Another Relationship Rant

Sometimes little things just annoy me.  This bothered me today.

“It’s good to see that you’re still alive,” says the woman who is likely my ex now.

So, I should probably start by pointing out that I’m a little bad at confrontation, and I’m still learning to say things like, ‘No,’ which is how every single one of my previous exes has pushed me around.  I mean, it’s really amazing how good I am at finding people who will, consciously or unconsciously, happily push me around and force me into doing the things they want me to do, and nothing else.

This last situation, she told everyone including her family that I was her new girlfriend before ever checking with me on the matter.  As stated in my last post on relationships, this is the second San Francisco area relationship where the new ‘love interest’ decided we were closer than we truly were – an assumption with which I am not okay.

Now, when she finally did ask if it was okay to call me her girlfriend, I felt a bit cornered into the new title.  After all, she ‘okayed’ it with me during a party at which all of her friends were in attendance, and I couldn’t very well pull her aside to discuss how unsure I was about being in a relationship, right then, particularly when she’d already told everyone there that we were.  So, coward that I am when it comes to confrontation, I nodded and added some related anecdote – an okay.

I sort of fell out of interest with her after that.  I tried really hard to be as attracted to her as I had been before that happened, even tried to blame myself.  “Oh, it must be my depression shutting me down, again.”  Now, yes, I have been rather depressed for about the past … 20 years or so.  However, it wasn’t until Thanksgiving, when she tried to push me to go to her family’s holiday dinner, that I started to figure out what exactly was going on.

I mean, a Thanksgiving invite can be a nice thing, and I would appreciate it if, upon telling her that I had been feeling depressed and being social at that point in time would be a bad idea for everyone involved, she had backed off.  Instead, she got defensive and moody with me because I didn’t want to go.  So, rather than endure a fight, I turned off my phone that weekend.  When I turned it back on the following week, I had a text message from her and several voicemails to which I still have not listened.  The text message asked if I had had a moment to talk, but had been sent the prior week.  I didn’t want to deal with the confrontation so I didn’t respond, which is – again – a cowardly thing to do, I admit, but it’s not as though she didn’t know what was going on.  I had outright told her during our ‘argument’ that I needed to be alone when I felt like this.  She deals with depression issues, as well, so she should have understood… or so I assumed.

People who deal with depression shouldn’t be judgmental about other people who deal with depression.  My dad understands when I’m ‘too busy’ to call him sometimes for months on end, because he has the same problem.  My best friend texts me every couple of months then disappears, and I understand no matter what I’m going through.  Sometimes, people who deal with depression really just need to disappear for a while and deal with it.  After all, it’s not as though I’ve never reemerged.  I always come back.

Today, two (or has it been three?) weeks later, I emerged.  I woke up and told myself that I was going to all of my classes no matter what.  I told myself that it was going to be a productive, social day.  I pushed myself out of bed, forced actual clothes onto my body, and shoved myself onto the bus; I was at school.

Now, I understand that I may not have been as communicative as I could have been.  I’m bad at talking about my own problems, or really anything that isn’t done via writing.  I also don’t like talking to people verbally who know anything about my communicative issues, because if it’s something they’re not going to like they always use my inability to communicate verbally on the spot against me.  So I write everything, I plan out difficult conversations with a list of points to address, or I simply write it down and give that to them.  I think I’ve developed a bit of a handicap by doing this, but it’s difficult to practice tough conversations beforehand so I don’t know how to improve this.

I had to go to the class we share together.  I almost talked myself out of it.  I went.

In this class, I have a close friend who almost made me cry when, upon seeing me, she gave me a huge hug, told me how much she missed me, and instructed me to sit next to her and tell me about the past couple of weeks.  So I did.  Fifteen minutes later, the probably-ex-girlfriend walked in, but I didnt’ see her at first.  All I know is that in the middle of the conversation she interrupted us to say, as sarcastically as she could manage, “It’s good to see that you’re still alive.”

Have I mentioned that I’m A.D.D., and that I’m bad at on-the-spot conversations and interactions?

My friend was still talking.  I managed an “Oh, hi!” to the probably-ex, turned my head as my friend kept talking (trying not to lose the thread of the conversation), and when I turned back, to let her know I hadn’t forgotten about/was not ignoring her, my probably-ex was already walking away – not my best moment.  I let her go; I was too distracted to think through it properly.

