... The long-distance friendship thing is working pretty well, although I really miss hanging out with her.
The problem is that that 10% is enough to make me doubt that moving 400 miles away to be her roommate and go back to school is a great idea. I think she's mad at me for being scared. But I've done the whole unrequited crush thing way too many times to want to be stuck with an ex-girlfriend as a roommate when I might still have feelings. It's hard to tell for sure if I do, because I haven't seen her in over a year. Getting closer to a year and a half now. That was what I was trying--and failing miserably--to explain to her when she abruptly said that she'd had enough of that conversation and signed off.
I also said that I'd already turned my life upside down once because it was what she thought I should do (and I should point out that I never blamed her for it--God knows what desperate lengths I would have gone to if I hadn't come out of the closet soon). If anything, I'm profoundly grateful to her for giving me a kick in the pants when I sorely needed one. She was my lesbian mentor, as well as my friend and lover. Hell, she was my grownup mentor, too, half the time. And I can never repay her for supporting me (in every sense of the word), and encouraging me, and loving me when I felt completely unloveable, and helping me to get over my hurt when lifelong friends at my parents' church were no longer speaking to me after I was excommunicated. She is the only person who has ever made me feel beautiful or desirable, and that alone is enough to earn her my undying gratitude.
She did so many things for me, I can't even begin to list them, and my attitude towards her has always bordered a little bit on hero worship. I still wonder if she would approve before I buy clothes and music and shoes or get my hair cut. It's pathetic how much I still long for her approval in everything I do. I hate that I still want it, and I hate that I don't have it, and I hate that she never seems to have much time for me, and I hate that I can't seem to be cool with the casual friendship thing she has to keep re-establishing. I somehow manage to fuck it up every time (like tonight, for example).
She has friends and a loving family, and a decent job that actually gives her raises and benefits, and a cool zine, and I have...well...absentee homophobic parents, a depressed and depressing grandfather who hasn't lived in years but is scared to die, a church full of people way older than me that meets on the other side of a tunnel, a fairly dead-end job with a shitty sexist supervisor who doesn't think I'm even good at the job I have let alone worthy of promotion, innumerable scruples that I would probably be much happier without, a few acquaintances, no good friends to speak of, no money, no health insurance, and a serious case of depression. Doesn't seem like a fair trade, does it? I go up there, live with her, spend holidays with her family, hang out with her friends, go to her school, probably get a job with her or with somebody she knows...it's obvious what I'm getting out of it. But what does she get out of it? A nerd who hasn't done any of the things she's good at in so long she's probably forgotten how, an academic who can't write papers except when the mood strikes her (and it never lasts for long), a social reject who can't grasp the process of making friends, a city girl who likes easy living and short drives to the grocery store and having gay bookstores and Starbucks and gourmet food and well-educated people readily available (even though a lot of them despise me for working at DQ).
All the people I know are here. Everything that's comforting and familiar and home is either here or in Richmond with my uncle (with whom I would almost certainly not be welcome), or in Africa with my parents (ditto). I don't think I'm ready to leave. I'm still attached to the city I was born in. It's the only tie I have left with my parents, really, and I don't think I can cut that cord yet. A few years ago I would have jumped at the chance to leave town. But I'm the only family my grandfather has left, and even if he is a grumpy old whiner, he's still my grandfather, and I love him, dammit. And I don't know why I'm so emotional, because I just finished my period less than a week ago, but I should have known I'd be crying before this entry was over.
Pretty much everybody (except my boss, for obvious reasons) thinks that I should go back to school. Hell, I agree with them. It's pretty obvious. I am clearly not cut out for a life in fast food. For one thing, I'm not fast enough. For another thing, it just doesn't make me happy. It's a rare workday that I don't come home physically drained and a little emotionally bruised. I hate the stupid customers (and stupid employees). I hate the ignorance and the rigidity and the stagnation and the total lack of mental stimulation. On the other hand...I love learning. I love knowing the right answer, I love helping other people understand the right answer, I love impressing teachers (and occasionally stumping them), I love getting 100's on tests, I love above all that lightbulb moment, when something you've never understood, maybe never even given much thought to, suddenly makes complete and total sense and you just bask in the revelation. I love it. I love to read, and write, and think, and argue, and wrestle with concepts and characters and movements and ideals that are bigger and more important than I am.
