A Non-Specific Rant

Things That Make Me Happy Right Now

* Drinks with my friends tonight.

* Haven't seen a roach in almost a week.

* CLOVERFIELD is coming out on Friday!

* Job interview.

* HOUSE, MD

* Netflix

* I'm working on a novel.

Things That Make Me Unhappy Right Now

* Will probably see a roach in the next five minutes.

* Job interview is for an unpaid position.

* New episodes of HOUSE, MD don't come back on until the end of the month.

* My novel isn't very good.

* The movies I want to see aren't coming out for months on end.

* Still unemployed.

* Personal life both boring AND in shambles, which I didn't know was possible.

I swear, I don't intend for this blog to become an angsty Dashboard-Confessional LiveJournal I'm so emo I sit in the dark and cry exercise in bad writing. It's just been a shitty month.

Whichever horoscope-writer said this would be my best year ever was clearly drunk, or vindictive. They must be found, and forced to listen to me whine.

May your life not be driving you crazy.

- LV

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Day 6 Of Unemployment: Still In New Jersey, Where The Sun Never Shines

Yeah, I know, I suck.

I promised to record every nitty-gritty detail of unemployment, for your edification/education/sick pleasure. And I have no real excuse for failing to keep this simple vow. Rather, I have thousands, but none of them are particularly valid.

The truth is, I have not felt particularly funny lately. Or clever. Or able to make witty observations about life and the culture in which I exist. I have felt stressed, worried, anxious, and other words that describe not-goodness.

I have been apartment-hunting which, as I have stated, really sucks. I may have something good somewhere. It looks optimistic. But I am not optimistic. At all. Optimism withers and dies in my presence, leaving the black ashes of misery and sullen sarcasm in its wake.

Job-hunting is going even worse, as you may have suspected from the title of this entry. Apparently nobody wants to hire a journalist with no experience. I could always go the way of Hunter S. Thompson, and join the Army and write on their paper, but me in the army would probably be something like Catch-22, only tragic instead of funny. Also, everyone dies horribly. And the pages would be wet toilet paper.

Another thing. I am deeply, deeply paranoid. I understand and accept this flaw. I try to improve it (as much as I try to improve anything, which really isn't much). However, it still is a pretty big fucking flaw, and causes me enormous amounts of stress and anxiety. Some of which I am currently feeling. The cause of my stress? The usual culprit: text messaging.

I have sent texts to three different people, and NONE of them have responded. These people do not hang out. They do not know each other. And yet I am comvinced that they and their loved ones are sitting around saying vicious, shitty things about me RIGHT NOW. And I know my friends aren't like that. About people they like. But isn't it WEIRD that nobody is answering me? ISN'T IT?!

Also, I may have royally pissed off another friend of mine, who also has yet to answer my text message. She's driving through states, and was going to stop for a visit and coffee. But she missed the turn-off, got stuck in the vile New Jersey traffic, and now hasn't answered my phone calls or text messages. So she's either dead, or annoyed, in my mind. That's how things are in Elle's head. You either answer my texts before I fucking SEND them, or are pissed at me. Or you're dead. And that's probably my fault too.

So this is how things are in my head right now. The text messages are getting frantic, paranoid, needy, and vaguely hostile. And NO ONE is answering. Bad vibrations in my little, twisted brain.

At the rate I'm going, my friends are going to wake up with me leaning over them in the dark, a depraved look in my eyes as I hiss, "Your phone is working just fine."

This is one of those ideas that is funny until the cops show up.

And so much for that. This was meant to destress me and let me see how ridiculous and stupid I'm being. Instead, now I think I'm perceptive and intuitive. If nobody answers me soon, I'll probably convince myself I'm a psychic. I'll set up a franchise, trademark my anxiety, and end up with a cable TV show that will be badly received. You all should watch it.

May your text messages be answered promptly. If you are slow to answer text messages, may you have uncontrollable gas that will only cease if you answer your damn texts.
- LV

NOTE: Go to my friend Esse, otherwise known as Sa's blog. You will love it so much you will immediately stop reading my blog, and wonder why you settled so long for such trash. Wait...

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Starbucks Is The Giver Of Life, And All That Is Good In This Cruel, Cruel World

So. I am a huge fan of text messaging. Huge. If there is a ever a petition demanding that all communication not done face-to-face must transpire solely through text messaging/E-Mail, I will sign it several times. And I’m not including IMs which, while they can be useful, also make me profoundly nervous, since you cannot determine exactly who sees you online, unless you are willing to block a large portion of your friends, or make many different screen names.

But there is a catch to all this glorious technology. It has unquestionably increased the stress in my life to a critical level. Not overall, of course – merely when said technology is being employed. Using text messaging can, in fact, make you a nervous wreck and a total asshole.

I am one of those people who answer a text as soon as it is received. I even respond to text messages that need no response: “C U in 5.” “OK, see you then.” (I am also one of those lunatics who insists on proper spelling in my texts). I do this solely to ensure that the other person knows I have received said text, and that I am in a similar mindframe.

Most people do not do this. Most people are not as paranoid as I am, either. If there is a delay of any sort, beyond a few minutes, I become nervous. I begin to worry something horrible has happened to the other person or, worse, that they are mad at me. And that is when I start to act like a rejected girlfriend or celebrity stalker.

I begin to obsessively check my texts, wondering if something has gone wrong with my phone in particular, or who the whole text messaging system in general. I wonder if the undead have risen, and chewed on the wires that make text messaging possible. I worry that all my friends have gotten together and decided I am a bitch, despite the facts that A) most of my friends dislike each other, and B) they are all well aware of my bitchiness. Finally, I start text messaging them completely random things, desperate for a response. “My roommate is annoying.” “Do you want to get food tonight?” “WHY HAST THOU FORSAKEN ME?”

Most of the time, this behavior is viewed with weary tolerance by my friends. They emerge from the subway/shower/nap/orgy that has kept them from receiving my texts, only to discover a plethora of messages that would hold up exceptionally well in court as signs of my insanity.

I can have whole fights with people over text messaging – without a single response on their side.
“Cool, I’ll see you then.”
“Ha ha, they’re playing that song you like that sucks.”
“Are you coming over next week?”
“You there?”
“Dude, are you pissed?”
“Answer me!”
“You know what? If you don’t want to talk to me, just say so!”
“Fuck you and everything you hold dear!”

Needless to say, this can be slightly disconcerting for a friend who happens to temporarily be without a signal.

I know this is irrational, unhealthy behavior. I accept that. But I’m not going to change. I am an advocate for speedy text messaging responses. I demand timeliness in my communications. And yes, while simply CALLING people would solve many of the above issues, I refuse to do so. I hate talking on the phone. It strikes me as invasive. Which is a story for another post.

Why am I blathering about this? Two reasons. One: to inspire others to respond quickly to texts, and hopefully cause others to experience the same paranoia I do. Then we can start a support group. Two: I text messaged two of my friends last night, before bed. They haven’t responded. And I’m running out of texts.

NOTE: I did not write the promised Sex post because I want people to respond to my damn entries. I’m holding Sex hostage! Also, I left my notes at home, and am typing this up at work.

SECOND NOTE: I saw The Simpsons Movie this weekend, and it proved that my earlier assertions of brilliance are all too true. Also, it was funny as hell and I actually cried at one point, but let’s focus solely on my genius. FOCUS.

UP NEXT: Either the much-heralded Sex post, or I’ll whine incessantly about job interviews. Your pick: howling orgasms or, “So where do you see yourself in ten years?”

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