2005-09-20 - 5:32 p.m.

1: I cannot be bossy

Dear God, I will never, ever, ever be able to run my own business. If my father wants me to take over the family business I'll just have to let him down, because here's the thing: I *cannot* employ people. I have a disease! It's called, um, not...employ...y... the guy who discovered it had inhaled a tad too much opium for his pain at the time, you see. Anyway. It means I can't employ people. Group task in school, assignment? Sure. Fine. But it seems I can't delegate tasks. It's completely different when it's like, a job. I have no idea why. Am I the only one who feels all uncomfortable and guilty when somebody's doing work, and I'm not? Or when somebody's doing something FOR YOU. Ahhh. Getting a haircut is hell.
And then they ask you questions! "Shorter than this?" It's moments like that that I wish I knew sign language, or was better at charades (for the record, I'm *terrible* at charades, except when I'm in the audience - I tend to guess rather quickly ^-^) Anyway! Yes, would like very much to know sign language in those moments because it feels so horrifically bossy to say "Yes, shorter, please" - answering either way is an ORDER to a HUMAN BEING. I think I need to get over my neuroses but honestly, it just feels so odd to have somebody doing something FOR ME.
(You'd never be able to guess it in my prima dona moments.)

2: 4:30. A word of advice. Never come out. (Rambly, disjointed, ranty, long.)

The worst bloody part of it is that I think she really honestly is disgusted by me, despite the fact she says she isn't.

And that really pisses me off. How dare she judge? I really do honestly think I'm being very reasonable about this. I'm making a lot of allowances. I'm letting a lot of pretty low comments slide. But I don't want to have to wait on someone hand and foot to make sure they're okay with this.

I think she's annoyed that I didn't somehow do some magic spell that would make her be okay with it and completely comfortable but I CAN'T DO THAT. There is honestly no way to do it. It's going to be uncomfortable no matter how you fucking come out, and I don't know what she wanted me to do. Stay closeted for another five years? She'd be absolutely fucking furious at me.

It seems another exercise in control, maybe; everything I say that doesn't conform to her personal standards is some sort of personal insult to her.

She seems to think I have a vendetta and I was trying to think of a way to hurt her or something - but the fact is it is NOT ABOUT HER AT ALL. I just wish she'd realise that.

I do think that as a friend, I had an obligation, of sorts, to tell her, yes. Because, you know, friends should share things with each other, be honest, etc. But I told her. You know? I just don't understand what else she wants from me, and it infuriates me that I'm spending this much time agonising over it when firstly, I don't really owe her anything anyway (I mean, I figure, just give her time and she'll get over it - I don't think I owe her anything more) but secondly, I don't think I've done anything that... you know, needs to be apologised for or sorted out.

I keep trying to turn it around to me in an attempt to understand it, but I just can't. If she'd said and done the exact same thing, I would have hardly reacted at all. But the thing is we're so different, you can't just turn the tables and think, "Okay, how would that go?" because it just doesn't apply. And I don't think she understands THAT either - that although I love her dearly, we see things SO DIFFERENTLY, and that makes it very difficult for me to be able to anticipate the best way to say or do things so as to not annoy her. It's part of who I am to be brash and it's part of who SHE is to be very... not.

So I try to tone down my brashness when I'm around her, but sometimes I just wish she'd try harder to understand. Or maybe she is already straining herself with understanding and I'm just pushing it. I honestly don't know. I told her I didn't mean to hurt her or annoy her, but of course that doesn't make her feel better and it doesn't really make me feel better either. Things are just so fucking awkward and I wish they weren't.

But it goes back to the fact that I really think she is seeing it as something about her. And it isn't. It's none of her fucking business. I know a friendship is a mutual thing and whatever, but the fact is, whenever she spends time with me, opens up to me, etc - that's GIVING something to me. When I open up to her I am GIVING her something. I don't think she realises how fucking scary it is to open up like that to someone - I mean, obviously, she would've had moments when she's been "shit I can't say this" or whatever, but... oh, it's just so annoying. It's not about her! It really isn't! I didn't sit around thinking, "How can I hurt my best friend of twelve years? I know! I'll close myself off!" It wasn't something I decided to do because of HER, it was because of ME. But she doesn't understand that 'me' factor, that idea that is it REALLY FUCKING SCARY coming out - so obviously, to her, there's nothing else but HER, so it's... I don't know. Some sort of betrayal.
Hmm. I'm going to go find manpr0n or something...
(Update: Instead I read about fuel prices, and cultural differences between certain tribes. Oh, HOT, my friends. HOT.)
Also, she made my girlfriend cry. I'm really not that angry at her, just sad and bad-tummy-feelings at the situation, but I can't deny that THAT makes me a little snarly. I'm not going to be snarly, though. I just don't know how to deal with this, how to react to this. I mean, is she mad at me? I really don't know. And I don't know if I should be trying to contact her to figure it out, or if the ball's in her court.

