What I REALLY Meant...

This is regarding an e-mail I sent to a friend, so I doubt anyone else who might be reading this would have any interest. 

I'm not sure why you're trying to be so non-specific and vague in response to my text and email. I was really only mentioning it as a matter of curiosity. In case you and your friends haven't figured it out, I bear no ill will towards them. I did for a long time, but I understand now that they were going through a rough patch, and so was I, and we just couldn't stand one another anymore. That's how it happens sometimes. People grow out of one another, take offense at things that aren't offensive, and treat other people badly. It's just the way of life. We ain't perfect.

As for working in a prison, I wasn't asking if she enjoyed it, I was merely mentioning that it seemed a little scary, and that I wondered how she'd ended up there. I think we both know she doesn't "just enjoy working with prisoners." Have you been in a prison? I have. I did interview for a job at a prison once, not long before I started at my current job. When it came the part of the interview where the guy asked me if he thought all the rules and guidelines were things I could handle, I said I wasn't sure, that I'd have to think about them and call back. I never did. You're surrounded by razorwire and fences. Every door locks behind you. You're not allowed to bring in personal possessions because those could be used by a prisoner to hurt you or someone else. When you go into the building, you have to take off your shoes and run them through an x-ray machine. Every. Single. Time. If the prison goes on lockdown, which it does with surprising frequency (it had literally happened the week before my interview, which happened to be at the same prison she's working at) you're stuck there. Nobody can leave. Not to mention the danger.

The thing is, she's just like every other adult in the world. We all do what we have to do to survive. I don't love my job, I'm sure you'd rather be using your degree for your day job instead of working in something that has nothing to do with your field. Very few grown ups get to have jobs they enjoy. If she does "just enjoy" it, good for her. I'd say she's doing better than I am by default because she has her degree instead of still waiting to have enough money to be able to go back and get it. The fact that there are no jobs in her field (and I know this because the friend who told me about her job couldn't find one, and she has teaching experience and a degree) is probably the one and only reason she's doing what she's doing. In my mind, I'm not going "Haha, she works in a prison. Her life sucks, I feel validated." I'm going, "That's a crappy job. I'm glad I'm not doing that."

If I really bore her any ill will, I wouldn't have told my friend she was a sweet girl and that I thought they'd get along because they both love poetry and literature. I'd have told her she was psycho and she should probably stay far away. But I didn't. And I have the text messages to prove it, if you ever want to see them. And I wouldn't have gone out of my way to contact her sister when her husband was ill and have constantly prayed for them both during the whole ordeal. I wouldn't have bought them a card or cupcakes, or any of that. Particularly since I didn't have that much money at that time since I was on leave. You say you don't really talk to them anymore, and I believed you. But if you do, I don't care. It doesn't make me feel betrayed or hurt my feelings. You were friends with them before, just like I was. If you're trying to "protect" them from me for some strange reason, I think we both know I'm not a danger to them or anyone else. As for what I think about them, telling me she enjoys what she does doesn't make me think she really does, but it doesn't make me feel a giddy sense of happiness that her job sucks more than mine. It probably just sucks on different levels, and mine still sucks. And hers probably pays more- if she's doing the same thing my friend from college is doing, anyway.

I'm not angry at you, I just don't know why you decided to change the subject or basically repeat back to me what I was saying when I brought it up. Maybe they've asked you not to discuss them with me. If that's the case, you can tell me so, but I really don't know why they would do this NOW since I've pretty much let them know I still care about them and don't wish them any ill will. (Well, the oldest moreso. I haven't had any contact with the youngest.)

I do want to say this, and I haven't brought it up to you in person, because I don't want it to seem like I'm beating a dead horse, but I continue to get those hang up phone calls every month. That is, I've got them every month except March and April. If you need me to explain why that's suspicious, I'd like to remind you that's when the oldest's husband was in the hospital. I'm sure they can provide proof the calls weren't made from their cell phones, but I just find it odd how they stopped those two months, and only those two months. I also find it odd that originally, the calls only came on days when I saw them in public somewhere, and not just at the end of every month. I can provide a copy of my inbound and outbound calls from my cell phone carrier in case there's any question about this. My mother and father can also both attest that the calls come when I'm sitting in the room with them, not even touching my phone. I'm sure you realize I have no reason to lie about it, but I just want you to know I have proof. Unfortunately, my cell phone carrier doesn't have any way for me to find out who's making the calls. There are apps that will show the number the call's coming from, but only on Verizon or Sprint- Alltel is about the only company that you literally cannot find out who is calling you if the number is blocked, and neither can law enforcement. I'm sure whomever is making the calls has done their research and knows that as well.

In spite of my belief that someone involved with them has something to do with those calls, even if it isn't one of them, I still don't bear them any ill will. Best of luck to them. Maybe one day we'll all be able to be friends again, even, in the distant future, after we've all done some growing up. I didn't say this to you right then because I needed some time to think about it, and the more I thought about it, the more it bothered me and made me feel like you were trying to evade anything I said about it, and I just couldn't come up with any logical reason why you would. It kind of made me feel like you were suspicious of me for some reason. Maybe that's not the case, I just felt kind of hurt by it. You might never read this- I don't even know if you know where this blog is, but I just wanted to get it out, because my feelings were kind of hurt. If you really do think I was using your injury as a reason to start gossiping about them... Well, I just hope you know me better than that. Like I said, I'd been talking to my college friend about it at the same time I was texting you.


And I'm not using anyone's names because I don't want anyone to feel like I'm invading anyone's privacy.

