Happy Zombie Jesus Day!

I rolled out of bed today at the crack of 11, and after peeing, grimacing at my hair, and haphazardly throwing on a coat, I trundled outside with the Hogbeaste in tow... Much as I do every day.  Sweatpants, scraggly hair, tired squinty eyes: all the same.

But today, I noticed families out, wearing nice clothes, getting into cars. Across the street, a woman screaming in Spanish at two young people who were presumably her children. And as I watched the Hogbeaste snurfle through the grass in search of eatables, I thought "Where the hell is everyone going today?"

Then I remembered: church. For some reason, people go to church on Easter. Cue another grimace. Because I can't be the only person who finds it ironic and a little fucked up that people celebrate the grisly death of a Middle Eastern man and what was either a) a desecration/grave robbery or b) the rising up of a zombie.... And that the decorations and favors used in the celebration are eggs and rabbits, which were common in the Germanic pagan festivals once dedicated to the goddess Eostre, a spring-time fertility goddess.

Think about it. Eggs, from whence life comes; rabbits, who breed like... well, you get where I'm going. As part of the festival of Eostre, that shit makes sense.

But if you're talking about the death of Jesus, not so much. I propose instead that we celebrate that with sausages: ground up organs stuffed into intestines, because what says death more clearly than that? And with crows: black scavengers who are also said to be able to cross between the spirit world and this one. If you want to celebrate the part where he "rises from the dead", then... how about you eat some yogurt? Yogurt starts as milk... then gets all sour and gross.... and then becomes yogurt. So, it kind of lives, dies, and lives again. Right?

Anyway. I suppose my point is that I don't understand why everyone just goes along with all this like it makes sense. Then again, my blood sugar is probably low, as I did not indulge in my traditional Easter breakfast this year: the whites of 3 hard boiled eggs (I hate the yolks), and approximately two fistfuls of chocolate candy. Dieting sucks. Enjoy your Cadbury eggs while you can, childrenz. Before Zombie Jesus comes to eat your brains. BWAHAHAHA.

OkCupid Rule #1230858: No More Trannies.

(Let me preface this post by saying that this is a personal rule for me, and not intended to apply to anyone else. I do not intend the following to be advice of any kind, nor do I intend to foster transphobia in anyway. Transsexual people face some terrible stigmas in society and we should all do what we can to change that, for them, and for everyone who faces discrimination of any kind. Except Cubs fans. You guys just suck. )


I don't dress slutty and hang out in bars. I rarely ever go to bars. I don't go clubbing... Mostly I hibernate. So for me, Internet dating is pretty much my only hope of ever finding a partner.

My site of choice is OkCupid.com. It's free, user-friendly, and has a pretty diverse user population, including a large number of polyamorous couples, BDSM fetishists, transvestites, and transsexuals.  (Oh, if I only had a dollar for every time a man from OKC has mentioned to me that he has a "feminine" side, well... I'd have at least 6 dollars.)

Anyway, I'm a very open and accepting person in general, so that stuff doesn't bother me, but I do have a few rules (enforced by necessity) for using the site.  I've put these rules in place for my own sanity, safety, and the prevention of future annoyance. Here are a few:

1. No couples or polyamorous singles: I'm selfish, and I want my partner to only love and want to be with me. 
2. No Indian dudes who grew up in India: I've spoken to several such men, and the culture gap becomes an issue very quickly. 
3. No one with a match percentage under 80: The percentage system is not perfect, but time and experience have shown me that if we only match 30%, I'm probably going to loathe you. 
4. No guy, no matter how awesome or perfect he seems otherwise, if he has stated in his profile that he "[doesn't] really read books," or if he has listed The Da Vinci Code as a favorite book, or David Sedaris as a favorite author. (I don't have to qualify this one for you, do I?) 
5. No self-proclaimed "Nice Guys." The statement "I'm a nice guy, but..." indicates that Mr. Nice Guy is not only a dick, but bitter about his constant rejection, likely believes that women "owe him" sex, and is probably in general, a fucking pig. 
6. No adding anyone on Facebook until girlfriend status has been achieved: Obvious reasons here. 
7. No distributing of phone number or other contact info until potential mate has established via email that s/he is not a psycho, a rapist, or a republican, etc.

The list goes on.... But you can see, I don't make this shit up without good reason.  Hence the new rule: No more trannies. 

I went on a date a few weeks ago with a woman who waited until partway through dinner to slip into the conversation that she was transgendered... Thus nearly making me choke on my soup. Not at the news that she was trans, mind you, but at the abruptness with which she informed me. I did not end up pursuing a relationship with her (I wasn't attracted to her, and she seemed a bit vanilla for my tastes anyway), but I had initially intended going for friendship... But that sudden confession just bothered me. That she would wait until mid-date to mention something so important--it just seemed kind of dishonest. 

