Connecting On(The Fine)Line

It's a little late to wax poetic (11:19 pm on a work night), so I'll cut to the chase: I spend way too much time on the Internet. When semi-intellectual conversations lead to the inevitable question "What did you do before the Internet?" my standard reply is quite simple:

"I was in 7th grade."

For self-confessed homebodies such as myself, there's a lot to be said about a medium that allows us to keep in touch with the outside world while simultaneously enabling us to remain in our respective comfort zones. Thanks to the Internet, it's become far easier for the greater population to actualize the adage "No man is an island," as loners the world over log on, intrepidly walking that fine line between society and solitude.

In addition to making it possible for me to obtain essentials such as housing, employment, animal supplies, and husbands, the Internet has also connected me with people from all over the world, a few of whom I am proud to call friends.

Take, for instance, the woman who has continuously fought her way through life. In exposing me to realities that I have yet to experience, you remind me to keep my self-pitying tendencies in check.

Or, the neurotic young lady who, in the pursuit of self-improvement, diligently picks apart every uncomfortable sensation, emotion, and thought. As I talk you through your issues, I realize how far I've come, and how far I have yet to go.

And my brilliant, irreverent friend. It's painful to see you waste your potential on unproductive things, and to see you seek easy validation through the affections of others, in part because I share your self-destructive tendencies.

There's the man an ocean and a continent away, someone who, regardless of superficial discrepancies, seems so much like me it's uncanny. You make me feel at ease in my skin.

And you, Miss Havisham, my ex-friend. This bitter old crone is a glaring example of how important it is to maintain a balanced perspective. Get off the 'net and into the sun. Or better yet, get thee to the local pub, knock back a few, and end the evening butt naked, flat on your back with your legs in the air, why don't you.

In a virtual sea of complacent bovine masks, religious nuts, illiterate paramecia, and perverts who want to listen to me pee, you all stand out. Being bored at work was never this interesting.

That Nondescript Sentiment

We are a product of our pasts, an amalgam of fragmented histories.

Just checking in...

I'm alive. Will post something more substantial soon, I purromise.

In Other News...

Today was my 2nd wedding anniversary. My husband and I have been married for two years. We went to Spago in Beverly Hills (yes, I took the bus to Spago, I am ghetto) and, as is customary, we ate way too much.

Our meal was awesome. I'd post pictures but I forgot my camera.

A Brief Respite From The LOLanimals...

One thing that a lot of people don't know about me is that I've got a bit of an aversion to talking on the phone. This poses few issues socially, as most of my close friends know not to take it personally when they call and I don't call them back. They know this Cat is not one for idle chit chat, and that they'd be better off trying to find me online on one chat client or another. They also know that there is some futility in leaving me voice mail as it often goes unchecked for weeks.

The situation however, is a bit more urgent career-wise, as you'd be hard-pressed to find any office job that doesn't require some sort of telephone servitude. As it stands, even a (low-ranking) Mistress of Propaganda has to make phone calls during her short work week. And in this context, what can be otherwise be described as a mild aversion in my personal life has somehow mutated into a grotesque subtype of social phobia.

To make a long story short, I need to make a shitload of phone calls and I haven't. I'm terrified of calling people I don't know and calling them on behalf of a company I represent. I've totally procrastinated, and I'm totally fucked!

As the moment clearly calls for some amateur psychology, some friends and I trawled through my colorful childhood memories and identified a few risk factors for developing telephone phobia. At the risk of sounding like a socially-inept wuss, I have listed them for your perusal:

First, we start with what is already there, that is:
1. My personality in general. Overly serious, extremely self conscious, solitary. Even now I think about mistakes I've made (even stupid ones) replay them in my mind, and consequently die a thousand deaths. I also blush for no reason in social situations.

And then... the bullshit:
2. Having an unusual name, and being forced to repeat this name ad nauseam during the "May I ask who's calling" bit of the calling process.

3. Having a mild speech impediment. Boy, did I st-st-st-stutter. It's virtually indiscernible now, but back in the day I could have passed for a Porky Pig impersonator.

4. Being the most ridiculed fat girl in my class... and the prank phone calls that came with that honor.

Put 'em all together and what have you got...

Yes, I know you were expecting something like "My father beat me with a telephone." And I know I have to get over it at some point and you know what, I probably will. I'm not going to get my ass fired, it took me eons to find this job.

It really frustrates me how I take this sort of garbage with me and turn it into neuroses. Some people get bullied, beaten and raped and still go on to become CEOs or movie stars and I (with my asinine traumas and relatively cosseted childhood) can't even make a FUCKING PHONE CALL?!? WTF?!?

I don't want to think that I'm organically predisposed to social phobia but when you have a brother who is uncomfortable calling for pizza delivery, you begin to wonder...

What this all boils down to is the fact that I really need to stop being my own worst enemy; I create this hell in my own head and then I die a thousand deaths and with each death cast myself into the flames.

Dramatic much? Go Cat Go!