Tag Archives: fbookdramz

Facebook taunts me.

I think facebook is out to get me.

Just now I am playing farmville (ok, yes, I play farmville) and a notification pops up that the scientist likes my photo.

I freak. Ever so slightly, I freak. “what photo, what?” I think as I hit the link repeatedly, impatient to see what he has liked, conscious that such a notification means that, at that moment, he was on my profile, remembering me, thinking of me-

I get to the photo, and there’s no evidence that anyone has ever even seen it. I check my notifications, but it shows no such event. I go to his page, thinking maybe it will tell me his activity, but it does not. I check the photo again, and my notifications, again. Nothing.

Lately I’ve been realizing that I have a very specific lack in my life, people-wise. I lack people I feel safe with. I have people I am uncomfortable with, people I feel unsafe with, but those aren’t people I want to be around. I want people whom I feel safe around. With this realization comes the acknowledgment that I never felt unsafe with him. Not even just that- I always felt safe with him. So I’ve been tempted, very tempted, to suck up my fear and pride, and try again to reconnect, if only for the chance to stand next to someone again without the anxiety I am getting used to. I don’t know if this is a good idea or not.

And then fbook goes and gives me a fake notification that he liked another picture of me. When I’m trying to not think of him.

F you, facebook.


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What Timing.

I just watched one of my favorite movies, one I am usually embarrassed to admit liking: Where the Heart Is. It’s something I would usually scoff at- you know, tear-jerking, heart-warming romance. It’s what you might call a chick flick- and I don’t go for those.

This one, though, somehow I just love, and tonight, after watching it, I felt that it arrived from netflix at a rather appropriate time.

I don’t think I’m going to get into grad school.

The deadline for the major application is the 1st. I haven’t finished filling it out yet, because I need some information from my undergrad university. I’ve had a month to get it. Every day I sleep late, then pass away the early afternoon doing nothing. Some days I remember, when it’s far too late to call an office back east, that I needed to do so. I resolve that the next day it will happen- and then repeat the pattern. By now, I have one last chance- get the information (which I’m not even entirely sure I can get) on the 30th or accept that I’ve gone and fucked it up. And I haven’t even written my essays and things, which are due in two weeks. I’ve merely over-thought them until I find everything I have to say worthy of rejection.

Also, I just got my official GRE scores in the mail today, and never before have I felt so fucking mediocre. Let me repeat: mediocre. I don’t feel smart. I don’t feel overly talented. I feel like my impression of myself as an intelligent person, capable and worthy of getting into this school, has perhaps been… off-target. Like when your mother tells you something you’ve cooked is the best thing she’s ever tasted, so with a big head you serve it to others, and find out that it’s really not impressive at all- I feel like that, only I, and my intelligence, my capability, my worth, are the dish.

This really doesn’t feel good.

But! This is an entry about why that sappy film felt appropriate tonight.

Tom hasn’t left my life, but refuses to actually be in it. Every time I think he’s gone, he goes and does something like ‘liking’ a photo of me smiling on fbook. Small, nothing things, but enough to remind me he exists. I’ve realized that- that I don’t feel like I’m good enough for him. I was dating this guy recently whom I found to be undereducated, and felt better than him for it. Tom is far better educated than I. Thus I feel – yes, like I’m not good enough for him. Especially today, when I see my stupidly mediocre scores and wonder if I’ll even pull off an application the day before it’s deadline or not- he’s getting his PHD at this school, and I don’t think I’ll even be able to get into one of the smaller, uncompetitive programs. So I don’t think I’m good enough for the type of person I want to be with. In gist.

The protagonist of this film is a young single mother living through her hardships with the help and love of friends she makes along the way. There is, of course, a romance. The man of the romance is well educated, and, she thinks, too good for her. Or rather, she thinks that she isn’t good enough for him. So (hey spoilers!) she sends him off with a lie that she doesn’t love him.

But then! She realizes that she really does, and drives to his fancy university to tell him: she lied. She lied because she doesn’t think she is good enough for him. And he tells her- get this- there is nothing better than her. They kiss, cut to the wedding, cut to credits.

So as I’m feeling really shitty about myself, like I’m not worth the things I want in life, here comes this film in which a girl who feels similarly is told that she is full of worth. I can’t quite make the leap to applying her lesson to myself- afterall, life ain’t the movies, even the tear-jerkers- but it’s still a timely thing.

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It’s funny- after feeling so sad last night, missing all my east-coast friends, and having to restrain myself from leaving fbook messages, I logged in today to find myself the recipient of several.
These friends of mine, some of them, were commenting on pictures and walls, saying how much they missed me, wanting to know when I was going to visit, offering reminders of binding ties. They haven’t moved on and forgotten me, after all. It felt quite heart warming. What’s funny, though, is that I don’t seem to feel any less sad, just differently sad.

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Sherekhali Is getting at-home tipsy, missing just about all of her friends, and being remarkably restrained about leaving 80 “I MISS YOU” fbook messages.

