I Know Better Than That

"I know better than to be friends with boys with girlfriends.
I know better than that, I know better
You'll play the victim, and I'll be the bad guy.
I know better than that, I know better"

"Boys with Girlfriends" by Meiko is about to become my new theme song. I might have to change the lyrics occasionally to fit the situation. "I know better than to be friends with boys with obsessed ex-girlfriends." "I know better than to be friends with boys who want to cheat on their girlfriends." "I know better than to be friends with boys who are occasionally having sex with my friends." That sort of thing.

There are few things I hate more than when other people say I'm something that I don't think I am, or accuse me of doing something that I don't think I've done. I'd go into a long history of things of this nature occurring in my life, but frankly, I would rather vent about current frustrations than go down a lane of unpleasant memories.

A friend of mine is non-dating a guy (I'd call it "friends-with-benefits", but I'd rather avoid the cliché). They were dating at one point, and now they've pulled it back to just being very good friends who have frequent sleepovers.

She keeps accusing me of flirting with him. Whenever there's a social gathering, and I communicate with him in any way, I upset her. And then she comes up to me (usually whispering and intoxicated) about how it doesn't matter that he's not her boyfriend, because I shouldn't flirt with him anyway, because I should know how much it hurts her when I do.

But I'm not flirting with him.

And you, dear readers, probably already know that he's in the As Good As Gay box based on the fact that he is non-dating my friend, and she clearly has strong feelings for him (or me talking to him at a party wouldn't be cause for her concern).

It just aggravates me now. Last night when she pulled me aside to confront me about my so-called flirtation (which was a conversation with him about something completely non-sexual, during which I had my arms folded across my chest, and generally most "don't touch me" looking body language I could muster), I hit her.

I meant it as a "stop being so silly" tap on the shoulder, but I guess my frustration with her manifested itself in something more ferocious than that, and I actually hurt her.

We talked about it today, and she's still upset. And even sober, she's convinced that I'm trying to steal this guy from her. WHICH I AM NOT. I DO NOT WANT HIM. I HAVE NO INTEREST IN HIM. WE ARE FRIENDS. Or, at least, we keep trying to be; she makes it difficult.

I'm not the only one she's accused of flirting with him, of course. It's just, usually, she comes complaining to me about him flirting with other girls, as opposed to confronting the girls (or him) about it. But I'm a person she feels like she can confront.

(Full disclosure: last month, on a night when he had been drinking, he did make a comment about wanting to have sex with me. But, being as how everyone down here is aware of the fact that I don't have sex, we both just kind of laughed it off. I assumed he was joking, at least partially. But it felt like I was skipping part of the story if I didn't at least mention that.)

A couple of months ago, he did something that upset her, and she brought up the problem by teasing him about it (by the way, I hate it when girls do that "drop a hint about an issue and act like it's a joke" thing. Do they really think anyone gets it? Because they generally don't). The moment she chose to do it? She interrupted a conversation that I was having at him. And then she walked away.

So he looks at me, makes a joke about it, and then says, "Do you think she's actually upset?" Knowing her, I said yes. We discussed it for a bit longer, and a little about how he might be able to put out the fire. And that was the end of our conversation that night.

About a week after that, the same situation was arising in which he had previously made the wrong decision that had upset her so much. So I sent him a text message (which I thought was a nudge-poke-light-hearted-half-joking thing) reminding him what night it was, and what action he might want to take to avoid another fire.

He was furious.

He sent me 4 angry text messages saying never to say anything like that to him again.

I apologized, and said that I meant no harm.

He sent a text apologizing for jumping on me.

When I saw him later that night, I apologized again in person. He said it wasn't my fault, that he got upset over nothing, and implied that she had already been giving him a hard time (about both that error and other things).

I feel like she's making requests (well, demands) of him that shouldn't be made unless they're in a relationship... which they're not. And I think the only reason she keeps jumping on me is just because she's more possessive than she should be.

She also once told me that he ditched her at a party to go make out with a mutual friend (which, of course, pegged several people against him for being a jerk to her), and then later admitted that she didn't actually know whether he had gone to make out with the other girl or not, but she thought he might have. (Turns out, he didn't. He went to call a drunk friend whom he'd lost track of at the party to make sure she was okay. In other words, he was being a perfectly nice person.)

I hate being made to feel like I'm the bad guy when I don't think I am. And part of me wants to get in a fight with her and tell her all the things I think she's doing wrong with this guy, but I can't. We're packed like sardines down here. You can't give anyone a piece of your mind without unpleasant ramifications.

And I know I should be the mature one. And I should just stay away from the whole situation. In my conversation with her this morning, I even offered not to talk to him anymore.

But honestly, I'm in a program of 30 people, 21 of whom I see multiple times a day, and he's one of them. I'm going to talk to him again.

****************************************************************

I took a break (i.e. about 12 hours away) from this post. In the meanwhile, I told three classmates about the conversation. Their reactions:

#1. "She needs to get over being such a controlling bitch." (And other things that were very supportive of me and very negative about her)

#2. "I can't believe she would do that to both of you. Or that she's so possessive over him." (And other supportive things.)

#3. "Seems like something that would happen to you." (And other statements about how things that I don't intend to be flirtatious are taken that way, and I need to watch my step more.)


So the jury is still apparently out on whether the problem is with me or her. I'm going to stay on my own side. I didn't do anything wrong, and I don't feel like I have anything for which to be sorry. And frankly, I'm still pretty offended.


May you stand your ground.

~A~




P.S. Hey 3rd-Year GA. If you ever read this, now you know about why I left the house last night. You were right. I did need to blog about it.

The Filmmaker

(Me with one of the film directing students. 01/31/09)

Once upon a time, I was writing a novel. Someday, I hope to get back to it. And in the meanwhile, I'm just going to continue to live out situations that seem like the sorts of things I might've written into the novel if I'd kept working at it.

I recently had been concerned about not being the leading lady in my own life. But that's not true at all. I'm the protagonist of a long, winding romantic comedy.

I've been iffy on The Engineer for awhile, as I've mentioned. A couple of weeks ago, he asked if he could take me out to dinner, like an actual date. I said yes, mostly because I keep thinking about that Marilyn Monroe quotation, "Ever notice how 'What the hell' is always the right answer?"

I was sick, so when he called that night to make plans, I was less than enthusiastic about the idea. He started tossing out restaurant ideas, and all I wanted to do was sleep. I told him I felt seriously awful (because I did), and that I thought it might be better to wait until another night. He said that he was leaving his house right then, and that I should take a 15-minute nap. He said we'd figure everything out when he got here.

So I, looking beyond terrible, took my favorite green gingham blanket downstairs and curled up on the couch. After 15 minutes had passed and he hadn't shown up, I was secretly relieved. I hoped he wouldn't show up at all. I went back to sleep.

When my phone finally rang, he said that he was at the door. I opened it, still wearing a blanket, to find him holding a bouquet of yellow daisies. He handed me a card that read (and I quote), "I always have an amazing time when I'm with you!! I hope you can bless me with that gorgeous smile of yours tonight!"

He then brought two bags of groceries into my house, saying, "I figured that since you were sick, I'd just cook you dinner over here." And he did.

What's more, while making dinner, he quoted three (THREE!) of my favorite movies (Animal House, Boondock Saints, and The 40-Year Old Virgin). So we watched The 40-Year Old Virgin and ate dinner, and it was positively lovely.

He's called me nearly every night since then wanting to hang out. He's dropped by my place a few times and hung out for hours. He's really interesting, and good to talk to.

I know what you're thinking. This guy is great. He's really sweet. He clearly likes me a lot. And I should be falling head over heels for him right now.

So why aren't I?

I don't know what it is, but I'm just not that into him. Whenever he leaves, I keep thinking, "I should like you more than I do." But as I stated as a New Year's Resolution, I'm not going to talk myself into anything; it only gets me hurt in the long run.

