about 300 years too late. damn.

Damn I wish I could be a pirate.
Of course, it's really hard to be a pirate in this day and age...well, I guess I should say it's really hard to be a SUCCESSFUL pirate. How awesome would it be to sail the seas while looking for opportunities to pillage and wearing supercool pirate gear (maybe with a sword and necklace of teeth, I don't know)?

Think about it.

No more worries about the stupid cost of gas or if roommate is going to donate bill money or (cough cough) using that dumb $$$$$$$$50,000 degree that took 8 years and a whole lot of valium to earn.

No more struggling with the value of ditching the worn out chuck taylors and donning a pair of (probably pointy) "responsible" grown-up-shoes. Wouldn't have to struggle with it because business-casual does not exist in pirate land; you can't strike terror in the hearts of the masses while wearing a matching cardigan set.

.um, eew.

Wouldn't it be great to wake up in the morning (which might be around 2 pm) and think, "hey, this looks like a great day to go ashore and terrorize a village!"
Ok, my psychopathy is showing. Maybe you wouldn't have to TERRORIZE the village, maybe you could befriend the natives and leave with some cool potion believed to cure scurvy or something. (I'm not sure what the contemporary pirate ailments are, but I like saying "scurvy"- it sounds romantic)

Maybe you decide to stay at sea for a bit and spend the day fantasizing about your next adventure which will occur…well…whenever you decide it should occur.

Freaking THINK ABOUT IT!

If you wake up hating everyone (which I fully admit happens to me about 6 days a week) the answer is simply to stay below deck until A) you feel like tolerating people again –or- B) the sun goes down

But who will steer the ship, sara?

MY CREW!!!!!!
Oh hell yeah.

My crew would steer the ship because (though I would employ lot and lots of mindless lackeys which would not be considered “true” crew members) they would be totally capable of autonomy and yet be so deathly afraid of pissing me off or earning the disappointed mommy look (which I have perfected, by the way) I would be able to trust them to make important decisions like “avoid the iceberg!” or “loot that wealthy but unprotected trading port!”

When you are the captain of a pirate ship (and especially when you generally hate other people) you probably have to devote a great deal of time and energy in the crew selection process; an appropriate crew member would have to be of like mind and a complimentary personality. For example, a giggly, glass-is-half-full-bright-side-silver-lining, freak would probably not mesh well with my supercool, yet hopelessly restless and discontented nature.
Oh crap, I just described the anti-me as "happy"...whatever.

My crew would have to possess similar attitudes of dissatisfaction but with a fully submissive flavor.

!!!WANTED!!!

Individuals to form the most awesome pirating crew ever. Qualified candidates will be able to form thoughts with minimal assistance and require little direction or acknowledgment from the captain. Must possess a desire to do something better and explore something pretty. Ideal crew members will be able to entertain themselves and maybe kill things. Those candidates who are unwilling to change course without warning or explanation need not apply. No previous experience necessary, special consideration given to women and minorities.

Now, I know that it sounds like I would just surround myself with yes men and women (probably because I would), but I am well aware of my limits and I know the potential disasters that can arise when I allow my god complex and impulsivity (deadly combo) to go unchecked.

To be a successful pirate I would have to employ a first mate able call my bullshit and tell me to go fuck myself when necessary. The selection of this essential person would have to be quite involved and would probably involve a cavity search. The trouble, of course, is that I quickly tire of being questioned and I do not tolerate criticism well...hmmm... I envision a trail of former first mates dotting the sea in my wake. Could be a problem.

I gues it really doesn't matter, as I will never be a pirate (or an astronaut, for that matter). I am stuck here, in 2007, looking for a way to fit a dead set of values and aspirations into the BS of modern life and someone else's idea of what "success" looks like.

I remember several crappy movies (dances with wolves, for example) and a couple good books, wherein the lonely, abandoned, and tortured hero(?) made desperate attempts to win the affection of some fluffy little critter (usually a dog or...wolf). Through extreme projective efforts, the hero comes to believe that the (we'll just call it a) dog is really lonely too. He then figures that approaching the dog would only scare it away...so he baits it with food. Mr. Costner had a system of warming the wolf up to him so that, eventually, it would take the meat from his hand. After that "significant" display of trust, you'll recall, the two were essentially life mates. Though the examples which come to mind are from admittedly fictional sources, I am sure there are plenty of real-life accounts which they mirror. You know, crazy old women and their cats or squirrels or pigeons or whatever.

