Compliments! Compliments for Everyone!

In the past, I have made no secret of the fact that I hold a great amount of disdain for false modesty. In my opinion, it's a sneaky, underhanded way to fish for (usually undeserved) compliments. No one owes you praise; if you deserved it, it would be given freely. Instead, you poke and prod at those around you with bullshit like, "I'm so fat" and "I hate my hair, I wish I had her/your/someone else's hair." I don't see how attempting to pry compliments out of people makes anyone feel better since you have to practically beg for them, meaning they weren't something anyone was about to give you if you'd kept your needy mouth shut.
But I'm not about to start beating a dead horse by making yet another post about that particular breed of imbecile. This isn't about them; it's about me. This rant is about how everyone around me seems to have some physical need to reassure me of my good qualities. An ex boyfriend of mine once said to me, "I have to fish for you to fish for compliments."

There's a difference between blatantly begging for validation and being hilariously self-deprecating. I don't go out of my way to squeeze in a line about how fat I am (hehe... squeeze, fat, get it?) but I won't pretend I'm a goddamn supermodel when the topic comes up. When people ask me how I see myself, my typical answer is "I'm alright." And that's that. I'm alright. Yeah, I've got shit that needs fixing but I'm not going to bore everyone around me to tears whining about it.
I'm honestly getting a little sick and tired of everyone flattering me needlessly because they think my self-esteem isn't high enough. My self-esteem is exactly where it needs to be, thank you very much. The only thing I hate more than false modesty is narcissism. Everyone around me (you know who you are) is apparently desperate to create some sort of egomaniacal monster with their unwarranted praise and reassurance. You asked me what I thought of myself and I told you. No one asked for your opinion, go away.
Better yet, let's just stop bringing my appearance into conversation altogether. I don't want to talk about something so inconsequential unless it's directly related to the subject at hand. Every time it comes up and I deny the fact that I may be attractive, no one seems to have the capacity to let it go. Suddenly it's everyone's god-given duty to convince me of how pretty and smart and funny and oh-so-speshul I am. On the other hand, if I finally cave and just say, "Fuck it. Yes. Ok? Yes, I am pretty," then it's off-putting and I look like a goddamn narcissist. I just can't win.
I don't think I've met anyone else with this problem but I wish I would. I would very much like to meet another person who is sick and tired of undue compliments so we can sit around and safely make fun of ourselves all day long. The only person I'd gladly accept random compliments from would be a significant other (and that's only because it was in the contract.)
I don't know what people get out of bombarding me with their needless adulation. It doesn't make me feel better; it makes me uncomfortable. I start getting this sense of overwhelming guilt because I don't go out of my way to tell people how good their hair looks today because I assume (since most people own a mirror) they're already aware.
I realize I might sound ungrateful or arrogant by complaining about this but it really does get annoying after a while. It's as though my being self-deprecating makes people think I'm fishing for compliments when, in reality, I'm just trying to make a joke. Everyone likes poking fun at others and I gladly offer myself up as a punchline. I'm well-acquainted with myself, so my looks and appearance aren't anything especially foreign to me. That being said, I'm pretty sure I don't really need a bunch of third parties putting in their two cents. What really gets me is how something so pointless and superficial is even an issue. It's not worth discussing, it really isn't.
Leave my butt, my weight and my hair out of this and let's talk about string theory or something, PLEASE.

I just met you, and this is crazy... but here's my Facebook. So stalk me maybe?

So I deleted my Facebook a little while back.
Gone. Kaput. Relationship Status: Da svedanya.

Since that happened, I have been made that much more aware of the fact that no one is ever going to read my blog again because that's the only way anyone gave a damn about it. If it's not showing up in their newsfeed, it doesn't exist. So here I am, at 2:08 in the morning, talking to myself. Good times.
I do not have a twitter nor a tumblr either. Life devoid of social media has been trying, to say the least. My primary means of communication has been texting and emaling, yet I (in my infinite wisdom) did not think to acquire the phone numbers of many of my former Facebook friends and am, therefore, slightly inconvenienced when I actually need to talk to them. In all honesty, it's been frustrating... and that annoys me. Now I'm not annoyed because I don't have a virtual farm to tend to all goddamn day but moreso because everyone else is so dependent on it and that makes it hard to reach them through any other means.

