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Tuesday, Oct. 01, 2002 / 6:23 p.m. ~And I Thought Lulu Was Bad! (A Rant)~ The 'new boy' went too far. And I concede it may be misinterpretation on my part, but I will no longer tolerate his 'good natured' derision based on my lifestyle choices. I will no longer tolerate his 'making fun' of me for living with cats, or for not having children, or for watching the television programs I watch, or for owning (and not replacing) the technology I own. If I want to point out that I'm silly for how I treat my cats, or for watching "Guiding Light" for 20 years, or for having the same TV that belonged to my grandmother in the late '70s, that's MY business. You are free to 'ooh' and 'aaaah' when I tell you about it, to make the appropriate facial gestures, to chuckle here and there, after I do the same, but you do NOT deride me for my lifestyle. And you do not point out to me, ever, or even insinuate in the very slightest, that yours is a fuller life because you have children. This is a HUGE no-no. A gargantuan faux pas. I do not have children because when I was in my sexual prime, and before and after, I used BIRTH CONTROL. I was not married, I was a responsible sexually active woman who was not ready to provide for a child, for another human being. I had no partner, or one who was non-commital, and I was RESPONSIBLE with my reproductivity. This does not mean that my life is less full than yours. How fucking illogical is that?! I was merely pointing out that there is a wonderful single screen theatre intown, and we all know how much I love INTOWN. I used to live there, for years I lived there, in various portions, and I know what is there, I know the history, I know the culture, I know the diversity, I know the definition of URBAN, I know what city life is like, I know the difference between that life, that FULL life, and the life in the redneck suburbs. And I know a military-minded redneck when I see one, no matter how often and how loudly he espouses, he extols, his supposed virtues and talents. No matter how fantastic and unbelievable it all seems. Oh sure, he plays trumpet, violin, guitar, keyboards, drums, he was a Chess Champion in 5th grade, he blah, blah, blah, blah and blah too. Like I fucking care. Is there a reason he has been shamelessly promoting himself, and all the while laughing at me, since he started working with us? One day he told me he only makes fun of people he likes. So, I see, he's like the asshole who always made fun of me for having a 'mustache' in grammar school, the one my mother said secretly had a crush on me. Oh sure, that's it. I don't need it. There's a reason I keep my private life private, a reason I don't share myself at work, the reason I write it all here, where only 'strangers' can read it. I'm not like everybody else. I don't fit in with the black women, I don't fit in with the white men, I don't fit in with anyone. And no matter what we think we have in common, we are very different and I would prefer to remain alone. In fact, the only thing I would change is that I would live away from the smog of near-city Suburbia, I would move intown if I could afford it. And I would quit this job and every other job. If I could, I'd write, I'd photograph the world, I'd travel, and when I cross the provincial American mindset I'd run the other way. Instead, I turned my head when he told me his life was full, and I said "What, my life isn't?" because there is that chance I was misinterpreting. And perhaps I made fun of his 60 inch TV, but only after he laughed and laughed and laughed, way past the point of it being even remotely funny, at my old one. Old does not equal bad. Americans. Fuck Americans. Everything must be bigger, newer, shinier, faster, smarter, more expensive, with more gadgets, more gewgaws. I want to live in a remote village in the Italian Countryside. I'm so sick of this culture. This void. And of people who can't look outside their own experience. He thinks the city is filled with crime. If he drives there his car will be vandalized, or worse. He thinks the city is for single people, it's no place for children. He says he is not social, he'd rather spend time with his boys, his life is FULL. Full of a HUGE fucking TV and a HUGE collection of DVDs. I see now. And a woman who waits on him. A woman who will help take care of children who aren't even hers. A 20 year old woman who likes to have sex on tables and in public. I see now. It's all really clear. Not that it wasn't before, but I will NOT stand for criticism of my lifestyle, my decision not to have children, my decision to live alone, my decision to live with cats who mean more to me than any person possibly could. Ooooo, gah, can you tell he pissed me off?! JesusfuckingCHRIST! He really got to me, and he didn't even know it. Does this mean I'm good? Do I have a good poker face? He's inserted himself, and you know I hate that. I don't want anyone thinking he's close enough to who I am to make fun of that person. Me. It's not even a matter of dishing it out and not being able to take it, it's having buttons that are not exisiting to be pushed. I fucked, I used birth control, I have no kids. End of story. Now I don't fuck. Comprende? Does this mean I am not fulfilled? No, what means I'm not fulfilled is that I work next to assholes like him! And her! And her! And the other ones too. The fact that I bite my tongue all fucking day long, so much so that it's too huge from the swelling to even fit in my mouth! Hold it in, bite my tongue, cut myself off, can't say this, can't say that, can't talk about this subject, or that one..... oops, got too close there, back off, turn my back. And why did I turn towards him in the first place? Because it's too quiet at the end of the day? Because I can't scoot into the corner of my cubicle until I'm almost under my desk, as Penelope does, it's too obvious. Tomorrow he can talk to Listerine. And good fucking luck, dude! Live your little provincial life, never leave the redneck suburbs, hang at the multiplex where you say the teens like to fight on Friday nights, and sit with your kids and stare at the 60 inch TV on weekends instead of going to the museum, the park, the old theatre intown, no, stay right where you are and leave me the fuck alone. I told him culture and diversity enrich my soul, that the suburbs are death to me, and he said his kids enrich his soul. That's fine, says I, that's fine, and I mean that, but you don't criticize my life and I don't criticize yours. Once you start you lose me, after the war, or in this case no war, you get a blind ear, you get a blind eye, you get my back turned to you. I'm over it. I abhor the small mind. Whew, I feel better. Big sigh right about here. He pissed me off royally, and again, I concede I may have misinterpreted, it was all okay until he made some disparaging comment about my cats, and laughed, then mentioned his kids and how full his life is, and I knew exactly what he was saying. No, the more I think about it the more I know I misinterpreted nothing, nothing at all. He sees me as some immature 41 year old has-been, washed up, barren lonely old lady living with cats and a computer. And I really don't care because I know exactly who I am, and if I think I'm washed up at times, that's fine, but it's not up to some 27 year old Army brat to tell me. Grrr...... I don't think I'm being clear and I really don't care, I just needed to rant a bit. Now, I'm going to do my laundry, watch "Felicity", which is now in syndication, "Gilmore Girls", have something to eat, and yes, I'll live vicariously through the idiots on "Real World", because it's fun! It's something I've learned in my life, it's why many people have been 'removed' from my life, I stay away from TOXIC PEOPLE. Period. If you want to deride me, not merely chide, but scoff at me, all the while telling me how great YOU are..... then fuck you. You are the last person I need in my life. This is why my brother is no longer in my life. It's all about him, how great he is, and what an idiot I am. No, no, no, bye bye. I am happiest when it's just me. I don't want to try with anyone else. I can hang out with Mark on occasion, and maybe Branford too (although reading his diary entries about his intense 'player' lifestyle has made me awfully uncomfortable about the idea of being with him), but that's about it. When I go out I go out alone. I prefer it. I can't believe how horrible our little conversation at work, end of day, made me feel. My god, but I came home and lost it. I really did. I know this is PMS, but it doesn't really even need that name, it doesn't need an excuse. What he said, the things he said to me, the tone, the mocking, the laughing, it was like 5th grade all over again. And I thought Lulu was bad........... Cost of the War in Iraq
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