Heh...

My Uncle Duck says, "Time is the big Band-Aid." A beautifully simple, yet profound statement that I have oft relied upon through this oh, so fun journey we call daily existence/life.

Off and on, throughout the past few months, I have been bemoaning about a specific angst, which has been troubling me. The bloggy-blog has been quite a wonderful vehicle for my rants and vents. Albeit, a little embarrassing to read now that the stormy waters have quieted a bit.

At the risk of saber rattling, things seem to be calming down. The delightful e-mails have abated. The trolling has ceased. I started feeling a lot more comfortable in public (forums) and certainly a lot more relaxed. I found myself coming out of my crab shell again. Even scarier, resuming the somewhat out-going posture I have towards complete strangers on t3h intarwebs. My security lead me to pursue a friendship with a random stranger which has proven to be not only delightful, but remotely reassuring in the sense that not all people floating around in cyberspace are complete freaks.

Until two weeks ago, that is.

One of my demons, my closet skeletons reappeared, along with all the baggage and bullshit he brings along with him. Initially, I was not pleased. As a matter of fact, I was borderline furious and most certainly jarred and emotional. How dare the non-person reappear in my world after dumping a pile of shit (with assistance from his equally enchanting, hyper-critical sister) in my lap, so steaming, I could have filed a law suit based on the precedent setting MacDonald's coffee case?

It is entirely too easy to manipulate and twist those who try to find the positive in everything. It is entirely too easy to manipulate and twist those who are vulnerable. For so much as I openly gripe and try to make light of a situation with satire, for as hard as I try to display an aura of fortitude, I am still the same person who will sit up a night and worry myself into a frenzy.

I had a difficult decision to make. Do I reach out and let the shitstorm back into my world or do I remain silent, keeping the door not only shut, but also dead-bolted? It is not my nature to shut people out. It is not my nature to hold grudges. I will doggedly try to make everything work.

This is one instance where I could not.

I had to rise above the bait and maintain a very cool and aloof posture (something which, I have been told by numerous people, I elevate to an art form). I could not reciprocate. I could not do anything to initiate direct contact. I had to keep the door to the past shut. I had to resist the temptation to be cordial. Basically...I had to take a path entirely unknown and unexplored by me previously. It was tough but I see it paying dividends now.

Uncle Duck's comment about time being the big band-aid is so very true. Time has passed, the hurt and anger have transformed into ambivalence and indifference. My need to make everything in my world glorious and harmonious has been supplanted with a more pragmatic, realistic outlook.

Some people...some people are simply toxic and bad. There are relationships that are of no benefit to either party. There are times when you simply need to look ahead. The loss I felt has been filled with a feeling of empowerment, a greater sense of self and a sense of emotional fortitude I did not realize I possessed.

The wounds have healed. It's time to move forward. Without carrying the baggage of others, no matter how much they think they need my attention or me.

Apologies, Remorse and Regret

Imagine being wronged. Not the sort of "wrong" when someone accidentally bumps into you, either. I am speaking of an offense committed that shakes you to the core of your being. A hurt that makes you ache emotionally and physically. The result of a foul so severe that your entire being was significantly altered, making you suspicious of any newcomers in your life.

At the risk of sounding melodramatic, this has happened to me.

Throughout the past three months, I have randomly been documenting some of the more unsavory experiences I have been undergoing, having, whatever... It has been a way for me to attempt to rationalize something I perceived as a great injustice. My blogging has been somewhat cathartic. It has also served a purpose. It is a reminder of my sadness, pain and suffering. It allows me to review my past experiences so I do not lose sight of why I am the way I am today.

I have mentioned that I feel doormattesque at times. I have mentioned that I think of myself as far too forgiving for my own good. I have mentioned that I look at myself as having very little self-esteem. I try to please. I try to please too many people who do not deserve one iota of kindness. I also try to be a compassionate person, an understanding person, a forgiving person. We all make mistakes. We all, inadvertently or purposefully, hurt others. It is what you do, when you discover the ramifications of your actions, that makes you a good person or a piece of shit.