Imagine meeting someone in this day and age and exchanging anything OTHER than a Facebook url. They want something that's even MORE non-committal than a phone number. I mean, that's what texting is for, right? Not anymore. Now, you can expect to be thoroughly stalked before they even decide to ask you out for coffee. What's most infuriating about this is that it's become completely normal to rely on social media for fucking EVERYTHING. That's part of the reason I deleted it, truth be told.

In all honesty, Facebook started creeping me out. I would log in from my phone and it would sync my contacts with their profile pictures. Before I knew it, every news article I so much as skimmed was on my newsfeeds. That's some 1984 shit right there. I figured it was only a matter of time before it announced everything I'd bought online, every Skype conversation I had and everything I had for breakfast. Not cool, yo. (If it started alerting my newsfeed to every query I put into google, I would have no friends. That is a fact.)

I rarely get that impulse to check in on my nonexistent Facebook. I did for a couple days, just out of habit or muscle memory, but I got over it fairly quickly. It's a bit akin to my relationship with my phone; I used to think I needed it, all the time, no matter what. Then I started forgetting it at home once... twice... a lot. Then I went to Europe and couldn't take it at all. Now I could really give a crap about it most days. I don't bring it to the movies and I sure as hell don't need it when I'm out shopping. Facebook took significantly less weening but it was still something I had to get used to.

What I'm NOT used to, however, is the fact that I can't seem to get shit done. Everyone has yielded to the will of the Zuckerberg and forgone most other means of communication in favor of the great and all-powerful, all-knowing (and I do mean that part quite literally) Facebook. I can't seem to make simple dinner plans without someone requesting I "facebook them" the details. How about I TELL you the details? With my face? There's this brilliant new thing called talking, you should all check it out.

It's certainly a good way to help remember who your actual friends are. I still have one friend who writes to me. On PAPER. And sends it in the MAIL! (I know, right?) Seeing that someone has taken the effort to call, hell, even text me means that they pulled themselves away from their precious internets long enough to maintain some form of contact with me. (The fact that she writes 15-page letters and buys stamps for my sake makes me happy as a cl-- No, you know what? HAPPIER than a clam. And clams are pretty goddamn happy, ok?) Those are some real friends right there.

It was a bit disheartening when I told people I deleted the damn thing, only to be told, "Oh, so it was you? I was wondering why my number went down..." Ok, really? I'm not expecting to be the thing that occupies your thoughts day and night, but you really couldn't tell that I was gone? Fantastic. Way to make a girl feel special.

I'm not sure what the purpose of this particular blog entry was (though I can say the same about all the previous ones) but, looking back, it might just serve as a fair warning to anyone else who is getting fed up with the Facebook overlord watching their every keystroke. It certainly frees up your time significantly and, according to some study I'm too lazy to cite, it makes you less depressed. Just make sure to get some emails or something before you make that final click or you'll never hear from anyone ever again. Oh, and don't expect to get a date anytime soon either. Apparently, you're not datable unless you have a Facebook the person can comb through and you can be damned sure no one has the balls to call anyone and ask for a date anymore.

