I've Got Mail

One of my roommates messaged me on facebook.

Firstly, I don't appreciate the tone of her first two sentences. It implies that all I do is sit around and bitch about them, instead of just the one post that took me like 15 minutes to write (and this one...)

Okay, that's technically not true. Like 90% of my blog is me bitching about someone, but I've talked about my niece, my ex-boyfriend, two of my best friends, random assortments of strangers, and my own parents. If I'm bitching about the people who gave me life, no one is sacred.

Secondly, I've heard from our "mutual friends" (and probably the same people) that you talk about me. Everyone talks about everyone, especially when they're irritated/annoyed/upset.

And nobody ever talks to anyone directly. Everyone always says that, but I believe they are lying. I didn't even get "directly," I got a facebook message (but since it was only my inbox, it's better.) I can only think of one instance where I would have rather someone come to me. The rest of the time, I would rather you keep it to yourself, even if you extend the definition of 'yourself' to include a group of your friends. Once again, everyone (and I am not generalizing,) bitches about someone behind their back.

Third, thanks for tossing the whipping cream if it was bad, but it's still considered rude to not tell me the reason it was gone.

And really, if you aren't going to tell me, "Hey, your whipping cream was bad," or "Hey, I'm going to have 10 people over so if you planned on watching Criminal Minds or sleeping, sucks for you," or "Hey, I'm inviting your ex over even though I know you don't want to talk to, see, or share air with him so he can awkwardly try to talk to you for two seconds before he remembers that you're not okay with his presence," then I am not the only one with communication issues.

That's why I blog instead of talking to people. I can say whatever I feel at that second and let it go. If we had an actual conversation about cleaning, I would blow everything out of proportion and be overly dramatic, and nothing would be accomplished (because when people argue, they never purely defend themselves, they always get on the offensive, and when I feel like I'm being attacked, I am out for blood.) According to Ms. Judy, I'm abrupt and rude sometimes. I just get the distinct feeling that whether I posted a blog or talked to any of them, they'd be mad, so I vented. It's not like the blog is a solution, I don't think it is, but I get all of the bitterness out so that I don't do or say something worse.

I really don't know what "rest of the world" you're talking about. Blogger has a handy tool that puts up statistics about your blog, and I know for a fact that post got 5 page views and no comments. So five random strangers glanced at it and weren't even inspired to post a "Sux 4 u." If I wanted to be an outright bitch, I would make a video complete with a soundtrack of a tour of the kitchen and post that on youtube where hundreds of thousands of bored people will watch anything (and I mean anything. Look up "smoking Smarties.") I just really don't see how 5 strangers who I haven't even met is any better or worse than two or three of our friends who I see everyday on campus spreading it around.

The fact of the matter is, I blog about everything I feel for my own sake. If you're offended or whatever, sorry, but you are a secondary character in the movie that is my life. I write about things, then I forget about it because after I release it, I'm over it. If I talked to anyone every time I was upset with them, I would constantly be harping on people because pretty much everything annoys me. Then you'd dump me. Just kidding (not really.) Really, it's just a blog post in a sea of blog posts that no one but me cares about. Honestly, if I had a nickel for every time someone on the Internet called me childish or immature or stupid, I would have exactly 35 cents. But I know exactly who I am, bitchiness, flaws, and all, so I remember that I can just post a video of a cat and everyone will be distracted and forget about it.

But since I have no intention of not talking about everything that pops into my head, and I'm not sorry for writing how I felt at that moment, I guess I'll just apologize for accusing anyone of using my whipping cream and post a picture of my dirty shower so no one maintains the idea that I'm of saintly perfection (because you all thought that, right?)

This just reminds me that the maintenance people haven't fixed my drain yet.