I have two significant apologies in my e-mail box right now. I have no idea what to make of them. I am flummoxed. Confused. Hurt. Honored. Justified. Furious. I am struggling.

What would you do, if you felt so deeply violated, so incredibly hurt, so intensely aggrieved for months and then, presto, out of the blue...the offenders realize the err of their ways? Do you wonder about the sincerity? Do you question the motive? Do you accept? Should you deny? How do you move forward?

I have been wrestling with this for a few weeks now. I am at a total loss. I have no idea how to handle this.

My friends, family and shrink (all) tell me that certain people are, "drains." Certain people are not worthy of any kindness offered up. Certain people, regardless of sincerity of said apology, simply do not deserve a second, third or fourth chance. There is that saying, "Phuck me once, shame on you. Phuck me twice, shame on me." There is a lot of merit to that saying.

I think that I could fairly, openly, honestly state that I had actual love in my heart for these two sinners/offenders. After all, love comes in many shapes, sizes and scopes. If I did not love them, would the hurt had been as painful as it (still) is?

Here I sit on a Sunday afternoon, pondering. What do I do? This is the second time within the course of a year, that my gut instinct is non-existent. My mind is addled. My support network may be right. Then again, they may be wrong. I see the world differently than most. It is my rosy outlook on life, my willingness to forgive that has made me the doormat and the special, kind, loyal person I am today. Had I shunned anyone and everyone that hurt me, I would, in essence, be alone.

When is an apology an effective tool for healing?

I do not handle disappointment well. What if, in allowing certain elements back into my life, I am hurt again? How will I rebuild after another round of significant heartbreak? Then again...if I build the wall so deep and high, no one will ever be able to penetrate it again.

I realize there are no answers to this problem. At least, not from my vantage point. Yes, there are people who are not worthy of anything. I believe they know who they are and where they stand in my world (forever on the outside, looking in, knowing full and well that I, an otherwise nice person, cannot stand them). Then...there are others.

Is there such a thing as a second chance? Or will I be bemoaning the latest pain in a few months? G-d...I wish I had a crystal ball. I wish I had a guarantee. I wish I did not have a soul. I wish I was immune to emotional pain.

I am not without sin. I am not without liability in my interpersonal relationships with people. I phuck up as much as, if not more so, the next person. I am not a victim of any particular person or behavior...other than myself.

I reckon I require more reflection, more time to evaluate what has been placed before me. In the interim, all I suppose I can do is listen, learn and be a skosh removed until I determine the appropriate course of action for me. What else can I do? If I continue to define myself by pain, I will remain in pain.

I just wish I knew the motives behind others' actions.

/me sighs

The Wheel of Karma

...spins and spins and spins

I am smiling, wickedly, from ear to ear.

As I have mentioned before, I have been (OMG!) stalked for a considerable amount of time on t3h intranets. The culmination (I hope) of said stalking has been my official lampooning on Encyclopedia Dramatica. Said lampooning has been one of the funniest things I have ever read. I am now thoroughly hooked on ED and have even gone so far as to register (user name is: bagofjewgold). Look for me to start writing in earnest there.

What I find most amusing is one of the main perpetrators, source of my angst, was lampooned, as well. Now she is a very, very, very sad person who feels violated. She cannot wrap her head around being the target of internets drama. One, two, three: awwwwwwwwww.

Is it wrong that I do not feel an ounce of sympathy for this person? Does this make me soulless? Will I be confined to the seventh circle of hell for an eternity because I find all of this absolutely H-I-L-A-R-I-O-U-S?

What this vile creature fails to comprehend is that she brought this misery upon herself. You do not send nasty e-mails to unsuspecting people (fortunately or unfortunately...I am not the only one who has been graced with her drunken, abusive ramblings), calling them names, etc... You do not act like a seventh grader ("go ahead fight yer corner"). You do not spam websites with stupid commentary (ok...commentary is too grand a word to be applied to her verbal stink). You do not make light of someone's illness on an internet forum. You do not try to sneak back on an internet forum when you have been banned for being a douchebag.

Witless, shit-for-brains, is now running amok on the internets, crying her wittew eyes out because she cannot understand why people are so mean to someone who is so nice. Huh?

