To Write or Not to Write

How much ego does one have to have to write about themselves?  I never thought of myself as necessarily egomaniacal, but on the other hand sometimes I think I'm pretty cool.  I'm not sure that means I have a big ego though because just when I start to think "yeah I'm alright," I get a big case of self conscious or someone knocks me back to reality.  It could be anyone, it could be on purpose, it could be completely accidental.  And whenever it happens, I think of something my dad said to me once.  I went to my parents house after work that day.   I felt like a million bucks.  I loved my outfit, I loved my hair, I felt so good and it showed.  When I was leaving work that day and walking to my car a man stopped me and said, "excuse me, but are you a model?"  And I thought I already felt good!   Validated.  It was fantastic.  Then I got to my parents house and, still reveling in how good I felt I told them what the man said to me.  My dad's response, in complete seriousness was, "Was he blind?"  That's all it took to undo the good feeling I had all day.

Three words.  That's all it took.   It happens fast, that trip from the top of the world to the bottom of the shit pile.  Maybe a few words like my dad's do it.  Maybe an email complaint I get because someone doesn't agree with my opinion.   Maybe a sideways glance in the mirror at the wrong angle.  And then I wonder, why would anyone want to read anything I have to say?  Who the fuck am I?  What makes my stories any more interesting than anyone else's?   Well, maybe they aren't.  But there is one thing I always am when I write... true to me.  If you haven't liked a post or more, that's OK.  I can only be true to me.  I learned a long time ago that you cannot please everyone so don't even try.  And I don't.  Instead I keep these words in mind that someone I care about told me, "If you write it, you own it.  It's yours."  Once I do that, it's out there, no going back, no regrets.  I own it, for better or for worse.

And so again I wonder, why am I writing this blog?  When I started it I was inspired by several things.  One was friends illness that woke me up to the fact that at any time your life can change drastically without warning.  If that happened to me, what's my legacy?  And now that I think about that again, is a blog with my goofy stories a legacy?  I guess it is, in some odd way.   My other inspiration was a friend with a writing talent that moves me and evokes feelings in me when I read something he wrote.  Moved in a good way, or in a bad way, it doesn't matter.  Being moved does.  When someone can do that with written word, it's pretty special.  I didn't fancy that I could do that, but I wanted to try.  And something really amazing happened.  I love what I'm doing here.  I love my voice.  I love what I have to say.  I love having a place to say it.  I hope you do too.  And I thank those two special people for inspiring me in two completely different ways.

"Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind." ~ Dr. Seuss

Flee

I have had an AMC website since November, 1998.  It's a long time and I modestly say it's one of the best AMC sites on the net.  You don't keep readership and longevity if your site is crap.  But as such, a lot of people tend to think you're their buddy and come to expect things from you.  I've had countless people ask me where I get my information or want more than what I post.  I've had people who want to work for me, I've had people who want to be partners.  None of these people had anything to offer me in return for what I would be giving them. Nothing.  They just wanted or thought it would be fun.  Well, it is fun most of the time, but I don't do all the work so I can just hand it over to other people.  Most people realize this and are very understanding.  And then there's Flee.

It started out innocently enough back in 2002.  I was on AOL Instant Messenger back then and people would IM me quite often with questions about AMC.  It's a role I've always been OK with.  Flee was one of these people.  But he soon turned bothersome, relentlessly asking me where my information came from, how he could also get it or if he could work for me.  But the main question over and over and over again was "where do you get your information?"  I gave him my usual two responses, the nicer, "Through the years I worked very hard to cultivate sources.  I have several places and people I get information from," and for the ones who keep asking after that answer,  "I can tell you but then I'd have to kill you."  These answers were never enough for Flee.  He just kept asking.  And I tried to be kind, telling him that even my closest friends don't know where I get information and they are people I trust.  He insisted that I could trust him, begging me to let him prove it to me.  How?  I don't know.  He told me his name, where he lives, what school he went to, etc.  Believing that all this information would suddenly make him my AMC confidante.  And it didn't stop there.  He begged me, daily, for a chance to be the one I could trust with all my secrets.  I repeatedly said no, and the more I said no, the more abusive he got and the angrier I got.  Whenever I told him to "fuck off" or "leave me the hell alone" or anything he threatened to post everything I said on my message board so my "fans" could see what I was really like.  Here's a little clip:

Flee:   lets let the people decide
Me:    oh a threat!
Flee:   on your message board
Me:    go on
Flee:   OK give me a sec
Me:    do it,  watch me ban you. cuz I can. easily
Flee:   ban me?
Me:    you think I'm going to let you trash me on my own board and not ban your ass?
Flee:   you think I shouldn't tell everybody all the nasty things you have said to me???
Me:    is it someone else's business?
Flee:   well its hurtful
Me:    and just what nasty things have I said to you anyway?
Flee:   well you have hurt my oh so immature 19 year old self many times
Me:    I'm fucking hurt by people every damn day of my life you little shit!!!
Flee:   little shit now huh
Me:    do you think I go off and blab it all over fucking creation
Flee:   well all I ever wanted was to be friends and you act like I am asking you to cut off brad pitts penis
Me:    what the hell does that mean?

Yeah, I was pissed.  He never shut up.  He became so bothersome that I blocked him.  But a Flee cannot be gotten rid of that easily.  He just got a new screen name and started again.  The same idiotic behavior, the same threats to tell my message board how mean I am, the same begging to be trusted and given information about AMC.  The dude was really really crazy.   And it got even worse.  He claimed I was so mean to him that he was going to log off and commit suicide.  And then, a day later he had three or four of his friends IM me and ask me if I had talked to Flee yet that day and that they had heard something terrible happened to him.  I ignored all the messages, but they all eventually told me he was dead, and that he had killed himself the night before after he spoke to me.  It was, of course, a big fat lie.  Flee thought he was teaching me a lesson.

He and all his friends and all the other names of his that I knew of were permanently blocked.  I blocked his email address from my email.  I blocked his screen name and email address from my message board.  But alas, none of these things are fool proof and Flee certainly was a fool.  He would use different screen names and email addresses to sign up on the message board and he'd post really creepy messages like... "Why hello there Lalia, did you really think you could get rid of me that easily?"  I'd delete and block everything he signed up with but I could not block his IP, which would make it a done deal.  He was on AOL and when you block an AOL IP, you block many many people, not just one.  So I had to make due with blocking him each time he came back.  And it never worked completely.  He kept trying to talk to other members of the message board in an effort to get them to talk to me on his behalf.  This went on for two years!

It was clear I needed help here.  My pleas to AOL to remove him went on deaf ears.  I wasn't an AOL subscriber, I just used their freebie chat app so they didn't give a shit about my complaints.  So I went to my friend C.  She is my cyber guru and has helped me with countless problems on the internet, with computers and with crazy people.  So I asked her how I could get rid of this guy once and for all.  I told her everything I knew about him since he told me a lot about himself in an effort to win my trust.  And through our research on Flee, we found a picture of him on his college's website and immediately honed in on the fact that the dude had one eyebrow.  Not a unibrow, he was actually missing one.  Nice look.   C had a plan and told me to relax, she'd take care of it.  This is a woman I trust and I did relax and waited to hear how things went.

C started to IM him.  He didn't really seem to put together, at first, that C was my friend.  She chit chatted with him a little and then when he got comfortable with a random person IMing him, she was able to convince him to show her a picture of himself and found out that he had one eyebrow because the other mysteriously fell out.  Yes, it just fell out!  We suspected he either had the mange or ringworm.