It's All Fun and Games Until They Realize You're NOT a 12 Year Old Boy

A few hours ago, I was having myself a lovely chat with someone I had met on 4chan. The topic of video games inevitably came up and I was slightly surprised to learn that someone from said website did not regularly partake in the hobby. He was, however, curious as to whether or not I got harassed on a regular basis by men for being a "girl gamer." 
This is obviously not the first time an inquiry of this nature has been made to me. That being said, I have begun to notice that the topic tends to incite feelings reminiscent of some traumatic event every time I'm forced to answer it. While men may often scoff and roll their eyes at the notion that women have a hard time playing games, I can assure you that it's not always a walk in the park. I should probably make it perfectly clear that I speak for myself and other gamers with the misfortune of harboring female genitalia, not "gamer girls." I honestly cannot stress this enough; I am not, nor do I wish to be acknowledged as, a "gamer girl." I am a gamer.
Simply put, it's tedious and oftentimes frustrating being female when video games are in question. It's common practice for us to hide our genders, being content with being referred to as "he" and "him" over voice chat. We claim our mics don't work well and, when probed about our personal lives, remain as vague and gender-neutral as possible. Now I know plenty of you are shaking your heads right now and thinking, "Bullshit. Every girl I know has always been treated well in the gaming community. They don't have to hide." I should clarify...
There are vast differences between female gamers and "gamer girls." The most prominent, I've noticed, is choice of character or design. Whether we're talking fighters, RPGs, or even racing games, you will notice patterns if you look closely. Do they opt for decals in lieu of engine upgrades? Have you never seen them fight with anyone other than Chun-li, even when they clearly can't play her that well? Do they play supporting classes because their boyfriend needs a healer? Take heed; if their gaming style can be referred to only as an aesthetic choice or what was recommended to be the easiest to play, I'd be hesitant to award them the title of "Gamer." Picking up a controller and playing a round of Halo with your boyfriend whenever his friends aren't around no more makes you a gamer than changing your oil every 3,000 miles makes you a mechanic.
Just so we're clear, I'm not hating on casual gamers here. Wii sports is fun and anyone who doesn't giggle like a schoolgirl when a new Pokemon game is announced has absolutely no soul. Those who follow the community heavily, however, take the title "Gamer" as a serious commitment to Mountain Dew and all things geeky. I enjoy a good game of basketball now and then but in no way consider myself an athlete. The thing I have a problem with is the fact that a female can play one Final Fantasy game and promptly fancy herself a "Gamer" because it means she can now hone in on a niche demographic and revel in the glory of being a rarity (Read: Speshul snowflake).
One thing they did get right, however, was garnering enough popularity and support from desperate males to allow them the privilege to practically get away with murder because "lol i'm a girl." They giggle in vent, flirt during raids, and make those adorable "tee hee, I don't know what I'm doing" sounds while trying to figure which buttonmash combo equates to blocking. Problem is, men have started to expect that from us. All of us. Even the ones who know how to play are almost required to behave like vapid retards if we expect to see any glorious lewt. Do you know what happens when we don't fill that role? THAT'S when we get harassed.
When women are content to play supporting classes and giggle in vent, everyone seems at ease. However, when it turns out that the fury warrior raping the dps charts is actually female, guys are suddenly much less accommodating to having women encroach on their hobby. The mage barely pulling her own weight on the damage charts is fine to have around (provided she makes up for it by flirting shamelessly with the raid leader), but having a main tank turn out to be a woman? Well, in the wise words of Philip J. Fry, "That dog won't hunt, monsignor." Care to know the trick to being the highest dps'ing death knight in your guild and never getting invited to raids? Don't flirt with anyone. You'll brand yourself the "stuck up bitch lesbian" and you'll be passed up for the giggle factory of a priest who stands in fire.
The egos of men are fragile things and they will go to any lengths to preserve them. While gender equality may be something everyone likes to claim they support in public, there are apparently some lines we still can't safely cross. Do I bat my eyelashes so he'll graciously let me play the next turn or do I hold my ground and risk being ostracized because he doesn't want to risk losing a game of Guilty Gear to a girl? At the end of the day, the most prevalent game we're playing is one of politics and, like it or not, we're still second class citizens. Personally, men can be buttmad all they damn well please; I'm still going to end up teabagging their corpse, regardless of what I do or do not actually possess between my legs.

Without Social Consequences, We'd All Be Serial Killers. I'm Sure Of It.