Witless, shit-for-brains, coal-for-a-soul, is whinging to anyone and everyone who will listen because her bloggy blog has been hacked. Note: leaving comments on a blog is not hacking. Copying text and pictures from a blog is not hacking. [Yes, dear readers, she actually believes that her blog was hacked] If you are so concerned about your privacy...do not post pictures of your children on the internet! Have you learned nothing from your own maniacal behaviour? Does being a victim of a depraved mind apply only to you?

Phew.

Ok...I have said my bit about this piece of pond-scum. I have been trying to bite my tongue and curb my commentary for months. It's been a long week of not wanting to break out in song and dance, laughing unmercifully at this piece of common trash. I can no longer behave. I'm basking in schadenfreude. For that, I shall look for Bishop Conkers and repent.

I shall now resume my posture of ambivalence, dignity and grace and cease commenting on this. Karma has dished up a marvelous helping of an ass-whopping. If I do not behave, I'm sure she will do the same to me.

No lectures please. I have happened upon this catharsis fairly.

Still popular on the internets...

If imitation is the truest form of flattery, what is lampooning? When one lampoons is it out of contempt for another or is the dark side of jealousy emerging from a tormented psyche?

The dogged pursuit of my friend Melanie and I is continuing with a vengeance. Anonymous e-mails trickle into my gmail account including the most prophetic prose. Much to the chagrin of the person attempting to get a rise out of me, I'm actually starting to enjoy myself. Even if it is a skosh strange that someone's admiration of my brilliance persists.

The latest and greatest attempt to provoke me comes via Encyclopædia Dramatica. Someone has artfully and meticulously labored over an entire page dedicated to yours truly! I am sincerely flattered. I am not kidding. It is unnerving that I could elicit such a reaction but my ego simply cannot resist indulging itself. Sadly, I am not the only target. My friends, Cyberfluff and Captain Flyboy, have been sucked in, as well.

Most of the commentary is hilarious and there are kernels of truth in the vitriol. I am "sanctimonious." I am "self-righteous." I am smug. I find it titillating to discover that Captain Flyboy and I had a salacious affair, successfully, under Dock Ellis' nose. I had no idea. Imagine...having an affair with someone whom you have never met.

If you are in need of a good laugh, please visit the homage to Kang.

Now...to be serious. Whoever has done this has not inflicted harm upon me. However...the sadistic mind behind this e-stunt should be tarred and feathered. There are pages dedicated to two of my dear friends which are beyond inflammatory and inappropriate. While we may be laughing, it is imperative to note that the text can cut deeply into the esteem of another. Engage in pot-shottery all you want at my expense. I should like to ask that you (because I know you're reading my bloggy blog) refrain from attacking Melanie and Brian. They simply do not deserve this.

Keep up the slander and libel you single neuroned life form. There shall be no retaliation from the High Priestess. Karma can take care of that all by its magical self.

Conkers-Kang Church of Absolution and Bullshit Apologies

The doors have opened on the Conkers-Kang Church of Absolution. So far we have received several interesting posts. Nothing overly shocking, much to my chagrin. And...I have only received one e-mail thus far (sans the $12.00 suggested donation).

The e-mail I received was once, again, another provocation from my biggest fan and cyberstalker. It is touching to know that my fan base still cares enough to send me love letters, even if those letters are more jugular gouging in nature.

Cyberstalker/Nutter is seeking forgiveness for *their transgressions. Apparently, Cyberstalker/Nutter has either had an epiphany or has an ulterior motive in trying to make nice-nice. It matters little to me, the rationale behind this alleged peace offering.

Normally...I should not hesitate to forgive a person or accept an apology. People are flawed and make mistakes. People are stupid and need to be taught. People need to be rewarded for good actions, not receive attention for the bad. I wrote earlier yesterday (or the day before) that it takes a person of weak character to act inappropriately. It takes a strong person to atone for their sins. I have said before, I am not perfect and fully appreciate the value of an apology. However, the depths of this person's lunacy and desires to make me unhappy have made it virtually impossible for me to accept any form of expressed or implied remorse.

