Not looking, not bothered.

Sleep deprivation has not helped with sussing out a new standard for the next few weeks. But the sleep debt didn't come from backsliding into my bad social habits, to do with my haphazard mating attempts, so that's something. Partying and having long involved chats with friends are what I actually want to do with my life.

Halloween night marked the end of my celibate period and was a lot of fun. At least until I asked a stranger at my theater's party what his costume was, and apparently that gave him the right to paw at me on the dance floor. Furthermore, his pick-up line was "You have really nice skin, I like your skin..." Um, eeek. Nothnxkbye. He was also pretending to be a kinkster, which got on my nerves big time.

On the upside, it drives home the point that I hate dealing with these things. On the downside, I didn't think it could get worse than "Hi I'm rebounding, can I use you?" It definitely gets worse. I think its time for this low-hanging fruit to stop acting like a tart.


I'm still not ready to adopt celibacy as my official lifestyle. But I HATE the Mating Game. So my new mantra will be "Not looking, not bothered," as inspired by a British book about singleness (with mixed reviews). If someone wants to chase me I will figure out what to do about it then. But it is doubtful that will happen around the social groups I'm currently involved in. Otherwise I will continue to focus on things that really make me happy.

I'm going to do this from now until Yule (ie, Winter Solstice) and see how it works out. Yay for more social experimentation :-)

Apocalypse Me.

When I was in high school, I had tons of dreams about apocalypses (apocalypsi?). It was a different scenario every time, so I wasn't worried about it being prophetic. I always survived with the people in the dream that I liked to build a new world. Metaphorically speaking, my subconscious totally backed me up on getting out of suburban NJ. When I went to NYU the world stopped ending in my dreams, probably because I was rebuilding my life within a place and a people I liked.

Years later I'm still very affected by apocalypse fiction. There was an NYC Radio Theater production of War of the Worlds that moved me to tears. Promethea* was made of awesome and reflects how I think of "apocalypse," after studying mysticism at NYU. It's not a disaster, but a great revelation at the end of an era:

Rejoice. Your world is ended. The beliefs whereupon it was founded turn to air before the quantum scrutiny of your new science; were never truly there. Time's jail-yards are unlocked, the prison of material ambition that reduced you now demolished. Rejoice. Return now to your separate moments, selves, and rooms, and know that separation for ILLUSION. Know that you were one, were here, and in eternity are here forever. Here, where sudden firelight in your soul startled you from your worldly slumber. Stay awake.

Promethea, book 5.


And then there was last week.


Monday a blogger I read started a new short fiction blog called Apocalypse Daily, within the obvious theme.

Tuesday held another episode of The End of the World at UCB theater. It's a limited engagement improv show for the month of June, very fun so far.

Wednesday I went to an awesome Fantastic Fiction nite at KGB, where Brian Francis Slattery read/sang excerpts of his book Liberation: Being the Adventures of the Slick Six After the Collapse of the United States of America backed up by his own bluegrass band. This is the only recording of it so far, and I'm sad I didn't bring my own sneaky recording device. (And this is what the band looked like with better lighting, for reference) It was absolutely magical.

Friday, XKCD puts in a witty two cents, tho the punchline only really makes sense if you work in mathematics and/or academia (like me).


I wouldn't say I believe in Synchronicity per se. I look at the other way around: what you put out into the universe, it sometimes returns in kind or in synch. Reminding you of your own choices and plans, and things that need to be changed or finished.

So what exactly am I doing or creating to attract apocalypsi NOW?



*If anyone ever tries to make Promethea into a movie, I will handcuff myself to relevant office furniture in Hollywood until they stop. Unfortunately, I don't think Moore has control over that book anymore.

Trying hard to understand

Forgive the moodiness. Life is OK overall, but NYC is unseasonably cold and wet this week. Also, the new Our Lady Peace single sounds terrible. *fan girl angst*


Lately I've had some run-ins with people who don't seem happy that I exist. Looking at other social connections with them and working backwards, I can pinpoint a mutual acquaintance that hates my guts. That person spits venom behind my back whenever we end up at the same social events though I make no noise about it. I'm just keeping to myself, why should they care?

To add an extra layer of lame, this person despises me for something stupid I did in a LARP three years ago :-P

(Note to other nerd girls- NEVER date within your gaming group. 9 times out of 10, it ends in disaster. Especially if you are rebounding.)

Since that embarrassing era I've made new friends IRL, continued my career and education, established a side business, bought a home, traveled, tons of awesome ensued. I am respected and cherished by my chosen peers and tribe. And long ago I cut off most of the old gaming group. I don't bother them, why should they bother about me?

So it's seriously disheartening to see that no matter how hard I work to improve myself and my life, gamer drama will return to haunt me years later.

And what happens if this stuff segues into real life? Job, career, relationships? Is this worry just another character flaw I need to work on?


But back to the news that's really bothering me: here's a sample of Our Lady Peace from back when they were GOOD.



Why must you break my heart so, OLP? You were the cornerstone of my angsty adolescence, and now you're all ... bouncy :-P

Settling for Celibacy

15 Years Without Knocking Boots

First, I'm sure this essay is supposed to be comical.

Second, it is interesting to examine and pick apart lots of little details about it, with no offense meant to the author, because it's a humorous piece that doesn't take itself too seriously.

Even so... oy. Take what I want to write about and do a complete 180. With an extra dose of impatience and whining.

I regard men with ambivalence, with alternate longing and fear.

This I can understand. She likes their company, and then is consistently disappointed by them. Rejection is never fun, and it sounds like some of the men she's been with have had severely bad cases of the dumb.

I've grown accustomed to being alone.

OK, WTF is that all about? She goes on and on about her gal pals, and how some of them have even hit on her. And what about her career? There's an article on Salon.com with her name in the byline- does this mean nothing in the face of being single?

But we all crave human contact. "So," I resigned myself, scheduling a back massage, "welcome to the wonderful world of the middle-aged, celibate single woman. You now have to pay people to touch you." It's funny how comforted I can feel simply by hands rubbing my body. I know some men are willing to offer extra for a "happy ending" -- for them, sensuality isn't achieved unless it ends in orgasm -- but for me, I'm perfectly content just letting someone rub my shoulders, my back.

Isn't there anybody in her life willing to give her a free back rub? I'm single, and I've had two in the past week, neither with the ulterior motive of sexxing me up.

Oh, wait,

And I suppose it would help to leave the house. I am quite reclusive, as most writers are, and unless some drywall guy who reads Russian literature shows up on my doorstep, it is highly unlikely that I will meet an available straight single man any time soon.

Because we all know that the best way to meet other single people, "for friendship or more," is to stay home on the weekends. Where do all her gal pals come into it while she's shut up at home?


I don't disagree with her philosophy, "You have to be in love to make love," especially since she's tried the alternatives and did not like them. I've said before, different strokes for different folks.

But instead of reflecting on her life for what it is, she focuses on what it is not. It is not shared with a romantic partner, woe! Forget all the accomplishments and adoring friends, she can't find Mr. Right! Towards the end she brings up non-romantic love and friendship, but almost as an afterthought. It sounds like she settles for what she has instead of cherishing it.

This makes for a very whiny sounding article that makes my teeth grind, regardless of the ironic, comical tones. And I think it helps reinforce the stereotype that I'm trying to break.