I also felt weird about it when he asked me what I was doing on Friday, and I told him I had been invited to a party (I said it in a "Sorry, but I have plans Friday" kind of way). His response was, "Oh, that sounds like fun. We should totally go."

Wait, what? Where did he come up with this "we" that he mentioned? When did we get to the point that he could assume things? When did he decide that he was automatically my date?

I guess it made me think of Boyfriend #2... The guy who started calling himself my boyfriend when I was telling him that it was casual dating and I was still seeing other people. And I hated that. I hated that assumption then, and I hate it now. And although this guy is doing everything else right, it sort of made me resent him. I haven't seen him since he said it (that was Wednesday).



And I should mention that there's a Part II of this story. There's one more reason that I won't talk myself into The Engineer...

Last week, when the film directing students were in town, I went out three nights in a row. And I really bonded with two of them. They were really cool guys, and the three of us hung out two of the nights until ungodly hours of the morning. It might've been the most fun weekend I've had since I've been down here (and I've had some fun weekends).

The went back to their main campus, which is 5 hours away, but have stayed in contact. At first, all I could think about was how much spending time with them reminded me of hanging out with my friends Greg and Mike in undergrad. If those guys lived in my town, surely, we'd be the best of buddies. We'd hang out and watch Battlestar Galactica and Firefly, and sing along to Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog together (things that they appreciate as much as I do).

And then it turned into something else. A crush. I totally have a crush on one of them. The one in the picture on the top of this post, in fact (I wish I didn't look so stupid in it, as I think he looks particularly charming).

He shall henceforth be known as The Filmmaker (creative, I know).

He emailed me the day after he left. It was filled with compliments and sweet things. He said that hanging out with me had been good for him. And that he thought my attitude was "inspiring." "After checking out your Facebook, I managed to get even more depressed that film school isn't in [town]... What a drag to be exposed to such cool people and then just head on home."

And he's been texting me ever since, and we've been writing long emails on a daily basis. He's completely adorkable, and I totally dig it. He wants to come down and visit me next weekend (yes, even though it's a 5-hour drive) because he has the rare blessing of a few days off. And I really, really, really want him to.

I have this jumping feeling in my stomach when he texts me. I get all giddy when I'm reading his emails. I have reverted back into a middle school girl. It's a bit pathetic, but it feels so good. I don't know how or why, but this guy that I barely know has brought the giggly kind of joy into my life.

Maybe that's weird. Maybe this is too fast. Maybe I'm projecting things onto him that aren't actually there, because I'm only communicating with him through the written word.

Maybe it's because he seems like a perfect blend of the two guys from my past whom I've cared the most about. He's a filmmaker and he writes me rambling emails, just like Boyfriend #1. And he was in the Air Force and loves geeky things, just like Brian.

And I just keep thinking about how guilty I feel about everything with The Engineer.

*********************************************

Okay, so I wrote that much of this post, but then didn't post it.

And since then, this film student has officially asked me out on a date. And I accepted. Cheerfully so. Via text message.

Is that weird? Oh man, I don't even care anymore. I really like this guy! And he's driving 5 hours to take me out! *fans self*

I feel giddy, giggly, and gleeful. I am so very excited, I can't even tell you. AHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!

The Engineer texted me to hang out tonight, but I told him that I was going to bed. And I am. I plan to dream about The Filmmaker.


May something exciting keep you from settling for something nice.

~A~

The Engineer

(Me and Two-Shots-Up at karaoke, 11/23/08)

I haven't been posting on a regular basis. And I will continue that trend, just so you know. They keep us hopping, and my free-time is sporadic. Not to mention all the guilt I feel whenever I'm working on ANYTHING that isn't centered around making myself a better actor. Blogging seems like a distraction from my REAL purpose (my other blog seems more in the correct vein, hence why I'm better at keeping up with that).

The only truly consistent thing about my schedule down here is that I get Mondays off. So naturally, Sunday night is party night.

Y2K led the initial movement to hit karaoke up on a Sunday, and people followed. But now, it's become even more important to Two-Shots-Up and me than it is to him. We go every week. And we love it.

We dance like maniacs. Seriously. MANIACS. And we've done our "Viewpoints" movement homework on the dancefloor more than once. In fact, now it's part of what we do there, regardless of whether it's required for class. We think it's funny.

I usually sing a song or two, and I'll do a duet with Two-Shots-Up, because she's not confident enough to hit the mic on her own.

A couple of weeks ago, Two-Shots-Up and I were the only people from our group in attendance. We made fools of ourselves, and we met a lot of interesting people in the process. Like the guy who says he's a band with two former members of The Allman Brothers, and the former drummer from Bad Company. And a creepy drunk guy who asked for my number, and when I said I didn't give it out ("for safety reasons"), responded with, "What? I'm not dangerous!"

We also met a nice guy wearing a Bayside Tigers shirt (a clear sign that he was friend-able). He's an engineering student, and the drummer in a not-yet-named band (I remind you all that I have a thing for drummers). He seemed cool, and it was right around the time that 2SU and I were looking to find friends outside the program, so we both got his number and said our friends and his friends should hang out sometime.

He's been text messaging me ever since. But it was hard to think too far into that, as he was CALLING 2SU. One day she came into class and said they'd talked for an hour the night before.

And where did that take my mind?

Shockingly, not to the bad place. I never crossed into the land of, "He wants her and not me. Just another guy picking another girl over me. What's wrong with me?"

No. Perhaps my self-esteem level is improving, because where I HONESTLY went was, "Oooh! I hope they date, and then we can hang out with his friends! I bet he has cool friends, and then I'll know people outside the program! Wouldn't that be awesome?"

Last week, The Engineer was in L.A. (which happens to be the home of 2SU, giving them even more to talk about), so he missed karaoke.

We had several people from our group there. And at one point, Y2K tried to confess his feelings for me. OVER THE MICROPHONE. He started a song that had a "let's get together" vibe by saying, "Angela? Let's cut through the s***..." He walked off the stage platform and over to me on the dancefloor (cut to me, looking terrified), and then said, "And, um, you too, [Two-Shots-Up]." Crisis narrowly averted.

Later in the evening, 2SU and I sort of hinted that we were a couple in front of Y2K... Which we're not. And it seems cruel in retrospect. But in that moment, I felt like it had to be done. I didn't want to have to hurt him by turning him down. It seemed like a better choice to convince him not to take the risk.

As a side note, it's really too bad that neither 2SU nor I are interested in women. Because we would make such a great couple. And I'm pretty sure it'd be hot. We have a lot of chemistry (which is probably why we keep getting paired together in exercises with vaguely lesbian undertones in Acting class).

(Tangent: There's a part of me that always worries that being straight makes me sexist. Like I'm making a statement that men are better than women somehow... But then if I say that being straight is a sexist choice, then I'd have to say that being gay is as well... And since I don't believe that being gay is a choice, then I guess I have to admit that I was probably just born this way.)

Anyway.

A few days ago, I got a text from The Engineer:

"I really want to take you out sometime, if you have time! :)"

Wait, wait, wait... Is that... a date?

I thought he wanted 2SU. I was pretty certain of it, actually. Which made me unsure as to whether I should bring it up to her. On the one hand, I wanted to know if he was trying to hook both of us. On the other, I didn't want to rub her face in it if she wanted him...

I decided it would work itself out.

Last night we went back to karaoke. Me, 2SU, Y2K, and a handful of others. I sang "Whatta Man" by En Vogue & Salt n' Pepa. (note: the words are NOT on the right beat for that song... you have to ignore when they come on the screen). I sang "Killing Me Softly" by The Fugees (with a friend doing all the "one time/two times" bits). 2SU and I did "Love Is Strange" by Mickey & Sylvia (from Dirty Dancing).

