my peeps The Boys
RaJ
Tayster
factory_peasant
Surfer Mitch
Scared Bunny
Jake
Hof
my peeps The Girls
Sass
Pajiba
Tristan Roy
Radiohead blue eyes,
crooked teeth,
intellectual,
goofball,
slacker,
socialist.
Stuff and Nonsense
You LOVE Me THIS much
What Came Before
Steff
Crystal
Lyvvie
Cate
OEN
--spared--
Rachel
bitchy
Dlisted
Janet Charlton
MPH
Go Fug Yourself
the pretty pictures
Owen Billcliffe
No Traces
Sam Javanrouh
the professionals blog
Matthew Good
Margaret Cho
Rick Mercer
Tony Pierce
Whil Wheaton
Waiter
shameless self promotion
About Me
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 2.5 License.
2005.05
2005.06
2005.07
2005.08
2005.09
2005.10
2005.11
2005.12
2006.01
2006.02
2006.03
2006.04
2006.05
2006.06
2006.07
2006.08
2006.09
2006.10
2006.11
2006.12
2007.01
2007.02
2007.03
2007.04
2007.05
2007.06
2007.07
2007.08
2007.09
2007.10
2007.11
2007.12
2008.01
2008.02
2008.03
2008.04
2008.05
2008.07
2008.09
2008.10
2009.01
2010.01
2010.03
2010.05
i know your habits but wouldn't recognize you yet
:
I know my summer's been spent in a daze. I haven't been keeping the faith with unnumbered of blogs I love. I haven't been seeking out new ones. I have nothing much to say so the posts aren't grande and the comments I make elsewhere are sparse. I'm just finding out that an artist I love is having a crisis and I'm feeling foolish for missing the opportunity to say I'm sorry it's happening. That's the the thing about the world and celebrity. You can feel so attached to someone you have never met and will never know in a face to face way, yet you have something of theirs. You have their art. In a way a blog is a similar phenomenon. There are so many and some get read and some don't. In the purest sense you get to peek into some one else's life and take from it what you want. The ultimate pick and choose.
And how do you pick and choose? How do you read someone's jagged train of thought and decide it's not your cup of tea? Is it tone, content, style, colour and font of the page. It's a little like making friends and then again it isn't. I get the occasional comments but most people who read this don't say a word. I have told my friends and family about this page. My family couldn't care less. Some of my friends read it. Why don't I have a loyal band of comentors that cause the comments section to light up like a wild IM convo party? Mostly because I don't reply to many of the comments in the comments section. Otherwise I don't know, and I've talked about this before. If the fact I'm not the kind of blogger that has a loyal commenting section is telling of some sort of social inability on my part. Am I just not that friendly? Am I just not selling myself enough to warrant the time to say hey I get it? I sure as hell don't know.
WHY do I bring this up? Well I was reading about 3 reasons women don't speak up. I think it's terribly valid in that I've had all of these things said to me to shut me up. I am a speaker upper. People don't know how to take that. I'm often told I'm mean even when I'm not saying anything mean. I got into a flame war with an entire row of guys at work last night, all because I wouldn't stop making a come back. I can dish with the best of them and I'm not much afraid of saying anything. One guy told another guy he'd made me worse -> I wasn't usually that mean. Of course the guy who thinks I'm worse didn't appreciate my telling him I wasn't going to do double the work unless he dropped dead. I'm not doing squat on his say so. Joke or not. And please, if it is a joke, don't repeat it over and over like a mantra that you're trying to get back up on. It wasn't funny the first time quit while you're ahead. During the evening I got called a velosoraptor (?) and Ramber (like Rambo get it - duh). Several people told other people not to mess with me because I'll mess them up. And we were only talking. Kind of joking. Still why am I so bad to talk to/joke with? Exactly what was I doing that they weren't? Oh right I have tits I'm not supposed to be able to keep up? Yea right. Check again buddy I'm not backing down and demurly blushing when you throw some sexist bullshit at me, I fling it right back just like my Daddy taught me. He was big on 'don't get blown up by the grenade throw it back'.
When I get home tonight there's supposed to be the new roommate. Kid T. I won't have met him, and won't meet him until the morning unless he's up and drifting around. God only know how this is going to work out. Kid M is making himself scarce, but as he does that another whiteboard war has erupted. I'm wondering what in the world is the point of asking/letting a guy you can't talk to stay. He's acting like he has them by the short and curlies and he's kind of right. In the mean time I got the body shops honey shampoo and conditioner and now I'm being grossed out by the smell of my own hair. It's so sweet I can;t even stand it.
Keep blogging.
ghost writer Ambrrrr at 2:21 PM