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Frayed Nerves
Jul. 22nd, 2010 06:56 pmToday I called Burlington a "God-forsaken city", which is really quite ridiculous, because if there is a god, and if it was going to forsake any city, it'd certainly not be Burlington. But I was cranky, and I was ranting about how I pretty much did not want to be stuck wandering in a city I knew nothing about, and instead of "damn" or "God-damn", I got "God-forsaken" out instead.
Perhaps this droplet of stupidity could have then been forgotten, but my mother had to then ask "Why is it God-forsaken?" and the end result was a big rant about how that's not what I meant and couldn't she just let it pass, etc. I'm not even sure what I said, I just know it was a desperate attempt to say "NOT ME! NOT ME! FOCUS ON SOMETHING ELSE PLEASE THANKS!" She said nothing, which only bothered me more, making my skin crawl. Because I was already humiliated enough that I said something so incredibly stupid in public, and then my mother's lack of reassurance about my misspeak only isolated me with my foolishness.
I still do not like it, and still do not forgive myself for it, and wonder why the hell out of all things to spew out did I spew out that? It could be I was having a bad day, feeling pressured by the family and my own mind. And I do have a habit of shoving my foot in my mouth, by the sheer virtue of just not expressing myself well. But I can't help imagining headlines in the papers: "Tourist Says Burlington is 'God-Forsaken'", and me feeling infinitely foolish, and total catastrophe upon my life occurring. Because this is how things work in my mind. I say something incredibly stupid, and the world then explodes.
But of course I cannot help but wonder why "god-damn" or even "damn" is an okay, mainstream description, but "God-forsaken" apparently is not okay. They mean the same thing, do they not? Yet saying one is just common English, and the other is ~*blasphemy*~.
Then my mother went and "accidentally" called it God-forsaken in a joke, and I asked bitterly if she would ever let it go, and she replied "That was actually a complete accident. It came out and I was like 'Oh no.'" Which was exactly how I felt: the words came tumbling out and I thought "You must be joking, brain."
In fact, I do not mind Burlington. I do not know enough about it to say I like it, but I do not dislike it. I will say this, though: food is much too expensive, and Burlington is not the lone culprit. I feel slapped in the face at spending at least $10 per meal, for I simply do not have that kind of money. I see that my future vacations will be spent at home, which I always say and then never do.
That leads to another thing. My mother -- when I was cranky and hungry and forced to wander to a random cafe whose only vegetarian wrap was a salad in vinaigrette in a wrap, aka gross -- turned to me and stated in a sad voice that next time I would just have to vacation with my friends. I immediately felt defensive and glared tiredly at her. Now. My mother generally has "issues" with my friends. She has kept interrogating me about Stan. She has acted blatantly rude to my friends, to the point that I don't want to introduce her to them. And she has accused me of thinking my friends "are perfect", "can't do anything wrong", and that "the only people you [myself] think are perfect are you and your friends". I once spent my birthday with my friend and got accused of not "wanting" to spend it with the family.
Ultimately, any sort of comment about my friends tends to be an insult of some sort, a dig towards me and my "lack of love for my family" or some such. And she said that she had been going to let me sleep and be alone -- which is not what I wanted, and only shows how she does not quite understand me -- and the ECHO aquarium was clearly designed mostly for children and not as interesting as I hoped, and I guess I was just irritated.
So I forsook Burlington through a god which I do not believe in, and fell straight into the trap of my social anxiety, which was already upset due to my brother's behavior in the aquarium. He walked up to a tank while my back was turned, no doubt pointed to the huge turtle in it, and declared "I think that's the snapping turtle!" A woman nearby replied "No, you think?" then he must have made a face or something as she began to half-desperately say "I'm just teasing you, really, it's a joke..." while my brother babbled. And I wanted to walk over and say "Sorry, he's autistic" and remove my shame by proxy, though I knew he had done no wrong.
But I do not like to attract attention to myself, or perceive that I have, and so I stiffened and was horrified. And felt dragged along when my brother paced and waited for me to move on from reading everything with obvious impatience.
Then we ate nachos and cheese and I wished we had gone to ECHO's cafe because it looked a lot tastier than a salad in a wrap. And then I was frustrated and then I spewed out idiocy, and then we went to Lake Champlain Chocolates and I spent $10.50 on five truffles which is far too much, and that was the day.
Then I went swimming, which felt surprisingly good. It's not so much that I forsake (hur hur) exercise so much that it almost never makes me feel better. The Wii Fit makes me honestly feel like I have appendicitis. But I haven't swam in four years due to self-consciousness, and no one was in the pool, and so with a bloated stomach I put on my one-piece -- which still fits, even though it's ages old -- and went in and did laps and experimented with floating (don't raise your arms toward your head unless you want to risk and can handle a popped shoulder. Also it will make you sink but anyway.). And for once my stomach felt better instead of worse after thirty minutes of that, which demonstrates that apparently, swimming is a type of exercise I could do regularly, if I could only find myself a private "one person in it at a time" pool.