The Man Problem

I used to think I was a romantic, but maybe I'm not. Maybe that part of me died off or some of the many men who rejected me killed it. Maybe (probably) I am too practical. That's the only way I can explain my absolute total aversion to being gushed over. I cannot stand it. I have no question that I'm the problem, and not the men, as some of them have been in successful long term relationships before, and obviously their previous significant others adored being fawned over, as they seem to take this tact repeatedly. I assume this means it worked somewhere along the line. Maybe it's my complete lack of "daddy issues," or maybe it's just my personality... You start going on and on about how beautiful I am, and my eyes start glazing over. I don't need to be told how pretty I am. I own a mirror, and can make my own judgment calls about how I look that day. I especially don't want to be told this ad nauseum. I want to talk about things that matter, and I don't think a great basis for a relationship is how great you think I look.
I've been talking to a man for a few weeks who seems to be moderately intelligent and articulate outside of our conversations, but I haven't really been able to surmise anything about our compatibility because all he wants to do is tell me how pretty I am. I get it. You think I'm beautiful. You probably think I don't hear this a lot, but the truth is, guys like you tell me this fairly regularly. I don't know if they're trying to throw the fat girl a bone, hoping to throw the fat girl "a bone" or what, but it does nothing for me except make me feel awkward. I don't mind a man saying "You seem very interesting and I also find you quite attractive. Let's get to know one another." But when every conversation starts with "Hello, gorgeous" or "Good morning my beautiful love" (actual quotes here), I really start to just feel like either a) I'm dealing with a player who is used to telling women what they think she wants to hear or b) you just want someone to decorate your life and maybe cook and clean for you. Especially when the sum total of our conversational experience is "Hello beautiful" and "How are you?"and telling me repeatedly how you're ready for a "good woman" in your life.
First of all, there's a good possibility I don't jibe with your definition of a good woman. I can be spiteful as all hell if you piss me off, I'm a terrible housekeeper, I don't want to bear your babies, and I am stubborn as the day is long. I have never felt like I needed a man, I have a smart mouth, and I'm not in any way meek or mild. There's a distinct possibility I'm smarter than you, and if it's by much, I'm going to get bored with you really quickly. Not to sell myself short- I have many great qualities for the right man (which I'm not going to list because I already probably sound arrogant going on and on about how pretty men think I am, though that's in no way how I meant it) but most men I know aren't looking for those qualities, and the ones who are don't seem to be looking for or at me.
I suppose one thing that really flabbergasts me about all this is that, according to science and hell, at this point, society... men are supposedly the ones who are slow to settle down and are reluctant to get into a relationship, and are supposedly have more logical brains... But I always feel men are trying to talk me into a relationship before I've ever even met them. Maybe it's the part of the country I'm in, or maybe it's all just, like I said, men saying what they think a woman wants to hear. I don't know.
And it's not like it isn't nice to hear that you're pretty, once in awhile, when you're wearing something particularly flattering, or just as a reminder of how attractive a man finds you... but every day, in a fawning, doting "fair maiden" sort of way just makes me feel a little crazy.

I have a hard time dealing with "communal grief." Or maybe "community grief" is a better way to describe it. It's almost the same thing you get when a celebrity dies- an outpouring of love and affection from a multitude of people who, in most cases, knew nothing whatsoever about the deceased.
A boy from Rentz was found dead today. He was fishing early Saturday morning and fell out of the boat he was in with a friend. Apparently he had some sort of seizure or episode that led to him falling out of the boat- of course, as is frequently the case in times like this, that could be a creation of the gossip grapevine. On the other hand, one would think if he was sober, healthy, and conscious, he'd have likely managed to get either to the shore or at least back to the boat. At any rate, I wasn't there and will likely never know what actually occurred as the news tends not to get too detailed in cases like this out of respect for the family. I'm sure I'll hear a thousand different stories over the next few days, but who knows what to believe, right?
At any rate, I started thinking Saturday about how weird it was to be having a perfectly normal day when just a few miles away, a family was likely in a blind panic over where their son was. It's sort of the reverse of what you feel when you lose someone- you can't understand how everything just keeps going when it feels like the world's over, or at least irreversibly changed for the worse. I just thought "How can I go on like this, when other people are suffering so much?"
But the truth is, you have to. I can't swim, I can't dive, I don't even have a boat. There was nothing I could do for the boy or his family except to pray- so I prayed. And then I went on with my day. I finally realized if you let every single sadness that every family experiences get to you, you'll go crazy. On the other hand, I can't say I wasn't heartbroken when they found his body. I'm a realist, and I always have been- maybe a little too much, at times. But I couldn't help to cling to that tiny shred of hope that he'd somehow be found alive. I went through the same thing when a lady I worked with lost her son in a drowning accident on Lake Sinclair a few years back. I took it a little personally, in a way I can't quite describe. I guess just hearing people talk about someone in the past tense when there is still a possibility they're alive doesn't seem right- like if enough people believe someone will survive, if enough people don't give up hope, maybe some collective positive energy can will someone to live. Which really sounds a little new-age, I suppose. But it seems much better than writing someone off after some unspecified moment. At what point do you change from "He may still be alive!" to "Well, he's probably dead"?
The truth is, I didn't know the boy- didn't know if he was a fighter, if he was a good kid or a future inmate. And I still don't. I know of his parents. I've spoken to his mother a multitude of times where she works at Rentz City Hall as I was dropping off my mother's perpetually overdue water bill. She's a nice lady- upbeat and never seemed to mind the late bill. Apparently the boy used to work at the grocery store here, so I've certainly seen him around, but he apparently didn't stand out in my mind. In fact, when I heard a boy who worked at Garry's Grocery was missing, I was picturing a completely different person. (Glad I saw a picture, as I'd have probably been a little freaked out if I saw the other boy, thinking it was him.)
The truth is, when I heard he was dead- and for some reason, not until then, I had to find out more about him. I can't explain the psychology behind this, but I searched for mentions of him on Twitter, looked up his profile on Facebook, read all the news articles I hadn't been reading (because the small-town grapevine was keeping me just as well informed as the press was). I don't know if this was some superstitious way of keeping the status-quo in hopes that he'd somehow be found alive. I don't know if it was some subconscious way to justify the grief I felt or if it was something more akin to what the song "Dirty Laundry" suggests- "It's interesting when people die." And that's where my problem with it all begins.
All the news articles, the multitude of posts on his Facebook wall, the mentions on Twitter (there aren't many) suggest he was a good kid who loved hunting and fishing. He appears to have been relatively well liked and popular if his Facebook photos are any indication- lots of friends, mostly other "country" types. Not necessarily "my kind" of people, but not bad people. My mind says "At least he died doing something he loved!" and then another part of my mind says, "But maybe he'd have never fished again if he'd known it would save his life?" He was just a few months from graduating, had probably just attended his senior prom, was probably mapping out his future in one way or another- it doesn't seem fair that it was all gone in a second. For some reason, to me, when a teenager or young adult dies, it's sadder even than when a child or baby dies. In terms of potential, there's so much more there- the glimmer of "what might have been" is much clearer. Admittedly, life never really works out the way we think it will in high school, but there's still so much possibility.
In its place now, there are a hundred Facebook posts. A memorial Facebook group that, in two years time, will never have another post. There will inevitably be stickers praising his memory, passed around amongst family, friends, and eventually mere acquaintances. A yearbook memorial with some poem that's been recycled a hundred times. An honorary diploma at graduation, and hundreds of classmates with tears in their eyes- some of whom probably didn't even like him.
Still, they are entitled to their grief- much more so than I ever will be. Like I said, I didn't even know him. But it seems, so often, that grief, especially amongst younger people, becomes this almost-comic display of one-upmanship. "My grief is bigger than yours, see? I made t-shirts." And I don't understand it. I don't understand those ridiculous #3 stickers in people's back windows, the hundreds of "In Memory Of" window clings that make their way up and down the streets here every day. If you really loved someone, if you really cared... Those things wouldn't mean anything. Your love and memories wouldn't need to be aired in a public forum, for a world of strangers to see. Grief, like love, should be private. I won't say it shouldn't be discussed, amongst people who know that grief themselves, who can fully appreciate what it means. Or amongst people who care about you, and therefore your grief. Still, I can't help feeling this boy's life should be celebrated- not reduced to a bumper sticker and a catchphrase. Not to a roll-call of over-dramatized sentiment on an electronic forum that he will never see. I do believe in heaven, but I don't think the dead are worrying themselves about their Facebook pages anymore. Maybe it's just me.
And maybe it comes off like this is the same thing, but I hope not. I hope it doesn't seem like I'm pretending to have some insurmountable fount of sadness- the situation isn't fair, and I don't know why it ever has to happen, that's all. I would never presume to suggest my grief is important in the face of what those who are close to him are going through, not for a second. If you're reading this and willing, whoever you are, send up a prayer for this boy's family. I'm sure they'll need it not just now, but for months and years to come.

