Holy cat crap on a cracker! And I thought people were mean to me on the internets. Check out the venom this woman is currently getting. And I’m sure I’ve only scratched the surface of the hate out there for Heather.
I wonder when I will become less affected by the insults I receive from time to time. Then I read stuff like that and realize I’ve got it pretty good. Makes me want to close right up and never utter another confession on here that can be used against me. I wish, in a way, that I could still tell good stories like I used to. Like about the night I went to Amanda Not Wage’s birthday party and drank entirely too much sangria on a belly full of nothing but a couple hors d’oeuvres, but didn’t know it til I stood up to go home. Waiting for the elevator in their apartment building I said, I am told, quite loudly, "NICE PARTY." At which time the boyfriend suggested I pipe down. So I repeated it again, this time screaming at the nearest apartment’s front door: "NICE PARTY!"
I do not remember doing this. In fact, pretty much everything from the time we left the party had to be recounted to me the following day by the boyfriend who was none to pleased to have to relive it. Apparently after we made it outside I was again asked to hush up due to their being two or three men in blue standing mere feet away. His request was met with a beligerent "Fuck you. I’ll do what I want!" Then I, evidently, walked the wrong way toward the car down first avenue, blitzed beyond belief, stomping in my lime green heels pissed as hell. About what I do not know. Usually if I have one too many I get somewhat amorous. Then sleepy. That’s it. That’s all that ever happens. This time was different, though.
Once back at the car the boyfriend had to wrestle my keys from me. Apparently I let him and everyone in the parking lot know that I could drive! Thank God he’s bigger than me. I made it home in one piece thanks to the man I was slurringly swearing.
The next morning I woke up, but every second of it hurt. I had never felt so hungover in my entire 28 years. How did that happen? It was just a little some brandy, red wine, sugar and fruit juice. It wasn’t as if I did Jagerbombs all night like I was 22 again. I lay there motionless on the bed, hating to breathe, wondering what the hell happened. Why was I in bed alone? What had we fought about? Why could I not peel my lips from one another? If I fall back to sleep will this nightmare disappear?
I had to know what had happened.
I woke him up from his slumber on the couch, and he gave me a squinted stare. I knew I’d fucked up. I sat and cried as he told me about the sloppy verbal blows I tried to land in my inebriated state. It wasn’t that I was mean, he said, it was that I was trying so hard to be.
I don’t know why that happened. I have never been an angry drunk. Never once have I even gone on a belligerent rant. Where did the anger come from, and how long had I been supressing it?
I mostly feel guilty because I don’t remember anything. I was horrid and nasty, and I don’t remember. The things I think I said are probably worse than the words I actually said, but maybe I’ll never know. I am just so sorry.
I felt like such a loser. What kind of nearly-thirty-year-old behaves in such a manner? How could I allow myself to become so out of control? I was going to drive?! That is how powerful the alcohol was that evening. I would have never made it home alive.
It’s such a terribly scary thought. All because I didn’t stand up enough or eat enough at a birthday party. I think, because I am crazy, that I am in control enough to survive and do well in this world, but it turns out I’m a plastic cup of sangria away from killing myself and probably others.
See? That’s a damn good story, the drunken cussin’. But now I’m scared to death I’m going to be secretly judged by a co-worker or chastised by a superior. Or even worse I fear that this confessional information will be used against me in some way by some psycho with plenty of time and a serious grudge. Because when you expose yourself and, in the parlance of Heather Armstrong "write about your feelings," they can find ways to use it against you. Ways you never imagined.
Having the blog job has changed this place so, so much. Part of me mourns what is lost. I have so much to say, but by the end of the day I am spent. Thoroughly through. I cannot so much as muster an email, much less anything eloquent. I no longer puke up rambling passages about what is inhabiting my head, so it just compiles there and molds. And stinks. I don’t know how to rectify it.
In my head this entry was only going to be four lines long. Looks like I’ve been pent up for a while. This vacation should be damned therapeutic. Get some popcorn, it should be an interesting week.
10 comments ↓
I can sympathize with the goal of trying to have the energy to write for a blog when you’re writing the whole rest of the day. My own experience, tell yourself “I’ll just write two sentences on something and post a picture.” on those days. Sometimes I acutally do that, sometimes I go longer because I relaxed myself, but it helps to stay active.
