Thursday, September 30, 2010

Failure to Imagine People Complexly = Much Disappointment

It's not that I'm procrastinating or not doing stuff; I think I am being proactive and diligent about my goals. No, I've been lazy with people.

I sometimes get these epiphany type things, usually it's the same one. I realize something, the same thing, and I start to understand why I've been feeling so frustrated lately. But the most irritating bit is that I know I've realized it before. And it's like I remember it and then I feel stupid because I know this. Like when you second guess yourself on a test, write down the wrong answer and then get the test back and realize you were right in the first place. Only, it's a bit different from that. It's like learning something and then slowly forgetting it until you learn it again and are pleased with yourself until you realize this isn't the first time and if only you'd just remembered it in the first place, you'd be happier and better off.

Wow. Sentences. Getting complicated there.

My series of epiphanies is this: When I have expectations regarding people, I am constantly disappointed.
The first time I thought this was after the second time I read Paper Towns and I related to Q on the fact that I was seeing people the way I wanted them to be and was constantly disappointed when they revealed that they weren't who I made them out to be. I saw Quentin as a prime example of misimagining the people around you. In his mind, everyone he knew was his idea of the perfect version of themselves. He didn't think about other people too much, just himself and his own personal dilemmas, a theme that I'm starting to notice a lot in the books I read/write. But I think that's simply because humans are self absorbed. That's our survival instinct.

Still with me?

I don't know why this revelation doesn't stick with me. I don't know why I can't continually imagine people complexly. I notice that I do it for a while and then I slip back into my habits. But I also think I feel happier when I don't have unfounded expectations about people. I've never really tested it but I think that it is so. Because if you don't expect people to be something they're not, you don't get upset when you find out they're not what you thought they were because you never had any thoughts about them in the first place. I can't even read that sentence. Sorry about that one.

What do I do now? Obviously, I know this now but I've also known it before and that did not stop this blog from being written today. I guess all we can do is try. Try to see people the way they are, rather than how you want them to be. Try to have reasonable expectations about people or none at all.

Is it depressing to not expect much of people or is it intensely liberating? I'm hoping for the second.

And last of all, can I just say how horrible it feels* when it hits you that people aren't perfect, you're not the only person on this planet who has feelings and everyone is just as broken as you are? I know, I know, it's not a complicated thing to cross your mind but when you get undeniable proof that people, even your parents, aren't perfect, it kind of sucks. But I'm learning to accept it.

Question: Does anyone else get epiphanies such as this one?

*and how horrible it feels to think this feels horrible because it says I have expectations that I shouldn't and some sort of self entitlement complex that I've done my best to avoid.

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

We live in a country where children are free to read about underpants

We've come to Tuesday again, y'alls.

(I COMPLETELY agree with Hank; we need some kind of generally accepted plural form of "you" in the English language. Suggestions? I don't mean anything regional, this requires some kind of word invention, and spreading. Like the Internet version of Frindle! Anyone remember Frindle?)

Oh, tangents, you're fun.

The past week has come and gone, leaving behind only a vague sense of PSTD. Puff-levels are high. In honor (recognition? defiance?) of Banned Books week, (after reading the continuing saga of the pink jackets via MJ) I took the most logical course of action and turned to Wikipedia.

Not that I agree with it, but some books on the list provided are more logically bannable than others, for sex/violence/what-have-you. Others are for CHILDREN. (How to Eat Fried Worms, on the basis that it's disgusting. So are 10 year old boys. Captain Underpants, on the basis that it promotes nudity and disobedience to authority. What? Silly pink jackets.)

Go for it, kids. Learn to piss people off early, it's a fun/useful skill. Other than that, I lack conclusion. Goodnight, and I hope your puff-levels are low.

Friday, September 24, 2010

Visual Entertainment

1) Deathly Hallows trailer.

Holy fucking shit. So excited. I don't even know. Grindelwald (I think that's him) is perfect perfect perfect.

2) 30 Rock.

Amazing, but not AMAZING like last season. Perhaps that was just exposition and now the real show can get underway? Here's hoping! Even if it doesn't get better, I still love it. That's the great thing about 30 Rock: even at its lowest, it's still better than most things in the world.

3) Glee.

