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Archive for the ‘Rants’ Category

I’m Socially Retarded, Sue Me

Yes, I’m that person who, when attending a party or social gathering of which she does not know anybody except the host, would not talk with anybody except the host unless spoken to. I would be that person who wanders about the house, pretending to be very interested in the details of the cracks on the wall and the contents of the refrigerator, if I can get away opening it without seeming too much of a social misfit. Though being caught opening said fridge would label me as such already in most cases.

Why do I get myself into such things? Because I would never say no to an invitation if it was given by someone I love and respect very much. Otherwise, sod off. I’d name any disease that comes to mind or come up with a very creative and convincing excuse if it warrants that – and believe me, I can lie very convincingly when I put my mind to it – to get me off coming to your party. I would never do that if I like you, even if I have to come to the party alone, even if I would spend the day dreading your party because I’d be going alone. Unlike many of my friends, I do not have the luxury of a human accessory to bring to parties like this – as in, a boyfriend.

So please, don’t ask me to mingle around when you catch me playing Tetris on my cell phone. Don’t tell me that your other guest who does not know anyone else besides you, the host, mingles around too and so I should be like this person.

I am not your other guest. I am not as attractive, or as skinny or confident or poised. I do not know how to strike up a conversation with a total stranger, what more total strangers who all seem to know each other and are talking among themselves with the kind of comfort and ease of people who have known each other for a very, very long time and would not appreciate some stranger, such as myself, to butt in the conversation in a pathetic attempt to fit in.

I know I am socially retarded, which is why I neatly avoid most occasions which require me to perform social acts like talking to strangers. So forgive me if I’m horribly rusty from that act because I avoid said social situations and therefore revealing myself as a social retard. Forgive me for not making small talk with your relatives who are all talking among themselves, even though I’m so clearly alone in the next armchair. I only thought of not declining your invitation by accepting it. I did not know I need to boost your hosting ego by pretending that I fit in with the people in your party to make you feel like a successful host who doesn’t need to babysit any social misfits for guests.

And please, don’t tell me to be less socially retarded. It’s so easy to tell me to smile and open my mouth and ask general, inane things to people I won’t ever see again (until next year perhaps, if I get invited again, which I doubt after my pathetic social performance). It’s so easy to say that if I try, people are more likely to respond in return.

It’s not so easy for me, because I know my social ineptness isn’t just a cause, it’s a symptom of something much more problematic. It’s an obvious sign of a lack of self-esteem and all that shit that comes along with it when you were constantly told as a child that you’re hopeless, fat, dumb, lazy, ugly, disgusting and a lot of other unsavoury things that do nothing to build your self-confidence. It’s not so easy for me because the very rare moments when I did try, it just failed and it made me feel worse than if I were to keep my damn trap shut or stuffed with food. It’s not so easy for me when everybody around me did not come to the party alone and therefore they look like they’ve graduated magna cum laude in mingling. It’s not so easy for me when I clearly need help in the socialising department and you are telling me to deal with it on my own.

Merry fucking Christmas, everybody. Don’t invite me to your parties.

This Whole Maturity Business

I’m in my early twenties. I could still be considered a young adult, but it’s generally expected that at my age, I have some level of maturity in the way I conduct myself. Which means when I do something generally considered immature, some people may express disappointment at my lack of maturity in handling a situation.

What is this maturity thing, anyway? How do you judge what’s mature and what’s immature? If I cry from stress at work, is that immature? If I delete people from Facebook because I don’t want to read about them talking about me in their Facebook, is that immature? If I go online more than the average person and stay home a lot because I enjoy doing that, is that immature?

Now, I’m not suggesting these things that I’ve done are remotely anywhere the scale of maturity. I just feel it’s so easy to brand anything I do that someone disapproves of as being simply, ‘immature’. Why can’t I do the things I do, think the things I think, because I have a rational reasoning behind it and not because I have maturity or immaturity in thought?

Why am I so annoyed by this whole maturity business? Could it be that I secretly consider myself mature and am upset when people use the word ‘immature’ to refer to me or my conduct?

Well, so what if they do, sulz? Maturity is subjective, just like beauty. For every person who thinks you are beautiful, there will be another person who thinks a cow’s arse has more beauty than you. For every person who thinks you are mature, there will be another person who thinks a nine-year-old kid without tear ducts has more maturity than you. For every characteristic you possess that is generally considered ‘mature’, there is also an ‘immature’ side of you.

So honestly, do you consider yourself mature, sulz?