The Engineer showed up. He bought me a cherry coke. And he made it quite clear that he wasn't chasing after 2SU. He wanted me.

After all of us did a rousing rendition of "The Y.M.C.A.", the bar closed and we were shoved out into the parking lot, where we hung around discussing constellations.

He asked if he could walk me to my car, which was all of about 20 feet away. I let him. He kissed me. I stopped him. I felt weird about it happening with Y2K right there. Not that I had been hiding the fact that I was flirting with The Engineer all night... But making out with him in front of Y2K in a parking lot just seemed wrong. Mean, in fact.

We discussed going out for coffee, but then admitted that neither of us drinks coffee. We said in unison that we normally get hot chocolate. But then he said that he's trying to cut carbs and sugar out of his diet, which is EXACTLY what my Movement Professor told me I should be doing. We laughed. And then he proposed taking me out for water sometime.

His schedule is as chaotic as mine (he has work, school, and band practice), so we haven't figured out a time that we can meet... And I'm going to see my family in Connecticut for Thanksgiving, which cuts out a chunk of time. But I know we'll be seeing each other again at some point. And I'm a little excited about it.


May you find someone to drink water with.

~A~

Uncrushed Basketcase

("Two Shots Up", "Killer", and Me at a party on Sunday)

I've been a basket-case all week. I think I've cried about 4 times, including through half of my acting class today (which was so uncomfortable... for everyone).

And I don't even really know why. I think it's just that everything started building up. I cried reading a play. I cried talking to my roommates. I cried through half of my acting class today for no apparent reason. I think it's all out of my system now, but I've been wearing my emotions for the last 72 hours.

I've been debating how much of my school existence to put on here. On the one hand, I really don't want anyone from school to find this blog and stumble upon things that I don't want them to know (they all know I'm a blogger, but I directed them towards my other blog, so that they won't come looking for this one. So far, so good... On the other hand, I really want to be able to blog about this stuff, as that's the way I deal with most of my problems...

Anyway, I guess this post is my test run, to see how comfortable (or not) I am with this sort of stuff. Wish me luck.


I think I'm a pretty smart cookie, but it's getting me into trouble. I monopolized a class discussion on Oedipus on Tuesday (but honestly, I was frustrated, fired up, and speaking in an intelligent manner the entire time... I think my professor appreciated it, but I don't know it my classmates were okay with it or not). I challenged a couple of my classmates' opinions in voice class (which we were encouraged to do by the professor) and they seemed offended (especially when I was right). And I'm worried that I might get a reputation for being intellectually prickly, which is the last thing I want.

Also, I think I offended a professor this week. Actually, potentially two professors. Why? Because I don't much like dogs and was pretty vocal about it... and they both happen to have dogs that they treat like their children. And the one professor told the other professor about it. And the whole 2nd-year class is mad at me because now the one professor isn't going to bring in her dog to class this year like she did last year as a result of it. Gah! I don't think I should have to be sorry for not wanting a dog in my voice class while I'm doing relaxation exercises. She asked if dogs make anyone uncomfortable, and I didn't think I should have to lie and act like I love them.

Whatever.

It's just been a long week.

And on top of that drama, AND all the school work I'm doing, there is the social aspect of things. And that, as one would expect, is complicated.

I went to a party on Sunday that was held at the house of two people who are donors for the program that I'm at. They had an open bar and a hot tub, so I think we all knew that there were going to be weird situations that arose by the end of the night. Let's just say that I have a lot of pictures that didn't make it to Facebook.

Two of my classmates looked like they were about 5 seconds away from making out THE ENTIRE NIGHT. He seemed to have forgotten that he has a SERIOUS girlfriend (who is moving down here for him in a few months). It was making me hideously uncomfortable.

Another of my classmates with a girlfriend was acting single, in what I'm sure was an alcohol-induced string of bad decisions. He tried to seduce my roommate. He leaned down and kissed my breast mid-conversation (COMPLETELY INAPPROPRIATE!!!). I'm pretty sure I saw him kiss a 2nd-year. And by the end of the night, he'd gotten into a fist-fight with a 3rd-year in a hot tub. (That was actually when I decided it was time for me to leave...)

As you may recall, all the males in my class are out-of-bounds for one reason or another. One is married, four are in serious relationships, one is gay, and one only dates "big booty hoes who like to freak" (which does not describe any of the females in this program).

One of the guys in my class is really awesome, and I really want to become good friends with him. He and I have similar tastes and a lot in common. I wrote on his facebook wall back in the summer that I had decided that he and I would be best friends once we got down here. But I haven't gotten that many opportunities to hang out with him. I finally did at this party, where he was appropriately intoxicated.

I talked with him a bunch, and he's just as cool as I thought he would be. In fact, I think I actually prefer him with booze in his system. The Drunk version is even funnier, cooler, and more adorable than the Regular version (I said the entirety of that sentence to someone else about him while standing directly next to him at one point). It was like Jim Carrey in The Mask. Regular him, but to the nth degree (I said that to him). Loved it.

For the record, I do not want to jump him. I think he's fascinating and awesome, but I think that in an "oh my God, we need to be best friends" kind of way, not an "I want his balls" kind of way. A completely non-sexual sort of crush. Also, I should reiterate that he has a girlfriend whom he seems very serious about. Therefore, I haven't been concerned about him crossing out of "As Good As Gay" territory.

Moving on (I swear there was a point to all of that)...

Okay, so in class on Tuesday, we had this exercise where you had to ambush your partner with a question as the class watched. First, you were supposed to clear your mind, then make a silent connection with the partner, and then ask a question based off of what you received from the partner.

One of the ambush scenarios between my classmates went something like this...
ONE: Do you want to be here?
TWO: No. This is just school. It's not interesting.
ONE: Then why are you here?
TWO: Because it's free.

I'll allow you to imagine how upset I was by that. I'm offended that there is someone in my class who is not grateful to be in this program. He takes it for granted. I don't think he even much likes it. This, I maintain, is the problem with people going to grad school straight out of undergrad: they don't appreciate it as much. It just seems like more of the same.

ETA: I realize that this does not apply to ALL people who go to grad school straight out of undergrad. I was still bitter when I wrote those words.

Anyway. I had to ambush the cool guy from my class directly after that. I had to work hard to clear my mind. If I hadn't, I'm sure I would've asked him "Are you resentful that someone in our class doesn't want to be here?", because that's what was really on my mind.

But I looked at him. And I thought about him performing magic tricks. And his ability to throw cards like weapons. And how he tells these crazy stories at parties. He's kind of a natural entertainer... And suddenly I wondered if he knew that those were the things that I associated with him. So I decided to ask, but it didn't come out the way I intended.

And so, sitting a couple of feet away from him, locking eyes with him, with the entire class watching, I asked, "How do you think I feel about you?"

He stared at me with a look of disbelief and started to blush. He didn't answer for about 5 seconds, which seemed way longer than it was. And in those 5 seconds, I knew what was going through his head. And I couldn't help but wonder if my classmates saw the same thing...

He totally thinks I have a crush on him.

Frak.

And the way the question came out of my mouth (as I replayed it over and over in my head) sounded somewhat flirtatious.

Double frak.

He stumbled over his words for a second. He ended up saying something about how he thought that I thought we had a lot in common, and that I looked to him as someone who could be my buddy... but his eyes told me that he was censoring himself. My professor saw it, too, (based on the way he was choosing his words so carefully as he answered) and called him out on it.

Some of my classmates complimented the question, as it clearly ambushed him in exactly the way we were supposed to. He was shocked by the question and couldn't answer it without becoming intrinsically focused, at least momentarily. It was probably one of the most successful questions of the entire exercise (and we spent at least 90 minutes on this).

The professor, unsatisfied with his self-censoring, made me ambush him again. And then again after that.

