myspace is wierd
It's late, my eye is twitching, but I just had to write about my experience on myspace. I signed up and have a profile and all, but I couldn't tell you how to access all of it. I'm in there, if you check Baltimore Lutheran alumnae or something. Which is where I spent an ungodly amount of time just now, and saw one former boyfriend, another guy I went to school for 13 years with, a few folks from D's class, and way too many sexed-up photos of recent graduates. Zoinks, people! Show a little decorum, not your...um...anything else.
What a scary, surreal world, I tell you. I felt like a chameleon on a tartan. Who am I? Who are you? What was I when you last saw me? Shudder. How were you in my class of 60 people and I didn't even know your name? That's the really shameful part. It was sad, too, as there were a few who were venting their spleen about how much Lutheran SUX and all. Why put it on your bio then, and invite all those other sucky people into yourspace? It's just petty. World hunger SUX. Child prostitution SUX. A dinky high school, lame, maybe. I liked it there.
When I visited all these profiles and whatnot, I felt like I did when I went to the few parties or outside events that school people had. Like I shouldn't be there, that the cool kids had their own lingo and looked down on me for not knowing it, that the cheerleaders were so shallow, and that I was just as bad chasing after boys like it was my full-time job. Not that I am chasing after boys now, it was just that yucky insecure feeling I had for maybe all of middle and high school. You know, the one that makes you hunch your back and cross your arms in front of your chest and try not to move much while you walk so that nothing jiggles and your hair doesn't fly out of control. Thank God that is over. Can't help but jiggle now, unfortunately.
I surmise that's what I felt emanating from myspace, insecurity and sophomoric appeals to be taken seriously. I also surmise that I am using bigger words for no reason.
In an unrelated but bad note, today walking back from fireworks, A stuck one of his glow-sticks in D's ear, perforating his eardrum. He went to the hospital with his dad and needs to see a specialist about it. They say that hearing loss may not be permanent, and that it may heal itself in a couple of months. In the meantime he's getting drops put in by me, it's bleeding a bit, and I know he's really angry but one can't really do much about it since A didn't understand what he was doing. He knew it was wrong, but not how wrong. He felt very bad about it, because he knows that the hospital is for very serious boo-boos. It's just a sad affair all around.
What a scary, surreal world, I tell you. I felt like a chameleon on a tartan. Who am I? Who are you? What was I when you last saw me? Shudder. How were you in my class of 60 people and I didn't even know your name? That's the really shameful part. It was sad, too, as there were a few who were venting their spleen about how much Lutheran SUX and all. Why put it on your bio then, and invite all those other sucky people into yourspace? It's just petty. World hunger SUX. Child prostitution SUX. A dinky high school, lame, maybe. I liked it there.
When I visited all these profiles and whatnot, I felt like I did when I went to the few parties or outside events that school people had. Like I shouldn't be there, that the cool kids had their own lingo and looked down on me for not knowing it, that the cheerleaders were so shallow, and that I was just as bad chasing after boys like it was my full-time job. Not that I am chasing after boys now, it was just that yucky insecure feeling I had for maybe all of middle and high school. You know, the one that makes you hunch your back and cross your arms in front of your chest and try not to move much while you walk so that nothing jiggles and your hair doesn't fly out of control. Thank God that is over. Can't help but jiggle now, unfortunately.
I surmise that's what I felt emanating from myspace, insecurity and sophomoric appeals to be taken seriously. I also surmise that I am using bigger words for no reason.
In an unrelated but bad note, today walking back from fireworks, A stuck one of his glow-sticks in D's ear, perforating his eardrum. He went to the hospital with his dad and needs to see a specialist about it. They say that hearing loss may not be permanent, and that it may heal itself in a couple of months. In the meantime he's getting drops put in by me, it's bleeding a bit, and I know he's really angry but one can't really do much about it since A didn't understand what he was doing. He knew it was wrong, but not how wrong. He felt very bad about it, because he knows that the hospital is for very serious boo-boos. It's just a sad affair all around.
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