May 7, 2009
Can it really be that I haven’t written anything worth sharing since December? This is actually a good sign because it means I am not lonely enough to sit in front of the computer for hours and think and write.
There are new blogs on the way. Tomorrow I begin farming again and I have somet stuff to say about that. I’ve had a lot on my mind lately and I hope to find the time to get it all down while it’s fresh.
December 31, 2008
First I want to apologize for my sloppy writing lately. I don’t get to have very many real conversations, and my brain feels sort of cloudy. Possibly this is due to hypothyroidism, which I will be tested for the moment I have health insurance again. For now I’m doing a lot of stream of consciousness stuff and peppering my blogs with phrases that are verging on cliche, because I feel like my personal thesaurus is stored in a part of my brain that is currently deteriorating. In short, I get dumber every day.
On to my list. I guarantee it will be better than America’s Favorite Books. I’m not going to offer any real critique or anything, just introduce you to some amazing novels and revisit some I’m sure you’re familiar with.
Aside from Lamb, they are in no particular order. Maybe some of them are favorites only because I read them at the right moment, when I could relate to a character or a situation. Most of these novels left me wanting more, or at the very least wanting to read them over again right away. I haven’t read most of them for quite a few years but whatever it was I gained from the experience has stayed with me.
I’m the first to admit that on the surface they aren’t all the most deep or intellectual works but your life will be enhanced by reading them. Books are the closest thing I have to drugs, the only effective way I know of escaping reality for an extended period. I read for pleasure to the fullest extent of the word, but unfortunately for you I am leaving all erotica off the list. I like a good story, lots of dialogue, and to not have to think too hard. It’s a plus if I actually have to look up some words.
I know most of my friends are familiar with Lamb. My copy is well-worn and has been borrowed by many. This is without a doubt the funniest thing I have ever read. The story of Christ’s childhood and teenage years from the point of view of his smartass best friend. I’ve read it four times so far and I’m sure there will be many more- it’s my literary substitute for watching The Holy Grail. People claim Christopher Moore is a genius- all I know is he makes me laugh. He also has a Myspace and blogs occasionally. It’s clear he didn’t have to try too hard to become Biff and make snarky remarks to and about Joshua.
The Hobbit was the first book that I remember calling a favorite. I’m not sure when I first read it, but I know I got it for Christmas in elementary school and was really sad when it was finished. As far as I know my mom bought it for me not because she had read it, but because everyone else had. Probably the most common introduction to the fantasy genre. As a teenager I learned of the Lord of the Rings, but I was unsatisfied by the extensive descriptions of epic battles.
If you haven’t read A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, you’re not an American woman. One of those “coming-of-age” stories, it takes you from Francie Nolan’s childhood to just before her wedding. I related to Francie at the time because she was a reader, Irish, and her dad drank. Her slutty aunt was my favorite character, and I thought the idea of her mom and dad working together as school janitors was sort of romantic. Two decades later, both of my parents have been school janitors. My aunts aren’t promiscuous, though. Read this one as a substitute for Gone with the Wind- it’s kind of lengthy.
The Things They Carried is considered a work of fiction. It’s stories told by a platoon of soldiers on active duty in Vietnam. My Contemporary American Lit teacher assigned it to us my junior or senior year, but I had read it in eight grade. In class, we discussed whether the book was a product of O’Brien’s imagination and loosely based on his own war experiences, or real stories disguised as fiction. To me, it was an introduction to the reality of war, the first narrative of a soldier I had been exposed to.
Jo lent me The Red Tent, and I always like the books she recommends and this was one of her favorites, too. The story follows a woman’s life starting before she was conceived. The woman, Dinah, happens to be the sister of Joseph- you know, the guy with the coat of many colors. I had never considered the Bible beyond the ridiculous idea of God creating all the animals at once, but this book definitely sparked an interest in the other stories. The idea of all the tribal women menstruating at the same time each in accordance with the phases of the moon, and spending those days together lounging and snacking in a tent, put a new spin on what so many women consider a curse. I can definitely say I love this book because it acknowledges the fact that women bleed and doesn’t treat it as an affliction.
