… and that’s ok. When you read what I have to say here, you may very well think I’m crazy, too. Still ok. 
Was having a conversation with Boon (yeah, hence the category this is assigned to) wherein he confessed that he had been afraid to tell me something.
Afraid. Afraid?!
Now, I’ll give you that I have a reputation for being, as he says, a bit of a “spitfire.” I’ll give you that when irritated, I have made grown men cry. But, I’m not really that scary. Not really. Especially not with the people that I love unconditionally. And boy, do I love my Boon.
He’s like my brother.
So, when he ‘fessed up about the thing that he was apparently afraid to tell me, and I didn’t tear him a new asshole, he was surprised, and I gather, relieved. And the thing that he was so afraid to tell me?
That he’d passed leadership of his/our WoW guild over to another member. And no, it wasn’t that he was afraid to tell me because he didn’t make me the GM. Honestly, that’s not a job I want. 
I told him, “It’s not as if I needed that to have you. You’re still mine.” And he said “Always.” Aww. At least he gets me, even if maybe no one else would.
As sad as it is for me to write this, on some levels, because it means “the end of an era” – ok, maybe not anything as grandiose as that – it’s a change to something that, once upon a time, I was very committed to and involved with. I remember pleading with Boon, who at the time I knew as “Khadinan,” to start his own guild, because whatever he was doing in WoW, I wanted to tag along with him.
(Boon is definitely a kindred spirit… someone who I just felt close to right from the start, you see.)
And, at the start, the guild was everything I’d wanted it to be, and hoped it would be. A group of like-minded players who really enjoyed hanging out with one another… for the most part. There are a few people who made their way into the ranks of Duskwing that didn’t really belong there at all, but I guess there’s a reason I have a reputation for being a spitfire. The ones that didn’t really fit, never really stuck around. 
Lately, though, partially due to my own WoW inactivity (on the Alliance side, anyway) and partially due to huge growth within DW, I feel as if I don’t belong there anymore. I don’t belong there anymore. I can look at it, now, and be proud to have been involved, and be proud of what it’s become, but it’s just not the same. And that’s ok. Everything changes, after all, and all you can do is hope it’s for the best.
Except, some things won’t change, because I won’t let them. Boon is mine. Always.
Mine as in, my friend, my brother, my family. All my friends are mine. And I am theirs. And that’s just the way it is. I’m not sure how any of them feel about the way I express my love and appreciation for them; they probably think I’m crazy. But that’s ok, they manage to love me back anyway, and for that I’m so very grateful.
I know that a lot of people are going to disagree with me, and a lot of people are going to think that I’m crazy and/or going to hell, possibly both. That’s ok. What I hope doesn’t happen, is that I actually offend anyone, but … while I can hope I don’t, and while I can be genuinely sorry if you are offended, I have little control over it otherwise.
Why is it that people make substitutes for their swears? As in, saying “fudge” or “feck” or whatever in lieu of just outright saying “fuck?” I mean, let’s be honest here, there is a reason that all those substitute words still start with ‘f’ even if they aren’t the f-bomb. If you really don’t want to swear, then you know, don’t! Where you would have said “Aw, fuck it,” maybe you should say “Aw, forget it.” Because “Aw, feck it…” well, God still totally knows what you really meant there.
I mean, that and the fact that my spell-check reads “feck” as being a nonsense word, whereas it at least acknowledges that I’ve spelled “fuck” correctly.
Initially this conversation came up with one of my dearest friends, because she is a very devoutly religious person, and she never says swear words, but she has a whole list of substitution words. Feck, fudge, frak, freakin’, feckin’ — as you can see it mostly centers around the f-bomb.
Now, see… using “shoot” in lieu of “shit,” “darn” or “dang” in lieu of “damn” – these I all understand. I mean, at least they are recognized as being real words, and I can believe that they are the words you actually meant to use, rather than it being a matter of you replacing a word that you think is a bad word.
I’m not devoutly religious at all. I mean, if you can’t tell now that I’m a heathen, then I must be doing something wrong. I always say that I don’t have a lot of religion, but I do have a lot of faith. I do believe in a higher power, whether you call that God or whatever… I believe. I just also happen to believe that He/She/They/It … probably has a wonderful sense of humor, and probably doesn’t have a problem with words so much as the intent of those words.
If you say “Fuck you!” to someone, to be hurtful, I think that’s much worse than saying “Aw, fuck it,” because you’re fed up with something and are ready to give up. Greeting a friend with a nice warm “Howdy, fucker!” is not a bad thing, either. (Well, provided that your friend isn’t going to get offended, but then that comes down to intent again. If you have a friend that is going to be offended by that, you probably know that about them before you say it.)
