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illusionofjoy) wrote2006-06-19 12:00 am
Light a candle and confess
I'm not a very social being, namely because I'm not very good at it. If you recall one of Steve Buscemi's lines from Ghost World - "I don't relate to 99% of humanity" – that pretty much sums up how I feel most of the time.
On Friday, I was at my place of employment, eavesdropping on my co-workers. The conversations of both those who I was not so discretely listening in on and those who I shared a lunch table with that day both veered to the latest shocker du jour: Anthrocon. Yes, the furries were in town, complete with an evening report from WTAE in which the anchorwoman makes a display of exactly how professional Pittsburgh's local news personalities are after the segment has aired. Perhaps she didn't realise that the camera was on her? Maybe she just wanted to comfort the station's main viewer base of close-minded geriatrics by affirming that she was just as appalled at these freaks, as they were?
That was the type of attitude which was bandied about the workplace on Friday. A whole plethora of "oh my gawd" and "that's so weird" ad nauseum. At point, I commented that given the choice, would one rather have a bunch of furries running around, or the NaMBLA convention? I'll take plushies over paedophiles any day, thank you very much.
It's this kind of stuff that turns me off to socialising with "normal" people – the ease with which they are shocked and frightened and the complete lack of curiosity. I later mentioned a website where one could read up on all sorts of fetishes, their probable origins and how they are interrelated, but I doubt anyone visited – if so, it likely wasn't to become educated.
I think I have built-in low expectations of humanity, while at the same time I wonder, "is it me?" I've noticed since leaving the comfortable surreal existence of college that I seem to have socially reverted back to the state I was at in high school. It has been said that life is like high school and while I was in that damnable brick building, I was awkward and unable to connect. I just didn't think like the majority of other people seemed to and I never quite acted the way I was supposed to either. I still don't, but in college I recall such attributes being (dare I say) accepted. Now, I'm back to where I began, except now I have the self-confidence to know when I'm being abused and the moxie to stop it, rather than just curling up into a position of learned helplessness.
Of course, I'm a neurotic mess in a whole bunch of other ways. I recently, against my inclinations otherwise, sent a friend an offline message saying that I wanted to talk to her sometime "in the near future." She replied saying that I could call her anytime – that she'd love to talk to me. Those words went into my eyeballs, down my optic nerve, through my occipital lobe and into my higher reasoning centres and now look something like this, "Any time does not mean 2:00AM. This is not a good time. When is really the best time to call? No one actually means 'any time,' do they? No! Of course not! What if I call while she's at work? Okay, that would be a failed connection – she wouldn't pick up or even have her cell phone on at work. This means leaving a voice mail – oh, fuck – not a voice mail. I'd have to think up a message and then that awful game – phone tag – would begin. No, no, no, no, no – don't want to leave a voice mail, but I can't just hang up if I get the voice mail like an asshole. Okay, maybe a mid-evening call would work…but what if I call at a bad time. What if she's having sex? She wouldn't pick up the phone while she's getting banged doggy-style right? I don't want to hear that! Oh shit, I think I'm going to be sick…"
Is that not sad? What am I – the post-punk Woody Allen?
On Saturday, July 8th, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
bonamoz will be guest-DJing at Ceremony, putting her up against The Oaks' midnight showing of Cry-Baby. I know for certain that joi_division wants to see John Waters' skewering/ode to Baltimore's Drapes and Squares as do I. However, I also want to show some support for Bonamoz and hang out with her and her boyfriend, if the opportunity should present itself.
The thing about Ceremony is that it remains a point of contention for both myself and Joi. She flat out refuses to go and I don't blame her – they did her dirty right before she quit. Wild horses usually couldn't drag me to the night, and the thought of even going just this once makes my chest tighten up.
It's not that I think anyone is "out to get me," but I do feel a sense of new and unpleasant isolation whenever I show up at that place as of late. There's a handful of people who are friendly enough, but I don't really know them, nor they I. I'd rather sit in a corner and become the lyrics to a Smiths song, it seems.
When I first moved to Pittsburgh, a lot of people asked me, "why?" The truth is that I moved here because I had a friend who had already done so and I figured that moving to a place where I knew someone was better than striking it out completely on my own. Fast forward to over a year ago, and I'm feeling the sting of betrayal from this so-called "friend." Among his many sins, this psychopath had the audacity to tell me that all of his friends just wanted to be friends with me and I should seek therapy for not being more receptive to their social rituals.
Let me tell you something about this guy's friends: they were complete and utter assholes, the most of them. I remember going to parties where I'd make an innocuous joke and having it turned in such a way as to be insulting to me. At these same parties, it felt like I was being constantly challenged – as if this was an exclusive club and I was being hazed. I don't think I was ever cool enough for these people – so sorry I am that I'm not freaky enough or knowledgeable enough about the obscure whatever's that you keep asking me about.
It's true, I do put up walls, but I believe I have a damn good reason to do so. My asshole filter has become pretty fucking tight, even if I do say so myself.
And then, when I do want to let someone in or crawl out, I find that taking the firewall down isn't as easy as putting it up (there's a Pink Floyd reference in there somewhere, I'm sure). What can love a wall? I wonder why Joi stays with me sometimes, but I think part of it is because I trust her much more than I trust 99% of humanity.
It's very late. I should go to bed.
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If you can't make it, don't feel bad. It's just Ceremony - and John Waters is more entertaining by far. When we're all moved in, we'd like to have you and Joi over at our new place and I can play you the exact same songs :) We really dig hanging out with you.
and furries = scary.
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Set a date and to the new place we shall arrive. I know I'm up for adventures in figuring out "how the fuck to get there" in the vast northern territories. :D
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Just guessin'. :)
As a side note, I had a friend who was notorious for calling right as I was about to orgasm. :D It made me laugh. :D Three times in one night was the funniest instance.
As for the furries - human sexuality is fascinating! It sounds like your *co-workers* are the ones stuck in high school, and you're just unfortunate enough to be associating with them.
*big, squishy hugs*
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This week they've switched from "OMG furries!" to "OMG goths!" Oy vey...
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