Chronicles of Tao was suggested by a friend who read about spirituality a lot more than he practiced it. Please skip The Tao of Pooh and set some real time aside for this one. The stories are amazing and possibly true, if you believe in those sort of mystical experiences. This one even managed to get me a little interested in martial arts. I actually highlighted sections of this book but only read it once before I had to return it.
The Giver is a young adult novel that has been both banned and added to the list of 100 Best Books for Children. I was already a little old for it when it was released, and by the time I discovered the book I immediately recognized it as sort of a warning, as Fahrenheit 451, 1984, or Brave New World… but less scary, because it is written for kids, after all. I couldn’t remember the title of a fourth novel it reminded me of, but in searching I discovered they are all part of a genre called dystopian literature. I also learned that it’s part of a trilogy, so I guess I have some more young adult reading to do. As the government (and Microsoft… *ahem*) gain more and more control over our lives and minds, the story becomes that much more frightening. Vote libertarian.
I love almost everything Ray Bradbury has written. Dandelion Wine is my favorite because it portrays the innocence and nostalgia of childhood without sugar-coating everything. It’s one of Bradbury’s least fantastic works and like The Hobbit acts as a stepping stone into fantasy and science fiction. The main character, Douglas, both relishes life and broods over death. Nobody writes about little boys like Bradbury, and this novel is considered autobiographical. This book contains my single favorite quote: “Some people turn sad awfully young. No special reason, it seems, but they seem almost to be born that way. They bruise easier, tire faster, cry quicker, remember longer and, as I say, get sadder younger than anyone else in the world. I know, for I’m one of them.”
O. Henry is amazing. Any of his stories will do, but this collection in particular came to me at just the right time. Until last winter, I had only read him in other short story collections, and I was thrilled to find this cheap volume at Borders to buy with my yearly gift card. I remember realizing that each story ended with a sentence that made me smile- either because it was funny, ironic, or supported my firm belief that everything will turn out OK.
What’s a Mary Kate book list without some Mark Twain? My idol. Roughing It is my favorite because he makes fun of Mormons and Lake Tahoe. Enough said… Alright, here’s a little more- it’s another semi-autobiographical book that makes me laugh.
As I reread this blog, I finally see how some people may view me as an alarmist, feminist, religious, uuuuuuuuuuugggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh… hippie. NOT THE CASE. I’m many-faceted, you jerk, and some of these books are part of what made me realize that. Some helped me form ideas, some just gave me the words I needed to express them, and some were just a story to get lost in. I know people believe I share everything I think, which just isn’t true. I just prefer not to discuss my political or moral views with the man on the street, as most people are looking for an argument or an opportunity to push their own beliefs on you. But hey, anytime you want to talk about periods, I’m here.
Note: I did not edit this blog for spelling or grammar yet. If you notice anything weird feel free to let me know. 
December 30, 2008
About once a day, one of the Yahoo headlines grabs my attention. On April 9th the top featured headline was “America’s favorite books.” The article is no longer available but here is a link to the survey results: http://www.harrisinteractive.com/harris_poll/index.asp?PID=892
I knew right away that The Bible would be #1, it always is and it probably always will be. Many people read only this one book, so I don’t believe it’s fair to include it in the survey at all, but hey, I’m a godless heathen after all.
|
2008 |
|
| The Bible |
1 |
| Gone with the Wind, by Margaret Mitchell |
2 |
| Lord of the Rings (series), by J.R.R. Tolkien |
3 |
| Harry Potter (series), by J.K. Rowling |
4 |
| The Stand, by Stephen King |
5 |
| The Da Vinci Code, by Dan Brown |
6 |
| To Kill a Mockingbird, by Harper Lee |
7 |
| Angels and Demons, by Dan Brown |
8 |
| Atlas Shrugged, by Ayn Rand |
9 |
| Catcher in the Rye, by J.D. Salinger |
10 |
I’m going to criticize this list from the bottom up.