Now, as promised, let's look at how well these apply to the psycho-sisters as I like to call them. (I actually prefer "psychobitches," but hey.)

1. Deception. For people who claim to be such good Christians, they're damned good liars. They both have a huge penchant for pretending to be people they aren't to try to dupe members of the opposite sex. My biggest mistake was getting involved in such schemes with them, at times. They've also spread lies and half-truths about me to many of our mutual acquaintances and even members of MY family. That's pretty damned low. And well... there's the fact that they pretended to be my friends while bad-mouthing and otherwise talking bad about me. That's a lie to me.


2. Egocentricity. The oldest is about the most egocentric person I know. She has this strange idea in her head that she's this unnatural beauty that gives her some overt power over the rest of humanity. I can't count the number of times she's thought men were flirting with her when clearly they were just being polite. She goes on these tears about certain parts of her body being great or above average in appearance. When last we were speaking, she was constantly going on ad nauseum about her "insanely long legs." Our legs are about the same height (mine are just slightly longer) and because I'm taller than her, she has it in her head that she has these ridiculously long sexy legs when, in reality, I just have an insanely long torso. (Not that having a long torso is anything to be smug about. I'd rather have long legs if I had the choice.) I wear average jeans and sometimes, they're a little long on me- because our legs are the same length, she, no doubt, has the same problem. People with truly long legs have to wear tall pants. If she wore tall pants, they wouldn't just drag the ground, they'd puddle around her ankles. She can't pass by a mirror without stopping to admire herself ceaselessly, and furthermore, she readily admits that she's obsessed with her appearance. Her own mother used to sing her "You're So Vain" by Carly Simon because... well, she was just that damned vain. And I know from complaints I've heard that it hasn't gotten any better.
The youngest's egotism has more to do with her incessant need that all attention be focused on her. She has a constant desire to overdramatize how horrible her life is and how she's so fat and ugly to get attention and praise from people who are willing to coddle her and make her feel better. I used to be one of those people, so I know this to be true. She never, not once, wanted to discuss my concerns or problems and if I tried to bring them up at any time, she would either change the subject or wheedle the conversation back around to herself and her problems.

3. Impulsiveness, irresponsibility, lack of foresight. Wow. The oldest one demonstrates this one better, too. Immediately, I think of the two weeks she dated a serious alcoholic when she was rebounding from her break-up with her boyfriend. Or the four or five random old guys she "dated" on the internet who she decided out the blue she was going to go visit. And who, if I hadn't stopped her, I'm sure she would have. Or when she decided, two weeks before the semester was over, that she was leaving school, leaving me without a roommate. For that matter, her marriage was actually relatively impulsive, if you want the truth. A year is hardly long enough to know someone well enough to decide to spend the rest of your life with them. After all, I've known her for fifteen years, and if you'd asked me even five years ago, I'd have said we'd be friends for life. I had no idea how batshit crazy she was. I'm sure her poor husband didn't either. Though I'm sure the fact that he's afraid of her doesn't let him express his dismay very often. The youngest's moodswings and imbpulsiveness were less dangerous- she'd decide she wasn't going to go somewhere, then five minutes later, change her mind, usually based on how her obsessions with various men were going at the moment.