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How the years age

Today, while visiting my mom, I found my seventh grade year book. Seventh grade, that was thirteen years ago. I looked at my little picture and winced, remembering how awful that year was, and feeling sorry for the little and epicly uncool girl on the page- I hadn’t yet learned that the mean girls weren’t the ones you should strive to have for friends at all costs, that life would be happier if I just didn’t try so hard to be ‘in’- but that’s not what I was going to write about. I looked at that picture and thought “woah! I’ve changed.”
So when I got home, I began to wonder… with the great search aid that facebook can be… what had happened to some of these people? Who had they turned into, what did they look like? I had conveniently thought to mark the entire book up with a code of whom I knew, liked, disliked, and so on, so I started typing in names to the search box. Most didn’t come up, at least not in any way I could recognize. Many simply had no results. I realized that some could have grown up so as to be unrecognizable, or could have changed their names, or moved too far away to come up in the first page or two I’d bother to check. The one that hit me most though, was the one who came up so very obviously as the second result to his name.
The picture in the yearbook of this cute young boy was paired with a >:P type face. Clearly, I did not feel fond of him, as he was one of only a few I marked with this sign of distaste. Looking back, though, I cannot remember what I was upset with him about, though I suspect it might have had something to do with him both being the Christian Slater in Heathers type figure in our school and daring to like me despite this. Had I learned the lesson of not trying so hard to fit in sooner, I think he might actually have been my friend. And what a cute kid!
AND WHAT A DISAPPOINTING GROWN UP. The second result to his name was undeniably him. The same chin, same nose, same mismatched eyebrows, plus the right age and neighborhood, and attendance at the local high school I chose to bus away from… but oh, the cute and clean cut boy with the mischievous grin appears to have turned into a grimacing, shaggy, sighing eyed man. He looks like the type of dirty poor-suburb bred man I would intentionally avoid eye contact with. With oh, such a trashy redneck mustache. Ew.

I like to think that- were someone to search for and find me- they would be complimenting-ly impressed by my positive personal evolution. This, what I saw? Oh, how sad. Oh, kid, I should never have searched for you, you were so much better in my memory…

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“Friend” dramz online, oh noes!

It’s been discussed many a time, both online and off, how the definition of “friend” on social networking sites is very different than it is in real life. It’s looser, to understate it. Online, a “friend” can be, oh, that guy you took a summer class with once, or that chick you met for 3 minutes at a party, or a friend of a friend you’ll never actually meet, and so on.
Now, in offline life, I tend to think that the term “friend” of oft overused. The person you tend to run into at parties and exchange drunken hellos with? Acquaintance. The person from work whom you’ve stood around the water cooler with? Colleague. That person who knows you very well and is likely to stand by you through thick and thin? That’s a friend.
But. But! I do understand that online it is different. I may not choose to hold this loosey-goosey attitude toward online friends lists myself, but I do understand that it exists and is very prevalent. OK.
But. But. I cannot get over who friended me today.
I knew this girl in high school. I thought she was my best friend. A dozen or so years after meeting her, I have finally come to realize that I thought that only because I had such a desperate lack of self confidence and understanding about what a friend was, and how friends treated each other. This girl spent about eight years running me down. Eight years telling me how I wasn’t smart, or pretty, or talented, or kind, or charismatic, or interesting, or cool enough, etc. etc. etc., and always as a “friend.” Eight years seeing to it that I saw the downside of anything that made me happy, was aware of every detail of anything which could hurt me, and knew fully how anyone choosing me was settling. And always in the name of being my “friend.”
When I moved back east, we began to drift apart. One of the last times I ever saw her, she pulled out the big guns. Without a hint of passive-aggressiveness (though oh lord, the sanctimonious self-righteousness musta stank to high heaven) she informed me about what a flat-out terrible person I was, how I only deserved the worst in life, how I destroyed everyone around me, and so much more, blah blah blah.
And still I considered her a friend, albeit, by that point, not a very good one- it was only many months later before I realized, based on other factors, that this girl had no idea who I really was. With the awareness of her as someone who would so harshly judge someone she had never taken the care to really know, I decided she wasn’t someone I cared to know. It took years more before I made friends who were actual friends, and realized the extent to which she had not been. We haven’t had any contact in at least three years now, though I am fully aware of her occasional contact with people I am fully in touch with.
Today she sent me a friend request. My mind? It is sort of blown.
After spending a day alternating between feeling angry, perplexed, astonished, and completely over it altogether, I have come to the decision to wholeheartedly ignore this request. (Not that there was much of a chance in the other direction, but hey.) I don’t care how loosey goosey a friend list can get- someone like that will never fit into any definition of “friend” of mine again.
Self confidence, I haz it.

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Oh, Timing.

A few years ago I was in a particularly bad place, life-wise. Everything was bad. I knew this guy during that time who was tall and handsome- very all-American footballer type guy, not at all my type but oh so nice. He gave the best hugs and always complimented me, and with such circumstances, I totally developed a crush. Nothing ever happened, though. He had a girlfriend, and then he graduated, and as we weren’t close, well, it didn’t matter. This summer I ran into him and soon after he ended up calling to ask me out- just as I had reached CA for a visit. Bad timing, dude. So we said we’d postpone until I returned, and we did. But instead of a date, we ended up playing a very short game of phone tag before he stopped calling- seriously, I’d returned his call only a few minutes after I missed it, and never heard back. wtf.

But eventually I moved, and just a day or two ago, I stumbled upon his facebook and thought “wow, I’m glad I didn’t date that guy after all.”

Tonight I get home and check my facebook. There’s a friend request. La-tee-da, who could that be… GUESS. GUESS WHO FREAKIN FRIENDED ME, JUST AFTER I WAS GLAD TO NOT HAVE DATED HIM.


I love this guy’s timing. It never ceases to amuse me.

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