Catcher in the Rye? Seriously? Have we read anything since high school? I won’t argue that it’s a good book, but how many people have actually read it more than once? Not exactly the sort of thing that you pick up to revisit your favorite characters, to escape your worries, or to pass the time waiting for the dentist.
Atlas Shrugged. Oh. My. God. This is actually my least favorite book ever. I really don’t even want to get myself started on it, but it took me two years’ worth of reading a couple pages at a time on lunch breaks. My distaste for Ayn Rand is so strong that I would not allow myself to use up any more of my free time to finish this book, but I was determined to get through it so I could advocate against it. Sadly, spreading it out over two years didn’t help me to form my argument so as of now all I can really say is, “Screw you, Ayn Rand.” Who seriously gives a shit about her philosophy? (Shaun.)
Angels and Demons, and The DaVinci. I liked Angels and Demons better, but they were both good books. That’s it, though. Good. I read The DaVinci Code twice, I would read Angels and Demons again, but not if I had anything else handy.
To Kill a Mockingbird is one of the better books on the list, but again, have these people picked up any other novels since they were teenagers? We read it in junior high, I revisited it again a few years ago and got a little more out of it. This is one that I can understand wanting to read over and over. I remember wishing it were longer because I really liked the characters.
The Stand? Come on! You know who reads Stephen King? Most men. Men who don’t read anything else. You wouldn’t believe how many guys I have asked about their preference in books and they tell me they ONLY read Stephen King. I like him a lot. I’ve read many many many of his short stories, and sixteen of these novels:
I also read the Green Mile series as they were released. I would even go so far as to claim to be a fan of Stephen King, but to claim The Stand as your favorite book indicates that you have not read a lot of books.
Harry Potter, as expected, was the favorite among Echo Boomers, which is apparently the name they have given to the generation most of us belong to. People between the ages of 18 and 31. Many of whom were teenagers when the books were released. I really love the series and especially the fact that it opened up a world of reading to kids who otherwise may never have discovered that joy. I imagine they will remain favorites for years to come because for so many people, The Sorcerer’s Stone was the first book they ever enjoyed. This is another one I can’t really argue with because like so many people, I could read them over and over again and truly looked forward to each new installment in the series.
Of course the Lord of the Rings series is on this list. Anybody who has ever read a book in English has probably opened at least one of the three. Personally, I liked the first one but barely got through The Two Towers and The Return of the King. Mostly because I can’t read about fighting, I find it incredibly boring and there isn’t much of the dialogue I like so much. Give me The Hobbit any day.
I’m a little puzzled about Gone With the Wind. Another book I have read twice, because by the time I finished I had forgotten how it began. I was in high school the first time, and I actually read it because when older people find out that a teenager likes to read they are quick to recommend their favorites. Not surprisingly, Gone With the Wind was not a favorite among people in the eastern US, black people, those under 43 years old, or those who have at least some college education. As time goes by I am sure it will drop lower and lower on the list, as fewer people are able to relate to the concept of the Old South.
Now, I don’t think I have to point out what most of these books have in common, but for those of you unfamiliar with popular culture, all except three have been made into very high-budget, well-publicized movies. Having a cheap copy of a paperback with a glossy cover featuring a popular actor available at every pharmacy and grocery store certainly can’t hurt sales. And as for those other three, well, we know Salinger would never allow his masterpiece to be exploited in such a way. It’s common knowledge that Angels and Demons has been in production for a couple years now, and guess what? Atlas Shrugged… in production… starring ANGELINA JOLIE. It’s like a dump truck of $1,000,000,000 bills pouring into the bank account of a production company that almost nobody has even heard of.
December 30, 2008
The idea for this blog came from the comments on a friend’s Facebook photo. It shows her holding the first-place trophy for our fifth grade spelling bee. Of course this brought up all kinds of (repressed?) feelings about competition, failure, spelling, etc. It seems we all remember the word that we misspelled. Mine was bouquet,which I maintain is not a fair word because it’s not even English. I struggled and struggled over whether there was a U before and after the Q. It knew that second one was there, definitely. If only I could remember whether they pronounced it as “boo-kay” or “bo-kay.” Then I might have someone else to blame…
Now I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, but the winner of this particular spelling bee was someone with whom I had competed throughout my elementary school career and even though I loved her as a friend, there was a very strong resentment there. Day after day she earned A+ on almost every quiz, test, book report, diorama, etc. I remember partnering up for some sort of project that may have been centered around simple machines, in which we build a desalinization plant out of Legos. Even though I knew what I was doing, who knows what kind of grade I would have received if I had worked with someone else?
