Aug 18, 2006 23:28
What's so appealing about shit?
Seriously, people - if you have an answer, speak up. Are we all just flies in human clothing? Well - I am, at least.
I had an eventful day, followed by a dull evening. Production meeting at SCT, and dayum is this going to be nice. So many personnel. Ahhhhhhh. Spent the afternoon doing a photography scavenger hunt with my little sister (I'll post a few of my favs later), but with only three hours sleep last night, I was wiped out by the time I got home.
HEY LADY - what about the shit?
Right, sorry.
So in an effort to distract myself from neurotically checking my email (seeking loft news, coffee stand news, MANAGING DIRECTOR news...), I start surfing around my various blogging sites. Yes, various - if there's one thing I'm not a trend-follower on, it's blogging. I've been doing it for an embarassingly long time, and pieces of my heart and soul are strung out in cyberspace, packaged in the formatting of several different websites over the years, under numerous pseudonyms.
I decided to find like-minded people, and started searches based on similar interests and locations. Low and behold, I found a bunch of people I knew, who I'd never come across in cyber-land before. Some of them I recognised right away, and others - well, others didn't update often and spoke vaguely. It wasn't until I found nasty, vicious accounts of some heinous blonde bitch that went to school back when... wait, now... who was involved in a show at the same time I was... who was involved with someone I knew rather intimately... that it dawned on me that I was reading about me.
Written from someone else's perspective - someone I never knew very well - I read some really mean and petty crap. And the stupid thing is, I couldn't stop. Like a fly gobbling up each steamy fleck of horseshit, I feasted on these entries that were obviously written without the assumption that I'd ever find them.
This isn't the first time I've come across nasty things written about me - Hell, other people have come across the nasty things I've written about them. Such is the life of a habitual blogger.
The thing is, nearly two hours later, having unearthed all this crap, I'm now sitting on my couch, feeling mopey. Too drained to get up for a cigarette, too far removed from these long-ago events to get really upset, I just feel like I willingly grabbed a shit sandwich and munched away.
And really, who else can I be mad at but myself?