Ummm, yeah

So I hate coming up with titles for these things because most of my posts are so lacking direction or focus. I'm thinking of visiting some random name generator to do it in the future.

I finished this major thing at work yesterday and I think I'm broken. Because I should feel better. Lighter. At least less sleep-deprived. But instead I went home yesterday and the only thing that kept me from crying all night was the chance to finally see Monday's Chuck and Heroes episodes. No, I'm not going to talk about how Heroes has sucked me into its strange cult of fuck!me! right now. There are things happening in my brain that I'm certain psychotropic medications may fix, but for now, I'm enjoying the ride.

I couldn't sleep last night (hence the sleep deprivation), and for some reason, my hands kept itching. Not in some prophetic "money!" way, but in a "Did I eat something weird?" way. But even that wasn't it. I sometimes itch when I'm stressed out. I broke out into hives on the day I was supposed to be competing in the Missouri State Junior Olympics. The night two of our cafe staff and my only other closing lead had to leave the store early, my manager almost sent me home because I was scratching my arms to bleeding. It doesn't happen often, but when it does, it's spectacular.

But I shouldn't have been feeling that at all yesterday. I should have felt light, grateful, pleased, even.

I am afraid I have become that thing I can't stand - an apathetic human. I know apathy is a normal reaction sometimes. That it protects us from internal and external stresses. My problem is with those who use it as an excuse to not care about anything going on around them, not engage with the world, and keep from even trying to make a difference. I see apathetic people as the close cousins of cynical people. And really, I don't hate such people. I love quite a few cynics, actually.

My apathy, though, is the result of something else. I've spoken before about how I do not know how to ask for help. Trust me when I say: I would rather chew off my own hand sometimes than ask for help. Not because I think I do everything best, but because I don't trust others will come through for me. I have been working very hard to let that go, to trust that the people in my life are willing to step in, hold me up, keep me sane, when I ask for it. But the asking is still hard as shit.

If my life were a movie, it would go something like this:
No, scratch that, not nearly important enough for a movie, maybe TV movie? Nope, nothing melodramatic enough happening. Little indie feature starring Catherine Keener (can she play me? because I lurvs her) that has no actual plot, but little character observations? ...no, then I'd have to have sex with an obviously mentally disturbed Jake Gyllenhaal character.

Hmmm.

Okay, if my life were an episode of Murder, She Wrote, I would be the character incorrectly accused of murder because I couldn't reach out to others and just when my faith in humanity is almost gone, sitting in my lonely jail cell, being harassed by the ignorant local cops, Jessica Fletcher would come riding in on her brilliant blaze of glory and show me what trust in others means, because she trusted I was innocent even though she didn't know me. She just had a feeling about me. Because she's made of all the awesome in the world. There is no more air for awesome when Jessica Fletcher is around. And don't get all "But everywhere she goes, people die!" Yeah? People die everywhere, bub. But with Jessica Fletcher around, you can guarantee the right person will go to jail for it.

My life, alas, is not an episode of Murder, She Wrote. Pity, that. I think Jessica Fletcher would be an awesome friend.

Because when I do ask for help? Really and truly break through that wall and say, "Hey! I'm drowning here! Please help me with this one specific thing, huh?" And whoever I ask says, "No problem!" And I feel better for a little while. Until it occurs to me nothing has been done. So when I do it again, because by this point, I really really need the help. And someone else says, "No problem!" I start feeling a little less better, because by this time I'm thinking...yep, right. No help there either. The laughable part comes when someone asks if they can help me and I say - all excited - Yes! Please! Can you do this? And they look at me and make some assenting noises and...right. Just tell me no, next time, 'k?

So instead of being the plucky girl wrongly accused of murder who learns that help is there if you ask for it, I am now the whiny bag of itchy sleep-deprived apathy who learns she can't count on those who are supposed to be there for her.

So I finished a long-overdue project yesterday. And I should feel lighter. Instead all I feel is the continuing pressure of everything else. And the sinking feeling I'm in this alone.

Sadness and the Grand Experiment

I am not afraid to admit I love TV. I'm beginning to love it less in these days of so-called reality television, and have managed to hone down my must watch shows to a handful from the every-night-of-the-week habit I'd accumulated a few years back. In the absence of new episodes in recent months, I have taken to visiting fan forums for a show or two, hoping to exchange thoughts and quips with fellow fans. I've also joined some of these forums so that I may join in the conversations. That was my first mistake.

One particular board is actually pretty thorough. It isn't populated by flamers or trolls. I'm under the impression this board was started due to dissatisfaction with the official fan board run by the network's web site. Moderators make it a point to state they welcome dissenting opinion and promote healthy discussion. That is--for the most part--true. But there is still something wrong, and I can't quite put my finger on it.

Maybe it's the way they give hierarchical rankings to the members based on number of posts. I suppose it is meant to encourage newbies to engage in board discussions instead of lurking. At first, being at times masochistically competitive, this excited me when I moved up the hierarchy one step. But now I feel it is pointless. Why make others work so hard to feel included? I don't care how democratic a discussion claims to be, I have noticed, through observation, automatic weight is given to those with the highest ranking. Those of us in the bottom tier are left to wonder if anyone is even reading our posts at all.

I don't believe this was the intention of the board moderators. I'm sure in their eyes it was all meant in fun. But every time I think about posting, I'm reminded of a far-off time when I was part of another fan forum which did something quite similar and of the negativity and dissent it bred, how left-out many members of the forum felt, especially when their questions would go unanswered or their contributions virtually ignored. A graduate student once did her thesis on this subject by studying this particular forum (I'm even quoted!); about how members of any community (even an online one) tend to segregate into circles of influence. Why this especially stinks in the online forum is the veneer of social equality that doesn't reflect reality at all.

I examine my feelings too closely in this regard. I wonder if I'm feeling stung because I want too desperately to belong to something greater, bigger. I wonder if my issue isn't just with my lack of automatic popularity. And I really don't know (except for the last one - I've never craved popularity and the pressure involved). What I can say is I've little desire to prove to anyone I deserve to belong in those upper ranks. And as long as I persist in posting little, thereby keeping myself in the lowest level of the hierarchy, those posts I do contribute will garner little notice or regard, no matter how insightful (or not) my words. And while I can live with this, I get a little pissy at this idea of fake equality for which the mods of this board pat themselves on the back. While they cannot control the thoughts and ideas of those reading and responding on their forum, they helped put forward those thoughts by setting up the system in the first place. I wonder if it occurred to any of them what the end result would be.

Am I feeling a little superior in this? Most likely. But I won't be driven by self-righteousness to stay away. While I may never get up in the inner circle of fabulousness on this or any forum, I also refuse to pad my ranking by posting platitudes to the queen-bees of the board. I will do what I do best: speak up when I feel I can no longer keep my opinion to myself, keep it brief, check and see if anyone even notices.

On another note: I just found out Angela Lansbury has been diagnosed with ALS. I cannot express how sad this makes me. I think she is one of the classiest, most beautiful (still!), and talented actors I had the privilege to watch while growing up. I used to watch Murder She Wrote with my grandmother and still love to catch it sometimes. Jessica Fletcher is my hero: full of grace, wit, courage, and brains. She was feminism in action and an awesome role model for me. Even if dead people showed up wherever she happened to be.