Factor 1

Aggressive narcissism

1. Glibness/superficial charm - The youngest's sugary sweet display in the grocery store immediately after the initial disagreement took place is a good example here. You can't get much more insincere than that.
   
2. Grandiose sense of self-worth- Think I've covered that.
   
3. Pathological lying- This too. Their lies are usually more ones of omission than outright lies, but they're lies nonetheless.
   
4. Cunning/manipulative- See the section on lying. Creating pretend people to coerce men to reveal things about themselves repeatedly... That's pretty manipulative. Or constantly requiring apologies for imagined or created wrongs simply to elicit control over their relationships. I will never forget when I'd lost a lot of weight, the oldest got really jealous and began claiming I was belittling her to a mutual friend when I never had. It turned out she'd (likely intentionally) taken something I said about not wanting to eat fattening food as a personal attack on her for wanting to do such. She even threatened me with physical violence when I refused to apologize for this.
   
5. Lack of remorse or guilt- Well, I've yet to receive an apology for the ways I was mistreated, so I'd have to say this one's pretty clear. In fact, I can't think of three times in the entirety of our friendships that either of them has apologized to me. Yet they both regularly expect apologies for imagined wrongs and slights. Even in their disagreements with one another, they rarely apologize to one another, they just argue until they get bored with it.
   
6. Callous/lack of empathy- They are literally both incapable of seeing anyone's viewpoint other than their own. When I tried to explain why I was so upset, the oldest one essentially called me crazy and made up a long list of ways she imagined that I was having psychological issues, each of which I immediately and systematically debunked. I even asked for her to please list specific instances to demonstrate the claims she was making. Instead of trying to give some sort of evidence for her ill-conceived notions, she simply stopped talking to me altogether. I haven't spoken with her sense. Also, neither of them cries with anything like frequency. If they do, it's because they aren't getting their way and not because they're displaying genuine emotion about another human being. When their grandmother died, I was at the funeral, crying right along with them. When my grandmother died, neither of them attended the funeral or even so much as sent flowers.
7. Failure to accept responsibility for own actions- Again, the argument that disrupted our friendship is a good example. How the both of them can continue to preach their holiness and righteousness when they can't apologize or accept fault for their wrongdoings is beyond me. Again, I apologized for my part in all this over a year ago! I could also site the youngest's failed relationship with JB Lynn, which, I learned later, she blamed on me behind my back. Or the oldest's reluctance to get rid of her alcoholic friend, instead relying on our mutual friend to do so, only after he'd spilled beer all over her car and called her names.
   

Factor 2

Socially deviant lifestyle

1. Need for stimulation/proneness to boredom- I am told by a reliable source that the eldest is constantly updating her social networking statuses. I also know the youngest has a mild obsession with video games and internet dating sites.
   
2. Parasitic lifestyle- Well, I was told the youngest has now moved in with the oldest. Neither allows the other to fight her own battles and they join together in this crazed symbiotic weirdness. They never do anything apart, and it's actually borderline creepy. I wouldn't be surprised to hear that the youngest shares the marriage bed with the oldest and her husband- it's that... disturbing.
   
3. Promiscuous sexual behavior- Both are huge fans of cybersex and have frequently informed me thusly. Though I have no proof, I suspect the oldest has had extramarital flirtations with strange men on the internet. I also suspect the oldest engaged in some sexual behavior before her marriage, if not actual intercourse. Both sent nude photos to more than one man over the internet. While this is hardly what the general populace would consider "promiscuous," for anyone who claims to be as Godly and holy as these two, it's really pretty suspect.
   
4. Lack of realistic, long-term goals- I honestly can't comment on this except to say that, last I heard the oldest intended to go back to school to avoid having to look for work. I have no idea what, if any, long term goals either of them possesses.
   
5. Impulsiveness- Already discussed
   
6. Irresponsibility- Again, already discussed
   
7. Juvenile delinquency- I know the oldest, at least, stole in her youth. She admitted as much to me.
   
8. Early behavioral problems- See above.

Traits not correlated with either factor

1. Many short-term marital relationships- Not yet. I suspect the poor husband will eventually become so weighed down by the oldest's psychoses that it will lead to divorce, but so far, he's managed to hold on.
   
2. Criminal versatility- Though they haven't done anything I've known to be specifically criminal, I wouldn't put it past either of them. They both have irrational tempers.
   

As for the violence associated with sociopathy, the oldest regularly throws tantrums, has thrown a baseball bat at and aimed a gun at her mother-in-law.


Clearly, they're projecting- another thing they're good at. When their own psychoses began to make them question their societal "normalcy," they project incorrect or imagined behaviors onto other people to make them feel better about their own mental instabilities. Diagnostically, I have no idea what mental disorder that represents, I only know it isn't normal and deserves treatment

So, after I confided in a mutual friend that I believe I've figured out why my former friends are unable to apologize to me, she confided something in me. See, I believe the two sisters are both suffering from psychopathia, or at the very least, are sociopaths. The diagnosis mostly fits them both, though admittedly, it presents in different ways in the two of them. Apparently, according to our friend, the two of them had reached the same consensus about me. I couldn't help but laugh, but I decided to compare myself against the symptoms exhibited by psychopaths to further illustrate my points.

1. Deception. Really? I've always been honest, perhaps to a fault. Admittedly, I'm as prone as anyone tell a "little white lie" to save someone's feelings, but I'm painfully honest and open about everything. One need only consult my blogs, my twitter, or any of the numerous other ways I express myself to realize that I'm about as open as it gets. And it's not just online. I can't count the number of times I've been at work, and a boss or co-worker has been annoyed about something that was done wrong and I've said "I did that. I'm sorry" to prevent someone else getting the blame. If my parents ask me something, I'm point blank about what I did, what I'm going to do, etc. Clearly, this symptom doesn't fit me.

