Ergh.
Was supposed to NPC for Cam last night but bailed.
Sunday had begun with me tired and grouchy: playing Khara the nearly-constantly-frenzying at Garou didn't help. I know that playing a cat in that venue is supposed to be hard work IC, it just doesn't help when I'm wanting to avoid Sally and feeling low OOC.
It's funny, I never really considered how one person you don't hate could have such a negative effect on your life. All people previously who have caused me problems I have happily scorned and detested. Whilst I can raise a weary level of scorn for Sally's histrionics, that's all I can manage. Usually in such a situation I remain, smug, darkly amused and equally disliked - safe in the knowledge that I don't want their cordiality. Or I leave. Turning up to ZG has become an ongoing test of nerves. Do I have the mental equilibrium to withstand the mental wibble radiating at me on the megawatt scale from Sally's direction?
I wouldn't be at all surprised if her musings upon me have been similar: does she have the emotional fortitude to withstand my disruptive presence?
As ever while I curse her neurons as cowards and hypocrites I wonder how much of it is my fault and how much my over-sensitivity to moods that are none of my making.
Just before Cam I realised the only reason I was staying was out of a desperate sort of bloody-mindedness. I knew the NPC would be a nobody or a silent partner of some kind, and I knew the only reason I was staying was to play it and therefore prove to Sally and anyone else watching with a keen eye that I don't only play hideous monsters. It wasn't for enjoyment or conversation or the wearing of cool clothes, it was out of a warped sort of duty.
My mood was not good. I thought back to the last time my mood had been so bad and I had played DarkHalf anyway. And I remembered what happened and how amazingly shitty I felt. And I decided 'no'.
Then I vaguely lost it. Neurons were in need of whiskey, a sharp scalpel and a clean bandage and ten minutes peace to make proper use of all three. The fact that I couldn't have any of those things left me crumbling at the edges and barely able to walk straight.
I am not happy with ZG, and 90% of this is Sally. I'm not happy that she can talk to Jez and find out things about my NPCs that I don't know myself, just because she's throwing fits. I'm not bothered that Jez has decided there should be more 'normal' NPCs, but I am bothered when I realise this is mostly due to Sally's bitching. I understand that everybody has their own ethics for every situation - rp included. But I hate her projecting her 'ethical rp' views so strongly when she's shagging the ST and is a primary focus of the surrounding social group.
(I understand this is turning into a rant, but I really was fekked in the head last night and this has everything to do with it.)
I think most of all, I detest with a passion the fact that Sally is so 'fragile' and has so many fekking issues. Everyone else must walk on her bloody eggshells and take care not to bruise her - which means I can't have a proper conversation or rattle the bitch's legs on any point of disagreement. I have to back off because she acts like it's the end of the damn world (mea culpa) when someone argues with her.
I find it insane that her neurons ally me with the bitch queens from her school days when she is the social darling whose wishes are heeded, not I. Does she see how much of the socialite she is? Does she know the way she is pandered to? I'm tempted to think not judging from her rampant insecurities. What erks me is not that she has social standing and emotional issues, but that through her social standing every other bastard must pay for her emotional issues.
Am I hypocrite in this? I don't know. To be honest I don't know how much others have paid for my personal problems. Probably more than they're admitting or more than I'd like? (Maybe I should back the courage of my convictions and ask.) Perhaps this is more evidence of Sally and I being two sides of the same coin, as has been suggested.
Gods it's all so fucking wearisome.
And I want to leave, to back out in the name of a quiet life and not actually wanting to be a bitch. But then I wouldn't get to play the games or see the people or wear the clothes, and that would be depressing. Feh.
Sunday had begun with me tired and grouchy: playing Khara the nearly-constantly-frenzying at Garou didn't help. I know that playing a cat in that venue is supposed to be hard work IC, it just doesn't help when I'm wanting to avoid Sally and feeling low OOC.
It's funny, I never really considered how one person you don't hate could have such a negative effect on your life. All people previously who have caused me problems I have happily scorned and detested. Whilst I can raise a weary level of scorn for Sally's histrionics, that's all I can manage. Usually in such a situation I remain, smug, darkly amused and equally disliked - safe in the knowledge that I don't want their cordiality. Or I leave. Turning up to ZG has become an ongoing test of nerves. Do I have the mental equilibrium to withstand the mental wibble radiating at me on the megawatt scale from Sally's direction?
I wouldn't be at all surprised if her musings upon me have been similar: does she have the emotional fortitude to withstand my disruptive presence?
As ever while I curse her neurons as cowards and hypocrites I wonder how much of it is my fault and how much my over-sensitivity to moods that are none of my making.
Just before Cam I realised the only reason I was staying was out of a desperate sort of bloody-mindedness. I knew the NPC would be a nobody or a silent partner of some kind, and I knew the only reason I was staying was to play it and therefore prove to Sally and anyone else watching with a keen eye that I don't only play hideous monsters. It wasn't for enjoyment or conversation or the wearing of cool clothes, it was out of a warped sort of duty.
My mood was not good. I thought back to the last time my mood had been so bad and I had played DarkHalf anyway. And I remembered what happened and how amazingly shitty I felt. And I decided 'no'.
Then I vaguely lost it. Neurons were in need of whiskey, a sharp scalpel and a clean bandage and ten minutes peace to make proper use of all three. The fact that I couldn't have any of those things left me crumbling at the edges and barely able to walk straight.
I am not happy with ZG, and 90% of this is Sally. I'm not happy that she can talk to Jez and find out things about my NPCs that I don't know myself, just because she's throwing fits. I'm not bothered that Jez has decided there should be more 'normal' NPCs, but I am bothered when I realise this is mostly due to Sally's bitching. I understand that everybody has their own ethics for every situation - rp included. But I hate her projecting her 'ethical rp' views so strongly when she's shagging the ST and is a primary focus of the surrounding social group.
(I understand this is turning into a rant, but I really was fekked in the head last night and this has everything to do with it.)
I think most of all, I detest with a passion the fact that Sally is so 'fragile' and has so many fekking issues. Everyone else must walk on her bloody eggshells and take care not to bruise her - which means I can't have a proper conversation or rattle the bitch's legs on any point of disagreement. I have to back off because she acts like it's the end of the damn world (mea culpa) when someone argues with her.
I find it insane that her neurons ally me with the bitch queens from her school days when she is the social darling whose wishes are heeded, not I. Does she see how much of the socialite she is? Does she know the way she is pandered to? I'm tempted to think not judging from her rampant insecurities. What erks me is not that she has social standing and emotional issues, but that through her social standing every other bastard must pay for her emotional issues.
Am I hypocrite in this? I don't know. To be honest I don't know how much others have paid for my personal problems. Probably more than they're admitting or more than I'd like? (Maybe I should back the courage of my convictions and ask.) Perhaps this is more evidence of Sally and I being two sides of the same coin, as has been suggested.
Gods it's all so fucking wearisome.
And I want to leave, to back out in the name of a quiet life and not actually wanting to be a bitch. But then I wouldn't get to play the games or see the people or wear the clothes, and that would be depressing. Feh.