Frustration, or Why I Hate People

I've been really frustrated lately, somewhat unfairly at people. I'm under stress at work, my roommate is never ever going to move out, leaving me with the options of allowing Stephie to do something horrible, to sell her and her unborn baby into white slavery, or (what I'm actually doing) keeping my mouth shut and trying to deal until she moves out in January. I know, I know. I said she wasn't ever moving out, but she was supposed to be out at the beginning of this month. Then it was November. Now it's January. And she's passive-aggressive about everything, refuses to acknowledge that this is any kind of inconvenience, and hasn't bought toilet paper since January. She's also using my salt. I realize these may be small and petty things, but they add up to me not liking her (along with some other stuff), and living with people I don't like, even if they are only in town a few days a week, stresses me the hell out.

But she's not the only one I'm frustrated at. I see so many people who say "I want x," but they act like they want y. And this drives me a little insane. It's mainly in relationship stuff, and it's not that I want to be in a relationship with these people, it's the incongruity. The attitude of, "If I can't find the right one, well, I might as well date/hook-up with whomever." It's not that I can't understand that thought. It's one that has crossed my mind. But it is fundamentally not who I am, and one that just seems wrong. If you want to be in a real relationship, why waste time with other people? Why hang out with someone just because you want to have someone to hang out with? Why risk the possibility of meeting someone special, but not noticing because you were too busy trying to hook up with someone else? The whole thing makes me sad, in part because I can see so clearly what I want. And it's not to date, it's not to hang out, it's not to find someone I can stand. I am so ready, and these other people are driving me nuts.

Besides that, I keep seeing people act like 14-year-olds. Is it me? Am I expecting too much of people? I'm not going to say I act like I should; I see lots of areas for improvement. I will avoid things. I will be horrible at communication. But if you are my friend and you need me, I will be there. If I invite you out to celebrate something, we shall celebrate. Your happiness may make me feel a twinge of longing for what I don't have, but I will wholeheartedly be happy for you, and I will damn well keep that twinge to myself. If friends come to visit, visiting shall be had. They shall be the theme and centerpiece of the visit.

All this is not to suggest that there are not people in my life who don't act like that. I have some truly lovely friends, people who help me and are there for me and who I hope know that I would do anything for. These are the people who help to show me what I want to be, and give me hope that maybe I can be better.

The rest of you? Well. Be glad that I am non-confrontational.

Socially Awkward

Every once in a while, I have moments that make me feel 14 again. And not in the good way. In the "omg, wtf did I do THAT?" way. The way that makes you feel thisbig. And it always happens when I'm tired and stressed and feeling vulnerable. Which means I'm very sensitive. Which means I do something that makes me feel even more tired and stressed and vulnerable. And then I feel like a moron. Which I REALLY hate.

Not that most people like feeling like morons. but my own particular aversion to being wrong is well-known. I've always been like that, or at least for as long as I can remember. I would do ANYTHING to avoid feeling like that. Especially when there is nothing I can do. I have screwed up at work. And there is a sinking feeling you get when you realize that you made a mistake. But that stresses me out in one way. Social awkwardness stresses me out immensely more, mainly because there is no fix. There is only continuing through the awkwardness...

In other news, I was interviewed about my blog. I feel so special! I mean, not as special as when I was in the Express. But you, you DOZENS of readers. Have led me to this.

STFU with the singing on the metro

This apparently is "refer to old posts" week. Every once in a while, I'm hit by the fact that things have changed since I've moved here. I know, that seems obvious. A very "no shit, Sherlock" moment. Sometimes I'm impressed by how I've grown. Sometimes, I'm a little sad that things have changed.

For example, YEARS ago (the fact that I can say that makes me feel old), I wrote a post about a guy singing on the train. I thought it was awesome. How unreserved, unpretentious. Just a guy riding along, doing what he wanted. An attitude I still like. But lately? I've seen a few girls, singing along on the train. And it ANNOYS THE CRAP OUT OF ME. Listen, I have my OWN ipod. I am quite happy in my own little world. You singing a few lines off-pitch shakes me out of my own world. That makes me unhappy. Why do you think I want to be shaken out of my world? I DO NOT. LEAVE ME ALONE.

I've noticed that I'm getting crankier with tourists and people in general. Starting to understand one of my former coworkers who rode his bike to work primarily because he couldn't stand the people on the metro. Only days he didn't were when the trails were too icy. While I haven't reached that level YET (though metro? you are so on my list. Raising prices when service SUCKS? NOT COOL), I'm not that far from it.

Though I say all this and then the other day? I saw a guy doing tai chi on the metro. And I didn't get annoyed. I thought it was freaking awesome. Kind of gave me chills...

Bad Finishers!

Every once in a while, I get a crazy person commenting on my blog. For the most part, I actually kind of enjoy it, mainly because they are so out of left field and contain misspellings and grammatical errors. Because, really? If you are going to call me a moron but can't even use the correct form of "you're," I'm not going to take the critique too seriously, and in fact will mock you to my friends. Because I am THAT kind of girl.