Many people have come to me over the years and asked, "Are human beings inherently cruel?" Of course, by "many people," I probably mean around 3 but that's hardly relevant. You know what IS relevant? That question. Typically, I'd answer with, "No, I don't think so," but I've begun to reevaluate that line of thinking over the course of the past few years. I've come to find that the basis for my usual answer might have possibly stemmed from the fact that I count myself amongst the "people" in question and was not entirely fond of thinking of myself as a cruel person. Upon further inspection, I've noticed that I had significantly less evidence of inherent human kindness than cruelty, which is abundant to say the least.
After all, why is it that any time someone does a random act of kindness (Taylor Swift taking that boy with cancer on a date, that kid who saved his grandpa after a heart attack, some other fluff story no one probably read) it's always noted, always written about? Yet it's only the most horrendous acts of violence and hate that get any mention. Hell, bullying is so commonplace, people have made COMMERCIALS about it. It's not news, it just IS. When you get right down to the core of it, that is what I now believe. Cruelty and unkindness simply is.
Now I've worked in retail and customer service since I was sixteen so I've dealt with a fair number of people. Most of these people, you might imagine, had absolutely no reason to be nice to me. So they weren't. I have been insulted, harassed and even physically injured because people did not give a single fuck about me and likely thought that I could just go right to hell for all they cared.
As we're all aware, everyone likes to think themselves as the exception to most rules. (If you've ever heard anyone tell you, "I'm not like most girls," I will bet my first born that they are EXACTLY like most girls). I've had friends conduct themselves hmm... let's say "crudely" because of some strange mentality that can be summed up by saying "If that person isn't me and has no relationship to me, they don't matter." Am I the exception to the rule? Hardly. I've behaved just as crass as the next customer in line at the bank, justifying it by telling myself that I'd never see these other people again. (And if you claim you've never done something dickish after telling yourself that exact phrase, you're a goddamn liar.)
For further proof, let's take a glimpse into the wacky world of the internet. Yes, my friends, I'm talking about trolls. For those older folks in my reading audience (Hi, dad) trolls can be defined as people posting uncouth things on the internet to incite feelings of anger, frustration and even sadness in others. Why do people troll others? To put it simply: I have no idea. I may have moments where everyone else around me (read: in traffic) is not worthy to breathe my air, but that usually comes from having a bad day. I may curse and cut people off but only because it reduces my level of stress and helps me alleviate frustration I've built throughout my day. Trolls, on the other hand, are simply cruel, merciless, faceless beings with no souls to speak of. They gain nothing measurable by inciting others with their remarks as they are typically anonymous and likely not getting paid to do it. What's scary is that there are probably more trolls on the internet than actual sane individuals with useful things to say. Why is this a scary notion? When people are granted a shield to hide their face and reputation, they are more likely to become complete assholes than do or say anything constructive.
Have you ever asked yourself, "If I could be whomever I wanted, say whatever I wanted, with no repercussions or consequences... what kind of person would I be?" Think hard; you may already have become this person when you post on anonymous message boards. Some might say that the gain in trolling others online is a feeling of control over a complete stranger's emotions. Though a valid answer, it does further prove my point as that happens to be a rather anti-social method of thinking.
I personally do not spend my time trolling others as I see nothing to be gained from it. That fact alone is validating to my self-esteem, as it makes me think that I am not inherently unkind... only circumstantially. I can live with that. It is, however, a little disheartening to come to terms with the state of the world we live in... a world where, if you can get away with it, make as many people unhappy as humanly possible. 

Why, Yes, You Do Look Fat Today

I’d like you to ask yourselves (I was going to start this off with “tell me” but then I remembered that I practically have to beg like a starving puppy to get any input or feedback on this stupid blog so we’ll go with the option that allows you to continue not giving a toss) if you’ve ever known anyone with one particularly… overwhelming personality trait that you did not take to so fondly. Of course, that would require a hint of self-reflection on the part of you, the reader; so try not to hurt yourselves. What characteristics do you admire in others and, contrariwise, which traits do you find repugnant, at best? On that note, I also wonder if anyone else behaves abnormally cold toward these people when said traits are made apparent.

I’ve always found myself especially drawn to those with an air of humility. Take note: There is a vast difference between true humility and false modesty. In my mind, humility is the recognition that, although you may be talented, attractive or whatever else people might regard you highly for, there are those who are better than you. This knowledge helps people retain a sense of being grounded and practical. Perhaps an example is in order:

A sidewalk artist draws an admittedly inspired piece on the ground in a public setting. He looks at his work proudly but says nothing. He draws a crowd and humbly accepts the praise offered to him by passersby. Were he to flaunt his piece, drawing more attention and compliments for the sake of his own ego, it is not unlikely that a better artist would come along, draw something better not too far away and make the first man look like an arrogant fool. If you’ve ever met a true artist, you’ll know that they rarely think their work is anything special for exactly this reason. On the other extreme, if you’ve ever met a seasoned video gamer… you’d likely be made aware of the undeserved sense of accomplishment and considerable ego that a great majority of them seem to possess.

