All posts tagged whining

IWSG – I forgot! (Again!)

Published May 4, 2017 by Iphis of Scyros

Somehow, I ended up forgetting my post for the Insecure Writer’s Support Group again.  Ugh.  (But at least it wasn’t twice in a row!)

What’s bugging me right now as a writer (and yes, I realize it’s pointless to go into it when I’m a day late, but…I’m doing so anyway) is that it seems like I’m more interested  in dreaming up scenarios than I am in writing out the stories.  I’m still working on the same project I was this time last month, and have gotten very little accomplished on it in the past month.  (Though in my own defense, I did have to spend half the month working on class projects, to the exclusion of all else.)  Meanwhile, I’ve come up with a bunch of other plots I’d like to explore.  (One of them just hit me today, in fact.)

I don’t know if it’s just the way my brain’s wired or what, but it’s starting to get frustrating.  The feeling that I can’t ever finish anything because I get tired of it and want to work on something else.  (Even though I do actually finish a lot of first drafts.  But only first drafts.)  Which is one thing when I get snatched away by different characters (it’s always the characters that compel me into whatever I’m writing, not the story), but when it’s just the idea of putting the characters in a different situation…it starts to feel very counter-productive.

Though I guess my writing is always counter-productive, since it’s taking away time I could spend on actually productive activities like cleaning my horrific house.

IWSG – Untitled

Published June 1, 2016 by Iphis of Scyros

“Untitled” here referring both to the post and to the project I’ve been working on.

Though I’ve yet to attempt the “take my laptop to a cafe-like place and spend an hour writing after 99% finishing my lunch” plan I had for this summer, I have actually started writing fiction again.

As of last month’s IWSG post, I was planning on either working on the rewrites of my semi-YA series set about 20 years after the Trojan War, or on the superhero story.  I wrote up a set of character questions, and went through having all the major characters from the first book of the semi-YA series answer them, but I only got through about half of one question for the characters for the superhero story, ’cause I decided I wanted to write the answers for a different set of characters instead.

I have for a long time been interested in the concept of a story told from the perspective not of the hero, but one of the supporting characters.  (This dates back to my fanfic days, when I contemplated the way Final Fantasy VII would be if it was narrated by Yuffie.)  I actually tried to do a NaNo novel like that once, where the idea was to write a JRPG-like story, as told by the perky supporting character…but by the time it was done, it was more of a strategy RPG than a regular one (okay, minor difference) and the character was no longer perky or merely supporting.  I was quite disappointed by it, overall.  (I should probably go back and look at it sometime and see if it’s as awful as I remember, or if I was just upset with it for not being what I wanted it to be.)

Anyway, then I got the idea of applying it to the romantic comedy genre.  Now, I don’t watch that kind of movie, so I don’t really know what’s what with them.  But I’ve been lead to believe that it’s common for the heroine (when the movie’s more from her perspective than his) to have a gay best friend.  Who I imagine is usually pretty much a shallow stereotype.  But what if he wasn’t a stereotype?  And what if he was the one telling the story?

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IWSG – Uncertainty, as usual

Published January 6, 2016 by Iphis of Scyros

I am still working on the NaNo novel from this past November.  I barely got anything done over December.  Well, I did manage to get through some important stages in the romance between the two leads, but it’s probably the #1 most unrealistic romance I’ve ever written.  (And they’ve all been unrealistic.)  Obviously, since it’s only a super-rough draft, that’s not a huge issue (and it’s even less of an issue because I’ll probably never touch it again, let alone let anyone see the danged thing) but it annoys me that this relationship which was in many ways the reason I wrote the thing in the first place is so terribly handled.

Of course, I’m in a weird place for writing relationships, having never had one.  And even if I had had any, as I’m a woman, I can’t possibly have taken part in any male same-sex relationships.  (Not in this lifetime, anyway.  But as I have no past life memories, it wouldn’t help even if I had been in such relationships in a previous life.)  So obviously the romance between Ashley and Paddy was always going to be awkward and unrealistic.  If I ever feel like I’m going to be able to give writing a serious go as a career move (unlikely), I’ll have to invest in reading a lot of fiction with strong emphasis on the romances, and make sure I read books with all three variants.  (Technically, I’m sure there are romantic variants other than M/F, F/F, and M/M, but they’re probably a bit more, uh, rare.  To say the least.)  Not necessarily romance novels as such, just ones where it’s a larger part of the story than most of what I read.  Okay, technically, at this stage in my life, most of what I read is non-fiction, so that’s kind of a…um….ack.