Anyway, not only did she always get the highest grade in the class, but she was a good dancer where I failed to ever really catch on. Not sure if that contributed to my feelings of inadequacy and possibly jealousy, but to this day I refuse to dance in public.
More than once, when her grade was only an A or even, God forbid, an A-, she cried. Since I didn’t learn compassion until I was 25, instead of feeling bad for my friend who became so worked up over a measly eight points or so, I felt satisfaction. My grade was probably even lower, but at least a) I wasn’t crying in school and b) she was not always perfect. I’m pretty sure she had kind of a freakout over a 98 once, but that may have just been something mean we thought up to tease her about. On the rare occasion that one of us got a higher score than she did, we definitely gloated and rubbed it in her face. I think we were just so frustrated that our best was never going to be The Best. Even though we knew we were smart kids, we weren’t going to be the smartest.
It couldn’t have been much later than second or third grade when I started to get really annoyed. There is always a measure of competition, I think, especially when we are so young and haven’t yet figured out what our own personal talents are. Basically all we have to demonstrate our abilities are spelling and math scores- but what if our best abilities were not spelling or math? Incidentally, I am awesome at both spelling AND math.
Now this was back before they invented ADD, and to punish me for not paying attention I would just be kept inside at recess. Once I was alone in the classroom I had no problem finishing my work and doing it well, but I was sort of losing momentum. I know I am not the only one who started to give up. Nobody ever really bothered to mention to me how important it was to persevere, although I did get a lot of “Just do your best.” Oh, only my best? Sure thing… When she reads this, I hope she understands that she didn’t make us feel that way, we let ourselves slack off. It was really just practice for when we became jobless adults. I imagine that we were destined to be lazy people and just choose to blame her and her stupid 100s. Two of us, in particular, may also have been affected by the fact that we were younger than most of our class. I could definitely have waited another year, as I really struggled with learning to read, and something got lost in translation when Mr. Costello taught addition. This meant I had to do flash cards for a few months until I just memorized the sums of every number under 100. Don’t worry, by the end of the year someone had properly explained the concept and I can now add two-digit numbers on paper, and sometimes even in my head.
By fifth grade our hierarchy had been established. It actually turned out she wasn’t necessarily The Smartest- that could be Colin. Maybe he didn’t get the A+ all the time, but his thinking outside the box and interest in more adult topics (even if it was for the sake of making us feel stupid and immature) were always things I admired. It was accepted that they would get the best grades, we would get great or good grades and be happy with that. Until the spelling bee.
I remember that there was some sort of preliminary test conducted over the intercom. It was probably our principal, the man who pronounced mature as “ma-toor,” who read the short list of words. Later, possibly at the end of the day, the correct spellings were announced. I was infuriated when I was told that theatre was spelled t-h-e-a-t-e-r. Already an avid reader, I knew I was spelling it right, and it turns out I wasn’t the only one. To this day I wonder why they would have chosen a word that can be spelled two ways, but it’s not important because we were allowed to enter the bee.
It’s really unlikely that I studied any words for the competition. I didn’t study for the SATs so I doubt I studied for the spelling bee. I’m sure my reading level was already far beyond fifth grade, so chances are I thought I didn’t need to know any more words.
I don’t remember a single thing about the bee itself, except the word that I spelled wrong. Here had been my chance to show how smart I really was, and I blew it. This was the moment in time where I really did stop trying, because I was never going to have a trophy to show that I was the best at something. I continued to get mostly As and a few Bs, and in 8th grade I actually got a C+ in History, which was devastating at first but sort of lowered the bar for me as far as social studies were concerned, thank God. Spelling scores were the most important, though, and mine were always very high if not perfect. We all have words that we misspell. Every time I type weird, I go back and change it a few times, before spell-check tells me I’m wrong. Also, for some reason, nobody ever taught me that the possessive of it did not have an apostrophe until I was in college, but let’s save that for the punctuation blog.