So it went on for a few days, and C would IM him and say hilarious things like "Hey, how's the brow?" and he would just chat with her.  And she'd ask him crazy stuff like, "Hey, have you ever had head cheese?" and inevitably he would have no idea what she's talking about.  She went on to explain to him what headcheese is, "well, let me explain it, first you find a small woodland animal in the forest and then you kill them (fox/rabbit preferably), then you dress them (Just like Ed Gein field dressed Bernice Worden) and you scrape out the insides of the head and mold it together to make a block of spongy stuff... which you slather onto melba toast, it's tres delicioso."  And most of the time he would just laugh at her or pretend he knew what she was talking about.

And then she went in for the kill, here's a little bit of what C did to him:

C: I was thinking, do you like to sew?  Do you have a dog named precious?
Flee: no
C: I do. I have a poodle named Precious.
Flee: cool
C: I love to get naked, tuck my peepee between my legs and dance around naked in front of a video camera.  you'd make a great coat, darling, such white smooth skin think we can meet up?
Flee: your peepee?
C: yes, I have a penis. I'm pre op.  didn't I tell you this?
Flee: nah
C: oh yes.  i love skinny little white boys.  taste like keebler club crackers           
Flee:  OK you are crazy.  later 
C: me crazy?  hahahahahah.  roflicious.  WWF ROFLMANIA
C: goodbye my friend. I will dream of you in a well
Flee: who the fuck are you
C: Jamie Gumb, Private Investigator
Flee: LOL how did you get my screename
C: I grow special Death Moths
Flee: you are obsessed with silence of the lambs
C: I told you that already, can't you remember things? Do you do drugs? Drugs are bad...mmmkay.   Kittens everywhere have appealing eyes.  TURKEY WOMBAT!

He took off after that but she wasn't through with him, oh no, she wasn't!   But he was actually getting scared.  She continued to IM him with Buffalo Bill from Silence of the Lambs references and he got more and more freaked out.   She told him to rub the lotion on his skin.  She told him to "put the lotion in the fucking basket!"  She was as relentless with him as he was with me and finally he was so freaked out that he was afraid that she was going to try and kill him.  To which she replied with her absolute best line ever and complete tour de force, "I never said I wanted to kill you, I said you'd make a great purse." 

 

And after that, I was never ever again bothered by Flee and I am forever in C's debt for ridding me of that insect!   There's never a dull moment in the land of soaps or it's fans!

Stupidest. Question. Ever.

I get asked a lot of dumb questions as a webmistress for a soap opera site.  Seriously dumb questions.  But this one, this one was so incredibly stupid that I kept it because I knew someday I would have to relay it.  It's the absolute truth, this truly happened back in April of 2003.

A new poster came to my message board and this was the first and last post they made.  It was so serious.  The poster was truly troubled by this dilemma (typos are hers, I kept them intact) 

One question about last night's episode.

The scenes at BJ's Laurie and Joni were at the bar and Jack and Opal were having a chat at his table.

First sixth: scene starts with Laurie and Joni berating the fact that Jamie brought home a hooker  and Holly was right in back of them interupting there little talk to them, freeze then cut to Jack and Opal's talk.  You can clearly see the back of Holly when the camera was on Jack.

The next sixth came up and first of all, I think Opal and Jack switched seats then they switched over to Laurie and Joni getting all weird as they realize that Holly heard them and their little argument ensued.

My problem is that it should have been jack, opal - then laurie joni holly after then the opposite in the next chunk.  Both groups were in the same place?  Did L-J-H just freeze when Jack Opal had their little argument, what did Holly say to them while the camera was on Jack?

This is something that bothers me about soaps.

I'll wait until you're done laughing before I point out how many things are wrong with this post.

We can start with the crappy spelling.  In addition to that is the horrible grammar.  Besides that, I don't have any idea what "berating the fact" means.  Was the fact misbehaving?  Did it need a time out?  And then First sixth?  Next sixth?  What the fuck is that?

Do I even have to go to the crux of this question?  She wanted to know why we miss out on parts of fictional characters conversations when they aren't on camera.  It's so ridiculously absurd that I wonder how this poor woman ever makes it through a day on her own.  She could clearly see them talking in the background.  What are they saying!?

