life: . . . this space for rent . . .
d'ya ever look around at what ya have your name on in life, those few places out there in the public domain that says "THIS PERSON EXISTS!" and wonder why nobody's asked you to remove it yet? like, myspace, or livejournal, or some login for software, or the door key to let you in to the building at work... those stupid trivial little often overlooked things. but they're things in your possession, with your name on it, your stamp, proof you made some kind of noise - good or bad, whatever- and reserved a "spot" among the thousands.
i'm at one of those kinda points, looking around and wondering a lot. like why bother with things like a myspace or an lj? i've taken things off friends only in the hopes that, what, if i scream a little more loudly in to the vast network of tubes that someone will eventually hear me? if it matters and is worth ljing, i can pick up the phone and call the people who give a damn. otherwise, i just clutter up people's friends' pages and deprive them of that one extra spot on the page they could have had some fascinating tidbit on their favorite tv show or something.
my myspace page... it's just a game site at the moment, which i log in to daily now just to make sure my dad hasn't found some new game i'm supposed to be accepting an invite for, or that he hasn't put up a blog. it's a place i can interact with him, mostly. other than that, there's something like 40 people i don't talk to on my 'friends' list over there. no idea who they are anymore, even if i did at one time know them personally.
hell, i have a dog that is "mine" but tis no secret she'd be happier with a family who gives her things to chase and takes her on walks morning and night and could just in general be a "better" doggy-parent to her than i am. my dog is healthy and loved, wherever she ends up, so she doesn't care. but why do i think i have any right to her at all?
so, see, i have these places reserved. they've got my stamp on it, they've been trained and fit and designed to look how *I* want them to look, act how i want them to act. i put up whatever i want. it's my place to do with as i please.
but at the end of the day, what's it matter? the stuff on the internet is all just words on a page. its a chronicle of the insane meanderings of my brain, or the daily dramas of my very small little world. and no matter how smart-alec and prose-minded i attempt to be at writing it all down, it really, truly, doesn't effect the lives of anyone else. my opinion is my opinion. people glance at the words and process them and toss them out, on to the next thing that they need to deal with. what business do i have even putting this stuff down to clutter someone else's day? my myspace page says on it very plainly what my interests are, and it says very plainly who i do and don't wish to associate with. the do is more vague than the dont. and the don't, in all probability, covers half the people who might have had some interest in giving me the time of day. and on top of everything else, damnit, i don't even capitalize or even properly obey grammer and punctuation rules!
tis like this thing with the pot farm next door. i am very much in the minority. i am one of the few, rare, genetically-impaired people who can not handle marijuana in any form, be it growing from the ground, smoking, or inhaling second hand via incense or roach. the parents of sibling's friends said "woah, yeah, uh, we don't want our kids going over to your house for awhile, and feel free to send your kid home with us after school until this goes away." but in the very next breath said "but if it were me, i wouldn't do anything at all. would not make any waves with these people." they were looking at the same information i was looking at. because mom's at work and dad's sick, i've been the only one saying "we've got to do something about this, it has to stop, it's screwing with us living in our own house!"
i have spun my wheels on this issue for maybe five days now. the plants are apparently being plucked up out of the ground to be harvested as of today. so *if* the sheriff dept even comes looking around, they'll find a buncha holes in the ground. the only possible results of my having done anything at all is getting harassed by neighbors for having filed two seperate CPS reports that won't be backed up by the sheriff's dept. we're already the oddman out on this block because we're quiet, we don't throw parties and invite the neighbors, we don't sit and bullshit across the fence except once every few months. i've had to do a lot of reaching out to my neighborhood just to get them to wave at us instead of scowl and sic their dogs on my dog. and now i go stir the pot with the renters across the fence (ha, i made a funny.) and come out looking like the intrusive, bitchy neighbor who can't keep her nose on her own side of the property line.
not to mention, heh, i called a variety of county offices on this issue just looking for information. i have pictures... but no proof. those county offices get annoyed when peter cries wolf.
right now, i'm sitting in my own freaking home office with all doors and windows shut and locked up tight, at 1:32 AM, and i can smell that stupid plant as obvious as if someone were smoking it in doors and five feet away from me. but everyone says "what the hell are you bitching about? it's legal in california for a reason. you just need to get out more."
it falls on us to plant some kind of aromatic shield between our house and theirs, counter it with vanilla bean and peppermint and lavender and roses next year and just pray i don't die of asphexiation and my dad doesn't have a migraine-enduced stroke.
we have this big plot of land, with our stuff in it, our cars parked in the driveway, all personalized how we want it so that it reflects us and how we live and interact with the world. and it doesn't matter. like this post showing up on my friends' f'list, it's just a placeholder that could be occupied by someone or something else that would be more convienient for the rest of the world. it doesn't matter how much noise we make in defense of ourselves or our land, it still gets down to the simple fact that it doesn't matter, tis just screaming in to the vast network of tubes.
yea for druggie-drama to renew one's faith in their own insignificance.