Now, I get that it's an enormous understatement to say that she has gotten mixed results when informing other people that she is a transwoman. And I get that she might thus want to withhold such information until better knowing someone. However... I think it's kind of an enormous thing to not tell a person whom you intend to date, as opposed to say, a co-worker or classmate. To me, it's almost akin to showing up for a date, only to discover that said date didn't mention he was a paraplegic. So... we ended up parting ways. 

And then there's my latest experience. I've been chatting on and off with this transgirl for awhile now. She stated on her profile that she was trans, so I knew that going in, but it didn't bother me. She seemed very sweet and kind, albeit sometimes annoyingly chipper... But over time I began to feel that something was wrong there. 

Certain things she said put me on my guard. I ended up cancelling a lunch date with her about two weeks ago (introvert crisis), and said I hoped she wouldn't be upset, but maybe we could go out again another time? She responded by saying that she was "disappointed" because people often flake out on her, and she just "doesn't have much to look forward to" in her life. ....Uh huh. And she seemed to become increasingly clingy (in an emotional sense) as time passed. 

I was supposed to meet her for lunch today, and was still going to go through with it, until texting with her yesterday... when she said "It's a good thing we're meeting for lunch, because I wouldn't be able to stop hugging you otherwise." And squirrelishly, I panicked. I saw myself being hugged half to death, imagined her physically clinging to me and touching me all day, and I cringed. The voice in my head shrieked "ABORT! ABORT!" Yep. 

I didn't want to hurt her. I really didn't. I felt awful all day yesterday evening, trying to come up with a kind way (well, the kindest way possible) to inform her that I wasn't coming, and that we should discontinue talking. At last, this morning, a few hours before we were supposed to meet, I managed to come up with it. I just told her that I was sorry, I couldn't do it. That I knew I could not meet her physical or emotional needs (i.e. because introvert), but that she was a very pretty and sweet girl (which she is), and that I was sure she would find someone who would appreciate her. 

Yes, it was dick. But my reasoning was this: I've spent almost 30 years avoiding conflict. And why? So other people don't have to feel as badly as I do. Did I actually owe this girl anything? No. Why should I have to feel like complete shit, just so she doesn't? Eventually, it would all come to the same thing. At least this way, I don't have to feel like shit, and no one gets their heart broken, because it's over before it really starts. 

I did not reckon on her response. Am I adorably naive, or what? 

She fired back a volley of scornful texts: 

Her: If you don't want either then why are you on a dating site? (presumably physical/emotional stuff?) 

Her: You let me get my hopes up and plan something fun to do with you then you tell me you don't want to see me? 

Her: I've waited weeks to see you and I like talking to you and this is what I get? 

Her: Oh hey you're really cute. Yea cute and stupid for thinking you'd even consider seeing me. Thanks a lot.

Her: Thanks for waiting 3 hours before I was going to see you to tell me. And dragging it out for over a month before you tell me you're not interested in me at all. 

I.... Did not engage. Because as shitty as those texts made me feel, they only served as proof that I'd done the right thing for myself. 

And so, after the dishonesty, the emotional volatility, and just the over all weirdness of the two of them as people, I decided that for the sake of my own mental and emotional well-being, I would do my best to avoid dating another transgendered person... Because therapy is expensive, and I'm trying not to give myself MORE reasons to need it. 

Hi, I'm an Introvert.

In theory, there are two types of people: extroverts and introverts. 

Extroverts are outgoing people who love to socialize and are often surrounded by lots of people. They feel a sense of energy and renewal when they're with other people, and are probably happiest in a crowd. 

Introverts are the opposite. They find socializing, even with close friends, to be exhausting, and not only want but require time alone to recharge. A party with lots of people, known or unknown, is an introvert's nightmare. 

I am an introvert. But I have a number of extrovert friends. The problem with these mixed friendships, however, is that I find extroverts are usually unable to understand why introverts behave as they do. Introverts, however, naturally spend a lot of time observing other people and thus can empathize with troubled extrovert friends, even though those same friends can't always return the favor. 

As an introvert, I'm a lot like a feral animal. Squirrels are a good example here. When I see a squirrel, I immediately want to pet it. I call out to it. "Squirr~rreeelllll!" The squirrel regards me warily as I approach, narrow chest heaving because its heart is pounding. Once I reach a certain point, the squirrel inevitably flees, leaving me to pout while the primitive part of my brain thinks "Why Squirrel no want be friend?!" 

Logically, I know why squirrel no want be friend, though. It's the same reason why I, when approached in some way by another person who seems to want to pat me and squish me with love (a la Mice and Men), get the fuck out of there. I don't want to be smothered. I don't want to feel trapped with another person. I need to know that, if I want to go off by myself somewhere, I can do that without fear of being hounded. If, however, I get the feeling that the person in question is clingy (physically or emotionally or both), I flee. I often feel bad, because I know that person won't understand why, but I flee. 

So, now you're probably thinking, Okay, what's the point of all this shit you just told me? ...The point is that if you yourself are not an introvert, then some of the shit I say in this blog won't make any sense to you.... Plus, I think it's an important thing to know about me. But at this time, it's primarily to set up for you.... the following post. 