But I'm nice, far too nice sometimes, and because she was so serious and so bothered by all this, I answered her in as nice a way as I possibly could.

What happens is, because the scenes take place at the same place, they are actually going on at the same time.  We cannot watch two scenes at the same time, so in essence they are frozen until we get back to them.  We don't miss anything, as "what is being said while the camera isn't on them," because since they aren't real, in real time, having a real conversation, the conversation waits for the camera to come back to the them so we can see everything that is being said.

The whole thing reminds me of this:

Brooke Shields in Friends...Very Funny !!. Watch more top selected videos about: Brooke Shields, Courtney Cox

Can I Have Dinner First?

There's a little thing that my in laws do that is known by me, as 6 o'Fucking Clock Cake.  I don't know the origins of this annoying as hell phenomenon but I do know there are far too many of them throughout the year for my liking.  Basically my mother in law gathers all the family together to celebrate a birthday and she plans this gathering at 6 pm.  There is no food involved, just cake and ice cream.   Cake and ice cream at 6 pm.  Sometimes it's 5:30 pm... and then it's known as 5 Fucking 30 Cake.  Either way, I hate it.  I hate this whole stupid event.  And here's why....

• 5:30 pm is a stupid time to have cake and ice cream.
• Gifts are expected
• 6:00 pm is a stupid time to have cake and ice cream.
• It's always on a Saturday.  
• Saturday at 5:30 pm or 6:00 pm is a STUPID FUCKING TIME TO HAVE CAKE!!!!!

Before we lived in Akron, we very easily got out of participating in this nonsense.  But we've been here for close to 9 years now and my in laws house is literally right around the corner.  Unless we have other plans, plans we have made prior to being told that 5 fucking 30 cake is coming up, we end up trapped.  At least we no longer have to buy gifts for everyone.  Sometime last year we made the general announcement that only parents and children under 18 will be receiving gifts from now on.  Brother in law followed suit with that and he no longer gifts either. 

And so on the occasion of January 22 it was, yet again, time for my 6 O'Fucking Clock Cake.  I'd be more than happy to tell them not to have it for me.  I've already told them not to buy me gifts.  But there was no way out this time.  It's not just my birthday, it's the niece's birthday and now it's also the other niece's baby's birthday.  And it was the baby's first birthday.  So 6 o'fucking clock cake was a done deal for us this year.  No outs. 

I know what you're asking yourself right now... do you bake the 6 o'fucking clock cake?   The answer to that is oh hell no, fuck no, absolutely not and there is no way in hell I'd ever make it!  Why?  Because they don't appreciate it.  I have offered many times to make 6 o'fucking clock cake.  You'd think having someone who does this for a living in your family would be a no brainer.  But one time when I did, I set the cake down in the kitchen only to find a box of Pepperidge Farm layer cake sitting there.  When I asked the mother in law what that was for the answer I got was, "that's in case someone doesn't like your cake."   Seriously??  When you make your shitty boxed cake do you have a fucking homemade pie sitting there waiting in case I don't like it?   No?  Then what the fuck!?   I can happily report that no one ate the Pepperidge Farm cake that day.  But that's besides the point.

On another occasion I asked mother in law if she would like me to make a cake.  I had a new recipe for a chocolate cake that was out of this world.  She didn't respond.  So I didn't make it.  When we arrived for that particular 6 o'fucking clock cake function there was no cake and very soon, mother in law was putting on her coat.   I asked sister in law, who's birthday it was, what was going on and she told me mother in law was going out to buy a cake.  I asked why and from the kitchen I hear mother in law slamming things and screaming, "SHE said she was going to make the cake.  SHE said it would be the chocolate cake."  Being the SHE in question here I was done, out, screw you guys I'm going home.  I told the Man there was no way I was staying and going to be treated that way and he said he'd walk me home.  On the way, we discussed how we were both in the room when I asked her if she wanted me to make it and we both knew she did not respond.  And in fact, she had called that very morning and never once said one word about the cake.  No "looking forward to the cake," "is it baking yet?"  Nothing, not a word.   So it will be a cold day in hell before I ever bake a 6 o'fucking clock cake again.