Stopped watching halfway through. Felt bad for Coach Beiste. Too much emotion directed towards a show I'm only superficially interested in? Yes. Doesn't change anything. Question: why are all the "good" main characters assholes? Might be a better show if they were all "evil." Case in point: Sue Sylvester.

4) Conclusion.

Read more books.

Thursday, September 23, 2010

Sleepy camp tomorrow sleepy

It's that time again. Sleepy blog time. And camp time. And incoherent thought time. And 'Why can't I depend on anyone?' time.

Going camping tomorrow. With my Ranger group. You guys know I'm a Girl Guide, yes? Probably. It's hard to hide these things, not that I try.

I'm tired. And not just sleepy tired. I'm tired of people. I'm tired of being disappointed in people. I'm tired of babysitting people and taking care of everyone and having to take charge because if I don't that charge just lies there, untaken.

Why don't I get taken care of? Why am I, the 2nd year, having to be the leader of all this nonsense because no one else understands the term 'taking initiative'?

Urg, leadership sucks when you've forced to take it because no one else is capable. And yes, I sound like a conceited, bossy, snot for acting this way but I'm sleepy and I'm tired of all this crap which is not a winning combination.

Have a nice weekend, you two. You know I will.

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Good Things and Bad Things

(My titling is so sophisticated.)

Today's blog comes to you in two PARTS!

Part the first: Things that are stressing me out in life-or-death-proportions.
Tomorrow, I am going to drive. This is a perfectly logical statement, truthful and grammatically correct, so simple I can say it in another language (Voy a manejar maƱana.), BUT at the same time it makes no sense in context, as I very well could have driven 8 days ago. Only three people in the world* know about this, and only one of them important to this story. I am seriously considering just not learning how to drive. I could move to Chicago for my secondary education and rely wholly on public transportation, claiming environmentalism and population density. (Both reasonable explanations, as sheer cowardice is not.)

Part the second: Things that are awesome.
I've spent 34 of the last 48 hours in pajamas, I get to go to school dressed as having a parasitic Siamese twin tomorrow, I got an A on a geometry test based on human error and my honesty, it's raining, I got to wear a cape, and tomorrow I am going to drive.

Ahhh, complex situation is complex.

*Someone at the DMV, my instructor, and I. Guess who's the important one. ;)

Sunday, September 19, 2010

Inspired Again

I've been so ridiculously coast-y of late. I don't *do* anything except the normal stuff I've gotten into and though it feels like too much, it's not enough. I've gotten around to feeling so busy when, most of the time, I'm just not. I want to do some sort of pie chart to show how much I spend my time weekly, but I haven't gotten around to it just yet.

Last night, I saw Dr. David Suzuki speak. He's this brilliant scientist, environmentalist and Vancouverite who is insanely amazing and I'm so incredibly honoured to have been in the same room as him last night. And he gave this speech, his legacy speech, which was an hour long, never boring, and took everyone in the room on this crazy journey that all connected and made sense and was entirely consuming to listen to.

It hit me like An Inconvenient Truth and it's like I've been pushed into motion again. These past couple of months I've been making these plans. Plans to read more and learn more and write more but I haven't made anything happen. So it starts now. Really, I mean it. I'm going to write and be published and renew my efforts in the fight for the only environment that can sustain human life. 

This is it. There's no planet B and if we cut down all the trees, pollute all the air and water and suck the nutrients out of our soil, there's going to be nothing left but a whole lot of hungry, thirsty, human refugees living on nothing but an empty shell. And it's depressing and it's not fair that our inheritance is a burning, broken world but that's the way it is and I'm sorry, but getting angry and blaming people isn't enough. This may be the 59th minute but it's the only thing we have to work with and the governments and corporations may be against us but if there's one single truth I've taken from Dr. Suzuki, it's that there is no economy without the environment. We depend on one thing and it's not our GDP.

I feel like this blog has been a huge downer when what I'm actually trying to say is how alive I feel. It may look like there's a lot of suck ahead but there's so much possibility, too. Yes, people have been fighting these same issues for a really long time and, yes, the issues have gotten a lot worse but absolutely nothing is set in stone. And we can turn this ship around, or at least minimize the damage of that iceberg that we've already hit. We've got lifeboats, we just have to open our eyes and work towards them.