And, then there is also the subject of where you’re using “foul language.” I can accept that it’s not polite to stand up in say, church, or a nice restaurant and say “Fuck yeah!” even though I would say that there is no negative intent there. It’s not good manners… but it’s not good manners because people around you are sure to be offended by it. Words have power, I believe that with all my heart. They have power if you let them have power.
But, when you’re at home and you bang your thumb with a hammer, and you say “FU…FUDGE!” … well, God totally knew what you really meant there. So what was the point?
Note: I would like to point out that I understand why parents of small children do this… particularly when they are apt to repeat what you say at inopportune moments.
Hooray for TwitterMail, seriously.
I’ve always liked the idea of Twitter, but my cell carrier just doesn’t support their shortcode, and they don’t allow me, with my current plan, to send SMS to international numbers, either. What I can do, is email, so I’ve always been frustrated by the fact that there was no update-via-email option for Twitter.
I’m not the type who would use it if I were right here at the PC – so for me, not being able to use it when I’m mobile made it kind of pointless. But now you’ll never shut me up! [Insert-Evil-Laugh-Here].
Several years ago, I used to read this blog… I actually used to read a lot more than I do now on a regular basis, but, anyway. This blog was funny and candid and although I never felt any particular deep connection with its author, it was usually good for a laugh, and now and then, a good think.
And then, after reading this blog for years, I realized, “I don’t really know this blogger at all, but of what I do know of the blog, there are a lot more things that I dislike than I like.” (Not necessarily that I disliked her as a person, just that there were some things about the blogging that I disliked. How can you dislike a person that you don’t really know? You can’t.) I stopped reading. It’s not (usually) my way to make a big fuss about something like that. If I don’t like, I don’t read. End of story.
But there are a couple of things about this blog that actually do bother me enough that I guess I just need to say something…
She gets hundreds and thousands of visitors to her site per day. Yes, she’s that effing popular. I don’t begrudge her this popularity, not by a long shot… I think it’s infinitely cool that she has that much traffic, and that she’s able to pay her bills by
blogging. I think that this blogger is one of many reasons that so many
other bloggers are also earning a living via their blogs, or at least a little extra cash to help out with bills. In some ways, she’s a … pioneer, and that’s wonderful!
She makes public her general whereabouts, even if she doesn’t actually put her address out there for the whole world to see. (However, there is an address, which I would hope is phony, or a business address, which is easily accessible via DNS lookups!) If she’s comfortable with that, that’s her choice. It would scare the hell out of me. And, she frequently blogs about her daughter, posting pictures and the like.
Now, let me be frank with you here… if I had a daughter like hers I’d be insanely proud of her, too. “Look at this beautiful little person that I helped make!” I get that. I totally get that. What I don’t get is: “Hi, I’m _insert full name here_ and I live in _insert town here_ and this is my beautiful little girl _insert name here_.” Of the thousands of visitors per day, millions per month, out of that vast number, how many of those do you figure could be completely and totally mentally disturbed? How many of those do you figure could be pedophiles?
I know that no one, least of all this blogger I’ve been talking about (but not naming), wants to think about it, but I’m willing to bet there are at least a few entirely sick and twisted individuals out there in those traffic stats. I don’t want to think about it at all, but as someone who has been the victim of sick, twisted fucks who are sexually aroused by little children… I can’t not think about it.
Maybe, if you want to blog about your children, you should give serious thought to whether you want your full name, the city you live in, or his/her/their face/faces in such a highly visible blog, where surely a percentage of its readers are highly fucked up.
Just my 2 cents, and I know I’m likely to get burned at the stake if this post is ever seen by more than the handful of folks I’ve invited here. I know that my opinion isn’t a popular one. I also know that many are apt to accuse me of being jealous or just downright hateful.
It’s neither.
It’s also not because I’m concerned that said blogger’s little girl may resent her, even… because if there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that at least for a while in their lives, all kids resent their parents – even if their parents were fan-fucking-tastic.
But, because I’ve been there, done that, with scary stalker-types, I just can’t help but feel like it’s risky to be so very, very “open.” Yet, the same can be said of anyone with any kind of celebrity: movies stars, musicians, and even very famous bloggers, I suppose.
You shouldn’t have to be afraid to walk out your front door every morning, or afraid to post pictures of a beautiful little girl you helped bring into the world, but… if scary crap can happen to me, it can certainly happen to anyone. 