Finally, he ambushed me.

HIM: Do you find security in your hair?
ME: ... Sometimes.
HIM: Is that why you're afraid to cut it?
ME: ... Maybe. Partially.

The professor moved on from there. I didn't say what I wanted to say. I censored myself. I just didn't get caught.

What I should've said?

No. I'm afraid to cut my hair because I'm worried I won't be beautiful if I do. I'm afraid that men won't find me attractive. That's the real reason that I'm not going to cut it.

To go deeper... It probably has something to do with the men from my past. Pretty much all of them have had a thing for my hair. For example, if I cut my hair off and Brian stopped thinking I was beautiful... I don't think I could handle it.

How pathetic is that?

Obviously, I felt weird saying any of that in front of my class. Especially to this new pseudo-friend of mine, in light of the other ambush question that I had just asked him. Which is dumb. Particularly because I know that he prefers short hair on girls, so me saying that might have actually made him feel less like I wanted to jump him.

Oh well.

I actually went and apologized to my professor after class for not being open on that exercise. But I felt so weird about the earlier ambush question... And so vulnerable from the second.

Anyway. I still feel weird about the whole first-ambush thing. I don't know how much the rest of the class picked up on. I don't know how much they know about me telling him repeatedly that we're destined to be friends. I don't know if they know how many pictures I took of me and him at that party. I don't know if he even remembers that I called him cute and funny at the party (which I did NOT mean as flirting... I meant it sort of in a brother/sister way). I don't know if anyone else thought that I was flirting with him when I asked that question. I don't know if they noticed him blushing and pieced together why. I DON'T KNOW.

I feel awkward. Way awkward.

Maybe it was all in my head. Maybe he knows that I only think of him as a friend, and I'm completely over-reacting. I have, after all, been known to over-think things from time to time.

But in that moment? Horrible.



So there's one more thing I should mention about that party on Sunday...

I believe I mentioned that there's a guy who works for the theatre whom I thought might be flirting with me. Well, apparently he confessed to his roommate that he has a crush on a different girl in my class. I'm not sure how I felt about that when I first found out... Not really relieved, not really jealous, not really offended... But not apathetic, either. I felt something about it... Just nothing identifiable.

Anyway. Since I had learned that he was interested in someone else, I was able to mentally file him under "As Good As Gay". And I ended up having a long conversation with him at the party. And, unless I'm mistaken, I think he was kind of flirty... And I may have been flirty back... By the end of the night, he'd offered to cook me dinner and said he wanted to take me camping (both of those subjects arose organically and didn't sound like skeezy pick-up lines, I swear). As the conversation continued, he made both sound more like "group gatherings", but I couldn't help but wonder if there was something else implied. He wasn't asking me on a date, was he?

So Tuesday after class, I heard his roommate (one of my classmates) talking to the classmate of mine that he is rumored to have a crush on. He invited her to dinner at his place, saying "[roommate] has been itching to cook dinner for someone other than just me." So maybe I'm completely over-thinking the dinner and it really was just a friend thing. Or did he get his roommate to ask this particular girl because he has a thing for her?...

So, yeah. I feel weird about the classmate who thinks I might have a crush on him. And I also feel weird about this guy who may or may not be flirting with me. I actually feel more uncomfortable about two of the guys here who are really nice to me and I genuinely like than I feel about the guy who kissed my breast or the guy who thinks I'm trying to rape him with my hugs. That's some bizarre psychology, isn't it?

See, this is why I can't get involved with anyone here. I'm not even CLOSE to being involved with anyone, and it's already awkward and uncomfortable. Blergh.

It's so much better to just stay uncrushed.


May your non-sexual crushes not get complicated.

~A~

When Other People Drink

(Me and "Iceman", the classmate who knew exactly how to comfort me.)
Last night was... interesting.

One of the directing students threw a gathering/party that tons of people from all three classes were able to attend. I stuck to water all night long, but mostly everyone was pretty hammered. Here's a summary of important events:

- One of my male drunken classmates told a female classmate that he wants to sleep with her. (NOTE: He has a serious girlfriend.)

- One of my female drunken classmates was ALL OVER a male drunken classmate. (NOTE: He has a serious girlfriend.)

- One of my drunken classmates made me cry.

- One of my drunken classmates comforted me from crying with tremendous skill, and I felt far better once it was all over than I had felt even before I was crying. He told me how grateful he is that I'm in his class, and that he appreciates how I bring something to classes that no one else does. He said he thinks it's important that I come into everything with a spirit of honesty, and that he knows I'm talented. It was the best cheer up speech I've heard in a long, long time.

- I started seriously considering getting a drastically short haircut.
Thoughts?

- The classmate who reacted badly to my hug last week? I haven't touched him since, for fear of doing something wrong. When he was leaving, I went for a handshake. He grabbed my hand with both of his hands warmly. I sat back down in my chair and faced away from him. He put his hands on my shoulders with care and began telling everyone I was near how great he thinks I am. So I reached behind me to give him a sort of backwards hug around the legs, saying, "Awww, thanks." He pushed my hands away, was clearly upset, and walked away. (NOTE: I was sitting in a chair with a back on it, so the reach was awkward, I barely touched his clothed legs, and there was a chair between us. It was not in any way, shape, or form a sexual advance or a flirtatious move. And HE TOUCHED ME FIRST!)

- One of my classmates drunkenly insisted on starting a conversation on the strangest places we'd had sex, which led to me breaking rule #33 in an awkward and uncomfortable manner. (33. Don’t tell classmates about my (lack of a) sexual history. Remember that it is none of their business.) Now everyone knows. And I wish they didn't.

- I think a guy was flirting with me. He's not in the program, so part of me thinks that he isn't really out of bounds according to my self-imposed stipulations (no one in the program, ESPECIALLY not in my class). But he's the roommate of one of my classmates, and he works for the theatre, so it wouldn't come without complications. Don't know him very well yet, so I guess I shouldn't think too much about it. It's incredibly possible that nothing will ever happen, so why should I stress?

- I went out to breakfast with the braver, more awake people from the group. I didn't get home until about 6:15am. It's been a very long time since I've seen 6:15am from that end of the day.



There's one more resolution I've broken, by the way...

5. Do not gossip behind people’s backs.

I can't help it. It's human nature. I'm sorry, but there's just no way I'm going to be able to make it through this without venting.

My method of limiting the damage is to only discuss things with people from other classes. And by people, I mean my two roommates (a 3rd year and a 2nd year), and our neighbor girls (a 3rd year and a 2nd year). The four of us get together and say what we need to say about our respective classes with the knowledge that it will not go beyond us. And that's a beautiful thing.


May you refrain from using alcohol as an excuse.

~A~

An Accidental Flirt

("Disco" and "Thrill" <-- who is not the classmate that I mention in this post)


Hello. My name is Angela, and I am a flirt.

And the worst part is, I don’t even realize it.

I’ve been referred to as a flirt several times in the last month, for one reason or another. Mostly, I’ve brushed out these accusations, seeing them as exaggerations of reality. But when you hear something over and over again, you begin to wonder if it’s true.

At first, I thought, “I don’t know how to flirt.” Which is true. Whenever there’s someone I want to flirt with, I’m at a loss. I’m ill at ease. I clam up. Or I say too much. Or every stupid or inane thought that has ever entered my head suddenly pours out of my unfiltered mouth in a strange and uncomfortable jumble of word vomit. I can’t flirt successfully.

I don’t understand the act of flirting in general. Particularly the way men seem to do it around me. Making fun of me? Making fun of things I like? I’ve been told that this sort of “teasing” is flirting, but I don’t take it that way. I take it as a form of disrespect.

(Take note, male readers who might wish to flirt with me in the future.)

