Friday, February 1, 2013

I AM STANDING RIGHT HERE

Okay, okay, so maybe the capitalization is a little over-done.

But it's kind of how I feel a LOT of the time.

Take Wednesday, for example.  Wednesdays, I spend about three hours in a room I like to refer to as "the glass box" at school.  It's quiet, usually, and I can just chillax in a comfy chair and not pay attention to anything.

Except if the guy sitting a partition away from me (a plexiglass partition, I must add.  very very see through with no actual door) decides to facetime with his girlfriend and they decide to have a conversation about her potential modeling career and her body-fat ratio that may or may not affect her womanly cycle and whether or not they can have kids, while he prepares a speech for his Public Speaking Class.  I've never been so over-informed in my life.  She mentioned her measurements.  I was sitting there in my chair staring at my computer screen going "Really?  Do you not realize this is a PUBLIC area with more than just one other person sitting there?  I am not the only person in this room other than your boyfriend, we can all hear you--" And then she started talking about her PERIOD.  I was mortified for both of them because there was none betwixt the twain.

I was WITHIN EYELINE OF THE GUY.  HE KNEW I WAS THERE. HE DID NOT STOP HER FROM SAYING THESE THINGS.

On a different note, I'm going to rant because I have nothing better to do with my time.

Okay, not so different, kind of the same strain of thought, but it's more about not being listened to rather than not being noticed...

I write in a blog because then my thoughts, feelings, and my actual words are out, in a physical form, to be read, and properly quoted, by other people.  The fact that this is still really rare surprises and disappoints me.  I understand that no one can carry it around all the time and quote it word for word, I'm not saying that.  But...When you talk to me about what I've written, I need you to have actually read it.  I need you to pay attention to what I wrote, because I'm not just saying it for the hell of it.  I'm not.  If I've taken the time to write it out it means I wanted someone, somewhere, anywhere to read it and listen (listening isn't done with your ears, that's hearing.  different).  Listen to what I'm trying to get across.  This is my most effective means of communication.  I'm not good with words, I try really hard to be, but unless I'm either really nervous or really comfortable, I'm not going to say much.  Mostly because I don't think anyone will listen if I speak.  It's something that comes from being in large groups for a good portion of my time, and being spoken over regardless of whether or not what I was saying was relevant to the conversation.  And I try really hard to speak up, I do.  It's just not easy for me.  It takes a lot of effort, and I get very, very nervous and uncomfortable.  It's stage-fright, essentially, which is why I'm better at one-on-one conversation (unless, you know, I'm really attracted to you, in which case, I'll likely say very little because nerves.)  I'm this ridiculous mess of confusing anxiety reactions.

What I'm trying to say is that I'm writing because I want to be listened to.  This is the only way I fear I'll be heard a lot of times.  Because I'll literally start a sentence with someone and they'll respond not having listened to a word I've said.  I'm not really good with social cues either.  I'm really, really bad at it, actually.  And I do try.  But I just...I'm writing because I want you to read what I have to say, and then know what I mean because I've taken the time to use just the right words and actually put all of my thoughts down.  I'm taking all of the things in my head on whatever the subject of the blog post is about and putting them down for you guys for as long as I can keep the train of thought going.  And it sucks when I can tell that someone hasn't taken the time to actually pay attention.  It's happened more than once, and I'm too polite to say anything to their face about it.

But it almost physically hurts.  It's like a slap in the face.  It's like all my fears that circle around in my head about not being enough, not being interesting, not being important enough for my thoughts to matter come back and rush me.  They throw themselves at me and I'll swear I've been hit by a bus for a few seconds.

And then I have to deal with the doubt and depression that follow, and frankly I'm tired of that.  I'm tired of feeling like I don't matter enough to have my thoughts heard.  I'm tired of it, you guys.

I'm going to continue posting because I feel like these are thoughts that need to be read by someone -- anyone.  But if you haven't actually read the whole damn thing -- my entire blog, all of it -- if you don't know my whole life story by this point, don't talk to me about what I've written.  You'd be wasting my time.  You won't understand shit about me, and you'll have no right to comment about my thoughts that I took so damn long to put into words that barely quantify the feelings behind them just for you to read.

I'm not...I'm not an attention whore.  I just want to be noticed for once in my damn life, for something I think is important.  Something I think means something.  And if I have to wait the rest of my goddamn life for it, I'll be happy waiting, but unless you're going to take the time (it'll take way less time for you to read it than it did for me to write it I can promise you that), don't bother me.

I'm sorry, that got really pissy there at the end.  I'm just...I'm just sick and tired of being overlooked and spoken over and ignored.

I'm not taking it anymore.  I still won't say anything to your face, but by God, be prepared for an angry update if anyone decides to say something about a blog post to me that shows they completely missed the point and message I was trying to get across.

Until Next Time, Dear Readers
Me.

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