I have two issues with the whole thing.

First, what if there's nothing wrong with the dog in the first place? The heroes of the stories just assume that the dog wants a friend. What if the dog was fine on its own? What if it was HAPPY on its own? What if the dog had a schedule and its own little doggy ways of entertaining itself. Just because you are miserable all alone on the frontier or in a vampire infested world doesn't mean the dog has to be! OF COURSE it would run away, not because it's scared but because it doesn't want or need to play with you. Maybe the damn dog doesn't want to be domesticated. Maybe it settled for the bullshit of humanity because FOOD was used to trick it. That thought brings me to:

The second issue I have is the method baiting. It is food for christs sake! How f*ing manipulative can you get? Of course the dog wants your jerky, Costner! IT'S A DOG. Perhaps it would be more honest to say hi to the critter and let it get to know you before playing with its innate need to survive. Sure, it probably would have taken longer for the dog to warm up, but at least you would have the satisfaction of knowing that it actually found you to be something more than tolerable as a human being. You totally fucked (forget the self-censoring) with it via instinct. The poor thing had, through conditioning, associated a big dumb human with survival--it believed in its little doggy mind that this human was necessary. What a bunch of crap.

People do this shit to each other all the time, which disturbs me to no end. They put their own pathology on others and really believe the other person shares the desire for companionship or affection or whatever. They can't just come out and be themselves because they are afraid the other will run away. They can't wait through the necessary warming up period because they are so desperate and lonely and the need to assuage that is so URGENT that they have to resort to a sick game of manipulation. Probably not with food, but maybe with humor? with sex?? Here, miss, can I buy you another drink??? Let me hook you with this thing you THINK you need--this thing I THINK you need.

Through this little mutual mind fuck everyone thinks they are satisfied and happy.

Until the Calvary come.

x

short little skirts and leathery skin..mmmm....

I walk up to the table of tennis snobs, (hating life AND myself) and say, "hello".
...
they continue talking to each other as though I am not there at all--they don't even make eye contact. I stand there for a minute pretending that I don't hate them. I stand and I wait. I know these bastards have been in a restaurant before; I have waited on them before (always pleasant). They know that after they rearrange all the furniture on the patio so that 6 other tables are blocked, they are to order drinks from the lowly waiter and then continue on with their superfluous ramblings. They are then expected to shout at the help any time they want and demand things they know they will never use. After the demands have been met, they are to leave the standard 5% tip and 20 minutes of trash to clean up and go on their merry way. The most important part of this process is the ordering of beverages; without that step the rest goes to hell.

I am thinking all of this as I stand at attention with a fading smile on my face and hatred in my heart, waiting for them to answer the damn question.

nothing

Finally, I just went for it

"Can I bring you all something to drink?"

Now, I hate these people and wish them nothing but pain and suffering, but I can still feign pleasantries when I have to. I was playing the game.

Apparently my RUDE behavior sparked something in one of the male tennis bastards (maybe some rude prostitute gave him gonorrhea or something, I don't know) because he finally stopped talking to the whore across the table and gave me the finger.

Not the finger I was mentally giving him, but the 'get back in your place you stupid waitress' finger. He says, "Oh no, hold on, we need to try that one again" like my father scolding me for talking back--only I am not 5 years old and this piece of crap is most definitely NOT my father. I didn't even know what to say, I was so shocked so I blurted out "OH WOW" and stared at him in disbelief.

It got so much worse.

When I get fired (and I will, at some point) it will likely be on a Sunday afternoon. I will probably have to be peeled off one of those condescending assholes and escorted out of the building. I will then spend the afternoon playing in the park and giggling to myself.

even in frightened kitty mode, I own this.

So I pretty much consider myself a bad ass... you know, in the least conceited way possible, and I take great pride in my unwillingness to sort of float through life being guided by whatever crap-tastic circumstances I get smacked with. Of course, I sometimes find myself wrapped up in the chaos or trauma of the moment and jump into a self-loathing pool of emotional bile, but I hate that place, tire of it very quickly and don't tolerate it for long. It seems like I get bored with pretending to hate myself after a few days and take out the whip. Generally I guess I consider myself to be fairly active in my experience.