Why am I trying to write fiction, anyway?

I totally suck at it.

Furthermore, I have very little time, and all my reading hours end up getting devoted to non-fiction, whether for my classes, for my eventual thesis, or just because there’s so much amazing research out there I want to know about.  But reading non-fiction takes longer than reading fiction (usually), and I have so much else on my slate…

Y’know, this isn’t what I was going to be talking about today at all.  I intended to talk about my lack of style and failure to grasp the basics of story construction.

And now, after a 24 hiatus in the pre-writing of this post, I feel more like talking about my idiotic need to come up with story ideas at the slightest provocation.  Which, I suppose, answers the question of “why am I trying to write fiction, anyway?”  Because I come up with ideas — some of which would probably be really good if written by someone not-me — and I want to see them come to life in some manner, and I keep hoping that if I try hard enough, eventually I’ll attain some small degree of skill in the craft.  (So far, that has not happened.  And I’ve been writing, in one form or another, for more than twenty years.)

So I guess I write out of a compulsion to do so.  Much like almost everything else in my life, when it comes right down to it; I seem utterly unable to deny acting on these urges.  (Lucky none of my compulsions are to do things that are illegal!)  I just wish, considering the time I end up devoting to it, that I was actually good at it.  As it stands, it’s nearly a complete waste of time.  (The one way it isn’t a waste is that I’d probably need therapy if I couldn’t write.  Or need it enough to actually force me to get some, that is; I undoubtedly need therapy already.)

Okay.  I’ve randomly whined for too long now.

So I’ll stop.

What helmet would you wear?

Published July 7, 2015 by Iphis of Scyros

Would it be dragon-shaped?

Bronze? Leather? Boar’s tusk? Dainty or massive? Or would you wear a hat, because you–like me in this lifetime–would prefer to avoid harming other living beings?

I’m asking because I’ve recently realized that the one thing I want more than anything else is to go to sleep and wake up to discover that my whole life has been a bad dream. I guess I’ve wanted that for a long time, but it’s become a more pressing desire lately than it has been in the past.

I’ve figured out that it is impossible for me to succeed at anything; I am congenitally bred for failure in all things, but particularly in all things that could lead to anything emotionally or financially rewarding. The better I think something I’ve done is, the worse it is received by others, though sadly the reverse is not the case.

This has its obvious problems, as you can well imagine.

The question is, then, how in the world am I supposed to make it in this world?

I obviously can’t do so by my writing: born and bred for failure definitely applies to my already underwhelming writing skills.

But I haven’t any other skills to use, either.

Too stupid for academia. We’ve established this repeatedly.

Literally no ability to process visual imagery, so no hope of discovering any latent ability in any visual artistic medium.

Even if I had any acting ability (and I don’t), I look like the south end of a north-bound hippopotamus (only less gray) so there’s no chance of going into the performative arts.

No physical stamina, no social skills and no work history, so I can’t go into basic career paths like sales clerks and whatnot.  (Plus I’m way too old to be starting at entry level positions.)

I am left with literally nothing, unless I get someone else to win the lottery on my behalf and give me the money.

Like that would ever happen.

How the heck did I manage to screw my life up this badly?  Usually, to wreck a life, you’d expect someone to have to engage in danger sign activities like drugs, drinking and wild sex.  I’ve never done any of those things.  (Well, I did at one point in my life I did do a tiny amount of drinking, but one margarita on the rare occasions when I went to a nice Mexican restaurant hardly seems to count.  Especially since I always asked for it to be a weak one.)

I often like to think it’s karma.  That I’m so screwed up in this life not (just) because I made so many spectacularly stupid decisions, but because I did something so terribly wrong in a previous life that this life is punishment for it.

In which case, in the previous life, I must’ve been an oversexed, male chauvinist who routinely went about a battlefield slaughtering people left, right and center.  Not really a very nice thought.  Particularly because I haven’t really been “good” enough in this life to earn a better next life, I wouldn’t think.  (Then again, what the heck do I know?  I have little to no knowledge of the Hindu religion from whence the reincarnation terminology springs, and while I’ve read a summary of the Socratic/Platonic philosophic equivalent of reincarnation, it was only a one page summary, and I read it a couple of days ago, while my head was all wobbly with medication, so my information retention was not at its best, to say the least.)

Anyway, I realize that complaining about it isn’t going to make it any better, but I’m not quite sure what will, and sometimes just talking about it (or–in this case–typing about it) can help me work through my thoughts and try to come to grips with the situation in the hopes of understanding things and finding possible solutions.