I also don’t understand slutty flirting. Making everything dirty? Working sexual things into conversation? Flat out propositioning people in public? Not attractive. I don’t get it.

Maybe it’s just that I’m some sort of late bloomer. I remember the first time I learned the word “flirting”. It was November of my freshman of high school. Yes, that’s right. I entered high school with no prior knowledge of what flirting was. A senior boy was shocked, confused, and amazed by the fact that I didn’t understand the word he had just used. He tried, somewhat unsuccessfully, to explain it. I believe his definition was something along the lines of this: whatever someone does to try to let someone of the opposite sex know they’re interested.

Clearly, his definition was not a perfect one, but that’s pretty much what I thought flirting was until I got to college. Until then, I’m fairly certain I was unaware that you could flirt with people you were NOT interested in.

I didn’t flirt, because I didn’t know how to.

It wasn’t until last spring that I got a better idea of what was I was doing.

I played a particularly flirtatious character in a play, and I was lost on how to do it. I stated practicing with guys in the cast outside of rehearsals. They tried to explain things to me. I got the hang of some more than others, but I was able to make progress.

Pretty soon, I started taking my work home with me. Sometimes actors have baggage. Sometimes strong characters begin to seep into your own life. After one play, I started saying “lovely” with great frequency because of my character’s tendency to do so. After another play, I unconsciously floated into and out of a horribly fake British accent without warning. And as a result of the play last spring, I became a flirtier person.

At first, I was aware of it. I figured it was just a sort of phase, and that it would eventually end.

I guess I assumed that it had.

But clearly that’s not the case.

I think I just became less aware of it. I forgot what flirting was, and began doing it unconsciously.

See, I don’t think I’m flirty. I just think I’m friendly.

Is it really flirting if the person doing it is completely unaware of it?

Maybe I’m misunderstood. Maybe my actions are just misconstrued.

My friend said, “a flower might be so focused on getting sunlight and water that it doesn’t realize that it’s attracting the bee… but it was doing exactly what it needed to do to get the bee interested.”

I’m not even sure what it is that I do that’s flirtatious. No one really explains that to me.

Well, recently someone did. Apparently, while intoxi-tipsy at my going-away party, I said and did some things that sober Angela would not do (and that I have NO recollection of doing). Things like telling someone he looked like a good kisser while holding his face in my hand. Yeah, I can see how that would be construed as flirting (seriously, WHY DID I DO THAT??? And why do I NOT REMEMBER that?).

Maybe that’s who am underneath everything, and it comes out from time to time. Like when under the influence of several nameless fruity alcoholic beverages that the bartender made up on the spot.

(Man, I’m embarrassed.)

Anyway. I've been thinking about it a lot lately, as one of my grad school resolutions is to not actively flirt with any of my schoolmates. But am I sending out signals that I'm not aware of?

Part of the potential problem is that I'm a huggy, cuddly sort of person. I crave physical contact. Generally, I try to warn people of that when I first meet them to gauge their comfort level. I did that with the TnT cast, and I did it again when I got down here. And everyone in my class seemed to be okay with it (and some of them, I was pleased to discover, are excellent huggers).

Recently, I was hugging a classmate goodbye as he left a party, and I did a sort of "full-body hug". Meaning that I lift my leg onto someone's hip as I hug them. I only do it with people I feel comfortable with, and I do it as sort of a silly gesture, almost like a physical joke. When I hugged him, he said, "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Leg." At first I thought he was joking, and it was just a playful reaction to my unconventional hugging style. But then he SHOVED my leg towards the ground and said, "Don't do that. Don't ever do that." I apologized quickly, somewhat bewildered at his reaction, as I've never gotten one like that before. He said, "Just remember your resolutions." (I informed some of my classmates about the existence of the list and some of the things on it, including the section about staying away from any sort of sexual or romantic gestures). I apologized several times as he left.

For the record, I was NOT trying to come onto him. He has a girlfriend, and even if he didn't, he's really not my style. He's solidly AGAG, which I think is why I felt that it was okay to hug him like that; I felt it was obvious that I didn't mean anything by it. Now I feel completely afraid to touch him (which isn't good, as we're part of the same theatrical ensemble).

So what do you think, readers? Is it possible for someone to flirt and not know it? Or is flirting only a conscious thing? Are people misconstruing my attempts at being friendly? And if so, is that my fault or theirs?


Whether friendly or flirty, may you be fun (and HAVE fun!).

~A~


ETA: "The Pro" mentioned that, because of my energy, he assumed I would always play "sexpot" characters. Which is funny, because I've never actually played one. I played the flirt once, but never the sexpot.

Grad School Resolutions

I'm a big believer in making resolutions whenever you need to, not just on January 1. This is a big change in my life, and I want to be ready to change with it. I wanted to make a list of things to keep in mind over the next semester (and the next 3 years). This is what I've come up with so far.

Resolutions for Grad School:

1. Take studying SERIOUSLY.

2. Finish homework, papers, reading assignments, etc. as quickly and efficiently as possible.

3. Do not add negativity into the world of the school.

4. Be open-minded and willing to try all exercises in class, no matter how lame they seem or how stupid I might look doing them.

5. Do not gossip behind people’s backs.

6. Try not to dance during class. (Except for movement class, because I think we’re supposed to dance there sometimes. I just don't want my professors to think of me as "the one who dances in the middle of discussions.")

7. Remember that we all made it through an arduous process to get here, and we are all clearly talented, intelligent people. They deserve to be here, and so do I.

8. Don’t let politics within the school get personal. Just because something is going on in class or in rehearsals, doesn’t mean it has to carry over into the rest of life.

9. Try to make friends outside of the program.

10. Go out and have fun at least once a month.

11. Try to stay a vegetarian until at least the first week of November (which will have been a year... I've saved plenty of animals, and I want to eat meat so badly I can't even tell you).

12. Actually read all of the assigned reading. Don’t just skim it. Occasionally take notes.

13. Budget properly. If having trouble, begin writing down all expenditures.

14. Take all available opportunities to learn new skills.

15. Work on outside projects (such as student films) if they fit into schedule.

16. Take a trip to somewhere outside of town (even if it’s just to the next closest city) at least once a semester.

17. Go to Disney World at least once.

18. Have as close to perfect attendance as is physically possible.

19. Remember how hard it is to get to grad school. Remember how great of a program this is. Be grateful every, every minute.

20. Find something to love about every class and every professor (so that I can focus on those things on the days that classes seriously blow).

21. Do not kiss anyone in the program (unless it's required by a scene or something).

22. Do not get crushed on anyone in the program.

23. Do not actively flirt with anyone in the program.

24. Do not pursue a relationship with anyone in the program.

25. Keep all classmates on the “As Good As Gay” list.

26. Swear less.

27. Replace swear words with exclamations such as “drat”, “shoot”, “freakin’”, “frak” (← it’s a Battlestar Galactica term), and the like.

28. Cut alcohol out of diet (as much as possible).

29. Try not to drink until my birthday (October 25 – If I can cut meat out of my diet for 9 months, I can certainly take out alcohol for 3).

30. Do not have alcohol more than twice in one week, regardless of occasion.

31. Try to limit caffeine intake.

32. Make sure to eat tons of peanut butter, cheese, tofu, hummus, and other protein-containing foods in order to keep energy up.

33. Don’t tell classmates about my (lack of a) sexual history. Remember that it is none of their business.

34. Don’t even THINK about doing NaNoWriMo.

35. Try not to make the fact that I’m a blogger public knowledge. (Even though I’ve already warned my roommate. And one of the second years found my blog in February).

36. Consider lying and saying I blog about something that they won’t want to read. Make it sound like it’s not a personal blog.

