Mixed Feelings

Hey, all. Thanks for everyone's concern about my sister. She's doing fine; once she got to the hospital (and off her feet) the contractions stopped, so the nurse chalked it up to overexertion and sent her home with orders to rest all weekend. (How she managed to do it with a toddler and a dog running around the house is beyond me, but....)

The Clubhaus/Metro reunion was loads of fun, despite the fact that the bands were the low point of the evening. Sad to say, but all things do not improve with age. I was never a huge Love Assembly fan - in their defense, I heard a rumor that they reformed specifically for this show, but at one point I was sure my ears were bleeding. I spent most of the set snickering into my beer and texting critiques to Roger Mexico. I felt the need to share my pain. And Red Flag went goth, which is not necessarily a good thing. I remember them being much better when I saw them in 1989. Maybe I was just stupid back then.

The DJs, on the other hand, kicked ass. There were several times I stopped dead in the middle of a conversation because OH MY GOD THEY'RE PLAYING PROPAGANDA AND I HAVEN'T HEARD THIS IN A CLUB IN A MILLION YEARS AND I MUST GO DANCE RIGHT NOW! One of my friends (who was too young to remember the glory days of the Clubhaus) was amazed by how good the music and the mixes were. "Now you understand," I replied. "This is what I grew up on. This is why I'm so unsatisfied by most of the clubs out there these days." I danced like my life depended on it...but I'm paying for it today. Oh my knees. I can't dance like that anymore. I'm in pain.

Also, the bouncers were conspiring against me last night, in a concerted effort to get me drunk. If anyone offers me a Jello shot in the near future, I'm busting some heads.

I taped the Oscars last night, and haven't had a chance to watch the whole tape yet. I do have a few comments, though...

Will someone please buy Russell Crowe a sense of humor? This is the second year I've watched him sit in the auditorium with that sour expression on his face. I think I'd like him a bit more if he'd lighten up.

I really wish that someone would teach Jennifer Lopez how to select an appropriate dress. Granted, in buying a dress with a see through top with nothing underneath, she guaranteed that her name would be in the next day's headlines, but I for one didn't really need to see her nipples. (My male readers may disagree.) I'm the furthest thing away from a prude, but for crying out loud! Show some sense of decorum, girl! She should just change her name to J-Ho and get it over with.

Ang Lee looked happier than anyone else there.

Please kill the interpretive dance numbers. Please. I'm begging here.

Bjork. Dead swan dress. Now I've seen it all.

I will never ever again drink Pepsi. I would give up coffee if Britney Spears started hawking it. Ick.

Before I get started on what's been irritating me all day, a few minor whines...the last time I checked my calendar, it was SPRING. Enough with the snow and 18 degree weather already!

And by the way, downstairs coffee shop employees? There's this thing called stock rotation. Yes, I know everyone in this building drinks Diet Coke, but it usually helps if you move the cold ones to the front before you restock with the room temperature bottles. That way I wouldn't have to reach my arm all the way to the back and make a big mess in your cooler.

Alright. The main event. The rant du jour.

There's a Shel Silverstein book called The Giving Tree that's been on my mind this weekend. The book is open to a number of interpretations, but the two most popular ones either portray the tree as a) a symbol of unconditional love, or b) a codependant doormat. Funny, it kind of reminds me of a few relationships that I have in my life right now. There are certain people that I will drop everything for, that I attempt to be as giving and compassionate and caring and supportive as possible towards. Sometimes it's a reciprocal relationship, and my feelings and efforts are mirrored back. Sometimes I feel like I'm talking to a wall, except the wall is more supportive.

In their defense, I don't think they realize they're doing it. Maybe it's my fault because I've allowed them to treat me this way for all this time, let them make me feel insignificant but still continue to come back for more possible abuse.

Am I being a doormat? Is it wrong of me to expect what I perceive as common courtesy? Should I throw in the towel with these friends because they are occasionally fallible and don't follow through on what they say they're going to do, back out of plans without any prior notice, never return emails, and only call when they want something? Should I be upset when I actively support their creativity, but their support of mine seems empty because I know they've never really listened to my poetry readings, never even opened the collected works I gave them for Christmas two years ago, never read a single entry on this page? Does the problem lie in my expectations being too high?

A lot of the time I can dismiss it, blow it off and move on with my life. But every once in a while the casual disregard these people show for my feelings really hurts. Recently both of these people have let me down, and made me feel rather small and unimportant. I think they are completely clueless how they've made me feel. I've been a little bruised on the inside lately, but I love these people too much to let them go.

I'm starting to identify with the tree. And it's making my roots hurt.