2. Egocentricity. Again, really? I'm well known for my self-deprecating sense of humor. I'm selfless to a fault, constantly buying gifts or giving my time to others, even when I don't have money. One Christmas, I was low on funds, so I asked my father for the money that would've bought my gifts and used it to buy for my friends and family. If someone is selling something or just asks for money, if I have it, I give it to them.That's just how I am, and how I've always been. If this is selfish or egocentric in any way, I can hardly figure out how. I am confident in my abilities in some things, but I think that's true of anyone.

3. Impulsiveness, irresponsibility, lack of foresight. I've been out of work for a year and a half. I've applied to every job I was capable of performing. I took the first one I was offered. I have intended to go back to school, and while I'm not employed is about the best time I can think of to go, but I haven't gone back, even though I was accepted at three different schools. The reason I haven't gone back? I don't want to make the wrong decision. I'm so afraid of going back to school and putting even more time and money into a degree that I'll later realize I won't enjoy, that I've stalled going back, taking any job I could so that I could have more time to make a decision. I've prayed, read, researched payscales, and prayed some more, trying to develop a clear insight of what I really wanted to do with my life. Have I EVER done anything impulsive? Of course. Who hasn't? But on the whole, I've been a planner my whole life. I plan vacations, I make budgets, I have an entire file on my computer devoted to my future wedding. I fail to see how any of this demonstrates impulsivity.

Wikipedia has three checklists. Two of them are nearly identical, so I'll only use the more detailed one for further analysis.

Factor 1

Aggressive narcissism

1. Glibness/superficial charm - I'm never glib. If I can't sincerely say something, I don't say it. To me, this goes back to lying.
   
2. Grandiose sense of self-worth- See above. A person with a "grandiose sense of self worth" hardly suffers from chronic depression.
   
3. Pathological lying- Again, see above. I'm about as honest as it gets.
   
4. Cunning/manipulative- I rarely get my way. I'd think if I were very cunning or manipulative, I'd be a lot better at that.
   
5. Lack of remorse or guilt- When I've actually done something wrong, I'm very quick. to apologize. See the instance above about coworkers. If I do something wrong to a friend or family member, I frequently feel so bad I cry, then go out of my way to make it up to them.
   
6. Callous/lack of empathy- Hardly. People constantly tell me their problems. The two sisters have done this so much in the past, I could easily recite their life stories. I assume this is because they realize I can really understand and feel what they're going through, and as such, sympathize. If I wasn't so good at that, I hardly think I'd have become involved in so many people's lives. I also cry at the drop of a hat. I'm a very emotional person, and I always have been. The fact that I am still angry at the two of them after all this time should pretty much make that clear. Psychopaths don't care. If I didn't care, it wouldn't still bother me so much.
   
7. Failure to accept responsibility for own actions- Again, this sort of goes with lying and lack of remorse. When the younger sister and I had the argument that started this, I was the first to apologize, almost immediately. And in spite of the fact that she refused to do so. Again, please explain how this constitutes a failure to accept responsibility.

Factor 2

Socially deviant lifestyle

1. Need for stimulation/proneness to boredom- I spent nearly a year at home with nothing but dial-up internet and some books. I kept myself entertained pretty damned well.
   
2. Parasitic lifestyle- I have no idea how this could in any way apply to me. My parents pay for my cell phone bill and car insurance. I buy all my gas, most of the groceries for the whole household, all my clothes and meals out or any other form of entertainment. As soon as I am able to get a stable, decent-paying job (and again, I apply for every single job I can find. I don't think anyone who lived here would argue that my inability to find a job has more to do with the economy than me enjoying leaching off my parents), I intend to move out and take over my own bills.
   
3. Promiscuous sexual behavior- HAHAHA. I'm nearly 29 years old, and I'm virgin. And by virgin, I mean I have done absolutely nothing sexual whatsoever. At all.
   
4. Lack of realistic, long-term goals- I want to get a job so I can afford to get a degree. I want to obtain a degree in which I can find a decent paying job short-term (most likely in education) until I can realize my long term goal of getting a PhD in creative writing. I eventually want to move to North Georgia. I'd also like to meet a decent, kind and intelligent man and get married.
   
5. Impulsiveness- Already discussed
   
6. Irresponsibility- Again, already discussed
   
7. Juvenile delinquency- I was a model student. I was even an honor student. I have never stolen, hurt anyone, or been in any sort of criminal trouble at all. I don't drink, I don't smoke, I've never touched a drug. I'm about as straight laced as it gets.
   
8. Early behavioral problems- See above.

Traits not correlated with either factor

1. Many short-term marital relationships- Never been married, don't even date people long if I don't see the relationship going anywhere.
   
2. Criminal versatility- There's nothing whatsoever criminal about me.

The symptoms of sociopathy are essentially the same, though there's the added caveat of potential to be violent. If I were a violent person, I'd have already bitch slapped both of them, so I think that in and of itself is proof that I'm not.

In my next post, I will describe how all these traits do, in fact, apply to the sisters, but for now, I have other things to do.