I'm still not over the "god-forsaken" thing, though. Maybe I will be in another few thousand years.
Tschuess.
Perhaps this droplet of stupidity could have then been forgotten, but my mother had to then ask "Why is it God-forsaken?" and the end result was a big rant about how that's not what I meant and couldn't she just let it pass, etc. I'm not even sure what I said, I just know it was a desperate attempt to say "NOT ME! NOT ME! FOCUS ON SOMETHING ELSE PLEASE THANKS!" She said nothing, which only bothered me more, making my skin crawl. Because I was already humiliated enough that I said something so incredibly stupid in public, and then my mother's lack of reassurance about my misspeak only isolated me with my foolishness.
I still do not like it, and still do not forgive myself for it, and wonder why the hell out of all things to spew out did I spew out that? It could be I was having a bad day, feeling pressured by the family and my own mind. And I do have a habit of shoving my foot in my mouth, by the sheer virtue of just not expressing myself well. But I can't help imagining headlines in the papers: "Tourist Says Burlington is 'God-Forsaken'", and me feeling infinitely foolish, and total catastrophe upon my life occurring. Because this is how things work in my mind. I say something incredibly stupid, and the world then explodes.
But of course I cannot help but wonder why "god-damn" or even "damn" is an okay, mainstream description, but "God-forsaken" apparently is not okay. They mean the same thing, do they not? Yet saying one is just common English, and the other is ~*blasphemy*~.
Then my mother went and "accidentally" called it God-forsaken in a joke, and I asked bitterly if she would ever let it go, and she replied "That was actually a complete accident. It came out and I was like 'Oh no.'" Which was exactly how I felt: the words came tumbling out and I thought "You must be joking, brain."
In fact, I do not mind Burlington. I do not know enough about it to say I like it, but I do not dislike it. I will say this, though: food is much too expensive, and Burlington is not the lone culprit. I feel slapped in the face at spending at least $10 per meal, for I simply do not have that kind of money. I see that my future vacations will be spent at home, which I always say and then never do.
That leads to another thing. My mother -- when I was cranky and hungry and forced to wander to a random cafe whose only vegetarian wrap was a salad in vinaigrette in a wrap, aka gross -- turned to me and stated in a sad voice that next time I would just have to vacation with my friends. I immediately felt defensive and glared tiredly at her. Now. My mother generally has "issues" with my friends. She has kept interrogating me about Stan. She has acted blatantly rude to my friends, to the point that I don't want to introduce her to them. And she has accused me of thinking my friends "are perfect", "can't do anything wrong", and that "the only people you [myself] think are perfect are you and your friends". I once spent my birthday with my friend and got accused of not "wanting" to spend it with the family.
Ultimately, any sort of comment about my friends tends to be an insult of some sort, a dig towards me and my "lack of love for my family" or some such. And she said that she had been going to let me sleep and be alone -- which is not what I wanted, and only shows how she does not quite understand me -- and the ECHO aquarium was clearly designed mostly for children and not as interesting as I hoped, and I guess I was just irritated.
So I forsook Burlington through a god which I do not believe in, and fell straight into the trap of my social anxiety, which was already upset due to my brother's behavior in the aquarium. He walked up to a tank while my back was turned, no doubt pointed to the huge turtle in it, and declared "I think that's the snapping turtle!" A woman nearby replied "No, you think?" then he must have made a face or something as she began to half-desperately say "I'm just teasing you, really, it's a joke..." while my brother babbled. And I wanted to walk over and say "Sorry, he's autistic" and remove my shame by proxy, though I knew he had done no wrong.
But I do not like to attract attention to myself, or perceive that I have, and so I stiffened and was horrified. And felt dragged along when my brother paced and waited for me to move on from reading everything with obvious impatience.
Then we ate nachos and cheese and I wished we had gone to ECHO's cafe because it looked a lot tastier than a salad in a wrap. And then I was frustrated and then I spewed out idiocy, and then we went to Lake Champlain Chocolates and I spent $10.50 on five truffles which is far too much, and that was the day.
Then I went swimming, which felt surprisingly good. It's not so much that I forsake (hur hur) exercise so much that it almost never makes me feel better. The Wii Fit makes me honestly feel like I have appendicitis. But I haven't swam in four years due to self-consciousness, and no one was in the pool, and so with a bloated stomach I put on my one-piece -- which still fits, even though it's ages old -- and went in and did laps and experimented with floating (don't raise your arms toward your head unless you want to risk and can handle a popped shoulder. Also it will make you sink but anyway.). And for once my stomach felt better instead of worse after thirty minutes of that, which demonstrates that apparently, swimming is a type of exercise I could do regularly, if I could only find myself a private "one person in it at a time" pool.
I'm still not over the "god-forsaken" thing, though. Maybe I will be in another few thousand years.
Tschuess.