It can be very painful to reject an apology. [Declining] is not something that people should consider lightly, as the implications are far too severe. It's passive bridge burning. It may lead people to believe that you are embittered, immature or block-headed.

On the other hand, there are times in one's life when they cannot, on principle, accept an apology. There are times that neither actions nor words can cure a wrong-doing.

I have been trying to take the high road here. It's been rather challenging to rise above the self described viper's venom and remain quiet and dignified. I suppose I'm blogging about this because this is my site and my catharthic outlet.

Personally, I do not give a flip what Cyberstalker/Nutter thinks of me. It speaks more to their character than mine to lash out in such a fashion. However, I do not think I will ever cease being amazed by the ire I have drawn, the attention I have received or the audacity of spiteful human nature.

If I was a bitter person, a weak person, I would lock myself away for eternity for fear that there are more people wandering about who behave in such a manner. Fortunately or unfortunately, I still believe that most people are not imbecilic, wastes of protoplasm. I'm just a far better judge of character.

*incorrect pronoun used to disguise gender

Lies, Lies, Lies...Yeeeeaaaaah.....

When I was a teenager, my sister used to feed me books…all of her hand me downs and I am grateful for her kindness. One that I remember vividly, for some reason, is Jay McInenery’s, “Story of my Life.” The novel wasn’t anything, well, novel. It was a good read…when I was 17. But there has always been one passage that stuck with me.

What are the three biggest lies in the world?

1. The check is in the mail.
2. I promise I won't cum in your mouth.
3. I love you.

I do not know what it is about life on the internet that leads people to believe that they are anonymous, untraceable and have the ability to create whatever personae they wish. Maybe the internet is a safe haven for head cases. Maybe people are so disappointed with the mediocrity of their own existence that they feel compelled to spew bullshit like a lawn sprinkler attacking a parched yard. Maybe people are sociopathic. Who knows for sure?

I could be lying right now. I could not be a Purchasing Agent Extraordinaire. I could have never visited Europe. I could be driving a Yugo. I could be living in Idaho. How would any of you know (ok…how could any of you who have never met me know)? I could be a boy, a burro or a bank robber for all anyone knows (and cares).

None of this matters, in the grand scheme of life, unless you’re the victim. And then…there is no worse feeling than discovering that someone you invested a significant amount of time and energy in is nothing more than a fictitious entity. No worse feeling than knowing that someone thinks so little of you that they ooze the untruth through their pores and cover you in their filth and deception. Nothing is worse than being conned…until you end up being accused of lying, too.

Case in point:

I spent a good amount of time, energy and emotion on one fritter over the past few months. Because I lean towards believing that people are good, I accept what people tell me without questioning. I do that because I do not wish to insult the person with whom I am conversing. I do that because I cannot comprehend that people actually lie. I do that because I am a decent person.

Long story short…I was fed a line of excrement which is the equivalent of the sewage leak at the Swift Creek pumping station or whatever floated about New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina. When I grew weary to the antics and wise to the holes, my character, in turn, was assaulted. I really, really do not like that. Subsequently, that person has been banished from my existence. That old adage rings true, “phuck me once, shame on you…phuck me twice, shame on me.” Phuck me three times, baby…..oh wait, I hate The Doors.

I guess all of these ramblings beg the questions, what leads people to lie? Why is so much time and energy consumed in crafting an existence that isn’t real? What do they expect will happen when people discover the betrayal? Do they feel good about themselves? Do they feel badly? Do liars feel…at all?

What people who lie fail to understand are the ramifications of their actions. What people who lie do not understand is how much work it takes to create an alter ego, an alterna-existence. What people who lie lose is everything. It all comes out in the end and they will forever be known as, “the bald faced liar,” “the numpty,” or, possibly, “the douche bag.” “The douche bag” is my favorite because I can turn that into a noun, “douchebaggery.”

When a person chooses spin tales (not the little white lies that get you through the day, like saying to your boss, “you are correct, sir….”), when a person chooses deceive, that person forever tarnishes his image in the eye of the beholder. That person forever damages his credibility. There is little a liar can do to make things ok. The only things he can really do are slink away with his tail between his legs and [hopefully] learn from his deplorable actions. Chances are…he won’t though. He will just move on to the next witless victim and continue the cycle.