I don’t consider myself mature or immature, just as I don’t consider myself beautiful or ugly (well, I’m trying for this one). I know I don’t know a lot of things, but I also know I do know some things. Sometimes I sulk, but sometimes I forgive too. Sometimes I make mistakes, but so do you too.

Maturity, or lack of, is not black or white. Please don’t label me either, because in that labelling I feel I am expected to behave in accordance to what is normally associated with the maturity label.

But then again, you are free to form what opinion you might have of me, so I really can’t stop you from thinking how immature I am if you are so convinced.

(Aha, so there you go sulz. You are indeed annoyed at being thought of as immature because you secretly think you are! So who’s immature now?)

I’m A Closet Exhibitionist

The past few days, I stumbled upon Facebook profiles of old schoolmates, people I used to know. Being the infamous busybody that I am, of course I had to look at all the pictures I could.

But besides being a closet exhibionist (of which I shall explain how and why), I’m an open masochist. I mean, I’ve openly admitted that I like bruises (not in getting one but in suffering from one). Now I’m openly admitting that though I hate looking at pictures of what people do in Facebook, I still do. The busybody in me has to know what are people doing, who they are dating, where they are working, how much they are earning, how much weight they lost since I last saw them…

I hate it because I end up feeling so unaccomplished. Ex-schoolmates are models, or pilots, or engineers, and I’m like this fat, pimply, vertically-challenged, measly English editor in some tiny publishing house. They earn thousands and thousands. They’re slim and sexy. They are engaged or married or attached permanently, whatever. THEY ARE SO GLAMOUROUS IT HURTS. 😦 😥

You must be thinking, this isn’t the sulz I know. sulz doesn’t get jealous of material possessions, at least certainly of people she doesn’t even keep in touch with. sulz doesn’t care about money (that much) or glamour. sulz loves to be in the background and wants as little physical attention as possible.

Well, guess what? sulz is a closet exhibitionist.

Sometimes, sulz wants to be in the centre of attention. (Why else does this blog exist for, then? Certainly not to make friends, pffft!) Sometimes, sulz wants to show off. Sometimes, sulz wants to be admired for her beauty (hah!) and curvy figure (HAH!). Sometimes, sulz wants to hold a respectable, glamourous position in the rat race. Sometimes, sulz feels like showing it to people who used to diss and belittle her, that SHE HAS MADE IT IN THE WORLD AND SHE’S BETTER THAN YOU, NYEH NYEH NYEH. *STICKS TONGUE OUT AND MAKES MONKEY FACES*

Ahem.

Sometimes.

🙂

ps. I seem to be in the closet for quite a few things. Are there more stuff to dig out? In time, I’m sure!

pps. Protected post is updated! Juicy news inside. Of course. 😉

Of Being Stood Up

As well-aware you are of my terribly fun and fulfilling life at present (I apologise for whining lately, but this is the only space I can do so), there was this one tiny spark in it. I was supposed to have dinner with a few ex-classmates after work last Friday.

Yes, I’m sure you know it didn’t happen by the use of the word ‘supposed’. And the reason for that just made my blood boil. When I got the news, I immediately and furiously texted 9 because I was that upset. I was cursing, and 9 knows (and I’m sure you too) I don’t curse unless I’m pretty mad. I think I was more ugly mad than pretty mad, but anyway…

The dinner didn’t happen because what was supposed to be a gathering of 5 friends whittled down to just 2, then nothing. The first one backed out a couple of days before the dinner – very typical as this person is known for being unreliable like that. Okay, 4 friends left, we can still do this.

On the day of dinner itself, another friend said couldn’t go because… no transport. Yes, that was the reason. That person can’t drive, and the available family members who can drive couldn’t drive this friend that night. We last met during convocation, but we haven’t really sat down and talk and catch up with what’s going on between us. I’d have thought there might be more transport alternatives for a dinner that took over 3 months since college last ended to happen…

And then there were three. Okay, fine. Three’s a crowd, right? But I like crowds. I need a crowd, given my current circumstance. I need mayhem and raucousness and craziness only 3 people are capable of achieving. And with these two friends, I know we can. Between the three of us, we’d have so many stories to tell we’d be fighting to talk!

So I texted the other two to make sure the plan was still on. We arranged this dinner, like, 2 or 3 weeks before last Friday through Facebook. I started the message discussion because nobody would do it. I’ve been saying we should go out for dinner some time, and each person I’ve said that to said yes, but nobody actually arranges for one. Okay, fine, I’ll make the first move. And I made sure it’s planned in advance so that people will be able to mark it in their calendars, make space for this since it’s been, I don’t know, 3 months since we last really hung out?

