Guess My Christmas Card List Just Got Shorter...
It sometimes amazes me how oblivious I can be. I'll be meandering along figuring that my relations with most people in the world are cordial, if not downright friendly, and when they aren't I figure I know all the whens and wherefores and what led to that state of affairs and why I've chosen not to rectify the situation.
And then occasionally something happens to prove how completely wrong I was in that perception, and suddenly I'm looking at part of my life in stark relief, with certain details becoming shockingly clear.
Something like that happened to me earlier today after reading blogs written by people I have met once at most, and most of them never at all. How pathetic is that, to feel a twinge of personal rejection reading words written by people who have never even met me. Whether the slight was intentional or accidental, (though I'm fairly certain it was the former,) whether it was premeditated by others or merely perceived as such by myself (though I'm fairly certain it wasn't the latter,) none of that matters at this point.
Fuck 'em and feed 'em fish heads, as a very wise man I know once said. I've got better ways to waste my time.
If you have no flipping idea what I'm talking about, it means you are my friend and I love you.
If you know exactly what I'm talking about, it means you are my friend and I confided in you after stupidly getting my ego bruised by an exclusionary maneuver worthy of the brattiest junior high school bitch ever to be conceived on stage, screen or -- saddest of all -- in real life. (And if you have any further insights as to why this stupidly inconsequential and pointless irritation is bothering me enough that I felt the need to write this post, PLEASE tell me, because I haven't figured that part out yet. Closure?)
If you have a sneaking suspicion I might be talking about you, then I probably am. We might have been friends once or we might never have laid eyes on each other, but whatever the level of acquaintance, I'm blowing it off now. You won't be hearing from me, I won't be showing up on your sitemeter, and you can breathe your little sigh of relief and pat yourself on the back that you did it all without having to be confrontational, honest, forthright or, let's call a spade a spade, even the least bit upfront or honorable. Go You!
And then occasionally something happens to prove how completely wrong I was in that perception, and suddenly I'm looking at part of my life in stark relief, with certain details becoming shockingly clear.
Something like that happened to me earlier today after reading blogs written by people I have met once at most, and most of them never at all. How pathetic is that, to feel a twinge of personal rejection reading words written by people who have never even met me. Whether the slight was intentional or accidental, (though I'm fairly certain it was the former,) whether it was premeditated by others or merely perceived as such by myself (though I'm fairly certain it wasn't the latter,) none of that matters at this point.
Fuck 'em and feed 'em fish heads, as a very wise man I know once said. I've got better ways to waste my time.
If you have no flipping idea what I'm talking about, it means you are my friend and I love you.
If you know exactly what I'm talking about, it means you are my friend and I confided in you after stupidly getting my ego bruised by an exclusionary maneuver worthy of the brattiest junior high school bitch ever to be conceived on stage, screen or -- saddest of all -- in real life. (And if you have any further insights as to why this stupidly inconsequential and pointless irritation is bothering me enough that I felt the need to write this post, PLEASE tell me, because I haven't figured that part out yet. Closure?)
If you have a sneaking suspicion I might be talking about you, then I probably am. We might have been friends once or we might never have laid eyes on each other, but whatever the level of acquaintance, I'm blowing it off now. You won't be hearing from me, I won't be showing up on your sitemeter, and you can breathe your little sigh of relief and pat yourself on the back that you did it all without having to be confrontational, honest, forthright or, let's call a spade a spade, even the least bit upfront or honorable. Go You!