Though at the moment I certainly don’t see any.

And my head is still a bit wobbly, I’m sorry to say.  I was hoping I’d be adjusted to the medication by now.

Discussion Boards, Group Projects and the Core (Hard or Not)

Published March 13, 2015 by Iphis of Scyros

As I warned yesterday, I will be bitching about class today.  But not just about class, but about also the week leading up to it.

So, this is a class on oral history, yes?  Not just studying it (which is what I had thought I was signing up for) but also practicing it.  I should have dropped it as soon as I found out that it wasn’t what I signed on for.  I may still drop it, even though it’s the only class I’m taking this semester, and the drop date has passed, so I’ll have an “EX” on my transcript forever if I drop it.  We’ll have to see what happens, but that’s where I am right now, in my head-space.

Getting back to the class, we have various assignments each week, as you’d expect, but we don’t get much spelled out about them until the week before they’re due.  (With a few rare exceptions.)  So the assignment that was due yesterday was that the class was divided into two groups–undergraduates and graduates–and each group was to compile a list of 40 questions for an oral interview, and that these questions would be put into practice on a test subject in class.  A discussion board was set up for the purpose of this assignment.

Because I really didn’t want to do it, and last weekend was the worst I have had in many years, I put off going to that discussion board until Sunday night.

It was still a blank, virginal slate.

So I started a thread about the assignment, saying that we should talk about what theme we wanted to center our questions around.

When I went back Monday night, the only response was from the professor, who said that determining those themes was part of the assignment.  As if I had been asking him, rather than trying to start a discussion with my fellow students.

Since no one had said anything, I posted again with about a dozen questions, mostly basic, introductory stuff.  Because by Monday night, for a paper due on Thursday, I would usually want to have the rough draft done (though obviously that isn’t always achieved) and so having nothing at all of the question list by Monday night was burning me up.

Over the next two days, two of the other students pitched in.  One of them contributed about the same number of questions that I had–though fewer introductory questions and more on thematic issues–and the other had written a list of 45 questions, which she posted in its entirety.  Which would have been fantastic, except she seemed to have misunderstood the assignment a bit, and had written a set of questions that would have been appropriate for interviewing the men whose interviews we had transcribed earlier in class, men who had been WWII veterans.  It was a fine list, but there’s no point in asking a 50 year old woman if she served in WWII, you know, so most of the list was useless, and most of the basic information questions covered the same information that the other student and I had put up.  Still, at least she had put time and effort into it.  She didn’t have time to contribute to the discussion, as such, but she wasn’t blowing off the assignment, so I don’t have any problem with that.

What I do have a problem with is the other two graduate students.  One posted late on Wednesday night, posting about six or seven questions, most of them fairly basic and many already covered, and the other posted at 4 a.m. on Thursday morning–barely more than 12 hours before the final list was due!–and posted even fewer questions, having clearly not read any of the questions that had already been posted, because there was no truly new material in it.

That, of course, was when I realized that if I didn’t do the assignment, it might not get done.  There were only two of us properly taking part in the discussion, and the other one had said in his latest post that he was working almost all day on Thursday, so I could see that he wasn’t going to have time to compile a full list out of the half dozen threads with the questions scattered through them.

So I had to do it.

It took me almost an hour.

And the results were, of course, pathetic.  The questions were simple and shallow, because there had been no discussion of what information we were looking for, and there were only two people actively contributing questions.

The worst part about all of this is that one of the things the professor said about the lists was that he was disappointed at how little they tried to delve for deeper information on important topics.

How in the bloody, pluperfect, *&%$ed-up HELL were we supposed to do that!?  NO ONE was willing to make any kind of stance, we were given literally ZERO  guidance, and in our case there were only TWO PEOPLE trying to do a job assigned to FIVE!


All right, I’m better now.

But I am still seriously pissed off.

I’m pissed at the two students who completely blew off the assignment–especially since the professor’s posts made it very clear that all of our grades were going to depend on the whole group taking part, as if I had any way to get the other two involved when I didn’t even know they were graduate students!–and I’m pissed at the professor for designing this so poorly, and I’m pissed at the entire class for turning our in-class deliberations about the final  list into one big argument in which absolutely nothing was decided.

But perhaps I’m most pissed that I didn’t just drop the class after the first day.

I should have been able to switch into another class.  Missing the first day isn’t that big a deal, even in graduate-level classes.

Worst of all, though, is the next assignment.