Train Car Etiquette for iHoles.

On Fridays, between the hours of 11 am and 2 pm, I am always in the same locations. I leave my apartment, take the train downtown to my therapy appointment, where I spill my guts for an hour, I stop to take a whiz in Macy's, then  I get back on the train and hunker down for the long (30-40 min) ride north back to my neighborhood. There are some variations therein: sometimes I stop at the bank to get quarters so I can do laundry; I might stop at Starbucks for a tall non-fat chai latte and a quick flirt with that barista I like; or maybe I had some other business downtown to take care of. Whatever.  Usually, it's the same old-same old, and always results in me getting back on the Red Line.

For those of you unfamiliar with the Red Line, I'll give you some basics. It's one of only two train lines in the city that runs 24 hours, meaning it's generally dirtier than  the other lines, and is more frequently inhabited by crazy and/or homeless people and the fragrances of B.O. or urine. That said, these things are rarely more than minor annoyances. As it turns out, the most obnoxious aspect of taking the train (or any type of public transit) is other people and their electronic devices. These days,  everyone is an iHole. And this is where shit gets real. 

So, it's roughly 1:15 pm: I am tired and cranky (as per usual), and I'm on the train, attempting to read a book. Across from me sit four black boys, ages unknown. I figured there was probably no school for Easter Break or Good Friday or some shit like that, but who knows. The oldest of these boys was maybe 17-18, the others progressively younger. And it was clear that the oldest boy was the leader, because it was he who started the shenanigans. 

We're a few stops out from where I got on, but still a long way from my final destination, when Shithead (as I will hence refer to the oldest kid in lieu of knowing his name) takes out his phone and turns on some music. He does not put his headphones in, but instead turns the music up loud enough that I, sitting across the way, can make out distinctly instances of "fuck" and "bitch" over the baseline. After a few minutes, Shithead begins to sing along with the music, and is joined by his friends. 

From my seat, I steal glances at him, subtle social cues that indicate "Hey, that thing you're doing is annoying me," the kind of cues that most people would take as a hint that they should stop doing whatever it is they're doing.  But no, not this kid. So I look around at the other passengers, who are also glancing up with looks of helpless distress, and I sit there for a few minutes, growing increasingly pissed off, irritated, annoyed, anxious, and PISSED off. The whole time I keep thinking "Will it look racist if I say something to this kid?" And then ask myself if that question itself was racist, and continue to dither...

Until I realized: No, it's not racist, because regardless of color, dude is being a shithead... And no one else is going to say anything, meaning I could be stuck with this bullshit for another 20 minutes. And if I myself said nothing, I'd continue to replay the incident in my head for the rest of the day, thinking of what I should have said and done.

In days past, I might've let it go. I might've just said Self, there's nothing you can do here, just mind your own business. But this time I said Hey, Self. Someone should tell that asshole that he's being an asshole. Let's do this. So, finally, I looked up and said "Hey, I'm sorry, but could you possibly turn your music down?" ....and thus began the following.

Shithead: No.
Me: ...No, you won't turn your music down?
Shithead: No.
Me: Even though you're being incredibly rude and disrespectful to everyone else in the car?
Shithead: People shouldn't ride the fuckin' train if they don't want to hear it.
Me: Uh, no, that's not true.
Shithead: I don't see anyone else sayin' anything.
Me: And no one else is going to. But I'm saying something, because you're being rude.

(Throughout, Shithead is becoming increasingly pissed off, and his friends, increasingly embarrassed, begin trying to tell him to turn the music down. At this point in the conversation, though, nerdy white hipster guy sitting near us all attempts to back me up with a comment about how it would be different if Shithead were wearing headphones...)

Shithead: You just don't like black music. I bet you wouldn't be sayin' nothing if I was white listening to white music.
Me: That's not true.
Shithead: Yeah it is, you wouldn't say nothing to a white kid.
Me: I wouldn't care if you were a white kid playing polka music, I would say something. It's rude, and it's rude to everyone in here.

At this point, Shithead makes a few more ironically racist comments about how I'm being racist, but grudgingly and grumblingly turns down the music a bit. He continues muttering, though, at least until I got off at my stop.

I've ridden the train with a number of Shitheads like that one, none *quite* so flagrantly irritating (who did not also appear batshit crazy), and never said anything. But every time, I wished I had, or that someone else would. This time, I decided, for myself and everyone else in the train car, that it had to be done.

Because, goddammit, I was trying to read. 

So, this is a thing, now.

Yep, I decided to try blogging again. Why? Well, I could pester all of my friends individually, or post long potentially angsty status updates on Facebook, both of these options thus rendering me repulsive (and with good reason) to the few people who still talk to me.  Or, I could write down my brain burbles here, where I can choose to believe that people have read them without spamming up anyone's cell phone or Newsfeed. 

So, here it goes, kids.