A N N A J O H N ' S D I A R Y

Dead on my feet

Something a bit disturbing happened to me today; I was running an errand, picking up contacts for G when I was suddenly overwhelmed by this...all-consuming exhaustion. It made no sense. I've done no heavy labor. I haven't been sleeping well lately, but this was something different. It was 2pm and I wanted, no, needed to lie down. Almost immediately. While I was driving down Connecticut avenue. Nicht gut. Nicht gut at all. 

I ended up turning on Tilden and high-tailing it back here and lying down but I was perplexed. What was making me feel this massive level of fatigue. Something wasn't right and I felt terrible. I started to fret; what if I get a job? How will I deal with nine hours somewhere if I can't handle a 45 minute errand? WHAT WAS WRONG WITH ME?

After sleeping for a bit (and yet, I woke up still exhausted) I called my mom and she sussed out the problem. My medications had just been changed and the newest one was known to cause extreme fatigue. I felt drugged. I've been roofied once (!) and this felt a LOT like that, which is a terrifying feeling. It was also frustrating, because through no fault of my own, I was being impeded because my...less than capable new physician hadn't heard my concerns about changing a routine that was working for me. It all felt so unnecessary. And scary. And I don't want to keep feeling like this, but I'm no doctor and I don't have another appointment for several weeks. This blows.

Why I'm happily, very, very vegetarian...

Exhibit A:

Terroirs d'Antan

Boudin Noir Sausage

Ingredients: pork blood, onion, duck meat, pork snouts, pork fat, salt, beef blood plasma, cornstarch, sugar, allspice, coriander, nutmeg, caraway, pepper, natural pork casings.

$15.30 @ Social Safeway,

in the gourmet portion of the freezer aisle.

That's all you, omnivores.

Desi Svingers, they lowe me...

I love almost everything about flickr, except for the cringe certain flickr mails inspire. 

Why such a rxn you might ask?  Well, once a week, I get "added" by men who have a brown-fetish (membership in a group devoted to Indian kitty cats is a dead giveaway) or more traumatic for me than that, desi couples who do shameful things with their shame-shames. ;)

I say "traumatic", because often, these people have full meeshas, smile-free photographs and other characteristics I totally associate with my relatives.  Who are uber-conservative.  Or...so...I...thought?  Maybe the couple below have a cousin or niece like me, who is blogging along innocently somewhere, unaware that she got some freak in her blood?  Maybe my own family members...uh...yeah, that concept just made me throw up a little, in my mouth. Wait, there's probably a flickr group for pictures of THAT, too!  Wheee!

March 12: Things Fall Apart

I checked my alerts, saw a new post on SM. 

Read that post and comments, noticed that I was getting credit for something I did not do.

I got confused; I surfed back to past SM post to see who wrote the post I didn't write.

Read the post, started skimming the comments.

Saw a super-courteous, and much-appreciated (even a year later) comment which directed thread-jackers elsewhere, to a whole new post/discussion on that person's own blog.

Followed the link and read the post; still smiling at this point, what an awesome thing for them to do.

Read the first comment and felt like Bruce Banner, turning green as my shirt shredded.

Hulk mad.

Immediately started to respond.

Paused.

Hulk sad.

Realized that many of the people who frequent that space dislike both me and SM.

Asked myself what good would or could come, from my addressing closed minds.

Stifled my inner-15-year-old, who is not so clear-headed, calm or philosophical.

Immediately comforted said 15-year-old, who internally wailed, "I can't keep this in!  Stop telling me that I shouldn't leave this comment because I'll be over it by tomorrow!  YOU'RE NOT EVEN MY REAL MOM!"

Sighed.

Remembered that this is why I have this diary, which I have not felt safe to express myself in, for over a year.

Oh, the perils of anonymous scrabbling

I've gone on record (on SM, on Friendster, away messages and on Facebook) as being a huh-yoooge Scrabulous fan-- it's addictive and unlike snickers, it satisfies.  While I'm tickled that so many of my friends play, I still can't get enough; yes, I have become insatiable.  There is only one option for me...

One-night Scrabbles.