Because the next assignment is to conduct the interview.

We’ve all been given the phone numbers and e-mail addresses of someone we’re supposed to interview.  We have two weeks to interview them and transcribe the interviews.

This is why I should have dropped the class from the word “go.”

Because I’m not good at talking to others.  Especially not strangers, but even with people I know, I’m not good at it.

And now I have to e-mail–or, even worse, call!–a total stranger, set up a meeting time, and then interview her?

This will not end well.

Now, don’t get me wrong.  It’s not like this woman doesn’t know.  All the interviewees were contacted by the professor or some of his acquaintances, and they all agreed to do it.  So it’s not like I’m calling a total stranger and having to explain why I’m calling her and asking to interview her.   So it could be worse…but the second interview is going to be like that.  We have to provide our own interviewees for the second interview.

That’s why I want to drop the course now.

But I’m going to try.  I’ll e-mail her tomorrow and hope it’s a working e-mail address so I won’t have to call her.  I’ll try to conduct the interview.

But if it goes as badly as I think it’s going to, then I’m dropping the course, and I don’t care how bad that “EX” is going to look on my transcript!  It’d have to look better than an F, and I think that’s what I’d get if I kept going.

Especially since the second interview is again part of a group project, and we’d have to use that damned discussion board again to determine what the project was.

I shudder at the thought.

There should have been a warning in the course catalog:  “Don’t take this course unless you’re seriously hard-core!”

I am not hard-core.  As far as this subject goes, my core is so soft as to have mostly evaporated.

I guess I’m hard-core about other things, though.  I went to a toy store on my way home tonight, in the constant rain, after dark (and I hate driving in the rain, especially after dark) because it was the first chance I had to check to see if the new Monster High doll had been released today, since it’s Friday the 13th.  (They’ve released special dolls to celebrate Friday the 13ths before.  And since this is the second Friday the 13th in a row, I thought surely they would this time, but it seems not.)  So that’s a little bit of hard-core-ishness about me, but even then, not really.  It’s not like I’m willing to shell out massive amounts of money to scalpers for dolls before they’re released, or for convention-exclusive dolls or something.

Ugh.  I need to do something fun to unwind.

Been one of those weeks

Published February 27, 2015 by Iphis of Scyros

Or something.  It’s just…ugh.  I don’t even know, you know?

My paper was horrendous.  There’s no other way to describe it.

Then, after I had gone all the way down to campus through the snow (flurries) the professor cancelled class.  Only an hour before the class was due to start, mind you, so no one would have had time to find out it was cancelled before they left for campus.  Or very few people would, anyway.  (With the class starting during rush hour, it makes the commute difficult no matter where you’re coming from.)

Oh, and he tacked on a new assignment to watch a movie (which apparently he or someone has posted on YouTube in its entirity, which seems to me rather odd) and said movie is a theatrical movie from some years back which I have heard is absolutely ungodly awful.  Admittedly, that’s part of his point–we’re supposed to post on the class discussion board about its ethnic stereotyping–but I really don’t want to watch it.

It just feels like everything’s going wrong.

And I’m totally out of money, but don’t have any more coming in until the 15th.  Ugh.

And my gas bills are ludicrously high, even though I keep my house absurdly cold.  (Seriously, in light of how much my gas bill was, I had dropped the thermostat from 63 to 60 degrees.  As that didn’t save me much money, I’ve dropped it further to 59.)

Yeah, so my life sucks, as per usual.  I’m going to go take a hot bath and try to forget my life exists.

The more I think about it, the worse it seems.

Published December 8, 2014 by Iphis of Scyros

No matter how I look at it, it feels like my writing is doubly sure never to get off the ground.  Even for free, I can’t get people to read it.  I don’t think it’s just because my writing style sucks–though I think that’s part of it, too–I think it’s also that what I write is just something that no one wants to read.

Even in my academic writing, I feel like that’s the case.  All I could think regarding my presentation in class about my thesis-to-be is that no one thought it was worth writing, like I was wasting their time in making them listen to it, and wasting my time in writing it, and everything.  I mean, I guess it’s not really world-shattering, studying the way myths are re-shaped by the times that they pass through, but that doesn’t mean it’s wrong to study it, surely.  Some of the others had some pretty vague and/or unimportant topics, too.

It doesn’t help that as I read these various books for my research that I can see the people who wrote them are infinitely more intelligent than I am.  I’ll never be able to write anything so deep and insightful.  I’ll never be able to write fiction that anyone wants to read.  So where does that leave me?

