Oh, the irony

This week was spring break. I am on my last "official" day of spring break, and today, I have done, well, nothing. This is pretty much what I did yesterday, and every day this week. On the list of things to do in addition to cleaning the garage (which if you have a brain, you know I did NOTHING on), I was going to blog. Many interesting and fun things. That hasn't really been happening either.

I am managing to keep up with reading some of my favorite blogs, including Miss Britt. Ironically (this is where the irony comes in for those paying attention to the post title) she writes about people using the phrase "this is just like high school." Since I recently had an incident in which this came up, it galvanized me into action or typing as the case may be.

So, last weekend was the infamous Greenville Ave St. Pat's street party. Mr. Potential always has a party of his own to coincide with it. It's a good size party. He has a posse of friends that he has had for many years that come to this party. At any rate, the long and short of it: the girls, not so nice. It was literally shocking to have these women basically brush me off and ignore me all. day. long. There were lots of other people there, so it wasn't as if I was sitting in a corner by myself, but it was still a weird experience.

Someone else actually noted it was a bit high school - the whole clique thing, and perhaps they needed to be reminded that they aren't in high school anymore. I appreciate Miss Britts comments about it NOT being like high school, but as someone who will actually be spending most of her life in high school before it is all said and done, I can tell you that when as an adult I find myself having some type of high school drama; it is always startling. I totally get that high school is a microcosm of life with everyone trapped together learning to exist. I absolutely believe that as an adult I have a lot more choice and control over myself, and how I respond to situations and people. That doesn't change that there are people and situations that just smack of high school.

I think recognizing behavior as being "so high school" is the ability to see someones behavior as being a throw back to high school and recognizing that we don't actually have to put up with it. We. Aren't. In. High. School. Shouldn't we be behaving better than we did in high school? Shouldn't we use better manners as grown-ups than we did when we were hormonal teens trapped in a building against our will 8 hours a day 186 days a year?

One of the interesting pieces to the story for me is that Mr. Potential invites his niece, Missy, and her friends to the party too. In fact, his niece had a birthday party a couple of weeks ago, and we joined up with Missy and her friends. Then and again at the party, her friends were all extremely nice. They really had no reason to be nice, I'm just the girl dating their friend's uncle. But they were, they included me in their conversations, they smiled and spoke to me as they passed by. And that, in part, is why it was even more obvious that the "bitch coalition" were just badly behaved.

In the end, I did say something to Mr. Potential about the girls. He was very sweet about it, and he said that he has been the go-to guy for these girls when they aren't dating or need a date for something, so maybe there was weird possessiveness in play. I'm really glad that he acknowledged it, I think a lot of guys might have tried to put it off as my imagination or just girl stuff. I don't know why they behaved that way, there is no telling really, but I'm too old to mess with girls that don't have good manners. And that is all I have to say about that.

Why are people so crazy?

Ok, fine, why am I so crazy? It's been a while since I've had time to blog. It's been a while since I've had something to blog that didn't make me sound like I am totally nuts. I'm ok BEING nuts, I just try not to let proof of it hit the internet too often. At any rate, I've obviously decided to go with revealing nuttiness and let the cards fall where they may...

We are in the final week before spring break. THAT alone could make me insane. This means that we are trying to finish the last 86 pages of the yearbook that MUST be submitted by Friday. (Oh, and technically I am only supposed to have 32 pages left to submit, clearly, that didn't work out for us.) The senior staff is choosing next year's senior staff and the rest of the staff. It is a lot of pressure and responsibility. And it totally freaks me out as much as I believe in the system because I am still putting my future in their hands. Oh, and we are pretty sure there is another batch of proofs out there waiting to arrive before spring break but likely to arrive so as to give us a minimum amount of time to complete said proof pages cause that's the way these things work. Auuuggghhhhh

Last week was a bit freaky deaky with an ex. I mean bizarre. I'm not even sure of how to explain it except to say I've always thought of myself as the girl that dates the guys that are ambivalent at best. So, to have a former turn a little freaky "how can you date anyone else cause I was buying you a diamond even though we talk every 5 weeks or so and let me call your mom and talk to her before going radio silent" was disturbing to say the least.