I resisted the idea, initially.  It seemed so tawdry and dirty.  I thought, "you just click..."join game"...and *play* with a total stranger?  Eeek!"  As stupid as it now reads, it sounded like walking in to a swingers club and that's about the level of fear and aversion I felt towards it.  But then, I grew desperate.

And I clicked.  And I played.  And it wasn't so bad!  I decided that I had been an idiot for feeling the way I had.

Then the game ended, and I went back, cautiously and hopefully, for more.  That's when I saw a "come-on" which confirmed all of my earlier apprehensiveness:

"Gay men only!  If you are a woman, I will DELETE you!" 

Um, okay.  What this told me was that there were probably far more hetero people doing similar.  I hit refresh and lo, there was confirmation. 

"Girls only, if you're not hot, too bad." 

Even better:

"I want girls to talk nasty with me, no chat, no game". 

Eew, eew, eew.

I learned to shrug it off and though I noticed that I tended to only choose other females to play with, I've become far more nonchalant about these pick-up games.  Until today.  Which is when I saw something which I had to record in my diary, because I've meant to write about my weird scrabulous hang-up for a while now, I haven't got around to it, there's no time like the present AND this is so...well, you'll see.

There are three kinds of people: well-wishers, the indifferent and trolls.

Since most people leave "fake email addresses" (which I have no quibble with), I am publishing this here, where I know it will be read by my intended recipient. I am also attempting to send it via the email which they left.  Yes, I find this person's comments that unsettling.

::

Ellen:

I deleted your last comment, because it bothered me.

Look, the phrasing and certain terms you use sound exactly like an extremely creepy ex- who stalked me for a bit...obviously if I'm writing this to you, it's because I'm 51% sure that you are NOT him and that such things are all just an unfortunate coincidence.

There is a second issue: everything you type somehow emanates from a different IP address, each time, which usually points to trolling.  Combine that with your...unique comments and I'm not sure what to make of all this.  My inner idealist is hoping you are a real person, because the last thing I need is a new troll, but using words like   "entourage" to describe decent people or talking about how "several people" whom you know have met me and think _____ about me, makes me wonder otherwise.

If you have issues with me, you can email me.  I don't have a ton of time, but I will try and respond promptly.  Only trolls feel the need to stage public interventions via my comments section, purportedly for my own sake or benefit.  If you don't need an audience for whatever it is you are doing, then I'm tempted to think you are genuine. 

It is disheartening that I must state this, obviously and explicitly, but I don't require that all the comments left on my diary be sycophantic or in lock step agreement with me. But this is my diary and therefore the most personal blog I keep.  All I ask is that the comments which people leave be civil and NOT freak me out.  It's not too much to want.

::

Well, look what I received, in the time it took me to post this...

From: Mail Delivery Subsystem <[email protected]>

to me

This is an automatically generated Delivery Status Notification

Delivery to the following recipient failed permanently:

    

[email protected]

Technical details of permanent failure:
PERM_FAILURE: SMTP Error (state 16): 554 delivery error: dd Sorry your message to [email protected] cannot be delivered. This account has been disabled or discontinued [#102]. - mta228.mail.re3.yahoo.com

Charlotte was older than I am, and she wasn't over it, EITHER.

So, the other day...I scribbled this, mostly as a note to myself (this is my diary and that's what I use it for):

I just found out that Ann Coulter is also a Delta Gamma alum.

I don't love my sorority any less, but I can hardly bear the thought that Ann Coulter and I are...sisters.  Lord, help me.

Someone who lives up to their handle, who has never commented here before, left me the following sweetness:

Comments

Younever talk about any of your sorority sister friends (if you had any), and at your age isn't it time to get over the whole "I'm a sorority girl" thing? P.S. I'm desi and was in a sorority too.

Posted by: random | 2007.08.12 at 01:25 AM

Since I am still quite acquainted with the four hazelnut martinis I had last night/in the wee hours of the morning (wOOt, flog meetups!), I'll engage in the entirely futile exercise of trying to address this contemptuous query.  Hey, why not...I can't sleep, I need to hydrate, and focusing on potential haterade (RIP Barmaid) distracts me from my pounding headache.  Goooooo hangover!  Yay!