And so we're back, and it's time to open gifts.  Of course we all watch the baby open her stuff, or try to.  I am given several cards and ugh, two gift bags.  One I expect since the in laws will always buy something.  But everyone else, please... stop!!!!   And especially after this year.  After all this time, these people do not know me at all.  Really.  Up first, sister in law.  I open the bag and inside is a little box that says Willow Tree on it.  And inside the box is a small figurine of a child holding a cat.  Yes, that picture is exactly what I received.  Wow.  That might just be the most ridiculous thing I ever received.  Even the 11 year old daughter of sister in law declared, "I told mom, Aunt Lalia is going to hate that!"  And hate it I do.  She should have listened to the kid!

But wait, it actually gets worse.  After opening sister in laws gift and feigning joy, I got to open mother in laws gift.  In what universe would anyone who knows me think I would want something like this is beyond my comprehension but here it is.  It's a banner with a big wooden key at the top and a big heart on the banner itself.  It says, "The Heart of a Home is Love." "How lovely," I say, while my mind races with absolute horror.  Who are these people?  Have they met me?  I'm not trying to be all gift horsey, but I think if you knew me for five minutes you would know that I would not want either of these things.  These people have known me for 23 years!   I don't even know what else to say about it other than they must all hate me more than I ever thought.

And now it's time for cake.  Mother in law has made her patented ginormous cake... two boxed cake mixes made in 9 x 13 pans and then sandwiched together with instant pudding in the middle and Cool Whip on top.  No, there wasn't a homemade pie sitting there in case me or someone else didn't want that piece of crap.  But there was a homemade pie waiting for me at home.  So as soon as the singing was over, the baby dug her hands in her personal little cake, and everyone was served, we made our escape to go home and have dinner and then partake of the pie.  Happily there isn't another 6 o'fucking clock cake party to attend for a few months.  Maybe I'll get lucky and need a root canal that day.

Stop It Right Now, I'm Becoming Mom!

I realized something this week.   I am becoming my mom.  It's frightening and disturbing.  Don't get me wrong, I love my mother.  We're very close.  I talk to her every day.  But she is the quintessential people pleaser, especially when it comes to my dad or any other member of the family.  She wouldn't force my dad to get off his ass and move around more because she didn't want to make him mad.  She doesn't make food she likes if it's something he doesn't like because he won't eat it.  I never understood that.  She will eat it, so???  Whenever we have a big family function inevitably I hear the words, "just go with it, don't make waves" as in if someone pisses me off, suck it up and deal.   Well I'm sick of sucking it up.

Becoming like my mom was partially explained in my blog a few days ago, that I should have called a birthday bitch.  I tend to try to accommodate others at my own inconvenience, mainly to save myself the aggravation of being bitched at.  As the youngest in the family, my needs, my wants, my opinions never matter.  It doesn't matter that I'm now 45 years old.  It only matters that I'm the youngest and therefore know nothing.  At least in the eyes of the rest of the family.   It doesn't matter that I took care of my parents for the better part of a year.   It doesn't matter that I still do everything for them.  It doesn't matter that I run my own business.  All that matters is that when I was three I put a stone up my nose because it was pretty and I wanted to save it.  That is who my family sees when they see me.  Family functions are an exercise in humiliation as my sister tries her hardest to come up with the most embarrassing memory she can and relay to all. 

I suddenly realized that I was letting them rule me.  I was letting them dictate how I react, how I behave, and how I do things.  And this stops NOW.  I got a new tattoo this week and I actually went through the trouble of blocking everyone in my family and friends of family from the posting about it on Facebook.  My plan was to keep it a secret until summer when I could no longer hide it and then just deal with the reactions.   It took a few well meaning albeit blunt friends to point out how ridiculous that is and that I'm a grown woman and can do whatever I want.  Dammit, it's true.  So one day after trying so hard to hide the new tattoo I called my mom and told her I got it.  Was she mad?  Kind of.  But not really.   There was that air of disapproval that I'm used to every time I dye my hair a new color or get a new tattoo.  But it's short lived.  She was over it all within a minute or so.