37. Do not discuss individuals from grad school program on my blog, in case they find it.

38. Do not mention what grad school program (or city) I’m in on my blog, so that they won’t be able to find it.

39. Be supportive of classmates, not competitive with them.

40. Avoid getting too negative about myself or my potential.

41. Use days off well, because they’re few and far between.

42. Laugh as much as possible.

43. Write down all homework assignments (because I WILL forget them if I don’t).

44. Walk or bike to school on occasion. (Will work out details on this once I figure out if it’s even safe to do this, as I’d have to cross a couple of 4-lane roads, and Florida drivers are NUTS.)

45. For understudy assignments, attend every rehearsal that fits into my schedule (there are only three actual understudy rehearsals per show, and we’re mostly expected to learn what to do by watching video tapes and whatnot… so clearly, the more actual rehearsals you can make it to, the better).

46. Work on completing my novel in my spare time (HA! Spare time! Like I'm going to have any of that!).

47. Remember to step back and take time to breathe.

48. Do whatever it takes to get closer to the goal of becoming a castable, skilled, professional actor.


ETA:

49. Loosen up.
(recommended by Eric Shonkwiler.)

50. Don't let things from OUTSIDE of class affect what's going on INSIDE of class. (The reverse of #8)



Any suggestions on what I should add?


May you resolve to be the best person you can be.

~A~

Hot Stuff

Note: the following post may contain significant spelling and grammatical errors, as I am currently heavily under the intoxication of alcohol while composing it. Then again, it's me... and I'm not the sort of person who would normally allow that sort of thing, so I wouldn't be surprised if, even while intoxicated, the errors aren't numerous. Nonetheless, I felt the need to forewarn you.

Secondary note: Yes, I'm a pretentious b**** when drunk.

Tertiary note: Not always. Just when I'm drunk-blogging, apparently.

Wish me luck!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I am drunk.

I just had an extraordinarily hot encounter with a 30-year-old Sicilian bartender.

I have to be at work in less than (fewer than?) 5.5 hours (probably more like 4.5 by the time I finish writing all of this with as few typos as humanly possible).

But despite this (and ignoring the fact that I'm pretty sure I blogged yesterday-ish), I'm going to tell you some strange semblance of the story.

Drunk-blogging, here I come!

His name is Nick. He used to be a bartender for Tony n' Tina's, back when they needed two full-time bartenders (we're talking like 5-6 years ago -- the show is not running out of massive demand at this point, but rather because it's a "family business", from my understanding). Nick also used to be a drummer in the band, back when there was a TnT band (they have since replaced the band with a DJ after realizing how much money it would save them to only pay one person instead of four).

For the record: I have a thing for drummers.

(But honestly, even if he weren't a drummer, I totally would've gone for this guy.)

I first met him several weeks ago when he was filling in for our usual bartender. I saw him a bit more during Frankie Avalon week (when we actually needed two bartenders). And then I saw him tonight, as he filled in for our usual bartender (not sure why, but I don't really care at this point... do you?).

After the show tonight, instead of going out to the bar with the rest of the cast, I made the unusual choice to wait with the costumer as she did some repairs and did a couple loads of laundry. The new costumer, Carol, has only been around for a few weeks, but she and I are becoming fast friends (due in no small part to our mutual affection for Neil Patrick Harris in "Doctor Horrible's Sing-Along Blog"). I decided to keep her company.

When we were finally leaving the theatre, we ran into replacement-bartender-Nick and the kitchen staff (three Hispanic men, who are hilarious and cook darn fine Italian food) at the bar of the reception hall, drinking. Nick invited Costume-Chick Carol and I to stay. We both refused (Costume-Chick Carol had to drive home to Indiana, and I had promised to make an appearance at the bar), but Nick eventually convinced me to stay, and gave me a bottle of water. Then I let him talk me into a cherry coke. And after that, a Corona. I'm not entirely sure how all of that transpired at this point. I do remember joking with the Hispanic men (who all speak Spanish far better than they speak English -- Nick speaks Spanish relatively fluently despite not being Hispanic, which he claims is due to his bar-tending experiences).

I usually get a ride home from TnT person at the bar, so I was planning to head over. Nick said not to worry, and that he would give me a ride home. But somehow we didn't make it to my house. I had already told him that tomorrow (today?) would be my last day of work, and he convinced me to go out to a bar (claiming that if it were my last day of work, no one would care if I showed up hung over). And, as with most intoxicated logic, it made perfect sense at the time.

Nick tends bar at some random place uptown that I'd never heard of before. We ended up there. He bought me a lot of drinks. I danced to "Pour Some Sugar on Me" with one of the regulars... Then he tried to kiss me in the bar. I remember resisting at first and saying, "What are you doing?" Past that, I think I just went with it.

Actually, now that I think about it, I think he may have tried to kiss me before that. I remember at one point him leaning in close to me... I put my ear toward him, but he didn't say anything. And then I said, "what," and he said, "I wasn't trying to say anything," and me saying, "then why did you lean into me," and him saying, "you really don't get it, do you?"

Yes, I really am THAT oblivious when guys are flirting with me.

Not long after that, he kissed me. While sitting at a bar. I don't think anyone has ever done that before. I don't think anyone has ever kissed me while sitting at a bar counter before tonight. I'm also pretty sure that I haven't ever kissed them back while sitting at a bar before tonight. So it's safe to assume that I hadn't ever had a second-base makeout session at a bar before tonight.

Holy cats, it was hot.

And far from the cries of "get a room," it seemed more that we were being applauded. Or, rather, I think he was. Probably at least in part because he usually works at said bar and people knew him. And in part because they thought I was hot.

Not to say that I AM hot. I'm not vain enough to proclaim such a statement self-referentially. I'm just saying it because I heard a drunk regular say it.

Oh, boy. Just saw clock, and it's 3:36am. No matter. I'm going to keep going. Because I've come this far, right?

As soon as he kissed me, I pulled away and said, "What was that for?"

He responded, "It's for me wanting you since I saw you play Hot Cocoa during Frankie Week."

No, I'm not kidding. Those were his exact words. And despite the fact that I played sultry, flirty, horny Farina tonight, for some reason he (and most other males in the cast, inexplicably) is more attracted to Hot Cocoa. Go figure.

Did I mention that he kept buying me drinks? Because he did. Strawberry Stoli mixed with cranberry lemonade. I'd never had it before, but boy, he nailed me. It was the perfect sort of drink for me. Didn't taste like alcohol or oranges, but certainly contained alcohol.

Generally, alcohol does not lower my inhibitions. But I thought, what the heck? He's single, which is more than I can say of most of the men who've hit on me in the last month. He's HOT. He's straight. And he's exactly what I've been looking for...

You know, I've actually never had a random make out session before. I've never kissed a guy that there wasn't a back-story with (if not someone I was dating). This is completely out of character for me. And I sort of loved it.

I won't go into details, but let's just say that being kissed in a bar was not the only first for me tonight. There were a handful of firsts. For example, I've never been fearful of being arrested before. But that definitely happened tonight. To say anything more would be TMI (hey, look at me! Self-censoring while drunk! Impressive, is it not?).

We ended up parked in front of my apartment building for a long period of time. I ended up breaking things off out of necessity (i.e. I really had to pee), and he played the "Goodbye Game" (i.e. doing anything you can think of to make the other person forget that they were about to go) with me for a long, long time. I told him that he was not allowed up to my apartment (for multiple reasons... 1. I have a twin bed. 2. My floor is covered in boxes. 3. I have work at 8:30 today. P.S. Why am I still typing?).

At the end of the night, as he begged me not to leave, we exchanged numbers. I may or may not see him again. He said that next time, he hopes I'll end up over at his place.

By the way, he knows about my sexual history already. Or, rather, my lack thereof.

Right. Probably shouldn't be writing this on the internet (as this is something that I've struggled with not-saying for months), but the hell with it: I have never had sex.