It’s much easier to lie than admit that you’re just an average Joe or Jane, driving an average car, living an average life and having an average intellect. It’s much easier to do that when you are envious in nature and lacking the security within yourself to accept yourself for who you are. And that’s too bad, because a lot of people out there would accept you…for who you are; not what you have, not what you do, not from where you came. If you cannot find people who accept you for the basic, fundamental traits of your character, why in the hell are you trying to impress them, anyhow?

Liars. They are, as Mel says, emotional vampires. They leech, they drain. They should do humanity a favour and fall off the face of the earth. They won’t, though. They will prey. They will prowl. They will spin tales of woe, tales of seduction, and tales of grandeur, which are not befitting their actual existence. And they will do this at the expense of those who are genuine. There is no numpty deflect-o shield to keep the genuine safe, either.

The problems liars create go way beyond their immediate existence, as well. It impacts all of us. It makes everyone suspicious. It changes outlooks. It makes us bitter. It makes this world the insufferable twat that it can be.

I have been sans muse for a month or so now, having killed the rogue cupcake. But, I believe I have discovered a new one. I may be introducing tales of Fictitious Frank (or whatever I name him) in the near future. Stay tuned.

And yes, it goes without saying that my shit stinks. I know this, as I had to hand over a stool sample for analysis earlier this week. So don’t think of anything cute to say about my apparent self-righteousness. I know my foibles. I just don’t lie about them. I try to correct them.

Inner turmoil and confusion

I'm taking a little break from the madness that is the end of the Fiscal Year to clear my noodle. I have a glass of water, a banana (which is making me sick) and Dwight Yoakam spinning in the background. The office is chillier than I prefer so I'm wrapped up in my giant, green cardigan.

I have a weight on my conscience today. I'm not sure if it's eoFY angst, PMS or having to wait two week for lab results from the doctor. So...I shall bore my dear readers with my addled thoughts in hopes that I sort them in the process of writing them down.

Earlier this week (or maybe it was last week), I wrote of helping a non-friend, an un-person. I am still agitated by the fact that I'm watching something really unsavory go down and there is absolutely nothing I can do about it. Sometimes, people need to phuck up for themselves to realise their mistakes and (hopefully) learn from them. As I stand back and watch, helplessly, as this drama unfolds...I feel truly awful and horrible for the blissfully unaware victim.

Now...here is the sad, pathetic thing about me. The unaware victim deserves absolutely no sympathy on my part. None. Everything I know of this person is fiction, deeply based in deceit. I am feeling sorry for someone who deliberately tricked me for personal benefit.

Many people who know me know that I have a false sense of idealism. I do have a tendency to don the rose coloured glasses and look for the positive in everything. It may not be apparent if you're only reading my vents and frustrations, but I firmly believe that people are inherently good. I hand over my trust the way people dole out candy on Halloween to trick-or-treaters. I figure that speaks volumes about me.

Then...I got burned. Badly. Ok...not burned, but scorched and seared. I have learned. I have learned that some people are not worthy of trust. I have learned to be less promiscuous with my emotions. I have learned that people need to earn "me."

I still, however, have not learned what to do in a situation where compassion is involved. It is virtually impossible for me to kick back my heels and delight in the misfortune of others. I cannot take pleasure in that. I so dearly wish I could. I cannot. I cannot find the ability within me to say, "that phucker got what he deserved."

That makes me angry and sad.

So...here I sit, at work, fretting over a situation which has nowhere to go but straight down the toilet. I'm worrying about someone who treated me like absolute crap, who isn't worthy of a single good thought emanating from my brain. I'm starting to beat myself for not having the where-with-all and the dignity to say, "phuck it all." I want so badly to snicker and sneer. I want so badly to delight in the pending doom. Yet, I cannot.

Time is the big band-aid. It heals everything. In a while, my wounds will be less tender, I will be wiser for the experience and perhaps...I may even have the ability to tell people to "sod off" and mean it. I may be able to turn the deaf ear the next time froggy comes a courtin' for sympathy. The toad-froggy who doesn't deserve anything from anyone.