Are you with me?

Saturday, September 18, 2010


(Meaningless Twitbreviation for etiquette relating to Twitter, may or may not already be copyrighted.)

It always feels so weird to unfollow someone on Twitter. I've done this for a variety of reasons, ranging from the fact that the person tweeted too frequently, tweeted about things I stopped caring about, and other things I don't even remember. They all basically amount to "I don't care what you have to say anymore.", which is freaking cruel. I hate when people unfollow me, (making this just a really, really crappy double standard) even though there's a high probability that they were spambots whose account got deleted, not real people making personal judgments against me.* Another aspect of Twitiquette, as pointed out by Alex, is the strangeness/publicness/vapidity of holding conversations with people via Twitter. . .

Wow, I've been typing this blog sporadically for the past hour, and this is all I have to say on this one subject, but I don't really want to segue into another unrelated subject because this is the more important one, so if I started another paragraph about, say, the quality of various pastries, THAT would serve to draw attention away from this, like, commentary on human decency through Twitter--or I'm just flattering myself and rambling, filling this space with words, words that are only important to me because I've created them (or, more accurately, arranging them to express my thoughts, which are important to me). That ENTIRE THING was ONE SENTENCE. I win?

* I hope.

Friday, September 17, 2010

US-ian just doesn't sound good

(I was going to talk about school. There are a lot of things that I very much want to say but want to say correctly, and given that the draft I just wrote is laden with grammatical errors and is generally unpleasant to read, I'll save that for Monday.)

Instead, I'll comment briefly on how annoying it is when people get pissed off when Americans call themselves, well, American.

"It's an entire continent!" they protest. "Actually, it's two continents! Why do you get to call yourself American?"

Never mind that America is actually in the name of the country - the United States of America. Never mind that the other countries in the American continents have separate names that they are perfectly willing to use. Never mind that, as a generalization, most non-Americans wouldn't want to call themselves American because of the often negative connotation.

I'm not saying that the USA is superior to other countries-- it's not. And if you really, really like the sound of "American," then I'm sorry. Your life is hard, I know. You have to go by Canadian or Mexican or Portuguese or [fill in the blank] instead. Boo-freaking-hoo. That is real suffering right there.

Seriously: get over yourselves. It's not going to change any time soon. Of all the reasons you could criticize the US -- and there are many -- you go for one of the pettiest, most idiotic insults? What are you trying to accomplish? What point are you trying to prove? Do you think it makes you seem more intelligent? Witty? Because it really doesn't. It's just annoying and pretty obnoxious.

Plus, like, don't freaking blame us for it. US residents have been calling themselves American for a long time-- before we were born. You're seriously attempting to call us out for an insignificant fact of history that was established 250 years ago? Trust me, we have a much worse past than a freaking name. And so does your country, FYI. No, seriously-- whatever America (yes, America) has done wrong, your country has almost certainly done something just as bad. (Although maybe not using the atom bomb, I'll give you that. Although: not to validate its use or anything, but Russia would have invented it even if America hadn't, so... don't get too high and mighty.)

Fo' reals.

P.S., Alex, you know I still love Canada and all the other non-American countries. It just gets frustrating sometimes. Chill the crap out, y'all.

Thursday, September 16, 2010

That time of year

I hate it when people ask me about school. Why is there nothing else anyone can think to ask a teenager about?* I know I should be accustomed to it by now and get over it but I'm not and I can't. With the new school year on everyone's mind, those questions are so often spoken to me that I've come with some sample responses, none of which are appropriate.

Sample 1:
Impertinent questioner: What school do you go to, Alex?
Me: I dropped out.
*awkward silence*

Sample 2:
Impertinent questioner: Where do you go to school?
Me: I don't. I'm an unschooler.
*blank looks*
Someone in the background: She's homeschooled.
Impertinent questioner: Oooooooh. And how do you like that?
Me: I love not having to conform to curriculum standards and be able to spend my days learning what I want and not waiting for other people to figure out what's going on.
Impertinent questioner: Oh. That's really great for you.