Things I am Obsessed With:

1. Scarves (Mostly semi-sheer organza, but I also love knit scarves)
2. Patchwork Purses
3. Patchwork Clothing
4. The color Purple (the actual color, not the book or movie. I've somehow ended up with more purple in my wardrobe than black. I even own purple pants. Of course, I'd never wear them in public.)
5. Jeweled Perfume Bottles
6. Seasonal Home Decor (mostly Autumn and Christmas, but a bit of everything, really)
7. Cheese (All kinds, even American)
8. Sweet Wine
9. Cookbooks
10. Poetry
11. Log Homes, Log Home Decor, Log Home magazines, etc.
12. The Blue Ridge Mountains (specifically in Georgia)
13. The Eiffel Tower
14. See's Chocolates
15. Damask
16. Paisley

What brought this on was partially a dream about a confrontation between my former friends Jessica, Jennifer, and I, and partially a conversation with a friend of mine about them (probably what brought on the dream.) I've been trying not to think about this very much because when I do, I get angry. I don't even like to talk about it because of how upset it makes me that two people I once considered best friends have treated me so poorly. But I probably need to get this down so I can get some of it out of my system.
I do not and have never taken kindly to having my sanity questioned. Mostly because I've only ever really felt insane and out of control about one thing in my life... And it wasn't Dan, Jessica, or Jennifer. Dan, as far as I'm concerned, is irrelevant. I was only attracted to him because he was there and have since (actually, almost immediately after) realized so. He was a fuck-up in the highest degree with no reasonable chance at ever forming meaningful attachment to anyone, and it didn't take me long to realize it. The aftermath of "Dan," however, has much more to do with the quality and caliber of people who once called themselves my friends than it did or does with him. He's detritus to me, a passing, regrettable fancy whose life and interactions with mine have ultimately proven unimportant. Dan, who Jennifer can only barely tolerate most of the time, whose company she's chosen over someone who's done so much for her and on her behalf, is not what this is about. It's not that she's still in contact with him that even bothers me, it's that she so callously insulted me to him that bothered me. It makes me honestly wonder how many times she's bad-mouthed me to other people, how many times she and Jessica have made fun of me or otherwise belittled me when I have never done nor would consider doing so to either of them. But, in spite of this, Dan didn't make me crazy. Even realizing that my friends were backstabbing self-absorbed assholes didn't make me crazy. The only thing (person, instance) in my life that I've ever questioned my reaction to was Darren, and that is and remains the only time in my life I've felt "out of control." I know the feeling well, and I know this isn't and wasn't it- not even close.
I suppose the starting point of all this has to have been JB. JB who Jennifer had it in her ridiculously jealous head I had some sort of interest in. I do not, have not, and most likely never will have anything other than ill-concealed contempt for that pathetic excuse for a human being. I pretended, briefly, to be his friend- on Jennifer's behalf. Any contact I had with JB up to and including the point of our (Jennifer's and my) break of contact was on her behalf and I never, at any point had anything other than her interests on my mind. My point was to prove that JB was an unfaithful bastard incapable of forming meaningful romantic attachment to her. I did that and then some. That Jennifer assigned some purposes to my behavior other than what it was speaks volumes more of her own mental instability and unwillingness to trust than mine. I certainly didn't enjoy, at any point, my conversations with JB. Not even when I talked to him after I dissolved my friendship with Jennifer. His usefulness was of a different nature- a body for a trivia team, perhaps holding some unimportant, esoteric nerdy knowledge I do not possess. I have been, was always, and never intended to become more than a distant acquaintance to him. I have no use for him, I know his type far too well and I don't need them in my life in any position of substance. I neither tried to hide nor intentionally flaunted my contact with him outside of my former relationship with Jennifer. When her sister, Jessica asked me who I was going to trivia with, I answered her truthfully without any form of embellishment.
Therein is where our own (that being, Jessica's and my) troubles began. Apparently answering such a question truthfully,in Jessica's psychotic frame of mind, was tantamount to flaunting some deeply secret liason with her sister's former love interest... (Which, first of all, he wasn't. At least, according to him. And never intended to be.) So, apparently by meeting JB for trivia (which, it turns out, didn't even happen. I just wasn't aware of it at the time), I'd done some unforgiveable betrayal to Jennifer (who, by all counts, at that point, I'd already made clear I wanted no further contact with anyway). If I had had it in mind to betray Jennifer, it's certainly not like she wasn't owed a betrayal on my behalf. After what she did to me, it would've been fair... But I'd already done her a like kindness, so that was far from my intention. My intentions were just as I've said they were. Apparently after finding out about my secret betrayal, Jennifer couldn't wait to write JB some ridiculous mea culpa in the form of a "birthday card" to try to rope him back in. I'm sure she thought that, in doing so, she was somehow hurting me... Reality is, I couldn't give a fuck. I'm sure she'll give him another chance and maybe, after he's fucked her and given her some disease or got her pregnant or killed her cat, she'll finally realize that I was right all along. Though it's really unlikely since it's hard for her to admit that anyone else can be right. Or, I suppose more accurately, that her "finely tuned sense of other people's intentions" is pretty much bullshit. That's why she keeps latching on to men she doesn't stand a snowball's chance in hell with.
That all said, the fact that Jessica chose to question my mental stability is where things really went to hell. For one thing, in an e-mail I composed, I accused her of several things- which I'm choosing, for the sake of brevity (not that this will be that brief, but it's much shorter this way), not to go into. She denied them all, calling me paranoid. By the end of our round of discussions, she'd admitted that every single one of them was true, thereby making herself either wishy-washy as hell, or simply put, a liar. I wouldn't put either one past her, to be honest. She'd admitted in diary entries, e-mails, and conversations that she questioned her own mental well-being, stating that she thought she needed therapy. I hardly think she was in a place to be making judgment calls about anyone else's psychoses. She continually ignored and flagrantly challenged my own insistence that I was, mentally speaking, just fine. And still am. For reasons I've yet to work out, she thinks I think all my friends are "plotting against me." (Never have I suggested or implied by belief in any such thing. I don't think I'm important enough that people sit around thinking up ways to hurt me. I think she and Jennifer are independently thoughtless self-absorbed people and the fact that they're sisters means they united against me because of their loyalty to one another. No plotting necessary.) I assume, based on her reaction to my statement that Jennifer and Dan could get married and have kids if they wanted, that Jessica thought I'm secretly jealous of Jennifer's relationship with Dan, that I think they have some secret affair going on. I was being sarcastic, as I've always been, and Jessica took it literally. I'm pretty certain Jennifer doesn't want to have any form of sexual contact with Dan. Considering that he's been with a dog, I think that's probably a pretty solid decision on her part. But I don't have some paranoid delusion that they're in love and the fact that Jessica thought I was serious about that makes me think she's got paranoia of her own. Much the way she assumed that my comments about some "Christians" needing to learn how they were supposed to act were directed at her and Jennifer. God knows, they're not the only Christians who are backstabbing liars, but she chose to assume that I was talking about her. (I guess if the shoe fits, you can certainly put it on.) Much the way she accused me of "thinking I'm better than her" in some way that I've yet to work out and she's not yet managed to satisfactorily explain. So far, her recordable level of paranoia is looking leaps and bounds greater than my own. But then, I've always known I wasn't paranoid.
The biggest annoyance of all was her claim that people "walk on eggshells around me." Jessica, Jennifer, nor anyone else in our group of friends has ever walked on eggshells in my presence. Of us all, I am, as far as controlling my anger and being good natured and not moody, the best of the bunch, and anyone who denies that is completely full of shit. I challenged her to please give one instance in which I blew up about anything, and she never did. I assume that's because she couldn't think of one... probably because no such thing exists. I am far more stable, emotionally, than Jessica ever considered being. I don't take everything anyone says and try to warp it into a personal attack on myself or my family. I don't throw potentially lethal objects at people. I don't throw tantrums with firearms in my hands. I never have. It's not something I do. With my family, I yell. Sometimes I throw things (NOT heavy objects like baseball bats, and NOT at people) or punch walls if I'm particularly angry. But with my friends, not even that. I have a feeling, up until now, my friends would be hard pressed to think of a time I've been really mad at them, even when they deserved it.
So what is, if anything, wrong with me? I spend too much time alone, I admit it. I do not, as Jessica seems to have somehow surmised, spend too much time online. In truth, I spend very little time online, and certainly not in communicating with random people I meet there. I have dial-up internet at this point and honestly don't have the patience to sit around for hours waiting for pages to load and chats to lag. In the time that all this "spending too much time online" was supposed to be occurring, I've communicated with two people I didn't already know- two men I met on an online dating site and effectively gave them both the brush off. I read, I watch movies, and I job hunt. I clean my house. Sometimes, I go shopping. Online, I check e-mail and Facebook, sometimes Twitter, and that's about the culmination of what I do "online." Whatever I do, I find my own company far preferable to that of people who stab me in the back and attempt to derail my extremely valid anger as psychotic episodes simply because much of their own anger is a result of psychosis. Miranda, a mutual friend of Jessica, Jennifer, and myself seems to think that we just "need some time." The truth is, the longer this goes without the apologies I'm owed, the less likely there is to ever be an amicable resolution. I currently have nothing but resentment and contempt for both Jessica and Jennifer, and I do not forsee that changing. Ever. Honestly told, I don't miss them. There's no degree of lying to myself or anyone else in that. I miss having people nearby to do things with, but the fact of the matter is, I'd prefer to do things with just about anyone BUT the two of them. I don't trust them, have no good or positive feelings toward them, and generally think that my life is better off without them in it. Even if, by some miracale, they were to manage to make me want to be friends with them again, I'm not sure I'd do things with them the way we did... Because apparently, even though I've payed for gas and driven to meet them, they expect me to be beholden to them because my parents don't allow me to drive all over the countryside. (Not something that's in my control, I'm afraid. I don't know why they're this way, as they let my brother go pretty much anywhere...) The fact that they've belittled my driving (nevermind that they both, on a regular basis, run over curbs, run red lights and run off the road... none of which are things I do with anything like frequency- or that they've had more wrecks, dings, pings and scrapes than I've ever thought about) certainly hasn't made me want to offer to do the transporting any.
By logging into her facebook account, I did nothing to Jennifer that Jessica hadn't done to me, and I forgave her for it with barely an apology. Twice. (I haven't forgotten the incident where she took pictures of my room, invading my privacy without anything LIKE my permission, in case the incident where she read my private message on Facebook (which I also never gave her permission to do) wasn't enough.) The fact of the matter is, again, I forgave her for both of those things. My sins are no worse than hers, and I won't accept that they are. I won't do any extra penance for something as inoccuous as what I did was. That Jennifer has offered a half-assed apology, excluding most of what she did wrong "because she said it because she was worried about me" (I'm not sure how threatening someone with legal ramifications that don't exist is considered showing concern) does not absolve her. Partial apologies are not accepted. I honestly can't say whether I'd even accept any apologies offered at this point, and I'm certainly not accepting blame for anything that I haven't already. I apologized for my part in all this long ago and that's all I owed anyone... in retrospect, more than I owed Jennifer and more than she deserved. I owe Jessica no form of apology at all, and don't and won't offer any. The possibility that one or both of them might someday soon try to communicate with me honestly makes me sick to my stomach as I can't think of two people I'd less like to see or speak to. Having such a possible reunion looming over my head just makes me angry all over again, especially in light of the accusations of further bullshit I'm sure they're likely to throw at me. When the two of them can be wrong and admit they were wrong without trying to convince me it's my fault in any way, form, or fashion, then perhaps I will be willing to talk to them. Until then, I hope they just forget me and I'll continue forgetting them. I've already forgotten why I was ever friends with people like that.