In the interim, all I can do is sigh and blog, I suppose. And...write stories.

...to be continued.

/me smiles smugly

From Merriam-Webster

Karma
Main Entry: kar·ma
Pronunciation: 'kär-m & also 'k&r-
Function: noun
Etymology: Sanskrit karma fate, work

1 often capitalized : the force generated by a person's actions held in Hinduism and Buddhism to perpetuate transmigration and in its ethical consequences to determine the nature of the person's next existence

2 : VIBRATION 4- kar·mic /-mik/ adjective


It is so very hard to take the high road at times. It can be very challenging to stuff your feelings so your adversaries do not see your true emotions. But you do it. You do it because you're above poo slinging. And when you do, you are rewarded. Handsomely rewarded.

Go forth with grace and dignity and you shall always prevail. Those who wallow in the mud will remain forever wallowers, with no one to blame but themselves and the negative forces they single-handedly created.

/me thinks she will sleep very well tonight

Interesting...

I happened upon something very interesting earlier today. One of my pals posted a musing on the price of friendship on her blog. It is a deeply profound observation and I strongly urge everyone to take a gander at it. Look at it. Chew on it. Digest it. Remember that our harshest critics are those that care about us. And they are harsh for a reason. We all need someone to reach through time and space and drag our asses back to reality. If we cannot do that (for ourselves) because our own judgment is so clouded, should we not rely on our friends for help? If you cannot appreciate a friend sticking out their neck for you...well...I guess the question is, "what the hell is wrong with you, anyhow???"

Lately, I have found myself in the position of trying to help a non-friend, though. Why on earth would I help a non-friend, an un-person you may ask? Generally because I feel, deep down inside, that it is the right thing to do. It would be so much easier to walk away and glance over my shoulder at the train wreck. It would. And the energy it would save me would certainly help me get over the two-week fever I have been running.

For whatever reason, I seem to have been "blessed" with a soul and a conscience. It is that part of my moral fibre that keeps me from shutting the phuck up and keeps me plugging away at something that is becoming more and more futile as the moments pass.

Alas, my efforts of kindness are being turned back on me. My decent intentions are being deflected and the angst of the person in question is being projected on me as if I were a movie theatre screen. I suppose this is the time where you cut your losses, duck for cover and pray that the universe does not collapse.

Sometimes...people, friends or un-friends, do not want help. Sometimes, they just may want to implode on their own. The difference between the friend and the un-friend is that you stay around to pick up the pieces of your broken friend. The un-friend, you just need to keep walking. Far and fast from the mess. And don't forget your kevlar and numpty deflect-o shield when the implosion happens. You will need to keep yourself as safe as possible from the shrapnel.

I am popular on the internet.

I am "popular" on the interweb. Perhaps not through my blog, but my following at a particular forum, of which I had to resign membership.

It appears that I have developed a sociopathic fan base which feels compelled to send copious amounts hate mail to me. Directly and indirectly (through a friend of mine). I will not lie...this is very unsettling. And while I am a bit wise to things legal, it still does not make me feel all together warm and fuzzy inside.

So...this begs the question, what does one do about cyberstalkers? Have any of you out in the blogosphere dealt with this? And, if you have had the misfortune of dealing with such drama, how have you handled it?

The rational, logical, adult part of my brain simply giggles at the notion that I could be the object of such hate. Such unwarranted, unsolicited, unfounded hate. These people do not "know" me, after all. The rational part of me feels sorry for them. I feel badly that kodos-hating is the glue that holds relationships together. I know it says more about them, than me. Rationally and logically...I know this.

The emotional part of me cannot wrap her head around the fact that people have such little focus in life that they persist in taking their angst out on me. The emotional part of me mourns for them, as well. I feel sorry for them and sorrier for myself.

I have exhausted all resources to cease the trolling and stalking. I'm now reduced to dealing with the authorities. As if I do not have enough shit to worry about on a daily basis.

/me searches for the magic wand to make everything go away