Emptying my Bookmarks Menu

I’ve been pretty slack with the posting lately.  If it makes you all feel any better, I’ve also been slack with uni work, keeping in touch with (most of) my friends and family, slightly slack at my day job, and 100% slack at house work – meaning I haven’t done any in a good long while.  I have been thinking of posts to write for months and months, I just haven’t written anything.  And sometimes, by the time I sit down to write the post, it’s no longer relevant.

However I am sick of how many bookmarks I have crying out for the blogging they were intended for.  So I’m doing a link roundup with a (very!) brief summary, instead of full posts on each.  Here you go readers, entries that are written better than mine would have been anyway:

Where do trolls come from?

I’ve never had an official policy on comments for this blog, because I’ve never needed one.  I’m still not going to implement one, however the following comments were never, ever going to be approved to be published.  They will be posted here, though, just to make sure no one misses them.

If any of you feel like letting jjhatts know what you think of their shit, feel free.  I’m not sure they’re worth the time, but someone certainly needs to wake this troll up.

On a post about unacceptable use of endearments by strangers:

Is bitch acceptable?  Would it be offensive too you if I asked if you wear panties everyday at work? If it would, then I’m not asking. Also do you hang out every once in a while after work at any particular place? I’ll let you buy me a drink.

On the post about being asked to be a fill-in receptionist:

Did he tell you specifically that he’d like you too work customer service for a little while because you have a vagina, or do you just THINK the world revolves around your vagina?

And the one that really proved this *person* is an utter scumbag and total troll, from the ‘Rape is always Rape’ post:

She took her clothes off, she wanted too fuck. No means no, she didn’t say no, so they fucked. If I’d been there I would have gone for sloppy seconds.

For the record jjhatts, you’ve been added to the spam queue and your comments will not be approved on this blog.  Take your ball elsewhere to play.

Annoy-a-phobia

Interesting* random story from my life.  I’m terrified of annoying people.  I hate being seen as an annoying person (probably because I am quite annoying ) and this influences my actions and behaviour in most situations.

I’m talking about friends here, not strangers.  People in my life that I know, but am not in a comfortable rhythm with.  There are some friends (this would include you, K) that I call repeatedly until they deign to answer my call.  Gotta love that redial button.  There are friends that I call whilst drunk at 2am to have a total whinge about an argument I just had at a party.  And then I hang up on them mid conversation and go back to the party.  (sorry K! lol) 

Happy?

I haven’t started the anti-depressants yet.  Since getting home from my trip (just over a week ago), I’ve been… happy?  I missed everything about my life so much while I was away that I’ve been forced to conclude I actually am fairly ok with where everything is.

Dangerous Situations or Paranoia?

Over the last couple of months (and possibly longer, but most of my life pre break-up is kind of blurry) I’ve put myself in some not-so-good situations.  Some have been detailed in previous posts, some I’ve chosen to keep to myself because of embarrassment at my sheer stupidity, but none have been particularly smart.  And yet, through all of these incredibly bad decisions, nothing bad has happened to me.

I’ve been planning to write this post for a while, but on Saturday night I wound up in yet another one of these situations and it all hit home how careless I really am.  I was a party with a bunch of people from uni, most of whom I’ve never met before however there were a few friends mixed in there, and I got drunk.  Incredibly, sickly, drunk.  I ended up staying the night at a friend’s house, and hooking up with his roommate.*

Post 2 in a Series

This is the post where I come off the worst, although I don’t think I come off particularly well in any of them.  Post 2 is about EN.  And there should NEVER have been another post on him, so clearly I fucked up.  Big time.

Before I left for Europe, I started missing EN.  I did the best I could to ignore this, despite some strong urges to see him.  Then, my lift to the airport came down with the flu and was unable to take me, something I found out only a couple of hours before I was due to leave, and EN offered to take me.  I gave in to the desire to see him (and the desire to not deal with Sydney public transport with my luggage… yuck…) and agreed.  And it was great to talk to him again; not many people know me as well as he does and even less have known me for the same length of time as him.  The floodgates were opened.

THAT moment

There usually comes a moment in most new relationships or friendships where a feminist realises this new person she’s invested so much time and energy and trust etc in doesn’t view her as a human.*

It’s odd, because we know this to be true of most p-indoctrinated people.  Things would not happen the way they do if the majority of the world viewed women as equal humans.  But it’s just so heartbreakingly different when it smacks you in the face in your personal life.