As far as being the best or the smartest, well, we are mature enough to know that there is always someone better. I hope that friend came to grips with it before college, because as far as I know she was not the valedictorian of her class at Princeton. Hopefully she didn’t cry. 
Meanwhile, I went to Franklin Pierce, which was more along the lines of a summer camp than a university. No, not valedictorian there either, but I graduated with honors and had the highest GPA in my major. So what if there were only six graduates in my major? They were all great scientists, dedicated to the environment and intelligent. Being better than five other people is good enough for me. I am consistently underestimated to this day, but sometimes it works out better when not a lot is expected of you. More than one respected mentor has referred to me as “brilliant” and their opinions mean a lot more to me than spelling bouquet onstage in front of all our parents.
OK, I still harbor the resentment, because I am just that immature. How would my life have been different if I had won the bee? Would I have been more motivated, put pressure on myself to succeed? You can bet your ass that I would be displaying that trophy on my Facebook page!
I would love to hear other people’s accounts of their elementary school spelling bees. I want to know what word you went out on and how it made you feel. If you won, where is the trophy now?
November 20, 2008
The freedom of not working!
“Catch-22″ is totally cliche and overused but I find it appropriate. Here I am again, practically jobless. Ahhh, staying up late, misbehaving, sleeping half the day… Lots of time to crochet, sleep, reflect. Since leaving Crap Island I’ve felt wonderfully unattached, with only a student loan payment to tie me down. As long as I’m making $250 a month and about $50 toward car insurance, I’m good. In theory.
The burden of being poor!
In reality, I have a lot of time in which to spend money that I am not making. Today, a guy I am dating offered me “a few hundred bucks.” He was serious. It made me really uncomfortable. He could tell, and said, “I know you want to be all independent, but…”
Yeah. But, you can’t be independent working 16 hours a week. Then he said, “I just don’t want you living out of your car again.” If only he were someone terrible that I could take advantage of! Not to complain that I am seeing a great guy who wants to take care of me.
I want my freedom back.
July 25, 2008
They closed the vineyard. I mean the island’s only winery, Chicama Vineyards, has closed. It was a family-run operation that had been open almost 40 years, and the only commercial vineyard here.
OH, the IRONY!
July 13, 2008
How to get people to visit your blog: simply insult their favorite musician!
Michael McDonald was the only bad part of The Doobie Brothers and Steely Dan, and he has no business sounding so black. Discuss.
July 7, 2008
Do you know Boz Scaggs?
While I was showering, one of the local radio stations did an interview with Boz Scaggs. I had a vague sense of not liking his music, and when they played the first song I knew I was right.
Boz Scaggs just plain sucks.
When I went on iTunes to find out the name of the song I hate so much to add to my list, I found one I hate even more!
Who knew how much Boz Scaggs sucks, and why didn’t you tell me?
As I move down the list of songs, I realize that almost every one is something I used to be subjected through the JCPenney and Brooks Muzak.
God help you all who work for a large retail corporation and have to listen to Boz Scaggs every single day.
June 25, 2008
There are friggin’ berries everywhere. Almost as many berries as there are poison ivy plants.
MV Berries Primer
These plants are pretty much anywhere that gets sun. We have a lot of open grassland near beaches. They’re common along the edges of forests, too.
We also have highbush blueberries, although they are less common. The plants are shrubs and the berries are larger. I was keeping my eye on one plant, waiting for the fruit to ripen, but someone cut it down when they were doing trail maintenance a couple weeks ago.
Huckleberry
Pretty much everywhere there are lowbush, there are huckleberries, although the huckleberries seem to do a little better in full shade than the blueberries. Not sure if this is true, just an observation. I’d never tasted one before today, they are just ripening. The fruit strongly resembles a blueberry, but it’s larger than the lowbush and darker. The berry is also shiny, not dusty like a blueberry. The plants I’ve seen are about a foot high.
