Because I've been obnoxiously defensive lately (I have to make fun of myself before anyone else does, when no one ever really cares, and they find this paranoia all too rotten and unsettling. It's also shockingly good for my complexion), today I went to a baby shower and hiked up my business to a new level of offense, and talked the entire time and hardly paid any attention to Mrs. Smith.
I wonder where this streak of insanity comes from? We're supposed to be celebrating creation and life, and all I do is sit and whine about being forced to play baby games, when in reality I should just suck it up and play along because we'll all be happier if we just make it fun instead of talking about how lame everything is.
It's outright rude of me to behave that way, brewing in discontent, blatantly wishing I was somewhere else. A good friend who is a good person asks me to take several hours out of one day of the year to celebrate the next stage of her life, and I act like a jackass.
It's not that I threw a fit, but I was just so critical, laughing and ridiculing everything. Why can't I just play along?
Baby showers and wedding showers and all that business are hard, because it means people have that next stage of progression. All it does is reinforce my own incompetence by not doing my biological duty to humanity. But it's not about me, I know. It's about Mrs. Smith and that basketball she swallowed, which I hear will eventually be a child.
It's not about me.
I have a selfish loathing when friends start families, because it means they aren't mine anymore. They never belonged to me, I know...but they just don't need me anymore. They don't need me nearly as much as I need them, and I don't think they understand how much I need them to survive.
They balance me. I'm a dry, slightly funny, slightly observant, plain girl who rambles on about unimportant things that no one ever really cares about or completely understands, but with them I have a part to play. I'm not a one-woman show. I can't do it on my own. I'm just not likable enough.
They have significant others, and they're starting families, and I will be the forty year old single woman at the bar getting drunk by myself, with no family, no career, a blog and a large DVD collection, rambling about how cool I was in college.
I've said that before, I think. That same line. It's a fear.
It means I have to make new friends which is FUCKING SCARY, because I irrationally crave acceptance and new people try to change me which just pisses me off. That or I should get my hands on a pony and dog and wander the countryside for the rest of my days. Which wouldn't be so bad, I think, because if there was enough countryside I could just wander forever. If I have no one around I can never feel brazenly inferior to everyone. Dissect that.
Be happy for people (saying something and embodying something are two different things). I am happy for Mrs. Smith, she is round and shiny and living her dream.
That's what it is. That's where the selfish jealousy comes from. It's because that they have something that they want.
It's because they have a dream in the first place.
My dreams are all fucky. Example: I'm living in a halfway house with a pet polar bear and a bionic bird, wearing a patchwork coat and goggles, hunting a blue gingham demon, and throughout the chase there is a goddamn leaky faucet that I turn off, over and over and over again - those are the dreams I have.
Of course there I things I want. I want to watch the next episode of Venture Bros. I want to make it to work on time.
But as of right now I have no dream to reach for. No matter what it is I will fuck it up, just like I fuck up everything else that I try to fix or accomplish. So right now...I guess my dream is to change my mind.
I've talked about all this before. I keep on writing the same blog entry, over and over again, saying it different ways, saying I need change, trying to change, and then snapping back into bullshit.