Then during a class that I really didn’t want to be sitting in, I started thinking.  I thought, wait a minute!  Granted, I never responded to her last text message, and it’s always possible that there’s a voice mail on my phone from her to which I have yet to listen.  She did not, however, send any messages to see what was going on with me.  She did not take into account the deep depression, which I did warn her about when it started.  She ignored the fact that I had mentioned I could not endure the company of others in that state, at-fucking-all.  She did not try to find out if I was better, or if I even received her messages.  She has also gone months without listening to her voice mails, missing several I have left her.  She’s ignored or forgotten about or simply not responded to texts I’ve sent her, as well as emails.  So, as an opening statement, I found her response today to be completely out of line, and really rather annoying.  That’s rich coming from you (we’re taking a Shakespeare class together… I’m allowed one cliche).

So I left class without saying anything to her, knowing that, annoyed as I was, anything that came out of my mouth was likely to be far too blunt and/or unkind.  I don’t think she deserves for me to be unkind to her, so I walked away.

I think she assumed my walking away was a kind of unkindness, in and of itself.  It could be perceived as such.  It could be.

The thing is: I’m so tired of people pushing me into doing something they want me to do without considering my feelings on the matter, and then getting all upset about something I finally do to stand up for myself.  It’s not my fault that I felt pushed into a corner, and trapped into a relationship with someone.  It’s not my fault that I need a bit more time, and perhaps some real moments to feel as though I’m close to someone new.  In fact, I feel as though that is how most people who live in reality feel about being in personal situations, with very few exceptions.

Why should I just automatically trust you when you went behind my back to create this situation, in the first place?  Why should I take your feelings into account now, when you didn’t bother to consider mine in the beginning?

I’m being blunt now, and that’s something on which I need to work, I know.  However, I think that it’s best if I work on it alone, without someone who’s trying to fit me into their fantasy world without bothering to considering the reality in which I live.  Relationships are mutual.  You cannot make someone live in your fantasy without considering theirs, and you cannot force someone to feel a certain way about you without earning at least some part of it.  Maybe, I just exist too much in reality?  And, maybe, irony is just really overrated.


On Assumed Intimacy & Other Relationship Lies

I’m beginning to think that all my relationships (barring those with some family members and one or two friends) have been with people who see some idealized version of me, and assume that’s the person with whom they’re in a relationship.  They don’t see or want to see the real me, and when they can no longer ignore her that’s when they’re disappointed or annoyed.  These individuals try to force me into being someone I’m not, becoming surprised and/or angry when I refuse to bow down to their mental image of ‘the perfect (girl)friend.’

To add to this, in this new city in which I now live the trend is to assume an unearned level of intimacy; a trend that I cannot understand.  Why would anyone want to pretend with another person, who has not yet actually proven they can be trustworthy, that they have shared experiences that have not been shared?  It makes no sense to me.  You cannot tell someone that the two of you ‘are really close’ when all you’ve done is share a few weeks’ worth of conversations.  That is not intimacy, it is a budding friendship – relationship, if you will.  Even sex is not enough to achieve intimacy, though it is mistakenly believed to be enough by many people.

Assuming that you’re at a greater level of intimacy with someone with whom you’re not is a shortcut that can only be pretended.  With all this fabrication going on how can anyone maintain a relationship?

This is the real reason why marriages fail – constant assumptions, miscommunications, fantasizing, and expectations of instantaneous fixes to any problems.  Until people can accept other people for who they really are this institution will continue to fall and these relationships will continue to fail.  I, for one, am fed to bursting with the idea that someone can just tell me how intimate we have become, or how I should behave in our relationship.  Your fantasies hold no sway over my mind or my actions.

Thanks for reading my relationship rant, and have a lovely day.

Reading Blocks: One Writer’s Cry for Help

Have you ever just hit a point when you don’t care about the ending of the book you’re reading? It’s not that the writing is bad – it could actually be quite good – you just find yourself uninterested in the ending. I’ve been having that problem with many books, lately. Some were books I’d read before, and loved so I figured I just wasn’t as interested because I knew how they ended (though, I’m the kind of reader who honestly does love rereading a story I love; like watching your favorite movie over and over again, it’s just worth a reread when you’re in the mood for that sort of thing). So I picked up a couple of new titles, and discovered the same problem persisted. A handful of them were by new authors, and I just went back through what I’d read so far in my mind, deciding that the characters were just not grabbing me the way a Sanderson or a Gaiman book’s might; I set them aside with the same disregard for the ending as the ones I’d read previously.