I am way above average on pretty much every test I have ever taken (all the verbal stuff, anyway, and pretty good on the math, too). I was a National Merit Semi-Finalist (grades weren't good enough to be a Finalist), I won awards and scholarships... They used my PSAT booklet as a tool to show other kids how to do better on the test, for God's sake. People always knew that I would have the right answer and the best grade (or they thought they knew that, even after I got depressed and stopped turning things in). I could have made a killing writing papers and giving out test answers to people, only I was always too honest (and I will never regret that). Five minutes after meeting me, everybody says I'm way too smart to be working at DQ, I'm wasted on them, I absolutely must go back to school, etc. etc.
But...school is scary for me. The last four years of schooling I undertook were all fairly disastrous, although I managed to level out a bit in my senior year of high school, only to go hurtling into depression again in college and leave after about three months. I'm scared that I'll repeat all my past mistakes, that I'll procrastinate until there's no hope of catching up, that I'll be a social misfit again, that the bureaucracy and nitpicking will nip my creativity in the bud and I'll end up staring at a blank computer screen for hours on end, that (horror of horrors)... teachers won't like me. Or I won't be the best. Hell, maybe not even one of the best. I want to fit in, but at the same time I want to do better than everyone else. It's totally impossible, of course, so usually I end up striving for both and achieving neither.
So many things about moving in with her scare me, and I really don't think I can tackle them all at once. Let's see if I can list them all:
1. Grandfather alone.
2. Confused feelings almost undoubtedly exacerbated by living in close proximity.
3. Lack of my spoiled little suburban creature comforts.
4. No friends or family of my own--feel like a sponge.
5. Ditto sponginess with money/place to live.
6. Back-to-school failure angst
7.Hero-worship issues--may reach all new levels on basketcase chart attempting to be person she wants me to be because yes, I am just that impressionable and eager to please.
8. Have to watch any potential relationships develop. Definite awkwardness, misplaced jealousy, etc. Plus knowing my luck I would get a crush on girlfriend and then not know who to be jealous of.
9. Blah blah blah...Hannah insecure and paranoid... bad grades... falling down stairs in front of cute girl... will undoubtedly be alone forever... homophobia...could die on side of road in middle of nowhere... history of cancer and heart disease...alcoholism...crazy people...global warming...little green men... government conspiracy... we're all going to die...
I'm not really as pathetic as I just made myself sound. I do have a few friends, and I'm fairly well-liked (as far as I know) at work. But I have a lot of self-doubt issues, and somehow she always makes me feel tongue-tied and awkward and out of it, yet I still trail after her like a bumbling little puppy. I am tired and weepy and hopelessly confused and I will probably end up deleting this entry because it's way too long and ridiculously maudlin and nobody really wants to read all that, but right now I'm going to post it because I'm still mad and otherwise I'll never have the courage to say what needs to be said, because I can't go on like this, and I can't stand having her mad at me, so, (you know who you are) if you even finished reading this...
I'm sorry. Forgive me for being insecure and stupid?
SO...I was going to write this long, breezy tongue-in-cheek blog with a nice sarcastic review of the new Harry Potter movie and leave you basking in the glow of my brilliant wit as an apology for not posting for so many days. BUT...I just had a really pathetically awkward and gut-wrenching argument with my ex-girlfriend/best friend, and I have some serious venting and explaining (and maybe a little apologizing) to do.
As usual, I managed to stick my foot in my mouth and not be able to explain what I really meant, and as usual she wasn't willing to stick around long enough to hear me out. Granted, I'm a long-winded kind of girl, especially when I'm feeling angsty (and boy am I feeling angsty--my stomach is in the tight little knots only she knows how to tie), but I feel like she's not really listening to me, sometimes not even willing to listen, and it kinda pisses me off. She's always twisting my words and telling me that the things I value in life aren't what's really important, and she knows better so I should always listen to her. I doubt she really means it that way, and I'm sure she's just trying to get me to do what's best for me...but...she's sounding like she's trying to be my mom, and I don't need that from her. I need her to be a supportive best friend kinda person, not a nagging mom kinda person. Her current approach reminds me a bit of my dad, or maybe even my grandmother (obsessive manipulative alcoholic, in case you were wondering), which I think is part of why it freaks me out and puts my back up so much.
