Anti-Debbie Campaign: For All My Haters - Including Me*!

In the words of an entertainer, "This is for all you fucking haters out there". Learn to hate properly.

Here I am, trying to be entertaining and letting you all know why I shouldn't have my own blog. It's too much pressure on my fragile ego for one. It seemed to me that I didn't even have one, considering the fact that I think I'm a walking joke. And not the "oh you're hilarious" type but more like "oh, you got shit on your shoe" kind.

I've always been a loner, not by own choice, but I have embraced it. Also I think that being a female kind of works against me when I say I hate women. They're crazy. They are hormonal. Often get tied up in pointless arguments... And come out victorious somehow. They also have the tendency to drive me nuts (i.e. mother, sisters, "guests"). All of this welds together to climax my next point. I contradict myself, quite frequently.

This is where I stand at the time. I have at least two really good female friends, lost contact with the 20-something all male entourage that was my college days and I have, in fact, the ability to generate human life from my womb (eek), and a pair of breasts to go with it. And how could I ever forget my very own all-female reading demography. I mean, my entire two-female-one-male reading demography. Sorry, Eyebrows. My boyfriend refuses to even acknowledge the fact that I have a "blog" and doesn't even know what the page address is. I guess It's an issue since I keep throwing hints, which he dodges with uncanny dexterity.

More Reasons as of April 15, 2008:

So I'm sitting on the living room floor with my knees bent beneath me and I'm building a puzzle. I am also butt naked. Annie Hardy from Giant Drag is wearing her heart on her sleeve while she sings Wicked Game on my laptop. And I realize, maybe I should try blogging like this. Maybe I should open up so everyone can see how fucked up I really am.

It's funny to me that a lady staying in the hotel once told me "you have a sweet face, you look like a very sweet girl". Those people around me and who think they know me would laugh instantly and probably remember some of the warped things that have come out of my little mouth.

Every smile, every move, every twinkle in my eye, every courtesy that comes out of me is so practiced and non-natural. It's like there is a puppeteer in my brain working the movement and I'm just sitting there thinking 'how stupid do I look right now?'.

Its feels like I'm too aware of myself. Even when I laugh in a movie, I often don't really feel like laughing at all. I know it's funny, but I can stop laughing at any moment. I think that I've learned to swallow my emotions too much. I've learned not to expose myself and behave in such a way that will make me not stick out. I guess what I'm trying to say is that a good portion of my reactions and my feelings are fake. Methodically engineered to avoid the social awkwardness that haunts my mind and constantly surrounded my childhood.

More?

I never know what to talk about. It's like I'm never thinking about anything in particular. The thoughts in my head have no consistency or continuity, and its so hard to make friends with that kind of apathy. The only way that I can keep a relationship is if I morph into my would-be partner. I end up liking most of the things that we share, though. The fact that I'm not driven and have no self-motivation, adhered to the fact that I have no self-esteem and feed off of everyones energy has made me a conformist, among other undesirable traits.

I'll be frank and say that I tend to "magnify beyond the limits of truth" some things that I may write or speak about. In writing this, though, I can honestly say that all that I'm thinking is "damn! am I really going to publish this?", which leads me to believe that there must be something in here that I'm trying to conceal. And even if you have finished reading this and are sceptical about the words herein spoken, and don't hate me yet, please consider this:

I don't know what love is. And I'm not sure I want to find out or even if I might deserve it. I'm simply possessive and I don't feel my feelings. It was all stripped away from me.

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