Sample 3:
Impertinent questioner: What school do you go to?
Me: I'm a homeschooler.
Impertinent questioner: Wow Your mom must be really busy, teaching you and all.
Me: Yes, my mother is busy but not teaching me because she doesn't, in a lesson-type way. More through a life way.
Impertinent questioner: *not quite understanding* So I guess you don't have homework since you're always at  home?
Me: *smiles* No. No, I don't.

Sample 4:
Impertinent questioner: So Alex, what grade are you in this year?
Me: Grade 11.
Impertinent questioner: And what school do you go to?
Me: I decided not to pursue public education.
*blank stare*
Me: I don't go to school.
Impertinent questioner: Don't you want to?
Me: If I wanted to, I'd be going to.
Impertinent questioner: Don't you feel like you're missing out? How do you socialize?
Me: I'm pretty used to living in a shoebox with no friends and nothing to look forward to, so I'm good. At least I have the internet.
*blank stare*
Impertinent questioner: But why don't you want to go to school?
Me: I don't find the educational system to be extremely functional.
*blank stare*
Impertinent questioner: So what kind of music do you listen to?

That's all. What's that, seven blogs since you mentioned it, Vita? Rena and I sure can respond under pressure.

*Other than, of course, what kind of music I listen to which, I'm sorry to say, is less easier to phrase than the question which asks for it. Nice thought but unless you want me to hand over my iPod for you to peruse, I cannot describe my eclectic tastes.

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

A Tiny Wednesday Rant-ish Thing

Urg. Why are people so stupid? Tell me that, people. Really. Tell me.
I should not be posting this anger here. I shouldn't write about my frustration with other people because they have the address to this blog and even though they never read it, they could. There's a faint possibility that they will be bored of their lives one day and decide to click on the hardly clicked on bookmark that leads here. Then they'll read this explosion of mine and be hurt. Or angry. Or hurt.
But I want to write it anyway. I want to, maybe because I'm in need of an internet vent, maybe it's nice to know they *could* read it and feel hurt but most likely won't, maybe because I secretly want them to read it and feel like moronic jackasses.
Enough of a prenote? Are you dying to know? No? Whatever.

Some friends of mine have Twitter. They got it because I told them to and we form something of a little Twitter group. Most of the time it's cool. Not today.
Today, you see, said friends are planning to go shopping. And let me clarify some things.

  1. I am not upset about not being invited. I'm not really that into shopping (and *maybe* my friends realized this and that is why I was not invited. But probably not).
  2. I have absolutely no issue with my friends getting together without me. I'm actually quite pleased that I do not have to organize everything that we/they do. Yay for other people taking initiative.
  3. I realize that my friend cannot legally drive all of us because she is only allowed to drive one non-family member unless a 25+ supervisor is in the vehicle. If I had been invited, I could have gotten my own way there, but that's another thing entirely.
None of that is the problem. The problem I have is that my friends decided to make these plans on the public network that is Twitter. Not through Direct Messaging or texting, or a private email, all of which would have been just as simple. They communicated their plans to each other via @reply.

I follow them both. They must have known I was going to read their tweets. What the hell were they thinking? Or rather, were they thinking at all? Or are people just so inconsiderate and rude that they don't have the decency to keep their private plans private and not post them all over the internet?

I've come up with the following possible reasons for the above:
  1. They purposefully wanted to exclude me and then throw in my face that I was being excluded. This isn't at all likely as my friends aren't the kind of dramatic bitches that you find in an episode of Gossip Girl, but it's a possibility, nonetheless.
  2. They were absentminded enough to think that I wouldn't read it/find out about their plans.
  3. They didn't care if I found out about their plans or how I felt about it.
  4. They really didn't think about me at all.
I don't know which one of these is preferable. I don't think they were trying to hurt me and, if they were, it didn't work (as mentioned, I don't care that I didn't go shopping this afternoon) but I honestly don't understand why if they were making plans for just the two of them, they had to do it on Twitter, a public domain, unless they are deluded enough to think people care. I'm pretty sure they were both tweeting directly from their cell phones so here comes the really big question: Why didn't they just text each other's phones directly?
The other big question is: Am I a passive aggressive bitch for posting this or is my need for validation justified?

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Five: It's a bigger number than four. FACT.

In addition, only 1/5 of the blogs for this 5/12 completed month have been written by me.

Stupid fractions, exposing my laziness. . .