Well.
Listen, I’m a nice girl. I’m downright sweet most of the time. But if you persist in fucking with me, eventually I’m going to lose patience with you.
Not that I’m all that patient with The Crazy Cunt from Hell, aka JK, in the first place.
As a general rule, I don’t like to pick on people for things that I know that they are sensitive about. I don’t make it a habit to be cruel to people who have any kind of physical difference/impairment/handicap (and can I just say too, that I really dislike the term “handicap?” I really despise that word… and I couldn’t begin to tell you all the reasons why, it would take me too long). However, JK has a cleft palate, amongst other things, and it is terribly hard for me to understand her over the phone. In person, I can understand her speaking because what I miss just by listening I can compensate for by watching her mouth as she forms words. Over the phone is a whole different story, for obvious reasons.
She refuses to believe me when I say I can not understand her, but there’s no lie there. Earlier, I completely lost my temper at her and said some truly hateful and appalling things about the way she sounds. (I’ll ‘fess up; after repeatedly asking her to either contact me via Yahoo or the like, or to put WF on the phone and let him explain what the hell the major malfunction is, and being told that I am lying about my inability to understand more than a word or two of what she says, I told her “Look, honestly, you constantly sound like you got a mouthful of dick, and I can’t make out a damn bit of it.”)
At the moment, she is busy accusing me (repeatedly) of “hacking” her MySpace account, and is demanding that I give her her password. I don’t have her password. Mind you, the only reason that I can even tell you that this is what her current issue is is because she finally sent me text messages to inform me that I had better give her her password or else. Now, I will admit that her user name and password is stored on the PC in the family room – she did that herself – but that definitely doesn’t mean I know her password, because it’s still ***’ed out, even if it is stored. Yes, I’ll admit that I could access her account if I wanted to, but I have zero desire to do any such thing.
So, the fact that she can’t login to her MySpace (or so I gather) has nothing to do with me. Am I willing to accept that it’s entirely possible that someone else in this house had something to do with it? Sure, I can accept that’s possible. I can even accept that it’s likely. That, though, has nothing to do with me! Since I’ve said repeatedly that I don’t know anything about it, you’d think that she could get that through her head and maybe start asking if someone else has any idea what might have happened. She might also try exercising her brain a little and hitting the “I forgot my password” link!
Aside from all of this, there is the constant harassment and name-calling that comes from her end. I admit I haven’t been Mary Fucking Sunshine with her, but I’ve tried to be civil, and tried to see if there was some sort of truce we could come to, etc. I’ve tried really hard, but being nice has gotten me nowhere with her, so I’ve long since given up on that. And even though I’ve admitted to saying truly appalling things, she attempts to hit me with something hurtful every single time she makes contact. She’s called me a slut, a whore, given me shit about how my Dad isn’t “really [my] dad” (and disregards the fact that her boyfriend calls his grandmother mom, and his grandmother’s husband [no relation to him at all] dad), and basically been shitty about absolutely everything she could.
Yet she wants something from me. Nevermind that it’s something I don’t even have, she’s being an abusive twat and she wants something from me.
I’m at a loss here. I’ve been ignoring her text messages for nearly two hours now, and yet she keeps sending them. Last night I had 60ish texts, and looks like tonight will be no different. I could shut off my cell phone, but they’d be there when I turned it back on. It’s no big deal, I guess, I do have an “Erase all” option, which I’ve been making liberal use of, but what the hell kind of pathetic person just continues to send messages when it’s obvious they’re being ignored? Am I seriously considering changing my phone number? Yes. But I shouldn’t have to.
Damn. How is it that I always seem to find the juveniles roaming about in the bodies of adults?
Bottom line is, I just want this shit to come to an end. I don’t like her, I don’t like WF, neither of them impressed me much as human beings the entire time they were here. They are bottom-feeders, in my honest opinion, and I feel awfully sorry for the child that they brought into this world.
Some people’s children, I swear.
Update: It finally stopped! After about 200 text messages total over two fucking days, it finally stopped. A lot of hateful shit was said on both of their parts; everything from trying to make me feel bad about the fact that I’m not blood-related to Dad, to taking cheap shots at the fact that I can’t have kids.
The thing is, I’m rather surprised about how much I don’t care what they think. I’ve vented about it here, of course, because being texted 200 times in 2 days by people who are being hateful is rather annoying, but none of what they had to say really phased me.
“The opposite of love is not hate, it is indifference.” ~ Elie Wiesel