So, I had a bit of an epiphany today.
I have a ridiculously hard time believing in evolution for many reasons. I won't go into them all right now, but suffice it to say I'm not a backwoods Bible thumper. I've read all about why evolution should exist, and I find the argument low on evidence. It doesn't make sense to me and never has. Furthermore, it pisses me off that schools are forced to teach it when, much like intelligent design, it's only a theory. I agree that schools shouldn't teach the Bible, specifically... But I think the idea that the earth was created by SOMETHING is at least as legitimate as evolution. But that's an entirely different story.
Anyway, my realization today (probably not new to people who spend lots of time thinking about these things) is this: if evolution does exist, why isn't there life on other planets? I mean, if there was a big explosion from the ether and the solar system was invented, logically the particles that make up Earth are the same particles that make up all the other planets. Everything is made from the same basic stuff. So, the very same "stuff" that supposedly came together to create a cell here on Earth has to be on other planets as well. What stopped that stuff from coming together on Jupiter or Venus? Okay, one could argue that our atmosphere was the only one conducive to life forming, but that's not really the case- the atmosphere on Mars is reasonably similar to our own- similar enough that it could support life. Besides, Evolutionists claim that species adapt to their conditions- there are bacteria that live inside volcanoes, even bacteria that can survive without oxygen! So why couldn't cells adapt to conditions on any other planet, even though those conditions might be less than ideal? It just doesn't make sense!
This isn't the only reason I believe what I do, by far... But it's a reason I hadn't considered until today. I'm certainly not the world's greatest Christian. In fact, I don't even really like Fundamentalism, per se. I just don't think we got here by accident, and to me there's simply more evidence to support this notion than there is to the contrary.