Serviceberry
Also known as shadbush because they bloom when the shad are running in the spring. The name serviceberry has kind of an interesting etymology, too, that I learned about in college while studying the cemetery in Old Jaffrey Center. Before we had backhoes, graves were obviously dug by hand. So when the serviceberry bloomed, it indicated that the ground had thawed enough to bury the winter’s dead. It’s also called Juneberry, for obvious reasons, as well as Saskatoon which is the Cree word for the plant. The fruit is not actually a berry but a pome, which is the same type of fruit as an apple. The pomes are really valuable to wildlife, and they’re pretty tasty. I had my first one of these this morning, too, although I had some difficulty finding a ripe one. The dark pink in the picture is as ripe as they get, but the birds usually devour them before people get a chance.
Dogwood
Dogwoods are common ornamental trees. They’re sort of flowering right now but those big white things you see aren’t the petals- they’re actually modified leaves called bracts, similar to a poinsettia. The berries are drupes, like a raspberry or a blackberry. The gardener on our property told me they are edible and taste “kind of custardy.” Wikipedia tells me that not every species is edible and that some are even mildly toxic, so I think I’ll stay away from that one this summer.
Strawberry
Yet another berry that isn’t a berry! Actually, it’s a berry that’s not a fruit… or is it a fruit that’s not a berry? Let’s just say it’s an anomaly. These are growing all over my front yard, and probably the back, too. Chances are that if you have a yard, you have wild strawberries. They ripen quickly and are eaten just as quickly by wildlife, plus the berries are really hard to see as they hang down to the ground underneath the leaves, so you might not ever notice them unless you are on your hands and knees on the lawn. Strawberries are ripe right now, and although they are only about the size of your pinky nail, they’re really sweet. I think the most I’ve gotten at one time was about a dozen, which is less than a mouthful. Still cool, though, that you can eat stuff you find in your yard.
Bearberry
This is a species I had never noticed before this spring. It grows low on the ground alongside the blueberries and has a similar bell-shaped flower that blooms at the same time. Bears purportedly love it, hence the common name. I didn’t know anything about it, and when I tried to find this photo I learned that it’s also called kinnikinnick, which is an Algonquin word meaning “mixture” because the natives mixed it with tobacco. Wikipedia tells me that “large doses may cause nausea, green urine, bluish-grey skin, vomiting, fever, chills, severe back pain, ringing in the ears” but that it is “relatively safe.” I think I’ll taste a few when they are ripe just to say I tried them, then never eat another one until I am starving in the wilderness. The plant is supposed to have a lot of medicinal uses, which makes me even more surprised I wasn’t familiar with it.
Bilberry
I can’t really paraphrase this information, so here’s a link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bilberry
Grapes
Because, “After all, it IS a vineyard.” I searched and searched for a good picture but this was the best one of a wild grapevine. Maybe tomorrow I’ll go out and take a photo of the vines along the parking lot. There are historically two species of grape on the island and I haven’t determined which one is growing on our property- maybe they both are. You all know about grapes so I won’t bore you with talk of the benefits of red wine, etc.
Rubus species are also pretty common here. This genus includes raspberries, blackberries, and dewberries. There are hundreds to thousands of species and of course many of them hybridize. I have never taken the time to learn the difference between the plants, I just eat the berries when they come out, red, black, you can tell when they’re ripe! I suspect that most of what I’ve seen are actually blackberries but I won’t know for a while.
June 18, 2008
The first time I was stood up was in high school. I was doing stage crew and had a huge crush on this boy in the band. I don’t really remember the details but we finally made plans to hang out. I called him as I was leaving and his dad went to get him, then came back to the phone and told me he wasn’t home. Riiiight… As I recall, I went to the tea room that night, and never spoke to this kid again. However, one of my friends sort of pushed him down the stairs. Also, I made sure that every time we were walking down the same hallway, I was in front of him, just far enough in front of him to slam the doors closed in his face (our high school had a lot of doors). Satisfied me!