.passivity leaves a bitter aftertaste.

But then there are moments when I get all icky-noncommittal and, for unconscious reasons I'm sure, keep my mouth shut on issues that I truly feel very strongly about. WHY, sara? Why do you do this? It's total BS and I know it. What the hell is the point of feigned docility? I tell myself it is because I am learning to be patient (rolls eyes), which I hear is a virtuous endeavor, but I know that's not it; I hate patience.

I have found that in situations of uncertainty and occasions wherein there is a very real chance of failure I just shut down and leave it up to...who? whatever god happens to be wafting past my window? Time?

Thing is, that sense of doubt only crops up when the issue is important enough to matter. SO I AM ONLY CHECKING OUT ON THE IMPORTANT STUFF?!

?backwards?

AAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

.it's fine.

squirty

**OFFICIAL NOTICE**

You look like a douche in your pointy-toed shoes.

A big dumb douche.

Why do you want to look like a giant elf with 18 inch feet?

WHY?

Am I missing something with the pointy thing? Am I that out of touch?

REALLY?

Did Tom Cruise wear them on a talk show or something, is that how this mess got started?

You are a man (or you were at one time)

Balls and pointy toed shoes do not go together unless they are indulging a kink.

And the f*ing man purses?

STOP

please stop being a squirty feminine hygiene product and rescue yourself from the whirlpool of your gender's odd demasculinization practices.

What the hell?

carrying a man purse does not make you a big ol' douche but carrying a man purse while strutting around in 18 inch shoes that look like they should have bells on the tip (shoes should NOT have tips, by the way) just might.

Christ.

What do your shorts say about you? That you're a big old hypocrite.

I would just like to take a minute to thank whatever gods can hear me that we judge each other by appearance, rather than something more superficial...

...
hmmm.
...

Today as I walked from the tattoo shop in my super cool pink tattoo shorts (they exist only to give my artist access to my thighs) I was approached by a gentleman (cough-cough-ahem) in a hard hat who hit on me and insulted me all in the same interaction-quite a feat, really.

apparently Mr. construction worker man has a hard time accepting a "no thanks" response to his super-smooth "hey, does your boyfriend let you go out like that? Let me take you out!" B.S.

or maybe saying "no thanks" really does make me a "stuck up whore"... don't know.

Of course, as I was driving away I realized that I could have been being passing judgment based solely on appearance, just like him... I mean, he thought I was a whore based on my hooker-like shorts, and I thought he was a douche based on his dirty wife beater and hard hat with a sticker of the confederate flag on the back. OH THE HYPOCRISY!!!

MAYBE by prejudging him I responded to his "request" in a manner that prompted him to act like a bastard. MAYBE if I had said, "sure, mister, I'd love to let you take me out!!!" We would have ended up getting married and having 100 babies. Now I'll never know.

.dammit.

Whaaahhhhhhh

“Sara, you’re a hard read”, he says. A hard read? Really? Golly mister, maybe you’re expecting too much.

I’ve heard varying forms of this before, you know, accusatory, damning, begging for an end to the ambiguity. I have been directly labeled
selfish,
confusing,
cold…

Maybe it’s something I should work on; being more straight forward…

Truth is,
Sometimes I really don’t care that much one way or the other and I think that is really hard for some people to understand.

BUT I REALLY.DON’T.CARE.

Of course there are people in this world for whom I feel strongly one way or another—there are probably about four. But I’m not taking any applications for new friends or partners or whatever right now-I don’t have time and I’m not too worried about it.

Am I a “hard read” if I am honest and say “it really doesn’t matter” (of course I want to say “you really don’t matter to me”--but I'm nice)? I’d say that’s pretty damn clear. The functional error appears to be in the reception of the message, rather than the delivery.

People are awesome (and I wonder if I really mean that) but so many present with a lot of BS that I just don’t want to wade through at this point. Being truthful or clear or “easily read” doesn’t mean telling some whining-loser-jackass who I let entertain me once in a while exactly what he wants to hear does it? It’s not my role to buffer some emotionally vaginal, validation seeking crybaby from reality, is it?

I don’t care.