I think all two of you who read this blog with any kind of regularity know that my ex was my first relationship of any kind, I was head-over-heels, foolish, blind, stupid naive in love. It didn't last (does it ever?), and we managed to salvage our friendship out of the wreckage, although it was touch-and-go for a while, mostly because I was an idiot and couldn't seem to fall out of love with her as easily as I fell into it.
I'm probably about 90% over her now. I still think about her a lot (she is my best friend), and we talk a lot, etc., but I don't daydream about her all the time anymore or invent those pathetic little white picket fence scenarios with her playing the female lead... The long-distance friendship thing is working pretty well, although I really miss hanging out with her.
The problem is that that 10% is enough to make me doubt that moving 400 miles away to be her roommate and go back to school is a great idea. I think she's mad at me for being scared. But I've done the whole unrequited crush thing way too many times to want to be stuck with an ex-girlfriend as a roommate when I might still have feelings. It's hard to tell for sure if I do, because I haven't seen her in over a year. Getting closer to a year and a half now. That was what I was trying--and failing miserably--to explain to her when she abruptly said that she'd had enough of that conversation and signed off.
I also said that I'd already turned my life upside down once because it was what she thought I should do (and I should point out that I never blamed her for it--God knows what desperate lengths I would have gone to if I hadn't come out of the closet soon). If anything, I'm profoundly grateful to her for giving me a kick in the pants when I sorely needed one. She was my lesbian mentor, as well as my friend and lover. Hell, she was my grownup mentor, too, half the time. And I can never repay her for supporting me (in every sense of the word), and encouraging me, and loving me when I felt completely unloveable, and helping me to get over my hurt when lifelong friends at my parents' church were no longer speaking to me after I was excommunicated. She is the only person who has ever made me feel beautiful or desirable, and that alone is enough to earn her my undying gratitude.
She did so many things for me, I can't even begin to list them, and my attitude towards her has always bordered a little bit on hero worship. I still wonder if she would approve before I buy clothes and music and shoes or get my hair cut. It's pathetic how much I still long for her approval in everything I do. I hate that I still want it, and I hate that I don't have it, and I hate that she never seems to have much time for me, and I hate that I can't seem to be cool with the casual friendship thing she has to keep re-establishing. I somehow manage to fuck it up every time (like tonight, for example).
She has friends and a loving family, and a decent job that actually gives her raises and benefits, and a cool zine, and I have...well...absentee homophobic parents, a depressed and depressing grandfather who hasn't lived in years but is scared to die, a church full of people way older than me that meets on the other side of a tunnel, a fairly dead-end job with a shitty sexist supervisor who doesn't think I'm even good at the job I have let alone worthy of promotion, innumerable scruples that I would probably be much happier without, a few acquaintances, no good friends to speak of, no money, no health insurance, and a serious case of depression. Doesn't seem like a fair trade, does it? I go up there, live with her, spend holidays with her family, hang out with her friends, go to her school, probably get a job with her or with somebody she knows...it's obvious what I'm getting out of it. But what does she get out of it? A nerd who hasn't done any of the things she's good at in so long she's probably forgotten how, an academic who can't write papers except when the mood strikes her (and it never lasts for long), a social reject who can't grasp the process of making friends, a city girl who likes easy living and short drives to the grocery store and having gay bookstores and Starbucks and gourmet food and well-educated people readily available (even though a lot of them despise me for working at DQ).
All the people I know are here. Everything that's comforting and familiar and home is either here or in Richmond with my uncle (with whom I would almost certainly not be welcome), or in Africa with my parents (ditto). I don't think I'm ready to leave. I'm still attached to the city I was born in. It's the only tie I have left with my parents, really, and I don't think I can cut that cord yet. A few years ago I would have jumped at the chance to leave town. But I'm the only family my grandfather has left, and even if he is a grumpy old whiner, he's still my grandfather, and I love him, dammit. And I don't know why I'm so emotional, because I just finished my period less than a week ago, but I should have known I'd be crying before this entry was over.