The two confirmed it was still on. Every Friday at my workplace is Casual Friday, but last Friday I dressed up because I’d be going straight to the mall where we were supposed to have dinner. I even wore this bra that makes my boobs look slightly bigger than my other bras (because it had a space to put in chicken fillets – padding inserts, not literally chicken) but is a little too tight for me. Imagine this, me having to bear a pretty uncomfortable bra at work all day long…

Only to get a text message from one of them – who, having confirmed just hours before that dinner is still on, was now saying that no can do – this friend has just realised there was only enough money left in the purse for petrol.

I was hopping mad. I looked forward to this dinner for weeks, because I’d be able to hang out the bunch of people I was closest to in college. And they all very nicely agreed to earlier, but now bailed out at the very last minute. And they don’t say something like, I’ll arrange a dinner date with you soon. You know, like to make up for cancelling last minute. They say something like, I hope to see you some day... or When I have money I’ll join you guys

‘Scuse me?? I was really looking forward to this dinner, I anticipated a night of fun for myself after enduring days at a job I haven’t exactly fallen in love yet and having to experience fatigue from sitting down 9 hours a day… I need endorphins, DAMMIT.

I’m sorry, I’m probably overreacting over this. It’s not like they’re doing this for the third time or deliberately. They are good people. They’ve helped me out in college during difficult times. I enjoy their company. (Should I say enjoyed? Doesn’t seem like I’ll get to meet them again.) But I’m mad.

So it was just me and this friend, who was still up for dinner if I was. And guess what I did? I ended up bailing on her too. I feel bad about that, but I knew I couldn’t go to dinner with her with the way I was feeling. I was angry, I wanted to bitch, I wanted to be negative. And my friend doesn’t deserve such a bad company for dinner. So I told her that I didn’t want to go, and that I will arrange dinner with her another time.

This was the night that would feel like as if college didn’t end, that we aren’t apart like we are now. We should be laughing and cracking jokes only we can get because we’ve known each other for 3 years. When I planned this dinner, I even told them no last-minute cancelling unless it was pure emergency. You know, like having your car hijacked. Or giving birth. Or having your car hijacked while you’re on the way to the hospital to give birth.

I’m disappointed in these friends because I don’t think their excuses justify their last-minute cancelling. I mean, I had to endure a sufferable bra (okay, nobody made me vain but myself, but still!) and the other friend I bailed on even put make-up on for the occasion. We might have had to cancel or postpone other appointments for this dinner. And for what? Looks like we’re just a case of only if I have the right transport or only if I have enough money, which is no guarantee no matter how long you’ve planned this.

But I haven’t been in real touch with the ‘bailers’ to know if they were just being careless and ignorant or if those reasons were very valid. Maybe that one friend who didn’t have transport quarrelled with some family member and couldn’t ask for a ride and is afraid of taking a cab home late at night. Maybe the friend who was broke had to fork out money for something more important than a dinner. I don’t know.

Should I even bother to?

ps. How do you handle being stood up? I’ve never handled it well.

I swear, drama comes searching for me.

Yesterday, I watched Wall-E. It’s good, by the way, go watch it immediately. And make sure you go with company, ‘cos…

when my friends fetched me home, some fucker threw a brick into my friend’s car, while we were all still in the car. Her car’s back windscreen shattered.

She parked in front of my house, and I was just about to say goodbye, when I heard the loudest explosion. I screamed instinctively, I thought the explosion was from outside the car. Maybe a car exploded or there were some absurdly loud fireworks or something. When I turned around and saw the shattered windscreen, it still didn’t occur to me it was broken by something. I thought it just combusted by itself. I was sitting at the back and my two other friends in front. But I’m alright, nothing but a cut little toe from stepping on a tiny shard of glass.

So of course we came out of the car, which was a stupid move. I mean, that’s the point of breaking the windscreen, isn’t it? To get us out of the car. Most fortunately, whoever threw the brick left immediately after throwing it because there wasn’t anyone around. But see, I for one didn’t realise the windscreen broke because of a brick because honestly, I didn’t feel any brick. I didn’t even know there was a brick in the car until my friend pointed it to me. I didn’t feel anything at all, other than shattering glass. Yet my black tiered skirt had a mark on it; I guess it touched the brick.

Anyway, we were very lucky that the fucker left. I was very lucky I didn’t even feel the brick, much less hit my head. My friend may not be as lucky, financially, because her insurance doesn’t cover broken windscreens. My friends called their relatives over so they could take pictures for the police report.

This is obviously a case of being at the wrong place and the wrong time. Yet parents seem to think this incident is partly our fault. My friend was admonished by her mother because she has been telling her to be careful and not to go out so much at night and all that. Even Dee, who never says a thing whenever I tell my parents I’m going out, suddenly goes about yammering about how he’s always told me not to go out at night and to be careful and all that shit.

