I left Facebook & have been using Tsu fairly exclusively, & have brought about 130 people over with me, although only a handful of them actually use it. Facebook is too convenient. Today I logged into Facebook because someone had messaged me (I get an email when that happens), & it was a very odd experience.
In the early 90s, I was at a big party some of my college buddies were throwing, & I pulled a girlfriend out of a car. I hadn’t seen her since graduation, & after a brief reunion at the party, I’d seen her disappear with a guy I knew was bad news. Some stupid sixth sense told me to go rescue her, so I went outside & yanked her drunk ass out of his car & told him to get lost. I told her the party was over for her & I was going to drive her home.
That wasn’t the moment I saved her life though. Ron was a total choad (pretty, witty, & smart… & a big fat misogynist womanizer), but not dangerous.
At the prospect of being taken home, she broke into tears & the whole sordid tale of her life since I’d last seen her spilled out – abusive drug dealer boyfriend who forced a pipe into her face & raped her with beer bottles, desertion by her family, no job, no home. So I took her home with me, to the UH dorms. I was in the apartments, so we had a couch.
Disclaimer: it’s supposed to be tsu, with a little macron over the u, but too bad.
I’ve hated Facebook for a long time but I spend too much of my life there. Most of us do. And as time goes on, there are more & more ads, no longer confined to the sides of the interface but now even clogging up our newsfeeds. And this is after the updated Timeline format which makes just a single post take up your entire fricking monitor so that you can no longer get an overview of what your friends are doing, but are instead forced to have only a single (or sometimes 1.5) post – super big & in your face – at a time. And then there have been all the privacy disrespects. Yes, I’m using a verb as a noun, & Facebook is the inspiration for this. There’s poetry in that, but let’s talk about Tsu.
Tsu is another social platform, in its infancy. Here’s a screenie of what the general interface looks like:
Yeah yeah… I’m in a bad mood. And I probably dropped a bunch of displaced anger on this guy because I’m dealing with a full-on Narcissistic Personality Disorder jerkface for a few more weeks. But I mean it – when you end a friendship, if it ever had anything real to it, you say something to the other person. Say goodbye, for chrissakes. If you don’t, then you’re chickenshit. Sorry, no other word for it. Chickenshit.
It’s been a rough few weeks. Financial disasters, relational disappointments, antagonism from a coworker, social isolation, doom. There’s not really anyone to talk to, not because of a lack of people who care, but rather a lack of people I feel like talking to. The one person I feel might understand has gone away. I know I’ll slowly work my way through this, but overall I’ve felt like I’m slipping back into that old depression. I’ve spoken with my therapists; we go over practical care & solutions. A whole bunch of things I have no motivation to go through the motions of. I might be back to that kind of life where existence comes down to just taking one step, then taking one more.
What’s interesting is a little bit of self esteem, a little gift, that my mind keeps returning to. I was at a fundraiser; one of those snotty $100-$200 per head dinners all the private school kids go to when they’re grown up. There was a table of whores with their pimp, & I thought one of them was one of the most gorgeous girls I’d ever seen in her elegantly elaborate ballgown. My boyfriend’s best friend had brought a date; a beautiful girl who remembered me from high school. We’d met briefly in 9th grade; she’d only been there a little while, but she recognized me & said hello. We ended up at different tables, but later on my boyfriend told me that she had told his buddy that when we were in 9th grade, I was the only person who was nice to her, & she’d never forgotten it.
I keep thinking about that. Makes me smile. I don’t know what it means, after I’ve saved lives, helped dying to the door, acted with honor in spite of abuse, sacrificed for others. The only thing I remember, to warm myself, is that. I don’t know what it means to only remember that. Why has that become the only thing I’ve got?
Dinner at Kalapawai Cafe in Kailua; I picked Bryan & Erik up & we headed over the mountain. I was listening to Ritual de lo Habitual, & at some point in “Then She Did” I switched to a Slash/Sixx AM/Panic Channel playlist because, I said, “Sorry guys, not sure if you listen to Jane’s Addiction at all.” I don’t know a lot of JA fans any more. Erik immediately said they were one of his favorite bands & then it was kind of a moment, because Jane’s Addiction IS my favorite band & has been most of my adult life.
Anyway, when we got to Kalapawai Cafe a little before 7, it was a 30 minute wait for a table, even though they were expecting us. Kalapawai does not take reservations, & the place is slammed just about every day. This was Wednesday, & last night they’d done 180 covers. That’s just crazy for a place that size.
Anyway, it was a long wait, more than 30 minutes, but that’s just something that happens in small restaurants like this. We stood around, chatting, outside, & I saw a dude that looked like Perry Farrell. And then his wife, this super skinny, long legged, Cruella DeVille In The Summer-looking woman in mile high red heels, called him “Perry.”
I had my open myomectomy on June 10 at 7:30 in the morning at Kapiolani Medical Center for Women & Children. Check in was 5am & my dad dropped me off; Admissions is inside an office with a waiting room in which you sign in then wait for someone in the sealed off cubicles to call your name.
I was the only person there at 5am & it took only about 15 minutes for one of the girls in the cubicles to call me up. I handed her my papers, she asked me a bunch of questions, gave me some other papers (HIPAA crap) to sign, she asked for my ID & insurance card (which was not listed in the instructions, but fortunately I had brought them just in case), & then I spent another half hour in the waiting room, which filled up quickly to the point of Standing Room Only & we all sat/stood there not looking at each other. The dude next to me started snoring.
Someone came to call us to the surgery floor (basement) in 3s. Once there, a girl who talked really fuckin’ fast walked me to a curtained room & handed me a package then explained what to do next to me. I’m not stupid & she wasn’t telling me anything that difficult, but I had just come out of a waiting room coma, so I had to ask her to repeat herself a few times. I also told her that she spoke really fast. I’m not sure she understood me.