Pretty much everybody (except my boss, for obvious reasons) thinks that I should go back to school. Hell, I agree with them. It's pretty obvious. I am clearly not cut out for a life in fast food. For one thing, I'm not fast enough. For another thing, it just doesn't make me happy. It's a rare workday that I don't come home physically drained and a little emotionally bruised. I hate the stupid customers (and stupid employees). I hate the ignorance and the rigidity and the stagnation and the total lack of mental stimulation. On the other hand...I love learning. I love knowing the right answer, I love helping other people understand the right answer, I love impressing teachers (and occasionally stumping them), I love getting 100's on tests, I love above all that lightbulb moment, when something you've never understood, maybe never even given much thought to, suddenly makes complete and total sense and you just bask in the revelation. I love it. I love to read, and write, and think, and argue, and wrestle with concepts and characters and movements and ideals that are bigger and more important than I am.
I am way above average on pretty much every test I have ever taken (all the verbal stuff, anyway, and pretty good on the math, too). I was a National Merit Semi-Finalist (grades weren't good enough to be a Finalist), I won awards and scholarships... They used my PSAT booklet as a tool to show other kids how to do better on the test, for God's sake. People always knew that I would have the right answer and the best grade (or they thought they knew that, even after I got depressed and stopped turning things in). I could have made a killing writing papers and giving out test answers to people, only I was always too honest (and I will never regret that). Five minutes after meeting me, everybody says I'm way too smart to be working at DQ, I'm wasted on them, I absolutely must go back to school, etc. etc.
But...school is scary for me. The last four years of schooling I undertook were all fairly disastrous, although I managed to level out a bit in my senior year of high school, only to go hurtling into depression again in college and leave after about three months. I'm scared that I'll repeat all my past mistakes, that I'll procrastinate until there's no hope of catching up, that I'll be a social misfit again, that the bureaucracy and nitpicking will nip my creativity in the bud and I'll end up staring at a blank computer screen for hours on end, that (horror of horrors)... teachers won't like me. Or I won't be the best. Hell, maybe not even one of the best. I want to fit in, but at the same time I want to do better than everyone else. It's totally impossible, of course, so usually I end up striving for both and achieving neither.
So many things about moving in with her scare me, and I really don't think I can tackle them all at once. Let's see if I can list them all:
1. Grandfather alone.
2. Confused feelings almost undoubtedly exacerbated by living in close proximity.
3. Lack of my spoiled little suburban creature comforts.
4. No friends or family of my own--feel like a sponge.
5. Ditto sponginess with money/place to live.
6. Back-to-school failure angst
7.Hero-worship issues--may reach all new levels on basketcase chart attempting to be person she wants me to be because yes, I am just that impressionable and eager to please.
8. Have to watch any potential relationships develop. Definite awkwardness, misplaced jealousy, etc. Plus knowing my luck I would get a crush on girlfriend and then not know who to be jealous of.
9. Blah blah blah...Hannah insecure and paranoid... bad grades... falling down stairs in front of cute girl... will undoubtedly be alone forever... homophobia...could die on side of road in middle of nowhere... history of cancer and heart disease...alcoholism...crazy people...global warming...little green men... government conspiracy... we're all going to die...
I'm not really as pathetic as I just made myself sound. I do have a few friends, and I'm fairly well-liked (as far as I know) at work. But I have a lot of self-doubt issues, and somehow she always makes me feel tongue-tied and awkward and out of it, yet I still trail after her like a bumbling little puppy. I am tired and weepy and hopelessly confused and I will probably end up deleting this entry because it's way too long and ridiculously maudlin and nobody really wants to read all that, but right now I'm going to post it because I'm still mad and otherwise I'll never have the courage to say what needs to be said, because I can't go on like this, and I can't stand having her mad at me, so, (you know who you are) if you even finished reading this...
I'm sorry. Forgive me for being insecure and stupid?
