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Wednesday, 15 August 2012

Gossip and paranoia

Do you know what's always trouble? Gossip. And what makes it worse? My aunt A telling it. She has opinions, and she hates to be wrong, so she wants to me agree to everything she says and all I can do is nod and try to agree with her while remaining unenthusiastic about everything, lest she makes a habit out of trying to make me mad at people I don't know over gossip. Goodness, it really turned awkward. 

It's no secret in my family that uncle A cheated on aunt A. I gather it might possibly be going on even now and I know it's a big breach to her privacy to go ahead and post it on the web just like that but I don't suppose anyone's reading so... Anyway. I know these things because they've been mentioned before by family members. Today, she heavily hinted at it when she told the story of a friend of hers who got divorced. At her (considerable) age. And she told me how all the women in their group of friends were upset with her and had a thing against her from before the divorce, and how unsympathetic they were. And I know she's digging into a sore spot when she tells this and I know she wants to talk and have someone listen but there's a very big inconvenient in this scene I'm telling you about. The door was wide open, and though uncle A was in the kitchen listening to the news or whatever, I'm quite sure he could hear.

As soon as I got out of there (I'll become a master of diversion to drive aunt A away from uncomfortable conversations if not a master in biomedical engineering), I decided to get the dog inside the house. She's nice to have around and is company as good as any. She's always grateful, always happy and always smiling, though there's a hint of sadness from what must have been abuse when she was younger and she's a bit of a scaredy cat. Anyway, I needed release and I suppose I missed being able to be with animals and talk to them. I wanted to talk to her, so I did. I wanted to say "he could have heard us, not that he'd care because he doesn't exactly regret it" and I did. I whispered it in French (because French, is what). And then I became increasingly paranoid about it, wondering if he'd heard me given that I was much closer to him than we were from the room. 

If he heard us from the room and then me, then I definitely fucked up. If he heard us from the room and didn't hear me, then it's fucked up. If he heard me but not us from the room then it's still. fucked. up. Not getting better, is it?

For now, I have classes to look forward to. Those will begin on Monday. 

*sigh*

I really hope I do well. I really hope I can keep up. For now, my plans include watching Khan Academy videos about biology and chemistry, trying not to fall asleep, and... well... I don't know, to be honest. I just left N1 a message. I haven't heard from anyone other than A all this time. Not from EBF, not from AOB, not from CtThumbe, not from SmTn (though I suppose he's the only one who's gotten a sort of full account of what's going on) and that's all there is (as far as friends go). I can't believe I actually logged on to facebook chat hoping someone would talk to me. All I did was leave N1 a message and come type here rather than look up the classes I have to take before the site goes down for maintenance. 

Like aunt A, I suppose I needed to vent. Unlike her, who has me, I have only the blog to rely on. It's a good thing, I suppose, because I won't pick fights with the blog like she will with me sometimes. She actually argued that pistachios are a good substitute for meat as meals for children. Now, I know: pistachios have a lot of protein. I looked it up: there are other higher-protein alternatives to meat and I think most meats still have a higher proportion of protein per child-size serving. What that amounts to is that while she argues that feeding a child pistachios is as good as giving him dinner (because he won't have dinner once he's full of pistachios), the amount of pistachios that will make him full doesn't contain as much protein as the amount of meat that will make him full. Given some doctor recommended her this substitute, there's no talking her out of it and I didn't push the subject. She did, after a while, concede that she wouldn't interfere with what said child's mum wanted for him and calmed down a bit from almost yelling at me for pointing out that pistachios aren't quite a substitute for meat.

To think I didn't mention the massive amounts of sodium that go into pistachios and how having them more than once a week might be sort of a bad idea for a child... No, dears. Self-control. Mum really is a saint. 

[of course, an edit. Midnight.]
Still online on facebook. N1 gave me a long run-down of how things are going with the last guy she was with (apparently there's something still between them) and then sort of disappeared. Granted, I was away for a bit and let her talk and talk uninterrupted, possibly telling her I wasn't so interested but by the time I answered, some ten minutes later, she stopped writing altogether. Some time after that I caved. I noticed EBF was online and started a conversation. I asked how things were going, he asked the same and I gave him a somewhat lengthy answer (it seems I always end up doing that, spurting out whatever I couldn't keep to myself any longer, however brief I try to be). He said to give him a second and I'm quite sure it's been over half an hour. At first, I figured he knew I'd want to talk-talk and was trying to make time. I've rather given up on that idea, though. But I'm still fucking online. Just in case, I tell myself. I'm delusional, I remind myself.

Oh, look! In the time it took me to switch off into the small computer I can carry onto bed with me, he's gone. Right.

[Morning after edit]
You'd think technology over here would at least match the one we had back home in university. The site to register classes is down. Again. So, I'm online and try facebook, goodness knows what for. After a while of being online (trying to get the site to load), EBF logs on to facebook and leaves me a message saying he's sorry for disappearing last night he promises we'll catch up later, that he has a quiz to take. I just answered "never mind, ace that quiz" and left it at that. You see, I realise (read: I'm given to understand) things aren't going all that well for him. I can only guess this is the sort of thing one might want to talk about. Except we don't talk. And we certainly won't talk about his troubles. And now it looks like I'm the one hogging the attention. And... well, it's just a big. FAT. FUCK! Innit? As petty as it sounds, I sort of don't want to talk to him any more. I know I meant to say "don't worry" but I said "never mind" and, now, I mean it. Never. fucking. mind. I've got the bloody blog for a reason, don't I?

[What do you know? Yet another edit. Same day, actually at night.]
I'm online in facebook, mostly catching up with N1 and EBF was online for a while. It was only then when I realised another acceptable answer would have been "it's ok, go ace your quiz" but I didn't say it either. I suspect I wouldn't have meant it either. It's actually not ok, which is why he apologised. But there was a time when he didn't have to apologise for such things, even when they happened and an apology was "due," because we got along. Now, while my "never mind" was probably very rude, and more than a little petty, It's all I could actually say and actually mean. I didn't say what I meant, but I meant what I said. How's that for an Alice in Wonderland conundrum?   


I just couldn't leave it alone, could I? I checked in Wiktionary and my usage of "never mind" is correct and not at all rude. Except for the fact that in my mind I said it with a sarcastic tone I'm sure he would have noticed. Then it's rude again. And melodramatic. But really, this whole thing right now proves that I really have a thing for torture. This  is all so I can tell myself it's my fault he doesn't try talking to me.

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