I’m unemployable, so I can’t just get a job and work for a living.  No one would ever hire someone who’s never had a job.  But if I can’t write fiction and I can’t enter academia, and I can’t get a job, then what do I do with myself?  What justification do I have to exist?

If I were younger, pretty and thin, I could say “screw being useful, I’ll just get married and churn out babies and at least keep the species alive” but there’s not a human being on this planet who’d ever want to marry me, and I don’t have the financial, emotional or mental stability to raise a child on my own.

If my writing style was more acceptable–if I was even capable of writing descriptions–I would try to churn out some fiction that people would want to read, even if it was crap.  After all, there are certain genres that are popular, right?  If I could write in a style that people would be willing to read, I could try to grind out some of that “tween-girl porn” that’s popular right now, but…well, actually, first I’d have to be able to put up with reading some of it to know it’s like.

And watching “Pyramids of Mars” while I’m already in a funk isn’t really helping.  It’s not exactly the most cheerful story out there.  (But Barnes and Noble was having a half-off sale on BBC DVDs!)

It also doesn’t help that I still have 34 pages left in the book I told myself I was going to finish reading today.  Then tomorrow I’m going to tackle the last of the new library books, and if it turns out to useful to–wait, wasn’t Set the uncle of Horus, not his brother?  And Sutek is Set, so…but actually, I think I’ve seen something lately that called Set the brother of Horus, rather than the brother of Osiris, so maybe it’s one of those multiple versions things.

Well, digression aside, like I was saying, after the one I’ve spent today reading, I have one more library book left (plus a book about Amazons that I bought a while back, which should prove useful) and then I have to go back to the library and get some new books to replace a few that didn’t pan out.  I know which two I want, though, and I think they’ll be useful, and once I have them, I shouldn’t need any more.  I hope.

I think my new version of the topic–on gender roles instead of sexuality–is probably a lot better than the old one, but…

…I still wonder if there’s any point to any of this.

Why me?

Published December 7, 2014 by Iphis of Scyros

I’m constantly plagued by little things.  The worst part about that is it makes me feel shallow and selfish for complaining, but it doesn’t make it any less annoying having to put up with it all.

Today, during my bath, my space heater packed it in.  I only got it last month.  (Or was it October?  Well, close enough, either way.)  And because the store didn’t have price tags on the shelf, I ended up paying a lot for it, about twice what I had expected to.  (But I couldn’t bring myself to tell the cashier that I hadn’t realized it was that expensive and wanted to put it back.)  So unless it miraculously starts working again, I’ll have to take it back tomorrow.  (It has a year’s warranty on it, thank goodness.)

But it’s not like I can do without a space heater in the bathroom.  It’s on the back of the house, and it’s got one of those windows with thick glass bricks around an openable window with a screen.  The glass bricks probably do a pretty good job of keeping out the cold, but the central part that can be opened is just a thin bit of plate glass, and it lets in a lot of cold air in the winter.  Fortunately, the glass doors to the shower/tub keep the worst of that out of the toilet area, but if I didn’t have a space heater, taking a bath would be frigid, no matter how hot the water.

Sigh.  Like I said, constant plague of little things.

Small-scale but terrible day

Published September 13, 2014 by Iphis of Scyros

I spent most of the morning in the kitchen, trying to get at and block off the point where the mice are getting in.  I thought I had at least reached it, even if my stop-gap measure to prevent them from coming in was unlikely to prove effective.  But I just heard one inside one of my cabinets.  An upper cabinet.  I have no idea how the heck it got in there.  Once I’m sure it’s gone again, I’ll have to get in there and clean it out and see if I can find out the access route.  I think I need to nail metal sheeting across all their access points, and hopefully that will make them give up and go away.

I’m worried that they might have chewed through the power cord to my stove, though.  (As you might guess, I don’t cook much…)  I have no idea what I’m going to do about it if they did.  I’d think having the power cord fixed would be cheaper than replacing it, but I don’t know if chewed-through power cords even can be fixed.

On top of that, my neck is killing me because I’ve been sleeping on it wrong, and/or because I’ve been tilting my head to one side or the other so much in all this reading.  That’s been the case for a while now, but now my…upper back?  Middle shoulders?  I’m not even sure how to describe what part is hurting.  It’s the area right between my shoulder blades, but a bit higher, sort of the upper half of the shoulder blades.  Hurts so much that putting my hair in a ponytail is painful.  I have no idea what I did to it to make it hurt like that.  Just slept wrong, I suppose?