You never talk about any of your sorority sister friends (if you had any),

IF I had any?  That's kind.  I don't know if you're a new reader or just randomly passing through, but I'll say this for the benefit of the former; longtime stalkers know that there is a lot I don't talk about (80%), so I wouldn't base any assumptions on merely what is read (20%).

and at your age isn't it time to get over the whole "I'm a sorority girl" thing?

At MY age?  Even kinder.

I'm not sure what your sorority experience was like, and I'm genuinely sad that it obviously wasn't as meaningful for you, as evidenced by your...well, everything, but from moment one, we were told that this wasn't a four (or five) year commitment; this was a lifelong relationship.   When we bought our pins, we were reminded that our daughters would be legacies, and they'd inherit whatever we chose. 

That's why we regularly recognize people who've been DGs for 60, 70 years or more.  At their age, from your not-at-all-judgmental perspective, shouldn't they get over it?

I mean, I know, I'm SO ancient at all at 32, but fuck...those women are almost 80!

There are women in my building who didn't realize that I am an alum, until they ran in to me in our elevator and asked where I got my anchor flip-flops or shirt and vise-versa.  They are white, though, so perhaps it's different, and they're allowed to not be "over the whole thing".

I'm tempted to ask if you were in a panhellenic sorority or a newer, local, multicultural house...but then I remember my friend S, who was in a Desi sorority.  She's not over it, either.  If one did leave it in college, where you seem to think it belongs, then by definition, it wouldn't help you network professionally or academically--  which is what most Alums on the other side of sorority life enjoy.  I wouldn't have had the internships, job offers or access to a certain Senator I've enjoyed over the years, if I were "over it".

Beyond all of that, which I now feel like I wasted my time explaining mostly because people who leave drive-by comments aren't interested in actual dialogue, may I ask, why do you care?  Or more accurately, why do you care enough to be so negative about it: "never", "if you had any", "at your age", "get over"?  And what does your postscript about being Desi have to do with it?  Like I'd find it less or more obnoxious if that comment came from a white, black or purple person? 

To each their own. I love DG and like any heart-equipped person would, I'm still nonplussed that Coulter and I are sisters, by any definition of the word. 

Did they really SAY that???

Sue Ellen.
Every girl
over 25
should have
a cucumber
in her house.

-the unsuspecting Boss in "Don't Tell Mom the Babysitter's Dead" (1991), which actually stars Christina Applegate (you gotta put me on) vs. Elisabeth Shue, which is what I originally thought...

Nope, it's NOT a hoax...

...we really are that stupid.  Well, absent-minded is probably a more apposite adjective.  I know, I know...tomorrow is "pull-a-prank-day".  It's just a pathetic coincidence.  Seriously.

>:(

This is not helping my "Maybe-it's-time-to-leave" angst, y'all.

now you know (yo slick, blow)

 

Who invented "I heart NY"? Taylor Stafford, Texas

Dear Taylor:

The "I Love New York" campaign was commissioned by the state of New York and designed by the very famous graphic designer Milton Glaser in 1977. You know, we love it when we can answer a question so quickly -- in a New York minute, even. But, wait. New York is a place of stories. And the one behind the logo may be more interesting than the design itself -- which is nothing more than three letters and a heart symbol. Glaser created "I Love New York" at a time when nobody loved the city. President Ford had just told New York to drop dead. Serial killer Son of Sam prowled the boroughs. One of the world's greatest cities was deteriorating under budget deficits, blackouts, riots, and -- according to Glaser himself -- lots and lots of doggie poo. Today, just about everyone's willing to show the city some love, but back in the late 1970s, confessing your amore for the Big Apple left a rotten taste in many a mouth. The city and the state eventually saw economic upturns, and New Yorkers rallied to address many of its plaguing issues. But we believe Glaser's deceptively simple design and sentiment surely played a part in the slow but strong rebirth of the great metropolis. [linkage]

(it's under "wtf" b/c of Ford's snub...i must google this later)