In addition, the personal relationship seems to have shifted to some new level? place? state? and since I have no long term dating experience that isn't totally screwed up, I have NO basis for determining if this is all normal, weird or what. It's making me nuts. really. nuts. At any rate, I've taken advice and decided to sit back take a deep breath or two and just enjoy the ride. Let's see how long this little zen moment lasts.

Annoyances from last night

I'm not sure if I can get across in type how annoying the entire evening was (except of course the part where I got to watch the drummer do his thing. Rhythm and arm strength. ; )

Met up at a friends, D. Another girl was already there. We shall call her Numnut cause she is the star of this particular show. Last girl showed, Wallflower. Lovely girl, but quiet and a bit of a watcher.

I don't even know how to describe the various ways Numnut annoyed me through the evening.

Actually it might be fun to go backwards. When we got in the car to leave the restaurant/bar, she almost immediately got on the phone. It's one o'clock in the morning, and she would rather call guys and wake them up than talk to the other 3 people in the car.

While on the phone with said guys, she squealed. And by squealed, I mean like a freaking pig, almost gave me a heart attack as I tried to drive through pouring rain without killing us.

As I pulled the car up to the door (I'm a polite driver, after all, it was raining) the waiter comes running up to Numnut. She walked the freaking tab. She tried to give a line about how she would never walk a tab etc etc, but as we waited for the waiter to come back, and D kept saying I thought those guys bought our drinks, Numnut said, "Oh, I heard the one say that he wasn't paying for our drinks." Um, then who exactly did she think was paying that tab if she wasn't?

I started trying to leave the establishment at about midnight. Two of the other three finished drinks and began acting like we were leaving. She made no move to finish her drink or to get her ass in gear. So, I finally got up and said, "I'm leaving, if any of you would like a ride home, I suggest you follow me."

I had been sitting quite happily in a booth with Wallflower. We couldn't really talk because it was so freaking loud, but I could see the drummer, I was happy. But, D at some point got a burr up her saddle and decided that we had to all be at the table they had barged in on right in front. Of course, my view? Totally blocked. Not happy.

As I prepared to sit my ass down at the new table, Numnut spills her red wine all over the table. So totally annoying.

On the trip to see the band . . .some of these beauties fell from her mouth. .
"So, tell me your story."
"You're 39? I've never known anyone that old that hasn't been married."


Weird conversation turns to boobs.
"Or you could go braless"
"Oh" I say, "never braless"
Giggle. That's an inside joke for the back row of the car. Really? Cause there are only 4 of us in the car. Twit.

Ok, that pretty much sums it up. Totally. Annoying. Stupid. Girl. Almost ruined my evening. Spectacular. Fantastic. Drummer. Makes. Evening. Better.

Dating and shooting craps

So, I haven’t been blogging much lately because I’ve had a lot on my mind, but also because I couldn’t quite figure out how to blog about the things that have preoccupied me .

Dating is certainly a hot topic for the blog and for the twitter fans of the Diva. Ironically, the topic that provides such fodder for the fans is actually an activity that can be quite full of angst for the Diva herself. However long ago many of you dated, it’s changed, and not necessarily for the best. In addition, dating in your 40^th year is a lot different than dating when you are in your 20’s or really even in your 30’s.

I’ve been in a bit of a dating funk because for the first time in a long time I liked a guy who didn’t like me back. What a bummer I say. In addition to that there have been some, how shall I put this, audience issues.

The best metaphor I have come up with so far is that dating, in so far as audience participation is a part of it, is like shooting craps. First, shooting craps is complicated, so it doesn’t easily explain itself, but dating is freaking complicated too. Second, a lot of the fun of shooting craps involves audience participation which, as it so happens, can also totally ruin a good evening of shooting craps.

Please, allow me to explain. Craps starts with a roll of the dice. Sometimes you “crap out” immediately with a 7 or 11. Dating is like that.

Craps is the most fun when everyone is standing behind the players cheering them on. Dating is a lot of fun when everyone is cheering you on too.