Had you guessed that already? Does it surprise you? Well, in any case, it's the truth. Perhaps I'll elaborate at some point. Perhaps I won't. As you have no doubt noticed, I am a complicated and confusing person even without that aspect of my life dissected, and it is only a minute fragment of the being that I am. So I think it best not to discuss it at length online (for a multitude of reasons, actually).

Anyway.

Have I mentioned that it was hot? Because it was. And I wouldn't mind revisiting that.

I can count the number of people I've kissed on my fingers. And that INCLUDES the people I've kissed on stage. In fact, a few weeks ago I was concerned that the people I've kissed ON stage might overtake the number that I've kissed OFF stage. But lucky, I just threw another mark in the OFF column.

Have I mentioned that he's HOT? Because seriously, he is. I don't think I can name a hotter person that I've ever made out with. Wowza. HOT. Wish I had a picture to include, because all the ladies that read my blog would be hella jealous. Yes, I just used the word "hella", proving how drunk I am (as I normally contend that it is NOT a word).

May you feel sexy out of the blue.

~A~


P.S. I love Donna Summer. Hence the post title. Don't hate.

Almost-Perfect Strangers

In attempting to recuperate from the accident, I ended up just laying around for most of Sunday. This gave me an excuse to finally read the book Sloppy Firsts. My friend Kate recommended it, saying that the main character reminded her of me. So I bought it back before NaNoWriMo began, and it's been sitting on my kitchen table (a.k.a. desk) waiting for me to crack the spine. So I did. And I loved it.

The main character is a high-schooler with a great affinity for playing with language, a cavalcade of hopeless Mr. Maybes on the fringes of her life, and a lot of confusion on how to handle most forms of socialization. I wonder why Kate compared me to her...

If you're wondering what accident I was just talking about, then please go back and read my previous entry, Autobiographical Autopsy.

Seriously, stop reading this and go read that. Now. I command you. (Please?)

Have you read it? Okay, good.

I ended up with delayed reaction injuries. Even though I spent the day taking it easy, I was more sore on Monday than I had been on Sunday (how is that even possible?). First my knee hurt. Next my neck hurt. Then my all-of-me hurt. I had to stop dancing as I type at work because it's too painful. Most unfortunate.

When I got to work on Monday, I sat down and started doing tasks. I was in pain, but I saw no reason to call in sick. As one of my ex-boyfriends used to say, "playing hurt is heroic; playing injured is stupid." I'm paraphrasing, but it was something like that. I think he meant that if you were hurt but you kept doing what you had to do, that was brave and noble. But if you were seriously injured and ignoring it (particularly if you were putting yourself and/or others in a bad situation because of it), then you had no business doing what you were doing. Well, no one at my job is going to be affected by me typing without being able to turn my head. And I didn't think that sitting all day was going to exacerbate and of my physical problems. So I played hurt. (Saying that last sentence aloud makes it sound like I was "faking sick" or something, but I assure you, my pain is real.)

I told my boss a couple hours into work about the accident (I was a little late, so I explained that I had been moving slower in my morning routine and walking more cautiously than usual over the ice. And I showed her the police report so she wouldn't think I was just making up excuses... people assume that you lie a lot when they know you're an actor). She then told a coworker, who then approached me about it in front of another coworker... It didn't take long for everyone in my department to find out.

As it turns out, that's a really great story to tell (that which doesn't kill us makes us stronger... or makes a damn fine story). And I do love going into Story-Mode. Even though the work version is sort of a mild form, it still makes me feel like a proper entertainer. I do love having the floor.

At lunch, I told the story to a fellow, Ben, who works in another department. I've actually mentioned Ben a couple of times in this blog, although not by name. He was the "friendly chap" at the L in Pantslessness & Delayed Goodbyes (mentioned briefly at the end of paragraph 5) and the guy from #38 in Happenstance? Fire? Skidoo!.

Ben seemed very sympathetic asked if there was anything he could do (to help distract me from pain or something, I guess). I told him that he could dance at his desk and help fill the company's dancing quotient, as I would be unable to.

Instead, he showed up at my desk about an hour later with a gift, saying, "I thought of something I could do... Sick people eat pudding, right?"

In case you can't read it, he affixed the words "Colonel Ben's" over where the "Hunts" label normally is. And that's a picture of him in his Halloween costume on the right, with a speech bubble saying "I KNOW pudding." It might be the funniest gift I've ever gotten (well, either this, or that time that my friend Phil and I bought each other copies of Britney Spears "Oops! I Did It Again!" album so that we could tell everyone that we got them as gag gifts, when the truth was that we were just too embarrassed to buy them for ourselves). Amazing. And totally cheered me up back into my normal self (as I've said before, my nickname around the office is "Sunshine").

Isn't it delightful when people you don't know very well can have a positive effect on your day?

There's another of those, of course. A male stranger, almost-perfect in my mind, who occasionally leaps into my brain (although not into my life): the guy I keep casting in my novel (please see #58 in Camouflaged Delusional Insanity).

I think he may have read this blog... I shouldn't say this, in case he reads it again, but I'm going to anyway. I can look at IP addresses from one of my counter-site-thingies, and there was one that I had good reason to believe may have been him. And he (or whomever it was) stopped reading (either that, or he has a new IP address... which is possible. Mine seems to change about once a month, and then I have to go to the trouble of figuring out what it is and blocking it again so that my hits won't be tracked). Anyway, that's a little upsetting. I probably said something off-putting (or he made the connection that the person I mentioned may have been him, and he freaked out). Anyway. I don't know if it was him to begin with, but I liked the idea that it was. Made me all giddy when I saw that IP address show up. (Have I mentioned that I'm a delusional loser? A "deluser", perhaps?).

Daydreaming that the IP address was his is just another example of a mistake I make over and over again: seeing things as I want them to be instead of as they are. Particularly with people. A former friend of mine used to take advantage of my kindness a great deal. I eventually realized that about her, but whenever I see her, I find it happening again. I see her as the type of friend she should be, and not the type she is. And there was occasion in which I thought that a guy and I were in some sort of quasi-relationship, but I think in retrospect that I may have just wanted us to be.

And therein lies my addiction to finding almost-perfect strangers in my life. There's something wonderful about people existing on the edges of your universe. So experimental. So malleable. If you know a few things about them, you can fill in the rest however you like. And then you can begin to adore the character you've built up inside the shell of a person that you've met (ah, the joys of non-sexual crushes). I like filling in the blanks with my imagination. Reality is never as appealing.

Another angle of why I enjoy these figures so well only occurs when the crush is not entirely non-sexual: the thrill of the chase. It's such a sexy little game. Not that I'm really a game-playing type of girl, I just mean the act of circling the table, wondering who will pounce first... or if either of you ever will. That will-we/won't-we tension is beautiful. It's intriguing. It's fascinating. (It's the reason people watched the first two seasons of The Office.) And it's so much fun to be involved in. In fact, there's part of me that prefers it to an actual relationship. I love the stage of fancying. The special place in which you're interested, but not infatuated or crushed. Where you'll gladly flirt, but you won't be completely heart-broken if nothing ever moves forward.

Even when everything is purely platonic, it's nice to have a friend to idealize or idolize. Almost-perfect strangers are ideal for that (pudding is just a bonus).

Well, I've rambled enough for tonight.

May you appreciate the almost-perfect strangers in your life.

Much love,

~A~

Guilty Pleasures & Deadly Sins

I love bad movies. Some of my favorite movies are ones that I am completely willing to admit are terrible. I own Teen Witch. I own Win a Date with Tad Hamilton (although that one was a gift… but I’ve watched it more than once). I own To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar (I haven’t watched it in the last two years since buying it at a Wal-Mart for $5. Mostly, I bought it because I thought it was funny that Wal-Mart was selling it). I own Grease 2 (which I think I actually prefer to Grease… I hope that’s not blasphemous to my musical theatre buddies who might be reading this). And I own and love the movie “America’s Sweethearts” (highly underrated. It’s actually very funny).