I frequently wonder about how memory works. I can't count the number of times I've sat with my parents on any given evening and listened to them tell stories about their childhood. My mother, she can listen to a song on an oldies station and tell you what year it was popular, what grade she was in in school, and a lot of times, some memory associated with it.
My memory is nothing like that. There is nothing that clear from my childhood. I don't know if I've blocked it out (I didn't have a particularly painful childhood, but I was made fun of some for being overweight), or if my memory just doesn't work that way. When I hear a song from my childhood, I usually can't tell you what year it was popular or any particular memory associated with it, but I can tell you exactly how hearing that song made me feel. There are songs that I associate with crushes, with depression, with anger, with death... I can tell you not necessarily what season a song was popular, but what season the song evokes in my mind. "Tiny Dancer" is Summer. So is "Brown Eyed Girl." "What a Wonderful World" is spring... but maybe that one's obvious. "Imitation of Life" by REM is fall. A lot of eighties songs are winter. I don't know why. So is anything by Tool. And there are songs that evoke a very specific moment... so much so that I can almost see the actual memory in my mind.
Smells and tastes can do this, too. I have strong, clear flashes of memory... a lot of times, I can't tell you when they happened, but I can usually tell you who was there, the smells I associate with them, the sounds, what the sky looked like. They are overwhelmingly clear, but they're brief... they last a few seconds or minutes, but once they're over, I don't know anything else that might've happened that day, or even what year they're from. I can usually tell you what season they're from... because overwhelmingly, they're almost all from spring or summer. I think sometimes that my brain actually shuts down in winter. This is why I can never tell you what my best Christmas was, but I can tell you about my favorite birthdays (I was born in August) and why I remember winning the prize egg at the Easter Egg Hunt at my grandpa's three or four years in a row. I can remember what it looked like one year, even. (It was plastic, about the size my hand is now, light purple, had a light-brown rabbit with a fluffy white tail on top. I'm pretty sure the rabbit had an Easter basket, and there were either pastel flowers or pastel easter eggs on the front. I think eggs.) In certain memories, I can tell you what clothes I was wearing. (Distant memories, even. I remember a pair of pink plaid shorts I got at a yard sale one Easter because I was wearing pants and I was hot, and it was the only thing that was open. I was eight or nine that year. Or the oversized purple polka dot sweatshirt I kept pulled over my hips to hide a blood stain on my pants in 6th grade in PE. I'm pretty sure we were playing volleyball that day.)
My favorite memories I sometimes can't place in time. I just remember as a young child, taking Sunday afternoon naps on my parent's bed, the windows open and an oscillating fan lulling me to sleep. I don't know how old I was. The way the smell of gasoline and coffee or a certain slant of light (to borrow a phrase from Emily Dickinson) in the sky reminds me of going on vacation. The way the smell of fresh tomatoes or a pound cake with a crisp crust makes me think of my dead grandmother and sometimes makes me cry. The way honeysuckle reminds me of taking walks on the red dirt road near my house. Photo ops from my mind, though not always visual. A flash here, a flash there...
Maybe this is the way memory is for most people, and my mother, who seems to remember everything so clearly, right down to how much a can of coke cost when she was in third grade, is an anomaly. On the other hand, maybe it just seems like her memories are clearer than mine, that she remembers songs that way because when she was growing up, there weren't 300 stations playing different music, but four or five that all played top 40. Maybe she can tell you what a can of coke cost because, when she was my age, Coca-Cola was a treat, and her mother actually let her walk to the store and buy things herself.
Overall, it seems like I don't really have exceptionally clear memories about anything until I got in college. Maybe I was subconsciously really unhappy, and I didn't even realize it. Or maybe I did realize it, and I've blocked the memory of that too. But that doesn't explain what does get through- the good and the bad. I know it's not that I have a bad memory. I have the lyrics to at least a few thousand songs and the verses of at least a dozen favorite poems all stored in my brain. I remember a few thousand totally useless facts that makes me really good at trivia. Maybe, in all honesty, I've just never really tried to remember. I don't have someone wanting to know what my childhood was like, so I've never had to really think about it. Or maybe memories come later, that you slowly begin to remember things you didn't know you'd forgotten. This past fall, I think it was, I suddenly and very clearly remembered a Sunday dinner at mema's house that, until that point, I had no recollection of... I checked with my mother to make sure I hadn't somehow invented it, and she confirmed that the timing was right. There was nothing special about it, but all the details flashed into my mind with alarming clarity- again, no idea how old I was, but I know what we were eating and that it was summer, and I remember us all being there.
Maybe there'll be more like that, later. If the need arises. In case someone, somewhere down the line, wants to know my past.