Life Outside the Box
Wherein the Wicked Witch Confesses that she Neither Cares for nor Understands "Normal" People.
Or Maybe They Just Suck?
Regular listeners, old friends, and readers of mine know that with the exceptions of dealing with family and Church of Satan functions I haven't been social/out and about for almost a decade. That changed in July when I determined that being sick and housebound was about as much fun as a lye douche. My Magister was thrilled to introduce me to new friends, and we have had a lot of fun. I've made some truly valuable acquaintances , and I look forward to expanding those into true friendships. I'm excited about life. I'm motivated.
Still, it is hard, when dealing with normal folk, to forget why I isolated myself to begin with. I have long fought against the idea that anyone's workplace, social group, bar scene, or team somehow has more "drama" than any other. My experience is that if there are more than 3 in any grouping of individuals, drama is guaranteed. It is the handling of said drama that reveals the true nature of the group and the people who form it.
I am certainly prone to running off half-cocked, shooting off my mouth (or keyboard,) and regretting it. Age hasn't softened that. If anything I am more apt to "cut a bitch" than I was before. Life is too short, and I've wasted too much time to take shit from inferiors. Yet, my upbringing has programmed certain social rules that APPEAR to make me look like easy prey. Evidently courtesy and etiquette are so rare that, when used, they come off as jovial weakness.
My manners prevent me from being rude to a guest in another's home.
My manners and respect for my man prevent me from ever making a scene at his workplace, no matter how much I am goaded.
My manners demand please and thank you and nice to meet you.
My manners, however, do nothing to prevent assholes from being assholes.
I live in a small suburb outside Orlando. I despise it and am working toward bailing ASAP. In the interim, however, I fight my own social issues by forcing myself to go out, and mostly these experiences have been enjoyed. Mostly.
Evidently there is some weird social algebraic equation that equals cunty bitches and lying men will take advantage of my politeness in order to provide themselves with drama.
Evidently there is some weird social algebraic equation that equals cunty bitches and lying men will take advantage of my politeness in order to provide themselves with drama.
WBL+CB+WCWH=ASSHOLES
or, more precisely:
Well Bred Lady + Celebrity Gentleman+ Working Class Watering Holes=Jealous, Brain Damaged Folks Attempting to Divide & Conquer (as if they could even spell those words, let alone understand them.) I'm guessing this is normal. It seems so automatic, so transparent, that it must be some evolutionary adaptation for the mediocre (and that is a compliment,) to attempt to upgrade their gene pool. Unfortunately it pisses me off, and while anger is manageable, the accompanying disappointment and hurt feelings are a bit harder to control.
I don't have a pithy answer. I don't know how to deal with someone lying to my face an attempting to get over on me. I don't understand the kind of jealousy that demands I either abandon my social conventions, or pretend I am blind to amateur manipulations. This experience has proved to me, yet again, we are different. We are not like other people who's self-esteem comes from without, rather than within. Which, I suppose, is a pleasant reminder of why others are jealous at all.
For MYSELF I won't return to my box.
Until the day I pull out of this shithole (hey, just quotin') the locals best get used to one polite, gracious, but never forget, WICKED witch.