And I jammed my finger on my bedroom door, too.  Just my pinky, so it’s not like I use it for anything, but still!

On top of everything else, I’m so far behind in my reading for next week that I’m only just now at about where I meant to be last night.  On the other hand, though, I’ve been writing the paper bit-by-bit as I’ve been going through the book, as a new approach, so that means I’m slightly less behind than it seems?

I don’t know.

I just know that today has been an all around lousy day.

“Friday the 13th come on a Saturday this month,” as Churchy would say, I guess.

Repost: Frustration

Published September 11, 2014 by Iphis of Scyros

Aug 24: Frustration
I think I’ve come to realize, by now, that it’s completely hopeless for me. No man exists on this planet whose standards are low enough that they’d be willing to go on even one date with a woman as ugly as I am. Maybe if I had a really spectacular body they might be willing to put a bag over my head and try, but I’m also the size of a cow (roughly speaking) so most men would rather cut off parts of their own body than even speak to me.

But I still want to somehow experience love. At least on a physical level, even if I can’t on an emotional level. At my age, probably my only chance is to find someplace where sex-for-money is legal and pay some unlucky man to have sex with me. (I’ve heard the rumor that that sort of thing is legal in Vegas, but I’m not sure if it’s true or not.)

I keep wanting to try to find a way to have a real relationship, though. I was cleaning out my e-mail inbox after ignoring it for several months (all I ever get are automatic mailings from stores and utilities where I autopay my bills on-line, so letting it slide for a long time doesn’t really matter) and I found an invite to a college-based on-line dating site. It wasn’t quite sent to my accurate e-mail address, so I knew it wasn’t sent by anyone I actually knew. (I don’t want to go into details regarding what school I attend, but it’s a state university, and my e-mail address contains the school’s initials, but the e-mail had been sent to the name of the state. Er, let me try that again so it makes sense. Since I’ve already established that I don’t live there, let’s pretend that the school was the University of Nevada – Las Vegas. If that was the case, then my e-mail would have unlv.edu but the sender would have put nevada.edu instead.)

Anyway, even though I knew it was basically a junk e-mail, I thought “what the heck?” and decided to check it out. There’s some kind of live feed on the main page telling you every time anyone does anything (including upload a photo or change their profile) so people were able to see my account name and click on my profile even before I had a profile. And it took me a while to get one, because they expected you to have a photo of yourself just hanging around on your hard drive. (Seriously! Who the heck does that? Other than extreme narcissists, anyway.) I had to shut down my computer, grab my iPad, and use it to take a photo of my student ID to get a photo to post. (I detest having photos taken of myself, so that’s all I had. And no way was I going to waste all that time trying to make myself look presentable to take a new photo.) So I uploaded it from my iPad, and the site completely didn’t want to let me do anything, especially not select which portion of the photo would be shown on the site, so my “photo” became a section of my student ID that didn’t actually contain any portion of my face. (Though that’s probably for the best for the sake of the few people who clicked on my profile after the picture went up.)

By that point, I had actually received a couple of messages, probably messages of confusion wondering why I had a completely blank profile, and/or wondering about my user name. I say “probably” because when I clicked on one of the messages, a pop-up window came up saying that I couldn’t even read the messages unless I bought a subscription. Seriously, you can’t even read your messages unless you pay them. I’m used to not being able to send messages without paying, but not even reading them?! What a rip-off!

Once I realized that was the case, I changed my description to grouse a little about the rip-off, because while I know no one will ever want to date me, I wouldn’t have minded at least finding a few friends. (Yeah, I don’t have any of those, either. I’m pretty much a shut-in. Except when I”m in class or out volunteering at the museum. Or swimming laps at the Y. But that’s not a very large portion of my time.) But I”m not going to pay just for an attempt to make friends. Paying for an attempt to find a man…well, that’s a little more reasonable. But just for a probably futile attempt to make friends? No. No way.

I spent most of the intervening time regretting the grousing, so as soon as I got on-line today I went back to the site and closed the account.

It just feels so aggravating. Maddening, even. I don’t know whether to go on a furious rant or go have a long cry. (Possibly both?)

Maybe what annoys me most is that the site had all these questions for you to answer to help you determine good matches for you, and it seemed like half of them were about your sexual habits, and about all your past relationships. I know I’m abnormal for having never had a relationship in my life, but that still stung. A lot.

Taking a step to try to do something about my pathetic, lonely condition shouldn’t leave me feeling worse about myself than I was before I took that step.

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