They Burned the Bridges, Not Me

I haven't posted here in ages. Partially because I haven't wanted to share all the intimate details of my life with everybody in the blogosphere. I might be pretty open with my writings here, but I'll keep this last little while at least relatively private.

Today, two bridges were burned...other people decided that carrying on communication with me simply wasn't important. I could care less. One was an "ex-boyfriend" if you can even call him that. I asked him for a simple favor that took no effort on his part whatsoever, and reprimanded me for it. He works at a place, and can get a discount...I was under the assumption that we were on good terms, but I guess I was wrong. I asked him if I could make use of his discount, and he essentially crapped a pink brick, via text messages....how quaint (I'm SO tempted to just cancel my texting service). With the advent of technology, I've learned that not only others, but myself as well, have become increasingly cowardly in our communication. Now it can be more convenient to break up with, or tell someone off via text in MSN or on your damn cell phone. I really don't have room to speak, as I can attribute my typing skills to hours and hours of talking via instant messengers, but the increasing cowardice and text-based drama is more than I'd expect to read in a cheesy $4 bodice ripper novella.

I don't hate myself anymore. Go me. I'm a human being. Deal with it. I finally do.

I have become content to not lock myself in an iron cage of "need to do perfect," and have found that in releasing myself from restraint, have expanded my creativity in areas that would have been otherwise untouched. I've let myself slack, stopped kicking myself in the balls for doing it, and things couldn't be better.

As a result, I've tried dating...all cases thus far have been nothing close to success, but I'm gaining experience. I recently ended an extremely intimate relationship because I just wasn't feeling right in it. I'll go so far as to say I felt as if I were using the other person...he liked me FAR more than I liked him. That wasn't fair to him, and it wasn't fair to me. I ended the relationship, and haven't looked back since. Dang I'm getting good at this living without regrets stuff.

The other asshat who crossed my path, and set fire to her connection to me is one who I used to call friend and confidante. In a spat we had, say...a month ago, or so, she decided to use some choice four-letter expletives, command form, in conjunction with my name, thus defaming, and essentially spitting on it. Friendship, at this point, was over, irreparable, and wouldn't be cultivated any further. Someone willing to deface my name, my artwork, or belittle my mother aren't worth keeping around. If she were willing to grant me an apology for pissing on my name, I'd walk away, and have no ill feelings, just the chance for continued friendship was gone for good....well, today, she yet again refused to grant me that small and, apparently difficult recompense, and was so mature as to end the conversation with exactly the same phrase "*&^% PECULIAR MORMON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" She typed, vigorously, I'm sure, and proceeded to block my name from her MSN list. Imagery of a small child wearing a cowboy hat, riding on a stick-horse and sticking out her tongue came to mind...immature. That's the only imagery I had. This girl could NOT be serious. THANK YOU for that trip back to grade school, un-friend!

So all this hubbub has me in quite the mood right now. You can probably tell, because I'm being a little bit more descriptive, acrid and wordy than usual...or at least that's what it seems like to me. A little acidity goes a long way for my writing...maybe I should bank on it, and write my novel only when I'm angry? No...because it'd all be so acrid, that it'd HAVE to be some political commentary or something in which my true spite could shine through.

Okay, spite isn't the right word for that sentence, but I really don't feel like changing it. I'm entirely content with and confident in you, the reader's intelligent ability to come up with some equally explanatory imaginary word.

It's good to write. I just wish I could draw what I want to right now. I've had this imagery of a ranger (think Aragorn from the Lord of the Rings), riding an elk with a pet raven on his shoulder....I've got the imagery in my head, but drawing elk is just a pain in the butt. Maybe I'll be able to putter it out during Christmas brake.

My right foot hurts from silly Jazz dancing. With the advent of finals on the horizon, I've been placed in a group of 3 girls and myself, in charge of choreographing a 2 minute dance for my Beginning Jazz dance class. Now, under normal circumstances, I'd LOVE to choreograph a dance for something like this...but the problem I run into is the lack of creative control. I'm entirely willing to make compromises in my creativity, but when I have a second party second-guessing my every dance step, it starts getting on my nerves. And it's not so much her second guessing, it's just her...picky nature. Example: I had choreographed a decent chunk of dance, and then it was her turn to choreograph (which, in my opinion wasn't as good a bit as mine, but it was nice to not have to be in charge for a stint). After which she claims "okay, you have 16 counts to choreograph before the chorus of the song, and i want two 16 counts there," as if she had entire creative control over the piece? What if I wanted to do something in there...?

I am whining....WOW. I just realized how trivial this whole thing is. Nonetheless, we have to present our dance on Weds morn, and still have about a minute's worth of choreography to do. I've been busy working on my Illustration final (MUCH more important to me than a 1 credit dance class), and haven't been the most inspired to choreograph full body movement. I'll end up spending my evening tomorrow night, when I could be with a good friend, choreographing this silly dance for this silly class. There'll be time to hang out afterward, yeah, but the more time the better, right?


Another fun thing. Last.fm. VERY cool, using a method called "scrobbling," the client from this page can track your music listening preferences, and recommend new bands, very ala Pandora.com, only far more interactive, complete with friend lists, and detailed band biographies. Consider it the music snob's myspace launchpad.

Time for bed.