There are some craps players who bet with the House. The truth is betting with the House (or the no come line – no jokes please) is the safer bet. The odds of someone rolling a 7 or 11 BEFORE hitting the number he/she wants is much greater than the odds of hitting the number first. Quite frankly, dating is similar. There are a lot of people out there and every date is a crap shoot. Odds are any given date isn’t going to work out, but there is a lot of fun in the game especially if there are people cheering you on.

The game stops being fun when it seems like everyone around you is betting on the House. “Well, have you heard from the OLD one again,” (said in a highly derogatory tone) “Oh, he’s a loser,” “That one has a bad look about him,” “I told you there was something wrong with that guy.”

Really? Must the audience take something that is almost totally a game of chance but has the potential to at least be a little fun and sap that little bit of fun out of it? Must people make it more stressful than betting $100 that the next roll will be a 3? It makes me not want to say a word to anyone. No convo, no twitters, no blog posts. So, I have to ask people who want to know what is going on in the dating world of the Diva to please keep your negative comments to yourselves. I don’t need to hear them. I don’t want to hear them. I want to roll the dice and be able to laugh along the way and try to enjoy something that has huge potential to be an utter misery.

Venting

It has been awhile since I have wanted to vent about the people with whom I work, especially Scooby. I think I have done a great job of just keeping my mouth shut. As many of you know, this is not traditionally, my strong suit.

So, I get an email today:

Diva,
Here is who made Quill & Scroll (honors journalism organization) from the yearbook staff.
Susy Fabulous
Betsy Badass
Laura Loveher

If there is anyone who didn't make it whom you thought should have, please let me know. I had students dropping off applications with my staffers who may not have gotten it to me and I don't want to leave off anyone who isn't deserving.
Thanks,
Scooby.

I sent a reply:

Who else applied that didn't make it?

He replied with:

Here is who made Quill & Scroll (honors journalism organization) from the yearbook staff.
Susy Fabulous
Betsy Badass
Laura Loveher

Auugghhhhh. Freaking tell me who didn't make it.

Truth, lies and self-deception

Recently, I have had a friend in great angst with another over a little thing called lying. She said something that I hadn't defined for myself before, but I think has a lot of validity. She said that lies are always selfish. Hmmm. Interesting thought. Think about all of the different reasons and ways we lie, yup, they do seem to be at their core, selfish reasons for lying. There are lots of reasons for keeping quiet, some of which are just good manners, and I'm totally for that. But truth is about honesty and a persons character. Who a person is at the core of their being. Something to think about.

Recently, I had another acquaintance who has (what I consider to be) a bad habit of always saying, "You're lying." In response to things he finds slightly suspect. I finally asked him why he kept saying that. Had I lied to him at some point? Has he had such rotten luck with people in general that he is always being lied to. his response, interestingly, was "Don't women always lie?" Huh. No. I'm pretty sure they don't. At least I don't. I can't even think of anything that would be worth the energy of keeping up with the lie to be worth lying.

A couple of weeks ago, my friend's winged monkey made some statement about how I was lying to myself ( I can't remember exactly what he said but it was to the effect of my not knowing myself.) I thought that was interesting. When I tried to get him to be specific and say exactly what he meant, he suddenly had to go and do something. Sigh. There are many things that can be said to me that would qualify as pushing my buttons. Those issues that I worry about regulary (Yes, I do worry that I am the most selfish person on the planet.) But this? I can't get too worked up because I do know myself pretty damn well, I work hard to be as honest with myself as I am with others.

My sister, yougottawonder, and I talk a lot about her kids. They, from time to time, cause her great angst including but not limited to, their propensity to lie. We can't figure out what it's about. Why do some kids feel that they need to lie? What lessons are they being taught out in the world that convinces them that it is better to lie than to be honest? These are people who do not appreciate the simplicity of life that comes from being honest.

Today I found a new blog (clearly, I have too much time on my hands) and the most recent post happened to be on lying. Although the specific issue was not mine, her feelings and descriptors of herself are exactly how I would describe myself.

I hope that if I teach nothing else in my classroom each day, that I am teaching my kids to tell the truth and take responsibility for themselves and their actions. I think the world would be such a better place if we could manage to get people to be honest with one another.