False modesty, however, is a poor imitation of modesty worn by juveniles who think themselves oh, so clever by attempting to pry undue praise to themselves for mediocre accomplishments. Most think their guises iron-clad and, to their credit, any asinine audience (of which there are many) is more than willing to tell these people, “Ugly? No way! You’re so pretty! And I can’t believe you think you can’t sing! Oh, of COURSE your hair looks good today!”

I don’t handle people with addictions well. If someone is addicted to heroin, do you buy him or her syringes for their birthdays? Likely not. However, no one seems to think twice about giving credit where none is due, thus feeding a Self-Esteem addiction. Perhaps it’s because few have noticed and the ones that have may not have thought that far; they just want the person to shut up about being fat. I’ve always found the silent treatment works, especially when you’re looking for an indirect way to make these people stop trying to hang out with you. If someone has a need, a true emotional need, to be right all the time, I’m far less likely to give him or her that satisfaction. We all know those who would sooner swallow their own head and shit it out their ass than admit to being wrong and yet people continue to enable that behavior for the sake of avoiding further hassle.

I’d like to add here that I highly advise against calling these people out on such tendencies with little or no warrant. It makes you look like an ass and you’re probably going to lose that one. People, by nature, rarely contemplate their personalities enough to pinpoint the less-than-admirable traits within themselves. They’re probably aware of it to some degree though. It’s much like encountering a very disfigured person on the street; you acknowledge the existence of the person, yet you try to ignore him or her in order to keep yourself from staring. You know they’re there, threatening to enter your line of vision so you keep them confined to the periphery.

If you ever notice someone becoming uncharacteristically silent, perhaps even stalling conversation at a random moment, it’s likely they’ve been made aware of whatever unlikable trait you possess and continue to feed. I dwell on the inflated ego so much because I’ve found no other single transgression that can boast the numbers of people it appears to afflict. Maybe I’m just unlikely in the company I find. It would, however, be a blessing by every definition of the word if people were to stop giving me “hints” as a means of fishing for compliments. I’m not an idiot, I can see through you, and you’re not getting any. Go away.

Merry Whatever to all and to all a good oh, go away...

So I was watching Christmas specials on Netflix earlier, hoping to stave off the inevitable feeling of loneliness I've been having about spending Christmas alone. After the first couple shows, however, I began to notice a recurring pattern in a lot of these specials.

Protagonist: YAY IT'S CHRISTMAS (or whatever coincidentally similar holiday they might be celebrating during wintertime in the world of this show)!

Secondary character: Oh, no! So-and-so is all alone. We should help him/her.

Protagonist: We should! No one should spend Christmas alone!

*Cue the rest of the episode revolving around getting so-and-so to join them/reunite with estranged family/make new friends/not spend Christmas alone*

So you can imagine that, after a couple hours of this, I found myself in no better spirits than I did when I began this mope-tastic cartoonathon.

Sure, I rarely actually CELEBRATE this holiday as it is... in fact, one year I even found myself playing World of Warcaft for the majority of the day. Sometimes I just sit and watch television in my parents' house. But even though I seldom have a garish tree in my living room and I cannot for the life of me remember the last time I donned a Santa hat... I realized I never actually spent this day completely alone ever before.

To be completely honest, it wouldn't be all that bad if (and I should feel terrible saying this but then I remembered OH YEAH I'm a terrible person! I don't care!) everyone else wasn't so. Damn. Happy. 

I've been alone before. In fact, as of late, I find myself in the company of no other living person more often than not due to my current circumstances. The problem lies in the cheerful nature of everyone else during this time of year. 

Ok, you know how there's that one single guy you know? The one who sighs every time he sees couples holding hands when he goes anywhere? Or even just seeing people fall in love in the movies he watches (alone)? It's a bit similar. 

I'm not really trying to come off as a Grinch, bashing on everyone else having a (God forbid) good holiday season. By all means, you probably deserve it. Post your happy photos on Facebook for me to sigh wistfully at (even if you are wearing gaudy sweaters, you're entitled) with your cookies and your trees and your oversized socks that don't seem to come in a pair for some stupid reason. Hell, I never have any of those things even when I DO find company on Christmas. Just don't expect me to leave cheerful comments on said photos because I'm a cold, bitter person. 