If this is disrespectful against the parents above, I’m really sorry, but honestly, this is something totally unexpected. While crime cases in my town are not uncommon, my street has never experienced brick-throwing motorcyclists. When you go out, do you foresee yourself having your handbag stolen or your car tyres deliberately slashed, etc? You don’t, do you? Okay, so maybe you should, ‘cos when you expect the unexpected you can take the necessary measures to prevent or minimise the risk of it happening, blablabla…

To me, that’s not the way to live life. If you are constantly fearing bad things happening to you, you can never enjoy whatever you’re doing. I’m not saying throw caution to the wind and be reckless. I’m saying that what we did was something totally normal. I always go out to the movies with these friends. And we always fetch each other home. What we did was routine and reasonably safe. It wasn’t even a midnight movie; the incident happen just before ten o’clock at night. This was nobody’s fault. At least, nobody but the fucking brick-thrower. So why are we girls getting scolded for doing something totally normal? It’s not like we went clubbing and got back at 2am and got thrown a brick to our car. And even if that were the case, it’s still not our fault! Why do parents do that??

Do you think I would’ve been admonished like that if the brick hit my head?

Thank You Is An Investment

Today, I’m going to be petty. I’m going to talk about something trivial and so petty I’m going to look like a pet bitch. Just humour me and think of it as my pet peeve, even though you might be thinking I’m rather calculating or demanding.

I believe manners and courtesy are the one of the most important traits to have to maintain peace and harmony in a friendship, a family, a society. When someone gives you something or does something for you, it is imperative, in my opinion, that you show appreciation accordingly. It may be a thank you to your teacher who took the time to correct your assignment and allowing you to edit it before passing it up. It may be a hug or a kiss to your mom who baked your favourite cake. It may be a gift in return for your friend who did you a personal favour. Whatever and however you choose to show your appreciation, it is essential that sincerity is the heart of the gesture.

Because you could just say thank you, and the recipient would know how sincere it is, how much emotion is put into those two simple words. Or you could just say thankyouverymuch, and anybody who hears it know you just said it automatically, instinctively; there was no heart in those words, just uttered like a fart or something.

So, it really irks me when I take the time, thought and effort to do things for friends, or whoever, and I don’t even get a thank you in return. I just feel like, I went through all the trouble (or not, but the thought behind the gesture counts too, doesn’t it?) and you don’t even appreciate it?? I know it’s so petty, because if you really really wanted to do something for someone, you could care less if you received thanks or not, because the joy was in doing something for the person, not in expecting or receiving the appreciation (I think parents are like that, even though they do teach their kids manners).

But I’m not like that. I want to feel like you appreciated my gesture. I want to feel like that because in the future, I will continue my gestures, knowing that you appreciate it. If you don’t tell me what I did was appreciated, I don’t feel motivated to do anything for you in the future, not unless you asked, perhaps.

Many people’s first excuse of this issue is that they forgot to show their appreciation. They forgot to say thank you. They forgot whatever it is they wanted to do to show their appreciation. You know what? Bullshit. When they say they forgot to say thank you, it doesn’t mean that their lack of appreciation was accidental. It means that what you did was so trivial and insignificant in their minds that they subconsciously chose to forget to show appreciation. Because if you really appreciated someone’s gesture, the first instinct is to say thank you (or whatever gesture of appreciation), isn’t it?? How can you forget something that is nurtured of us since young, to have manners and courtesy, nurtured to be ingrained that it’s instinctive, how can you forget to say thank you?? Do you forget to breathe???

I know it’s so petty to want thank yous for what I do, as if I demand a payment for my unasked for service. It’s not like that to me. Manners and courtesy are lubricants to any relationship. They appreciate and affirm each other. The sender of a thank you shows the recipient that he appreciates, just as the doer of a gesture shows his appreciation for the… do-ee? (Haha.)

In any relationship, there is give and take. If you are given something, you should let your appreciation be taken. Don’t keep it to yourself, don’t ‘forget’ to appreciate. Appreciation is a form of affirmation, and if all it takes is two simple words, I think it’s a very worthwhile investment to make for a long-lasting and healthy relationship.

*

So, thank you for reading this. For reading anything in my blog, for that matter. Even more if you have left a comment. Or for being my friend. For being part of my life, however small or big. I’ve said time and again how blogging has improved or changed my life and myself, and it’s thanks to you that all the good blogging stuff happened to me. Thank you, all. I appreciate you.