5 October, 2006, 602 pm
Filed under: Music, School

Blue Christmas, that’s right. But the Bright Eyes cover. Whipped it out today, actually. Christmas season starts today.

For the record, I’m feeling rather embarassed and ashamed right now. Because sometimes, I make sarcastic references to people without realizing what I’m saying…ones that, if taken literally, could have double meanings, or even be offensive. And in this case, it could have been taken one of three (or more) ways. It really was just a reference, though. I didn’t think about it. Just a reference, but if you do choose think about it, it’s humiliating. From now on, celebrities only, unless I’m referring to people directly, so as to save myself, the listener/reader, and the reference from embarassment. Plus, that’s more ideal because it’s universal, unless I make a really wild reference and/or you’re just stupid.

I don’t think I can’t regret. Um, shit.

Lesson, though, I got one from something as inadvertent as a smidgen of words–a negligible sentence or two–clumped together.

I was basically shivering all day, because I can’t handle stress. Someone told me something last night that will probably change my outlook on life a little bit/explains a fucking lot of things, but was still unexpected, because I backed up what was an assumed given. You shouldn’t assume that everyone has a mom. You shouldn’t assume that everyone thinks Terry Schaivo jokes are funny (but Erika can). You shouldn’t assume that everyone is straight. You shouldn’t assume that everybody’s Anti-Bush. Because one day, someone’s going to contradict, that, and chances are, you’ll just look like a dick. We most often assume, based on ourselves and on our friends, that everyone’s just like us, what’s familiar, but as Mrs. Merchant told us in Math Analysis, “assume = ass out of you and me.” For the record, she didn’t really say that. She said, “assume = blank out of you and me.” Don’t fire her or anything because some nuisance sixteen-year-old kid was amused by some play on words she referred to. More often than not, though, I write as though nobody can see what I’m saying except me and the receiver. And I knew that someone of authority had access to what I’d written, but maybe I assumed he/she wouldn’t really care what I’d written, but I proved myself immature and obnoxious and kind of stupid.

I’m glad, though, that this authority is handling it so well. As I said, I can’t handle stress, so I felt ill and shaky all morning. It took me ten or twenty minutes to figure out what I’d done wrong, and then I’m sure I blanched or turned green and sort of drooped. I felt like crying, honestly. Because authority caught me at a bad time. A bad time for something that’s not punishable by law, but it makes an ass out of four people. Glad, though, that I didn’t say something about, for example, Mr. Chlorie and Mrs. Coldiron. Or like…Herce and your mom. It was generic, I promise. But being playfully humiliated, it’s all good as long as nobody’s pissed off. I’m glad to be alive (I thought I would die of shame), but now that’s all I can think about–how immature that representation of my thoughts makes me look, and how I made the reader look–innocent, I swear, and did not ask for that…and then how I made the reference look, because of the situation. I’m an asshole.

It’s probably not as big a deal as I’m making it, but I’ve never been able to drop things that I do, or when people get mad at me, I can’t drop it because I know they’ll always have an imprint of that and think about that. Like when I tripped over the teacher’s foot and fell flat on my face in second grade (she yelled at me, but how did I manage to trip over her foot anyways? I must’ve been completely daft and less uncoordinated than I am now). Like when my cousin pulled down my pants one morning when Nick Covino was there (it was my ass). It’s actually very similar to one night in July, where I couldn’t sleep or eat, or September of last year, when I liked someone a little bit and my friend decided to take it into his hands and call the guy and tell him. This situation is reminiscent of that, and it’s like a headache right now, but eventually, it’ll be laughable, hopefully. Just, they’ll never forget because there’s not enough time for that. And I wish we could pretend it didn’t happen, and that I didn’t make that reference because now I’ll be known to everyone in the future as “that immature girl” who “wrote that _____.”

Aah…I need a boyfriend for two reasons.


2 Comments so far
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i’m gonna say that yeah, i think you’re thinking about this a little too hard. i’m sure he’s not mad about it because he told me once he read it that he laughed a lot. but by the same stretch, it was probably as embarrassing for him as it was for you. and if it were that big of a deal, he wouldn’t have brought it up. when he told me about it, it was in the same way as he told you, and at first i was like.. what the fuck? but then he mentioned your comment and i was like, holy shit, and started laughing uncontrollably, but it was kind of a weird mix between an uncomfortable laugh and a “man this is way too awkward to even pretend like it’s not funny” kind of laugh. but seriously, don’t sweat it, it’s really not a big deal at all. i’m sure he’s forgotten about it already, maybe. probably not, but what does it matter? you can’t get in trouble for it, and it didn’t offend anyone, not noticably at least. and i knew it wasn’t meant to be taken as an insult, don’t worry about that.

Comment by joshuaxjosh

why be you stressed?

Comment by divya

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