I'm Closed

I've decided that I'm closed for a while. My favors and I are going on hiatus. Last night I felt that people were taking advantage of me twice in the span of ten minutes. That's way too much, especially with some other things that have been going on with other people in the last few weeks. I'm all for doing people a favor here or there, cutting people some slack, giving the benefit of the doubt. But I'm no idiot. Do NOT attempt to fuck me over and think I won't notice.

I'm noticing. Even if I don't say anything about it, I'm noticing. So from now until I decide otherwise, there will be no more favors. I will not be offering any favors to anyone. I will not be saying yes to any favors anyone asks of me.

Fairness is my friend though. So if anyone asks to take me up on any favors I've previously put out on the table, I will be happy to honor those. I am in the middle of a months-long favor to someone, and will happily continue to honor that. No new favors will be manufactured though.

I'm closed.

MY Blow Out

I hate going to hair salons. Yeah, I know you're supposed to feel relaxed and pampered and all that shit. But something about the loud music irritates my nervous system and my heartrate increases. Something about getting shampoo in my eyes irritates me (and my eyes, go figure). Making small talk for an hour with somebody I'd never be friends with in "real life" is a huge effort for me. And something about staring into a mirror for an hour makes me want to cry (no, I don't have 'issues', why do you ask?). Plus, I REALLY hate having people focus on me and fuss over me. I once had a nervous breakdown in a salon in New York when two girls were blow-drying my hair at once to speed things along. But, I force myself to go sometimes. Partly because I'm too hair-retarded to ever do my own hair and partly because these people are damn good at making my hair look DAMN good!

I am very happy that I forced myself to go to a hair salon today. I stayed up very late last night to catcha repeat of the season finale of Blow Out, and knew if I could talk with anybody about Jonathan and what I find so amusing about his crying, it would be somebody at my hair salon.

While I'm chatting with my stylist (I have a stylist!), she mentions that she's in training to become certified at coloring hair. Oh! It's so funny you mention that - I've been thinking about coloring my hair! (Hey, I'm no fool; I love discounts!) So now I've been invited to come back and get my hair colored for a whopping $30! Not only that, but she encouraged me to have some friends come in. Fuck, now I need some friends. Do I get a referral discount? You betcha I do! So I just have one question for you (all two of you who read this): How do you think I'll look with purple hair that has green streaks in it? I think it'll really bring out my eyes.

Baby Steps

I recently met up with someone a little after 9am, and she asked if I usually got up that early. When I said yes, I have to get up each morning before 8am so as not to spend the whole day laying in bed, she asked if I'd struggled with depression for a long time.

Her question really made me think. Have I always been depressed? Yes. I remember when I was three getting up from the sandbox in our backyard and going into my room to be by myself. Eventually my mother came looking for me (probably when she looked out and saw all the other kids but me) and asked why I wasn't playing with everybody. At the time I was too young to articulate what I was feeling but if I hadn't been, I would have told her that I looked around at the other kids playing and just felt like shit compared to them. I didn't feel like I deserved to be allowed to play with them. That feeling made me want to cry. Between not wanting to cry in front of friends and not feeling comfortable, I left. Of course at three, I couldn't explain that to my mother, so I just said I didn't know.

But I never considered myself to be struggling with depression. Maybe because there's always been my own personal black cloud of doom, I have just accepted it as a part of me, a part of my personality.

I couldn't get that comment out of my head though, and in thinking about it I realized that I definitely fight being depressed. That's exactly why I make sure to get up no later than 8am every morning, get dressed right away, open my blinds and make my bed. All so I won't spend the whole day laying in bed watching tv in the dark. It doesn't make me giddy to face the day, but it's a step in the right direction. At least by doing all that, if somebody asks if I want to get together, I'm not thinking "that would be TOO MUCH EFFORT to shower and get dressed" because it's already done.

Baby steps.

The Nod

Although nobody wants to, do you remember high school? Do you remember that cool senior guy who wasn't only The Bomb, but KNEW he was The Bomb? The guy who, if you'd been more mature, you wouldn't have liked because he acted like he was The Bomb. The guy who walked sauntered down the hall with girls flanked on either side of him. The guy who when he saw you, gave you The Nod while he had his hand shoved down another girl's back pocket?

I do. I hate The Nod. I hate guys who think using The Nod is an acceptable form of communication. If you can't be bothered to give me anything BUT The Nod, then just don't communicate with me in the first place. I'm interesting. I'm funny. I'm smart. I'm worth talking to, in case I come up with one of those interesting/funny/smart gems I'm so apt to discuss with whoever is in front of me (perhaps one of the reasons I created a blog?). If all you give me is The Nod, then you just missed a great opportunity.

Yesterday while taking BART home, a little girl and her father sat across from me. At one point, the girl loudly told her father "I think you need to change my underwear" while clutching her crotch. She peed in her pants (well, her skOrt really) riding the train. Fabulous. After they got off the train, at the next stop a hot guy got on. He sauntered onto the train, and despite the people behind him also trying to board, he blocked their entrance during his dramatic pause, as if he was being announced as a deb. He looked around (probably looking for some hot girls to hit on) and then started walking towards the Pee Seat. Just as I was about to tell him about the pee, he caught my eye, and gave me... wait for it... yup, The Nod.

For the first time, I smiled in response to The Nod, and said absolutely nothing.

The moral of this blog entry? Don't give anyone The Nod. You never know when they were about to save you from sitting in pee.

I Could Do This All Day. Seriously.

This really appeals to the angry side of me. When she gets stuck you can click, hold and drag her until she falls again.

Neverending Fall

It's things like this that keep me from beating you over the head with a frying pan repeatedly.