Post 1 in a Series

Hello from Milan! I’m now killing time in an airport hotel until I leave to go home tomorrow. I didn’t have enough time here to actually see the city, but I had too long to sit around doing nothing. And by nothing I mean that assignment that’s becoming quite urgent and really needs to get done. So, I have a new mini-series for you that was inspired by large amounts of time to think whilst on holidays. I’m hoping it remains a mini-series and doesn’t get extended because that would be bad news for me! The best way to read these posts* is individually, forgetting about each until the wrap-up at the end.

Ok, part one: Coffeeguy. And yes, to those avidly following along at home, he has been demoted back to a nickname.

Coffeeguy and I have had eight dates in total, so far. They’ve been pretty good, but he has yet to make a move. At all. Not even a hug goodnight. I’m well aware I should have just done it myself by now, but never having had to before I find myself physically incapable of doing it. I’ve tried to break past this mental barrier with no success. So I wait.

Interesting Plane Journey

I´m currently killing time in a bus station in Marbella, so figured I´d post an update.  Especially given how neglected my poor blog and readers have been lately.  It´s a pity I have so much luggage and that it´s raining because I´ve heard Marbella is nice to walk around.

So anyway, having an interesting journey on my third trip to Europe since Sept 08.  I´m still trying to work out if the reactions I´m getting are based on my age or my gender, but I´m trying not to dwell on it.

On the plane ride between Milan and Malaga I had quite a typical specimen sitting behind me.  He was a white, middle aged man (obviously from the ´he´) using a laptop, so presumably important in some way, even if only in his own head.  And he was definitely important in his own head.  The flight attendants were some of the nicest I´ve encountered so far (and I´ve been on a lot of flights…); unexpected given I was flying with a discount airline.*

The woman next to me appeared to be slightly older than middle aged and was travelling with a four year old girl.  She didn´t speak English or Italian (she was Romanian fwiw), and it appeared to be her first flight from her reactions to various things.  I helped her, as best I could through the language barrier, to put on the seatbelts and follow the basic instructions of the staff.  When the food cart came along, she attempted to purchase a hot chocolate for the little girl, but only had a 50 euro note on her.  Now I don´t know what the hell is the issue on this continent, but they will very rarely accept such a large denomination for anything, and when they do it´s always with lots of sighing and pointed looks at all the extra work you´re giving them.  This woman had nothing smaller than a 50 and could not understand the attendants, although they did try switching languages for her, and even attempted Spanish.  At this point I checked my wallet and took out enough money for her hot chocolate and my coffee.  It seemed to be the easiest course of action, and also felt like the right thing to do.  As someone who travels quite frequently, and often alone, I´m grateful for every little bit of help I receive from strangers, whether it´s directions, help with my luggage (it´s so heavy!  and there are so many stairs! everywhere!), or whatever.  So I helped her out because I could.  I only include this part of the story because when I was reflecting on the second part it struck me as twice as ridiculous given this part.

Very Quick, Minor Follow Ups

Some things to say:

firstly – to everyone who is finding this blog through searches about controlling men – a better resource is ‘Why Does He Do That?“, but I hope my post is of some help to some of you at least.

secondly – to the reader who asked google “how to date a controling man” and ended up here (if you’re still reading), the answer is you don’t.  Get rid of him and find someone who isn’t a controlling arse.  Or be happy on your own.  Either way.

thirdly – to the reader who asked google “is it rape when i said no and was drunk?”  YES IT IS.  and it breaks my heart that you have to ask google this question.  I blame the patriarchy that such a thing was necessary.  Similarly, “is it rape if you don’t say yes?” YES IT IS.  I hope you’re both still here somewhere.

fourthly – to the person who googled “fuck and rape” to end up here…. wtf?  No, seriously, wtf?

I know it’s been awhile since I posted, but that happens.  Regularly around here actually.  I’m still seeing coffeeguy, who shall now be called C, and I’m enjoying that.  Except for a few minor issues I may or may not explore later.  I’m going to Italy and Spain (and Gib!) soon, and have too much to do in the meantime.  And the depression is getting worse.  The doctor has prescribed anti depressants to start after my trip, and I think the thought of taking them is making the depression worse.  I hate that I’m so weak I need help to get through this.  But there you have it.  In a nutshell, the updates on my life.  More (possibly) to follow.