Thursday, February 21, 2008

If you are missing my incoherent ramblings

this post is for you!

1. (I'm going to get into trouble for this but...) I was at a dinner party last week and twice this kind of snotty fellow commented on my wit or word choice. Sometimes when someone compliments you it comes out like an insult, e.g. "You are twice as pretty as Roseanne Bar."
So whether or not it was intended (and I believe it was) to me the compliments sounded like, "Wow, you can string words together into coherence, which, just by looking at you, I had not expected."
Now I don't know if it is because I'm a girl, or because I had a low cut shirt, or because I am not painfully horrible to look at, but the bottom line was that in contrast to his expectation, I was not a *complete* idiot.
Which is awesome. Don't worry, annoying party guy, you look *exactly* as I expect smart guy to look.

2. After finding out that I actually know people that have been snubbed by eharmony I decided to try their 'personality quiz'. While apparently I could find "matches," I am incredulous of the concept of asking people to rate their attractiveness or stylishness, their honesty or selflessness. I wonder if women rate themselves as less attractive than they are and men higher. If honest people mark themselves as less honest. And selfless people as selfish.
Furthermore, I think the thing that struck me the most is that I had no idea if I was stylish, sexy, or beautiful. That I could not pick a number to represent me, because in spite of all my former exploits, all the accusations of pheromones, and all the pricey handbags, I can not see myself as stylish, sexy, or beautiful. I can recognize that I am slightly better than your average Walmart shoppers, but compared to my friends in my peer group I'm rough, fat, and utterly unstylish.
Additionally, eharmony asks me questions that I have a hard time answering without sounding crazy, e.g. "Quiana, what are you passionate about?"
Justice? Ethics? Living a life that I can be proud of? The dangers of raccoons?
In the end I wrote "cookies." Cookies and the loved ones to whom I feed cookies.

3. Speaking of cookies, my dad emailed me weeks ago. And I held out on you guys, because I was completely panicked.
I guess he googled me, and got my work email. I don't know if it was my googling him, or if it was coincidence, or if he reads this blog. But I feel as though my humiliating and weak moment summonsed him ala satan.
He emailed me and asked how I was, what I was doing. And I replied, politely. But then he asked me to call him, or my brother. And I haven't. I think because I can't. I physically can't.
But ignoring a parent does not make them go away. And time has made me a far better person, so what right do I have to judge someone for decades old acts? And my brother has done nothing to justify cutting him out of my life.
So I want to email him back with a link to a different blog. A blog that I am creating to show my dad and brother who I am. To be distant and safe.

You tell me, is a briefly annotated photo essay a cold/bad/crazy way to communicate with estranged relatives? Or is it crazy brilliant?

And should I pull unfavorable posts about my dad from the blog? Because maybe it is mean to say unfavorable things about someone to everyone in the world?

2 comments:

Tripping Daisy said...

The photojournal is brilliant. Informative without needing to put sentimental/feely words together. Also, I wouldn't pull the post. Hey, sometimes the truth hurts. That is my bit of assvice. ;)

Drew said...

Yea, I gotta agree. Don't pull it.