Obviously nobody likes to be stood up. Especially when you never find out what happened to that person. It was clear that this little twit didn’t want to hang out with me for some reason and wasn’t mature enough to tell me that.
I started dating Mark Blake in the spring of our freshman year of college. We were instantly inseparable. During the couple months following school, we talked on the phone, I sent him postcards, there were e-mails and AIM conversations. I visited him a couple times in VT, he came to MA to see me. Then I had a Friday off from work so I was going to leave for his house in the morning. I got up, showered, got my stuff together, and called to tell him I was on my way. His mother told me he wasn’t home. How could he not be home? He was in CT. Connecticut? WTF? He didn’t answer my phone calls or emails for the rest of the summer. Finally, at some point over the next year, we got back in touch. It wouldn’t be the last time that Mark pulled a disappearing act on me. We remain friends, however, I never did get an explanation for this one. I do have a theory, though, ask me about it sometime.
Mark Bennett used to somehow stand me up all the time. Which is interesting, because he actually lived with me. The boy would just not come home at night. Was he out carousing? I really don’t know. It’s possible he lived a double life but I doubt he was cheating on me and he was pretty anti-drug. The only explanation I have for this one is that he got really drunk and didn’t want to be that way around me. This is pretty likely. And you know how when someone doesn’t come home, you worry, and you think they’re in trouble? Maybe they got hurt! Maybe they got arrested! Yeah, Mark tended to get in trouble, and his friends did, too.
The most well-known story of me being stood up is the one of Tattoo Face. He and I were no longer actually dating (once the fact that he had twins came to light… with a stripper… and waited three weeks after we started seeing each other to tell me he was a father) but were definitely friendly. He had a great dog and I had a dog and we were going to take them hiking on my favorite trail. I spoke with him around noon, gave him directions from his apartment in Worcester to my parents’ house, and waited. And waited. After an hour, I called him, no answer. No answer to my texts. Finally, I went on the hike by myself. The boy never showed up, never called. About two weeks later he sent me a text, but by then I had already started dating Eric. Tattoo face didn’t drop off the face of the earth, though. He was seen shopping in Brooks while I was working (yes, he knew full well that I worked there) and also on the streets of Holden. I, of course, honked and gave him the finger when I saw him and that was the last contact we ever had.
Eric… of course. Of course he stood me up. Called me one night from his house and told me he would be at my place in fifteen minutes. Never showed. I called him the next day from work at 11 and woke him up. Somehow, between his house in Winchester and my house in Keene, he ended up at a party in Troy. I’m still mad about this one. First thought is that he cheated on me but I really don’t think so, although I accused him of it up and down. Even after we broke up, though, he claims he never cheated. He told me he didn’t call me that night because I would yell at him. This is a perfect example of his selfishness- better to not be yelled at than to let me get a good night’s sleep not worrying my ass off and be all stressed out at work the next day and possibly kill someone. I think it was about a week later that Mark came up from CT and picked me up at work, and I spent the night at his parents’ house in Vermont. Yes, Eric worried and drove to my house in the middle of the night to find that I wasn’t there. He actually got jealous and of course accused me of cheating. I let him think whatever he wanted about me being alone for the night with the ex-boyfriend I was still in love with- I was a good girl, though.
Standing someone up is mean. It’s also rude, disrespectful, and immature. If you are afraid you will be yelled at, well, chances are you deserve to be yelled at. When someone doesn’t show up and I am left waiting, not only do I get angry and hurt, but my stomach starts to spasm. This happened every time Mark didn’t come home at night. I would actually feel physical pain for two to three days, as the spasms and the worry kept me from sleeping and perpetuated the bad belly cycle.
Why do men do this? I don’t know of a single instance of a woman doing this to a guy, or to anybody for that matter. We have cell phones. If you get lost, if you change your mind, if you decide you don’t want to snuggle or hike or go out… we’re just a couple button-pushes away! And don’t tell me your phone died, because every other person in America has one you could use. Christ. There’s really no excuse.
Ooooh! I’m still so mad at Eric! I’m going to send him a message right now and tell him, just in case he has forgotten that he is an asshole.