Of course, thinking to remedy my reading problem, I went straight to those two authors, and picked up books by them I had yet to read. Sanderson’s ‘Warbreaker’ and Gaiman’s ‘Neverwhere’ are now sitting in my audio library dormant and unfinished. Why? I’m not sure.

I am well aware by now the effect a Sanderson or a Gaiman novel can have on me. In fact, they are two of my favorite authors, and people of which I know. I love what they have to say both by literary and verbal means. So my apathy toward the characters they’ve created in these books must be stemming from elsewhere.

It could be anything, really. I have read a few short stories (the Nebula Award Winners of 2013, in fact), and found them captivating enough. One is still on my mind at the moment, and I cannot wait to get back to it. However, a novel? I seem to have hit a road-block. I have come up with a few options for this:

  • My tastes in literature are changing,
  • The messages in all of the books I keep choosing are either too predictable or too similar (and thus too predictable to me),
  • My own novels and characters are too prevalent in my thoughts,
  • The stress of life is preventing my attachment to fictional characters and stories,
  • I’m losing my love for reading.

I’ll be honest, if it’s option 5 – I may as well give up all hope now.

The horrible thing is that I’m heading into a semester during which I will be taking three heavy reading classes, one writing class, and one Shakespeare class. I have books I want to finish, and audiobooks to have read to me before then. I don’t have time for this strange reading block.

Not only that, but as a writer I also really need to be reading the books in the genre(s) in which I write. So this disinterest is not only strange, but remarkably inconvenient and a major hindrance to my writing productivity. I’m not sure how to begin to care about reading again – how to rekindle my passion for it – but it is extremely important that I do.

Perhaps I have simply become too disconnected from it due to reading via tablet, or listening to so many books on audio. Possibly it has to do with the fact that I have little time outside of work or off of the train to read, and my distaste for the locations is rubbing off on the stories. Maybe I’m just too tired from recovering the recent bouts of stress and illness to be capable of caring about anything other than my day-to-day routine. And it’s always conceivable that I’m just plain burnt out.

Whatever the reason, I’m currently adding Neverwhere to my extensive list of the unfinished books of summer 2013, and switching to a different genre in the hopes that this will remedy the issue. Yes, I’m well aware of the Mr. Albert Einstein’s definition of insanity:

“Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”

…let’s hope it doesn’t bleed into too many other aspects of my life, shall we?

Thanks for reading my unsettled nonsense, and have a charming day.

One Woman’s Rant | A Looming Break-Up

(Wow, you think, what an apt title. It actually states precisely what to expect in the content. :P)

So, this is my soon-to-be ex’s exact words on my voicemail from over the weekend: ‘I haven’t heard from you in a couple of weeks, and I’m starting to get really worried.’ Just to clarify, this is the guy who just disappears on me for weeks at a time, then comes back like nothing happened. Of course, at this point I’ve stopped chasing him down. Actually, I’ve stopped really caring what he does or doesn’t do. Granted, this is one of the few times I did not try to get hold of him during said disappearance, so perhaps he’s noticed. It’s also the first time I didn’t just go running back to him the second he texted me after his lapse.

Now, I know that guys need their space, and that two or three weeks isn’t all that long for guy-time or whatever it is they call these evaporations. However, all of his disappearances have coincided with major issues going on in my life, which I’ve only shared with him because he pushed me into talking with him about them, and he only ever returns if I say everything is going well. He gets irritated with me if I recognize, bring up, or in any way acknowledge anything that is not disgustingly and unrealistically optimistic, and if I even mention anything remotely like politics or criticism of any kind about anything he takes it personally, as though these things are his doing, and I’m criticizing him for them.

I’m the woman, but, despite having to listen to him complain about how emotional all of his girl friends have always been, I have to walk on egg-shells around him and his childishly sensitive ego. No. Let’s be honest, I’m an actor and a writer and… I’m an artist. Artists have to get used to taking criticism, constructive and otherwise. They have to know what’s going on in the world to appropriately comment on it (in my opinion). If a so-called ‘sensitive woman’ can take it, then get over your fucking self and stop your whining human being with the misnamed ‘tougher genitalia.’ (I’d pay good money to watch any ordinary man handle regular, monthly period pain, let alone child-birth. We’d find out who the tougher sex really is then, wouldn’t we? ^_~) Not to mention the fact that we do not live in an age (uh… the information age. Hello?) where ignorance is a good enough excuse for the things that we do.