I think it's in her court.

I really don't want to be rushing after her making sure this is okay, because.. I don't know. Part of me says "You've done nothing WRONG, so let her have some time and then she can decide how she wants to react to it," and another part says that maybe that's just way too stubborn, you know? Like, maybe I should just give an inch and eat humble pie - but I HATE that. I'm SICK of always being the one who is willing to take poor treatment from others, saying "Oh, let it slide for the sake of peace", all the while working to rebuild bridges or whatever. Why should I be acting all timid? I really don't feel that I've done anything so awful that I should be lowering myself like that, just to make her feel better. And I don't mean to imply that she wants to run me to the ground or whatever, because despite the fact she is a rather dominant sort of personality, I don't think she ever really means to scrape my nose against the floor. I just think she's reacting strangely to this. See? I'm wasting more and more time agonising over this, trying to sort out my feelings. And yet again part of me says "Fuck it." and the other part says "Stop being so stubborn and sullen."

When it comes down to it, though (and I hope this doesn't sound aggressive because I don't really think I'm an aggressive person) - really, fuck it. I don't control how other people feel. I don't control how they react.

I certainly didn't deal with the situation very well, but to be honest I don't think there was any way I could have said or done something that WOULDN'T have disturbed her in some way. She's focussing on the HOW and not the WHAT, and I really think it's the WHAT that's bothering her, though she won't say it. No matter what the HOW was, she'd still be saying, "No, should've done that differently."

I am sorry I shocked or angered or disturbed or whatever it is I did to her, because I do love her dearly. But I'm not sorry for BEING gay. I'm not about to apolgise because of what I do, think or feel. I'm not going to lie to her to suit HER standards. I don't want to be dishonest with my friends. And I'm not... I'm not being really aggressive, or saying "Hey, here's this, DEAL WITH IT." or "Here are my thoughts and if you don't agree, fuck you." But I think she's asked some questions, wanting honest answers, and then she's been annoyed when I gave them because it turns out the honest answer isn't what she wanted - or rather, I told her the truth, and she wishes it was different.

I don't know. Maybe I just find it easier than other people to accept differences in lifestyle, and she has to actually TRY, like most people, so she's finding it hard. Maybe I'm just expecting too much from her. But... oh, I don't know. It's not even that I really expect anything from her. I just... I don't know. I wish this didn't hurt. I wish I didn't feel small for things that are perfectly innocent. I wish there wasn't all this miscommunication, these assumptions we've made and these things we've misinterpreted that have made this whole mess so... messy.

I wish she wasn't sad. I don't want her to be sad.

I wish I had a magic way to make this all better, or that I'd had a magic way beforehand, to make sure everything would be all right. But there isn't one, so I didn't have it, and I don't have it, and it's all still so confusing and weird.

I want to go talk to someone, but I'm not even really out to my mother, so we'd probably end up having a big ol' coming out discussion before I could even get what I want to talk about. And now there's this nigling little part of me that makes me think maybe if I were to say something to my mother this afternoon, it'd fuck up royally. Which is really, really stupid, because I've NEVER been worried about my mother's reaction, bar things like "she might want grandkids" or "she won't adjust immediately". My brother's busy and I'm worried I might start crying in front of him. Hoo, awkward. (Not that I'm particularly teary, just when I start talking about things my tear ducts decide to seize.) And my sister's so ill that she had to wake my mother at three in the morning, and I think she's in a bit of a bad mood, also, what with the raging fever. Little brother, maybe? I'm not even sure that I want to talk about it right now. I might just write my little story about the kid in the McDonald's diner.

I feel kind of numb.

We'll get over it. We always do. Fight-amundo, awkward, weird conversations, and then we get over it. Arrgh. I just really don't like this, is all. (You know, in case the thousand-page-novel up there didn't suggest that.)

3: 5:30. Smoke (because people seem to think it's arty, and it is only sometimes arty)

I'd like to alert you to the fact that this isn't poetry, but I felt like putting some random bullshit here so off I go. You don't mind, do you? Of course you don't, random anonymous.

They speak to me of
smoke. This thing that wisps
(not wafts) around,
and thins and dances

In truth, it is not beauty
it is not true
it does not lie
it bullows and wafts and slaps
your brain, each cavity,
each breath you take will crush you more.

It settles in each orifice and pore
and conforms and curls
settling like a child ready for sleep
and shifting away with you
as you try to avoid its other half

Smoke does not curl into a blackened background,
it does not drift
dreamy and elusive around the globe
it sits in your lungs
and your brain
and it festers and it waits.

Am I the only one who straightens up upon hearing the opening riff for "Pennyroyal Tea"? Oh, okay, good.