So why the drama?  Why tiptoe around it?  I don't know.  It's Mom Syndrome.  I keep telling her not to get so bogged down with making Dad mad and just do what she has to do.  If he gets mad, so what, what's going to happen?  Nothing.  So why couldn't I follow my own advice?  When I called to tell her about the tattoo I told her straight out, this is the only life I have and I'm going to do what I want.  She didn't get upset that I said that, she just said OK.  Is it possible that even if my siblings don't see an adult that maybe my parents do?

To Richard, With Love

I've talked about my love of men before but I never tire of the topic.  I love men.  I love how they look.  I love how they smell.  I love how they taste.  I love every little bit of them.  I love talking to them.  I love kissing them.  I love fucking them.  And I don't give a rat's ass if I sound like a freak.  I love guys. 

I think generally, guys are more honest.   Of course, this isn't always the case.  There are no absolutes in such things.  But the guys I know well, that know me well, that I can confide in, I know they are honest.  It's something I value very much.  I'm not saying my female friends are dishonest, not at all.  But sometimes if you ask a girlfriend a question, she will kind of dance around the absolute honesty to spare some feelings that might get hurt.  But if I ask a guy friend the same question, there is no dance, he'll go straight to the "that's a great idea" or "stop being such a fucking idiot" reply.  For me, no one embodies this more than my friend Richard.

When I'm sad, he makes me laugh.   When I'm upset, he has encouraging words and good advice.  When I'm bitchy, he calls me on it.   When I'm being stupid, he tells me so.  When I do something or write something good, he's encouraging and complimentary.  He's my go to guy for anything and everything.  He makes me laugh.  He makes me hot.  He's so fucking smart.  He has great taste in music.  He's sexy as hell.  He's got the coolest job of anyone I know.  He has been my friend for about 23 years.

I know exactly the moment I knew he would be my friend forever.  We'd been friends for a couple years.  Not tight, but hanging around in the same circle.  There was probably some mild flirting going on because Richard can't not flirt, but nothing major.  It was sometime in 1990, and we were at Stiv Bators memorial service at the Babylon A Go Go, a bar/club in Cleveland.  It was so fucking hot in there and the place was packed.  I went outside to get some air, and so did he.  I can't remember if we went out together or if we just happened to go outside at the same time.  But there we both were, trying to cool off, sitting on the ground against the building, people watching.  And a funny thing happened, we both started spotting "celebrities."  Not real ones, even though there were some real ones there.  It was just a strange synchronicity that we picked up on and spent much much longer outside than we probably should have laughing and pointing out... "hey look, it's Pat Benatar"  "check it out, here comes Ally Sheedy"  "no way, there's Nick Lowe" "oh my God, is that Andre the Giant?"  and we'd laugh and laugh, because of course, none of them were the real person.  They were just someone who kind of, in our minds anyway, slightly resembled that particular celeb.  It became our thing for many years.  And it was always fucking funny.   I remember once calling him up and leaving a message on his answering machine saying, "you'll never guess who I saw driving a bus in Cleveland today... Ice T!" and he left me one saying, "Guess what?  I just saw George Bush driving down Carnegie!"  It was just one of the goofy bonds we shared for a lot years.  And sometimes still do.  It's that kooky sense of humor that we share. 