The saddest part of all this is that I've always loved Christmas above every other holiday. Do I care that it's an admittedly religious holiday, perpetuated by capitalism and greed? Not really, no. No matter how many nativity scenes people try to push in your face, I'm pretty sure even Jesus himself would admit defeat after realizing how many more people Google Santa's name than his. Christmas isn't about Jesus, I don't care what anyone tells you. It's about  passive aggressive yard-decorating competitions with your neighbors, seasonal drinks at Starbucks and catchy jingles on the radio that still make you happy even if you've heard them a million and a half times. Problem is, it's also about spending time with people (preferably ones you like.) I'm a bit lacking in that department. 

Maybe I'll just call myself a hipster and proclaim that Christmas is just too mainstream of a holiday for me to give a damn about it. 

Damn shame I don't make a very convincing hipster.

With Friends Like Those, Who Needs Jersey Shore?

I recently went to a dinner party... during which I ended up contemplating the many ways I might be able to kill myself with the plastic utensils I was given to avoid spending any further time with the rest of the guests. (I like cheery introductions.)

Most of these guests were loud, obnoxious and to an extent even rude. The hostess happened to be one of the sweetest people I know so you can imagine my utter disbelief when I found the majority of her friends were one trainwreck after the other. If one wasn't screaming out "YOU ARE SUCH A CUNT LOLOL" at the top of her lungs, another was squealing like a pig at some vague sexual joke she had just made about something in the room. It's safe to say I'd have felt more at home in a brothel.

I often wonder how good people can keep bad company. In recent years, I have made it a point to cut off communication with those I considered "toxic friends," a term I stumbled across on Yahoo.com and plan to pretend I made up. Those friends you have that warrant questioning from others such as, "Why do you keep him/her around?" are the ones I'm referring to. If no one has ever asked you such a question... congratulations, you're that friend.

These also happen to be the friends you have the best stories about and, as entertaining as these stories may be, acquaintances will eventually notice a pattern in that all of these stories end with, "And so she got the abortion" or "And so we bailed him out." What most people don't realize is that the toxicity of these... individuals (I hesitate to call them people) may bleed into aspects of your own personality. Never gone streaking in public before? Well, these friends of yours are going to do their damndest to change that. Never had a one night-stand with some frat douche you met at a bar? Go onnnnn, she's had 30 of those. One won't hurt.

I've never found the value of entertainment to exceed the value of being dignified, but I guess I'm just old fashioned in that respect. I tend to weed out the so-called bad influences because, for some strange reason, I don't have much patience for people who flake on plans and appointments but somehow find the time to call me up at 4 in the morning and ask for a ride somewhere.

I get it, these people might be fun to club with or might know where the best parties are, but they're also the reason you bombed that midterm you should have been studying for. They're that devil on your shoulder, nudging you in their direction because they're lonely and hollow, looking for someone else to destroy from the inside so they don't feel quite so bad about their shitty choices in life. After all, you have shitty choices in friends so why not just go all the way?

Another reason I tend to "excuse myself" when I run into such people is I'm tired of being bored to death by stories of their life and the poor choices that comprise it.

"How did you end up homeless?"
"Well, I dropped out of high school, fucked my step dad, got kicked out, got arrested for stealing a candy bar from 7-11..."
"Oh my, would you look at my wrist? I better get going."

Needless to say, my number of actual friends lingers in the single digits. And some might even go as far as to say that the friends I do have are uninteresting (this from the point of view of those who wake up in strange locations every Sunday morning.) However, I honestly think I'd rather be considered boring with my boring friends than end up pregnant 3 times and have all of my belongings sold by some guy I met in Las Vegas. That happened. To an actual person.

Yet I still enjoy websites such as textsfromlastnight.com because I'm amused and tickled at the antics other morons pull in their free time. I'd never want to actually meet any of these individuals as I may contract a venereal disease simply by sharing the same oxygen, but they're still certainly interesting. And that's all they are. Interesting. These imbeciles you keep around as friends, the ones who break beer bottles over their heads and dance naked on bartops... they're not people. They're merely circus acts, created and nurtured for the amusement of those of us with responsibilities and 401-Ks.

And that's how reality tv came to be. Good night, children.