Getting back into blogging is always awkward after any kind of hiatus, and rather than deal with that this week I just--didn't. So yeah. I do still love this blog, it's something to look forward to in the infinite amount of random crap that is the Internet. Much as I love the interwebz in general, I do mean "infinite amount of random crap" in the most literal way possible. It allows you to just jump from thing to thing, nothing is organized by subject and pretty much everything is equally accessible, as opposed to books. Which is awesome but distracting, as is everything else mankind has managed to get our easily distractible hands on.
**Stars in place of transition, which I am pointing out for some self indulgent reason.**

**And then I went and Googled some stuff while I was thinking of something to make this blog longer, which just evolved into Robot Unicorn Attack.**

If it was, say, 1990 and we were doing this via handwritten letters, do you think we'd still keep this correspondence?* Aside from the whole principle of the thing, I don't think it would work as well. But I'm glad we ARE, and the Internet is awesomely convenient for such things.

That's not to say the ENTIRE Internet is awesome, just like in normal communities/societies/whatever it's found ways to corrupt, and that's kind of depressing. (Here I'm kind of specifically referring to all the people on Nerdfighter Secrets who complain about feeling excluded--at first I was like "lolwut? It's NERDFIGHTERIA, this can't be happening." But it is. *sigh*.)

Imagining people complexly kind of sucks. But, I guess, loving people complexly entails loving them even though you know they kind of suck. I'll leave you on that cheery note, see Alex (hopefully) Thursday.

Footnote: *Disregarding the fact that we wouldn't've met each other, and the postage rate to Canada, and that only one person would have the previous letter(s) at a time. So disregard all of it, really. . .

Monday, September 13, 2010

Dailybooth and, uh, yeah, hi.

Guys. It's 9/13 and we only have three (soon to be four) blogs listed in the sidebar under September. This is a problem.

Maybe I shouldn't be talking, given that a) there have been several long stretches during which I have not blogged due to a busy schedule and b) one of these long stretches was, uh, three weeks ago? (Shame shame.)

I understand that we all have lives of varying busyness at varying intervals and I don't begrudge anyone (including myself) for forfeiting blogging in favor of... other stuff. However, it does make me a little sad on the inside when there are no blogs to brighten my day in a virtual smorgasbord of sunshine and rainbows. Or whatever.

All I'm saying is: Hopefully we all get adjusted and get back into the groove of blogging soon.

-- SEXY TRANSITION (sup Michael Buckley) --

So I was on Dailybooth a few moments ago - not posting pictures of myself (I don't have an account, nor am I interested in getting one) but instead creeping on the livefeed (out of curiosity; I've never been there before) - and contemplating how the internet is a great tool for exploiting narcissism. Not even exploiting it-- just discovering it. I mean, how much more narcissistic can you get? It's a website dedicated to taking pictures of yourself. And asking people to become your audience as you take these pictures. WHAT? The whole thing reminds me of Myspace and too much Picnik editing on photos and it gives me a headache.

Then again, I like Dailybooth when the account belongs to people I care about - namely Youtubers. I guess it's the concept of celebrity; if you are famous (I used the term liberally, of course), then I care what you do. If you are not famous, then I think you are a major attention seeker. Plus, it's just the fact that it's essentially a website composed of people sitting in front of webcams. If I don't know anything about you, then why should I care about seeing your face? It's an honest question (honestly). What is the motivation behind Dailybooth?

That said, I don't have a personal vendetta against non-internet celebrities who use Dailybooth; they can do what they want. I just don't want to see it... which essentially means that one trip to the livefeed will be my first and last. Simple.

This doesn't make sense. I don't even like the concept of celebrity, and least not in the modern American sense. It's crazy. As much as I like Emma Watson, I don't want to know what she eats for breakfast, mostly because it's such an invasion of privacy. Celebrities = human. Stop treating them like something more - or perhaps, more accurately, something less.

I apologize for my incoherence. I'm tired. TTFN.

Friday, September 10, 2010

You'd have to register as a motor vehicle

I'm sitting here sporadically punching letters on my keyboard and hoping that a witty four or five paragraphs will magically spring from my fingertips and seep into my computer screen. Yeesh. Two weeks of not blogging and I'm already out of practice.

You know what? I'm going to succumb to my obsession and rave on, rave on about 30 Rock.