I can also relate to being at least a semi-public figure and having a weblog. I was a little miffed when news of my blogs little WKRN appearance made it to my parents and extended family because I thought, “what have I written there that will be something I don’t want them to know?” At the end of the day, I look to my literary heroes who I believe dared to tell the truth as they saw it and just hope I can stand up as straight as they did in the face of these types of challenges.
Anyway, just thought I’d say you’re not alone, and keep your chin up, you’re doing a great job and you’re getting better at it, not worse.
Hiya Brittney,
I’m currently reading “Dear Theo” The Autobiography of Vincent Van Gogh. It’s a collection of the letters vincent sent to his brother. The letters are initmate and beautiful. And I wish I could write my blog like that. Then I have to remind myself that these letters weren’t published until long after both Vincent and Theo had died. It’s a new thing, this instant autobiography. It gives a false hope of instant fame, instant popularity, instant heroism.
If it wasn’t for Theo’s widow being so persistant in getting the letters published, Vincent would have been all but forgotten, a footnote in the history of art, instead of it’s godfather.
I guess we’ll have to wait for something else to come along, a historical moment, or a publishing deal, that will give us a chance to really be heard, and at a safer distance from our readers.
I read about half the comments on both those sites and just couldn’t read anymore. All that bitter vitriol is just sad.
I have never understood why Heather attracts such hatred. The hater commenters she gets who don’t have blogs, I don’t understand at all - why bother? Go read something you like if you hate Heather’s blog that much. I don’t have a lot of time to read every day as it is, I’m sure not going to waste it reading blogs I don’t like.
And my only real guess as far as the haters who do blog is that the only reason they pick on her and some others that get a lot of nastiness thrown at them is because they’re “famous bloggers” or making money with their blogs… seems to me the only reasonable motivator for such hatred and nastiness could only be jealousy.
It’s just sad and pathetic. People should have better things to do, like go create some art of their own.
Jagerbombs? Did someone say jagerbombs? Last summer I was out on the road with the boss for a weekend and managed to drink 11, sixteen ounce dixie cups full of jagerbomb. For some reason it sounded like an amazing idea at the time. Til I realized the next morning that fighting a hangover whilst your bed has been moving at 70 mph down the interstate was probably not the best use of judgement. I cut it back to 8 the next night.
A pointless story, but one to give the kids a chuckle as they wade through the muck of horrible people with nothing better to do with their time.
I’ve heard that about Amanda’s sangria.
Glad the bf got you home safe.
B -
This is such an interesting topic to me. There are downright nasty and scary people online and I worry when bloggers I like and respect reveal too much about themselves. Jenn at mommyneedscoffee has written about this too.
My wife and I were talking about this the other day, and my question is this: would these people be this rude in person?
I think the answer is a resounding “no,” and I think that’s one of the more sinister side effects of the internet. People have this (often false) sense of anonymity, and they think it gives them a license to be rude.
One of the many things in the “Hate” column of my “Love/Hate” relationship with the internets.
I’ve deleted many a draft, afraid it might negatively affect that guy you work with that I’m married to. It got so bad, I started an anonymous blog just so I could vent. Then I realized that was ridiculous and killed it last week… I’m either going to have to suck it up and go for it or stay as lame as I’ve been for the past year and a half.
Yeah, it sucks. I’m currently getting some crap because I posted a copy of a letter that I sent to a girlfriend, calling her out on being a lying cheater.
Now she’s threatening to sue for libel and defamation, even though I used only a first initial in describing her.
I refuse to take it down. If she doesn’t want people to know about the crappy things she did, then she should’ve considered that before she did them.
There is evidently a debate amongst some as to whether or not it was tactful of me to publish the letter. I’ve gotten a lot of emails regarding it, but all I can really say is that I did it to clear my mind, I told no lies, and because sometimes, it just feels so good to take that dirty laugndry outside and hang it out for a while.
Some people waste sooo much effort hating. Some people are stupid. Some people just won’t ever get it. Do your thing. I think that ultimately, we write for ourselves, and that’s the bottom line.
Interesting. It would seem my comment here wound up on one of the aforementioned sites. Whatever:
“Translation: Those people shouldn’t waste their time committing their opinions to blogs, but it’s ok for me to commit mine to one about them when I know nothing about the blogs or the writers except for what I’ve gleaned from one post.”
The blogger in question is remiss. I gave the blog a read and a fair shot, as I will anyone’s. And found it pretty uninteresting but so what - it doesn’t matter what I think of it.
I just find it odd some are so quick to throw stones at others. If you’re gonna dis another blog, you oughta make sure yours is an awesome must-read…
Leave a Comment