“I don’t like following politics because it’s depressing’ is essentially saying that it’s too difficult to keep myself informed, so I’m just going to shut my eyes to what’s happening around the world, and whatever happens won’t be my fault because I didn’t know about it. People who can read that last, and see nothing wrong with it… are morons who I’d rather not share a planet with let alone a country. Further, I have to add, I do not want to share a room or a bed or, even, a conversation with anyone who thinks this way, either. It’s immature and pathetic to ignore all things slightly unpleasant just to avoid dealing with their existence, or being made to think in any way about the world around us.

Perhaps that sounds harsh, but let’s be reasonable and consider the fact that people who do nothing about a situation, whether or not they agree with it, do more harm than anyone involved in it. That is, and has always been, a fact. If you were not appalled by the people who stood back and watched the woman get raped, not saying or doing anything at all, then there is something genuinely wrong with you. Yes, those responsible are horrible, but how do you just stand there and watch silently while these kinds of things occur?

Anyway, back to why I began that rant: yes, I do plan on contacting him back eventually, to let him know that, if he hasn’t figured it out already, this is just not going to work out between us. To be honest, I’m surprised he hasn’t figured that out on his own. Then again, people with egos that size tend to think the world revolves around them, and can’t fathom a world that works any other way. Either way, I do not have time during my current journey to deal with people like that in any capacity.

Frankly, I’m too busy commenting on the world around me to put up with someone who wants to pretend it doesn’t exist.

Random Thoughts: Star Trek

You know what’s sad to me? The fact that a bunch of new Star Trek fans out there never watched TOS, TNG, or even DS9. Why is that sad? Because when you watch the new movies, the movies that focus more on action and suspense than on story-telling, character-building, and the things that made Star Trek what it is today, you miss out on something. You miss out on what it means to ‘boldly go where no one has gone before’ because that’s not what’s happening. The new movies claim to be starting a new story line, but what they’re actually doing is poorly recycling old ones.

I want it to do what it claimed to do at the very start. Boldly go where no one in the franchise has gone before, imagine new things, make use of their fresh start. Otherwise, all you’re doing is pissing where someone has been before, and we don’t need any more territory battles this century, if you know what I mean.

Current Projects Plaguing My Mind

Well, I finally wrote out all of the stories I’m currently working on, and discovered that, at best, I have seven – that’s right, seven – novels in my to-do pile. Two of them are damn near complete, two of them are nearing the middle, and the rest are still in that awkward world and character building stage where anything might happen. Old ideas are getting reboots, and new ideas are taking form. The thing is, as you’ve all probably guessed, I don’t have time to work on one project at the moment, let alone seven. I don’t know how to keep them all straight, or how to prevent one from influencing the others. Am I meant to work on so many projects at once, or should I be pairing this all down to a single story, see it through to completion, and THEN begin the next one? I’ve been told before to simply work on what I’m inspired to work on at any given point in time, I simply worry that I won’t finish anything with new ideas constantly being born. How do I prioritize?

On top of this, I’m currently very behind on a summer class I’m taking after my move, I still have a full-time day-job to worry about, I’m involved in a play whose director wants us off-book by the day after tomorrow, and I still have a crap-ton of unpacking to do to make my new space livable. I have quite a lot on my plate.

Above all, I still have no inspiration for any of this; not the stories, the acting, or the organizing. Ideas keep coming, but I have no passion to write any of them. It has yet to return, and I still feel… stuck. The new ideas and the resulting requirement to brainstorm are encouraging, but I still hit that block as soon as it comes to writing the characters or the story. I’m not sure what exactly is wrong, but I know that I must right it before I can continue. It’s really frustrating to be inside of my own skin, and not know precisely what is holding back my creative muse. Nothing could make me want to scream and shout more, in fact. I don’t know what to do.

As soon as my desk arrives, and my workstation is in order I will be beginning some writing exercises to sharpen my skills and refill my writing toolbox. I cannot wait, to be honest. It’s why I’m back here, writing for this journal; I can simply not let the artistic side of myself die because of the chaos that has upturned my life over the past couple of years. The inspiration will return. I know this because the ideas simply do not stop. Therefore, the bug must still be somewhere inside of me. It’s time to begin coaxing it out once more, and get back on my path. …now if I could just figure out how exactly to do that, I’d be set.

Thank you for reading my wandering nonsense. I hope you have a lovely evening.