Here’s the thing… I don’t think of these movies as “guilty pleasures” at all. I don’t feel guilty about them. If I owned Showgirls, then I might feel guilty about it (I watch it whenever it’s on television), but that’s because of both horrid acting and also the fact that it’s basically soft-core porn. Really, I think I just don’t understand the concept of guilty pleasures. To quote Sheryl Crow (oh no… WHY am I quoting Sheryl Crow?), “if it makes you happy, it can’t be that bad.”

I recently had a conversation with a friend of mine regarding his newfound love of the Disney Channel. He says that it’s filled with happy material, and that it has a positive impact on his life. I don’t watch the Disney channel (which is in some part due to the fact that I don’t presently own a television), but I respect that. It makes him happy. Who am I to judge?

I got into a fairly heated argument with someone last winter about my love of the television show Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip. She said it was self-important, and just a vehicle for Aaron Sorkin (the show’s creator) to vent about his political agenda. Here’s what I don’t get: why on earth would you go off unprompted on a tirade against something that I clearly love? Isn’t that just a whole string of comments that could easily be left unsaid?

I also don’t feel guilty about my preferences in music, which have recently come under scrutiny by some of my friends. I like Corinne Bailey Rae, Mandy Moore, and the occasional piece of Fefe Dobson or Aqua. I listen to Basement Jaxx, Fastball, Fountains of Wayne, Motion City Soundtrack, Jewel, Liz Phair, Semisonic, Something Corporate, and many other artists that others might scoff at for a variety of reasons. At this very moment, I’m listening to the song “Hang on, Little Tomato” by Pink Martini, which I find to be particularly lovely. And I don’t think I should have to be ashamed of that. That music cheers me. And a cheerful me is something that you should be encouraging. I’m quite fun to be around when I’m cheerful… not so much when I’m defensive. I’m just saying…

Also, take note: if you EVER say a negative thing about Natalie Imbruglia in my presence, I will most likely be unable to continue speaking with you. I’ve already told the fellow in my life that if he ever commits such a heinous act, it would surely be just cause for a break-up. My music is something that I wear close to my heart, and when people diss it and dismiss it, they might as well be putting down something that I have created myself. It breaks me down from the inside. I am offended to a point that seems almost irrational. Almost.

Anyway. I see nothing wrong with liking movies of questionable caliber, frivolous music, self-important television, and the like. And I hate it when people feel the need to change my opinions on those things, or try to make me feel bad about liking them. So please, if you are ever considering such a thing, don’t. Even if you’re just teasing.

As it turns out, I don’t take teasing very well. I don’t understand it. I was raised in a house where making fun of other people got you in trouble. I survived a childhood of constant mocking and oceans of tears. I don’t think it’s funny when people tease me. It just seems hurtful.

I will never understand how some people think that teasing is a good way to flirt. If a guy starts off teasing me, I assume he’s a jack-hole, and I don’t feel the need to ever speak with him again. Not a good way to start things off. Before we started dating, my ex-boyfriend started making fun of Canada (knowing full well that I have a great love for our neighbors to the North… I started watching Degrassi” back in the 80s when it came on after Ramona, and I’ve loved Canada ever since). He thought it was a good way to rile me up. All it did was piss me off (my mother hates it when I use that phrase… she says it isn’t ladylike. But sometimes, it’s just the right way to explain my emotional state. So forgive me if I’ve somehow ruined your opinion of me by saying something crass). It made me want to keep my distance from him.

I actually got into a rather heated discussion with a coworker a couple of weeks ago when he started teasing me about being a Shakespeare geek. You just shouldn’t do that. Honestly. I will never understand the thought process behind it. I didn’t understand it in elementary school when a boy would yank on a girl’s pigtail because he liked her, and I don’t understand this verbal equivalent to it. It just seems counterintuitive to me.

Shakespeare, by the way, is most certainly not a guilty pleasure. His work is really rather brilliant, and not overrated. Shakespeare is, in fact, one of a handful of topics that I could speak on for hours, if allowed. Other subjects that fall under that elite heading include Harry Potter, mythology (especially Greek and Roman), musical theatre, and names (I actually started writing a book on names once, but everything I wrote was lost. Apparently, I have horrible luck when it comes to things I’ve written suddenly disappearing. Anyway, I was never able to talk myself into starting it all over again). None of these subjects are things I feel guilty about. It’s not like they’re vices.

Why aren’t vices considered to be guilty pleasures? If ever you should feel guilty about something, shouldn’t it be drinking, or smoking, or gambling, or drugs, or what have you? Those all seem like things one might feel guilty over. I have had a couple of friends with serious pornography addictions. If that doesn’t sound like what a “guilty pleasure” should be, then I don’t know what does. Surely, wanting to watch Die, Mommy, Die is a far less noteworthy event. It’s not like it’s a deadly sin.

Speaking of which, did you know that Dante invented the seven deadly sins? They’re not actually in the Bible or anything. I mean, they are technically all in the Bible as things you should not do, but not in list form. And yet, somehow they’ve been adopted into general Christian dogma. It’s actually rather strange that something like that occurred, but I blame people for being stupid and confusing fiction with religion (a la Scientology. Or Jedi-ism. I hope I didn’t offend any Jedi with that. I’m certain that I offended Scientologists). But it is a tremendous list. I can certainly ascertain a connection from each item on it to fire and brimstone.

Let’s see how guilty I am…
Envy: Of course. I’m envious of other people’s appearances a great deal. Occasionally, I envy their talents (especially if they can play an instrument with brilliance). I don’t care as much about their possessions, but those can make me jealous every now and again as well.
Greed: Not too bad. It is a part of my life, but obviously not a big one, as I can’t even come up with an example.
Gluttony: I took four pieces of pizza at a work function on Wednesday, even though I usually only eat two. Why? Because they were free. Subsequently, I became ill (after only eating two and a half pieces… I saved the untouched piece and ate it for breakfast the next morning). My eyes were definitely bigger than my stomach.
Lust : The temptation exists, but I don’t really act on this one… But that deserves a blog entry all to itself. I will not be writing that tonight.
Pride: Check. I have a blog, which I think is proof enough that I’m prideful. After all, I think my writing deserves to be read. And I take pictures of myself a lot.
Sloth: I’m one of the world’s best procrastinators (I say “best” because I’m successful at it… I get my stuff done, I just do it at the last minute). That comes from my lazy streak, and also the fact that I work better under pressure (the pressure of a deadline seems to work especially well).
Wrath: I have my moments. Who doesn’t? It’s hard to be a passionate person without having wrath. My words can get downright violent. And I stay bitter about certain things for years. The way I think on it, bitterness falls under wrath.

In general, though, I’m not a big “vice” person. I’ve never picked up a cigarette. I’ve never touched drugs. I didn’t start going out and drinking until after I was 21 (well, 22, actually). I like to think that the D.A.R.E. program worked on me (if D.A.R.E. needs a spokesperson, I’m there). When I asked a friend recently if I had any vices, he answered by suggesting “chocolate?” But really, I don’t even eat chocolate very often (except when it’s in ice cream… like chocolate chip cookie dough… mmmm). Um, does cuddling count as a vice? Because I’m all over that one. Otherwise, I’m hard-pressed to come up with something.

Maybe that’s pathetic a little bit. Maybe innocence is a form of emptiness. I worry about that sometimes. Am I not living my life to the fullest because there are so many activities that I refrain from? I try not to dwell on it, as it could get depressing. Luckily, I have The Monkees, The Beach Boys, and Herb Alpert & the Tijuana Brass to cheer me up. And I don’t feel one iota of guilt about that.

May your days be guilt-free and bright.

Much love,

~A~