This is my love letter to one of my best friends.  Thank you for always being there for me.  Thanks for telling me like it is.  Thanks for always making me feel good especially when I'm feeling my lowest.  You make my world a better place.   I love you xoxo

Sporks Make Me Happy

I woke up today and I was sad.  Sad and a little mad.  I'm wasn't exactly sure why.  Yesterday was my birthday and while I'm now closer to 50 than I am to 40, I think I handled it OK.  Nothing like when I turned 40.  That was trauma.  It's strange because I don't think of myself as someone who would get all caught up in the age thing.  But I did.  I had anxiety attacks and crying jags and just hated the whole idea of my age beginning with a four.  Part of it was that I closed the door on ever having kids when I hit 40.  And so what, I didn't want kids to begin with.  But the idea that the door was closing bothered me.  Did I make a big mistake?  Is the world going to suffer for never knowing a mini me?  Hell if anything the world is better off without another me!  One is plenty.  But I agonized about it.  Agonized that I was making a huge mistake, but not that I wanted to have a child.  I certainly have nothing against people who have kids, but I just could never see myself in that role.  I didn't grow up thinking, "oh I can't wait to have babies!"  And yet, taking my option away bothered me.  And sure, I know a lot of women have babies over 40.  There was no way I was going to be one of them.   Eventually I got over it and found my way back to how I've always been, happy in that decision.  And what I'm feeling now I don't think is about age and certainly isn't about babies.

So why the hell am I sad today?   Is it birthday "hangover"?  This birthday was a little overwhelming, but not in a bad, holy shit I'm 45, kind of way.  But in the, I received 16 cards (and that's not counting the stragglers that will arrive after the MLK holiday), 34 message board posts and over 130 Facebook birthday greetings, kind of way.  I'm not bragging, I'm overwhelmed.  It's hard to imagine that many people giving a shit.  It's kind of humbling.  I'm just a nobody but I guess having Facebook could make you feel like a somebody.  You make "friends" and before you know it you have over 400 of them and you feel important, like you matter.  And the truth of it is, you don't.  You're still the goofy chick with purple hair that can't figure out what the fuck she's doing with her life.

A birthday always ends up making me look back on my life and look ahead at my life.  Looking back I see wasted opportunities.  Looking forward I see more of the same.  What does this year hold for me?  Will I continue to be chained in place because my parents need me more and more?  Will everything I want be a secondary option because other people and other problems and anything other than what I want is more important?  Will I matter more to the people who I want to matter to?

I was talking to my cousin on the phone yesterday and when I hung up I was mad.  The mood I'm in now began there.  It's not because I'm mad at her, but because I realized something in that conversation.  Every year on our birthdays my mom makes the dinner of our choice.  I tend to chose things that I don't make myself or that I don't make better than mom.  It's just a fact that some things I do make better, or at least I like how I make it better.  But inevitably I get attitude about my choices from my siblings.  They don't like it or think it's a stupid choice or want something else, and give me shit about it.  So this year I decided I'd make everyone happy and choose Thanksgiving dinner as my birthday dinner... meaning that I chose turkey and all the trimmings.  I don't dislike this choice, but it's not something I would choose.  What I love that my mom makes and I don't is oxtail soup.  It's so good and she makes homemade noodles and I just love it.  But the one time I chose this, you'd think that the world was coming to an end.  I got so much shit from my brothers and sister that I just said fuck it.   This year I saved myself the grief and chose something I didn't particularly want.  And you know what happened?  No one else came to dinner.  I compromised for the sake of making others happy and I got fucked.

It really happened that way, but it's not about the dinner.  It's a running theme in my life that this is how things go.  I give, and it's not enough.  I compromise, and I still get screwed.  And why is it that they felt they could harass me and my choice?  I'd never do that to someone.  I am entitled to have what I want just as much as anyone else, so why should I change it to accommodate others?  Would anyone do that for me?  FUCK NO. 

It's my own fault really.  I'm a giver and I suppose I can't change that.  There's not much I want and I do have a lot to give.  I like to give.  I like to make people happy.  Mostly by give I mean give of myself.  But sometimes it would be nice to have the people who matter to me give a little in return.  I can't understand why I always have to take the high road.  Why I have to be the one to compromise.  Why I have to suck it up and deal with it.  Once in awhile I'd like to be the one who gets to be selfish and do what I want, get what I want, and whoever doesn't like it can just fuck off.