So it is now that time of year when a young girl's heart turns to football/soccer (for some reason, my 10 weeks in England converted me to calling it football. Pretentious, yes. I accept it). I say that, but let's face facts. I watch the games when it's convenient or involved with a social activity. Last World Cup, my then-coworker and I watched a couple of games in the local pub, which led to the infamous blog entry on what not to tell your boyfriend. This time, I spent the USA/England game in a bar that was approximately a billion degrees, yelling obscenities and reveling in the fact that Lampard again could not finish. I was rather upset since I'd just gotten my hair done, and the temperature in teh bar immediately made my hair frizz up so I went from having smooth, hot wavy hair to having a bizarre Bozofro. It was not attractive, I'm not going to lie. And I still haven't decided if I like the cut or not. I then was forced to drink to forget the crazy hair (Note to self: Just because you CAN shoot whiskey does not mean you SHOULD). I also ran into a girl I knew through X, which was rather surreal. Can't quite decide how I feel about it. I like her, I always thought she and her roommate were lots of fun. But seeing her dredges up feelings ONCE AGAIN that I thought I was over with.

Saturday was also the beginning of knit in public day. I know, you're saying "It's a day. It should just LAST a day." I agree, and unless I wasn't paying attention, it was last year. But instead, somehow KIPD has turned into a week. So tomorrow I'm celebrating by knitting on a brand new scarf (path of flowers). Luckily I haven't gotten far into it (and by not far, I mean I'm ALMOST done casting on), so I should be able to knit and make small talk. Which is good because my other project (I'm also mid-casting on) is easier, but I broke the needles and am waiting on my replacement from KnitPicks. I'm gradually getting more and more yarn and one day, I'll be on "Hoarders" sobbing as they try to get me to give up my Wollmeise.

Writer for Hire

I love my neighborhood. I mean, like really love it. Every day, I walk by a crazy kangaroo statue, a bunch of purple houses, various hippies. But one of my favorite things I walk by is a simple sign. but here's the thing. The sign is an office sign, hanging out like an advertisement. Not that unusual, but this one? Is for a writer. That's right, the sign says, "Someone's Name, Writer." And every time I see this sign, it makes me wonder. (Well, not every time. Sometimes I'm thinking about breakfast or coffee or that I'm going to be late or that I like my shoes or wondering about why soft cheese is soft.) But a good portion of the time, I look at it and think, "Why does a writer need a sign?" Are there people out there going, "I need a writer... LOOK. A sign! I'll hire him!" What kind of writer is he? Is he a technical writer, fiction, non-fiction, political biographer? It is so confusing. I feel like I should go talk to this guy and ask him these questions. But then I wouldn't have anything to think about when I walk by (except for the previously mentioned meanderings of my mind).

And it's nice to have these distractions, as some things have happened lately that have made me once again very angry at X. I mean, furious. I did see him a couple of weeks ago. We ignored each other (he even ducked. I mean, HE DUCKED. Dumbass. Did he really think that I wasn't going to recognize him). I did and do judge him harshly for the ducking, but given my resurgence of righteous anger, perhaps he was wise. I wouldn't mind beating the shit out of him, and then siccing Stephie on him. He should and hopefully does know that he deserves it. The only good thing is that I didn't expect anything more from him, and I don't have to be disappointed by his behavior.

Inane Friendship ramblings

I've had like a billion things to post. First adult trip to the ER, FTW! I sliced my finger open, drove myself, got four stitches, later took out my own stitches (not my number one choice, but had to be done). I felt very independent. Like, look. I could have support and a boyfriend or something to help by at least driving me to the ER (probably the one supportive thing X would have done. Boy could not deal with difficult things AT ALL. Apparently still can't, after the whole October debacle). But I didn't need that. I stayed calm, I did try to call cabs (note to self: get local cab numbers to put on fridge), I didn't do anything dumb, I remembered to take the cookies out that I was baking so I didn't burn the whole place down.

Basically right now I'm happy being single, but not satisfied, if that makes sense. I have some lovely friends, some of whom I mainly interact with online but whom I still love. I do kind of wish I lived out in Loudoun. because I swear, some of those girls are my soulmates. I'd like ot have a local best friend, but you know? Having some good local friends and some good long-distance friends is working okay.

It is kind of funny to realize that I had better taste in friends as a kid then I do now. I mean, I have met some amazing people as an adult. But I've also met some people that I trusted wrongly. Some people I thought liked me for me. And then I've been wrong, and then I get hurt. And then I tell my high school friends about the whole thing, and they are still amazing. They still reassure me about who I am, and that I am a good and likeable and loveable person. I love that about my old friends. I love that about some of my new friends, too.

As a side note, tourists? I HATE YOU. I might not actually whack you with a bag or anything, but do not doubt that I am thinking about it. Guy whose bag kept hitting me today? I'm looking at you especially hard.

RAAAAAWWWWRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!

RAAAAAWWWWRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!
Originally uploaded by mewmewbecky

This lovely drawing was done by my friend/doppelganger Becky. Sadly, there was no drinking (at least on my part) when we came up with the idea for Ursa Imgonnaeatyou (real name has not been decided, though Bear Gunn has been discussed). picture this, if you will. A seal doing the skeleton race, followed by a land shark, followed by this bear.

yes, we may have lost our minds. I'm okay with that.

Pardon me, have you seen my sanity?

I have lost my freaking mind. Cabin fever? people asked, and I scoffed. I LIKE being inside. I have books and knitting and spinning. I'll be FINE. Ah, the words of the braggart. The naive young girl that I was a week ago. When my biggest worry was getting snowed in with my roommate and her husband for three days. (I wasn't.) I thought this will be fun. I like snow. It's pretty.

And I am going insane. I hate my apartment, my cat is driving me nuts (except for when she's being adorable), I can't do anything fun because I'm supposed to be working. I can feel my muscles losing strength. Pretty soon, I won't be ABLE to leave my apartment. Outside will become a rumor, something covered by glass and kept away as far as possible.

Crazy, you say? Given that I started with me losing my mind, I wouldn't disagree. After all, it is only snow. Snow that must eventually melt. The metro will run, I will go into work and the city. I will see other people, make small talk.

But I have spent twenty minutes chatting with friends and saying only "sweatpants." They had a perfectly lovely conversation about differing standards of formality. I said sweatpants. All I can say is, "DON'T JUDGE ME!" It's the white stuff... I SWEAR.

A New Obsession

I HAVE DISCOVERED A NEW BLOG.

Yes I realize that it makes more sense to write about Snopocoplyse II (or SnoWTF or SnOMG), as I like to call it. but really. It snowed. Lots. It's still snowing. I'm inside with power. My car is literally buried under the snow, meaning I shall not be able to dig it out for days. Luckily I commute using public transit which is also buried, but which I don't have to dig out. The end.

While I have been stuck inside, though, watching my neighbors molest the poor tree outside my window (seriously. They were sitting on it. Poor tree is going to be traumatized. I wanted to take a picture, but then I'd be the crazy girl taking pictures of them through the window. Which I'd be more okay with if I weren't still in pajamas with gross hair.), I've been reading Hyperbole and a Half. My friend Stephie mentioned it last night in order to distract me from the fact that I still don't have the yarn she promised to send me like a whole TWO DAYS AGO. (Kitten, I still heart you. In fact, you might be one of my favorite imaginary people I only know on the internet.)

But yes. So I've been reading through the archives, and Allie is awesome. I've been laughing ridiculous amounts reading it, and I never actually laugh out loud when I'm reading something funny. Last night, I started to do that thing where you're laughing at stuff, and then you keep reading and you're not even reading anything that funny anymore, but you still keep laughing and you're trying to stop and you make that awkward "I can't stop laughing" noise that's something between a laugh and a donkey bray. I mean, no one is here so no one could hear me, but still. It's the principle of the thing.

So basically the point of this post is to tell you to go read her. But only while you're alone in the house or around people who won't judge.

We're Melting!

I thought briefly about writing something about the State of the Union. After all, I actually watched it (something I don’t always do, since I then read about it for DAYS and get all the main points), and I live in DC, where you can even attend SotU parties and participate in drinking games (neither of which I did).

But then I read in the Post this morning that a scant majority of Americans believe in global warming. Apparently, the “it still gets cold, and hey, look at the snow” argument has convinced a sizable number of people that it’s all a conspiracy. Seriously? SERIOUSLY??? Please explain this to me. Scientists, people who are paid to study these types of things, point out that things are warmer. They can explain why there is more snow in some areas, and why others are colder. They can point out rising sea levels. And yet Joe Schmo thinks, “Florida froze this year, it must all be wrong”?

And usually I wouldn’t care. Well, I’d care enough to rant about it, and then move on. But this scares me. Because I firmly believe that if we don’t do something soon, it could be too late. And I know that the massive changes probably won’t happen until I’m dead, but that they will happen in the next generation’s lifetimes. And that’s not acceptable.

I do recognize the difficulty in ecological changes. The mountaintop mining in West Virginia is a perfect example. Blowing up the tops of mountains to get at coal seems like an obvious “this has to be bad for the environment” example. Yet there are lots of people protesting the EPA’s rulings not allowing all of these mines, and while I agree that the mines should be stopped, it’s easy to understand why people are against that, since many of these people’s livelihoods depend on that mining. It’s hard to be gung-ho about saving the environment when it means that you’re not sure if you’ll be able to pay your mortgage or feed your family.

That said, it would be shortsighted to be so afraid of negative economic impact that we don’t do anything. (Which, actually, brings me back to the State of the Union.) Jobs are important, and I feel for these people. I would love to see some training programs, not necessarily funded by the government but by corporations (Ford, I think, was doing training programs to help workers they laid off), to help these people find other work. But it seems crazy to stay, “it’s better to destroy the planet, affecting billions, than to make laws and regulations that might affect the economy.