Oh my god. If you don't watch 30 Rock, what the hell is wrong with you? Seriously! WHY? Do you have a reason not to? No. Listen. If you have a computer with internet - which you do, you cheeky minxes; you're reading this on the internet right now - you can watch it on Hulu. Or the NBC website. Or order it from Netflix or whatever if you are so obliged. I don't watch TV - like, ever - and yet I still watch 30 Rock. Religiously. Just kidding. I'm not really kidding.

I want to marry that show. I want to take Liz Lemon up on her promise to marry a woman in 20 years if they both haven't met that special someone by then, and I'm not even gay. I want to Take the Midnight Train to Georgia with Kenneth the Page. I want to be Jack Donaghy's personal assistant, smoozing it up with Jonathan. I want some of that magic cereal Tracy Jordan consumes every morning. I want to groove to Werewolf Bar Mitvah. I want to work on my night cheese. I want to be Kenneth and see the world in puppets. I want to dance for Dr. Spacemen's flu shot. I want to hug the blue guy-- oh my god, I want to hug the blue guy!

In summation, I want to go to there.

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

Critiquing time! (Also known as "stealing Tuesday from Rena") (Sorry)

Three of my friends read this and said that they liked it, but they're my friends so they may be morally obligated to say that. (Not that you, Alex & Rena, are my enemies, but you know, the internet sometimes allows you to be more honest...) Especially since I shared it with three people in my English class and they didn't like it so much. In fact, one of them explicitly said that he didn't understand what I was trying to say. Now, I know what I'm trying to say, so it's difficult for me to see if this is legitimately confusing or not. All in all, I'm trying to figure out if this is total crap and is just me trying to hard to be pseudo-poetic or if the three people in my peer edit group just didn't get it. (Nothing against them; they're all intelligent people - probably more than I am, honestly - but, I don't know, I haven't yet figured out how IB English grooves.)

I'd appreciate your brutal honesty on this (although I'd appreciate it more if it is phrased not so brutally :] ). A) do you understand the overall synopsis of what is going on, b) do you think it reveals something about me and/or my personality, and c) do you think I should stick with this or try a different approach entirely? Also, d) if you think I should stick with this (disregard this question if you hate it), should I use more complete sentences (for example, should the first sentence be "I'm/I am lying here...") and e) what do you think of the italics? And f) is reserved for any miscellaneous comments of yours.

By the by, this is supposed to be 100 words or less, which is why it's so short. If you're critiquing this, though, don't worry about the word count; I can edit that down later. :)

"Lying here in her basement, staring at those blurry glowing Christmas lights. Force my eyelids closed. Ignore the muffled red light. Think about not thinking. Wonder, if I don’t think, am I dead? My deadweight of a hand trembles, slaps my forehead in either exhaustion or reprimand. Jesus, what am I so worried about? Worried about not sleeping. I sigh and fumble for my glasses, shove them back on my face, languidly adjust them with the heel of my palm. Little twinkle lights are sharper now, little demonic lasers. Still can’t see my enemy."

Thank you thank you thank you so much. You guys are awesome.

Sunday, September 5, 2010

Actual Lateness of the Night

You may or may not know that I started work at my brand new first job on Thursday. I'm a grocery clerk which basically means I stock shelves, direct customers, pack groceries, bring all the products to the front of the shelves and mop the floor after closing.

For the past three nights I've worked 4-10:30pm, which is fine. I like the organizing of the shelves; I like helping people find dill seed powder*; I'm okay with mopping.

The problem is that I get home at quarter to eleven and fall into bed. No, I guess getting to bed on time isn't problematic but it is if you're a night writer, such as myself. I have no time. The entirety of the last three days have either been at work, or spent counting down until work. I feel like I haven't really done anything because I'm so conscious of how long I have before I have to get ready to leave and walk to the bus stop and take the bus and go to work.

But, then again, money. It's going to be so nice to have money. Gotta go. 11:30. Sleep. Wake. Restart. I'm actually not working again until Friday so that's nice. Hopefully I'll get used to the job and it'll become a normal part of my routine. Soon. And hopefully I'll soon know where everything is, including shoe polish.

*First of all, I was incredibly pleased that I knew where it was.