...and yet... i click 'post' anyway...
i'm at one of those kinda points, looking around and wondering a lot. like why bother with things like a myspace or an lj? i've taken things off friends only in the hopes that, what, if i scream a little more loudly in to the vast network of tubes that someone will eventually hear me? if it matters and is worth ljing, i can pick up the phone and call the people who give a damn. otherwise, i just clutter up people's friends' pages and deprive them of that one extra spot on the page they could have had some fascinating tidbit on their favorite tv show or something.
my myspace page... it's just a game site at the moment, which i log in to daily now just to make sure my dad hasn't found some new game i'm supposed to be accepting an invite for, or that he hasn't put up a blog. it's a place i can interact with him, mostly. other than that, there's something like 40 people i don't talk to on my 'friends' list over there. no idea who they are anymore, even if i did at one time know them personally.
hell, i have a dog that is "mine" but tis no secret she'd be happier with a family who gives her things to chase and takes her on walks morning and night and could just in general be a "better" doggy-parent to her than i am. my dog is healthy and loved, wherever she ends up, so she doesn't care. but why do i think i have any right to her at all?
so, see, i have these places reserved. they've got my stamp on it, they've been trained and fit and designed to look how *I* want them to look, act how i want them to act. i put up whatever i want. it's my place to do with as i please.
but at the end of the day, what's it matter? the stuff on the internet is all just words on a page. its a chronicle of the insane meanderings of my brain, or the daily dramas of my very small little world. and no matter how smart-alec and prose-minded i attempt to be at writing it all down, it really, truly, doesn't effect the lives of anyone else. my opinion is my opinion. people glance at the words and process them and toss them out, on to the next thing that they need to deal with. what business do i have even putting this stuff down to clutter someone else's day? my myspace page says on it very plainly what my interests are, and it says very plainly who i do and don't wish to associate with. the do is more vague than the dont. and the don't, in all probability, covers half the people who might have had some interest in giving me the time of day. and on top of everything else, damnit, i don't even capitalize or even properly obey grammer and punctuation rules!
tis like this thing with the pot farm next door. i am very much in the minority. i am one of the few, rare, genetically-impaired people who can not handle marijuana in any form, be it growing from the ground, smoking, or inhaling second hand via incense or roach. the parents of sibling's friends said "woah, yeah, uh, we don't want our kids going over to your house for awhile, and feel free to send your kid home with us after school until this goes away." but in the very next breath said "but if it were me, i wouldn't do anything at all. would not make any waves with these people." they were looking at the same information i was looking at. because mom's at work and dad's sick, i've been the only one saying "we've got to do something about this, it has to stop, it's screwing with us living in our own house!"
i have spun my wheels on this issue for maybe five days now. the plants are apparently being plucked up out of the ground to be harvested as of today. so *if* the sheriff dept even comes looking around, they'll find a buncha holes in the ground. the only possible results of my having done anything at all is getting harassed by neighbors for having filed two seperate CPS reports that won't be backed up by the sheriff's dept. we're already the oddman out on this block because we're quiet, we don't throw parties and invite the neighbors, we don't sit and bullshit across the fence except once every few months. i've had to do a lot of reaching out to my neighborhood just to get them to wave at us instead of scowl and sic their dogs on my dog. and now i go stir the pot with the renters across the fence (ha, i made a funny.) and come out looking like the intrusive, bitchy neighbor who can't keep her nose on her own side of the property line.
not to mention, heh, i called a variety of county offices on this issue just looking for information. i have pictures... but no proof. those county offices get annoyed when peter cries wolf.
right now, i'm sitting in my own freaking home office with all doors and windows shut and locked up tight, at 1:32 AM, and i can smell that stupid plant as obvious as if someone were smoking it in doors and five feet away from me. but everyone says "what the hell are you bitching about? it's legal in california for a reason. you just need to get out more."
it falls on us to plant some kind of aromatic shield between our house and theirs, counter it with vanilla bean and peppermint and lavender and roses next year and just pray i don't die of asphexiation and my dad doesn't have a migraine-enduced stroke.
we have this big plot of land, with our stuff in it, our cars parked in the driveway, all personalized how we want it so that it reflects us and how we live and interact with the world. and it doesn't matter. like this post showing up on my friends' f'list, it's just a placeholder that could be occupied by someone or something else that would be more convienient for the rest of the world. it doesn't matter how much noise we make in defense of ourselves or our land, it still gets down to the simple fact that it doesn't matter, tis just screaming in to the vast network of tubes.
yea for druggie-drama to renew one's faith in their own insignificance.
...and yet... i click 'post' anyway...