In case you’ve never noticed, I’m not a nice person.

If you’re reading this on my Facebook page and you’ve known me for a number of years, you’re probably thinking, “What on earth is she talking about? She’s one of the sweetest, most sympathetic, most compassionate people I know!”

Except I’m not. That’s just the face I put on for the public eye. (I sure as hell wouldn’t have survived in retail this long if I wasn’t an absolute sweetheart to all appearances.)

I enjoy being sarcastic. The more wounding, the better. In fact, I’m a self-described acerbic bitch. After all, what’s the point of cracking the verbal whip if you don’t see people squirm?

There was a gentleman (and it might be pushing it to use the term “gentleman”) I dated for a couple of years and was friends with for many years after that. B’s parents hated me because I was too goddamn manipulative. It wasn’t hard…most of the time, I didn’t have to pout, beg or otherwise cajole. If I said I wanted something, I got it–no questions. I mean, B is the same guy who, several years ago, bought me an Xbox 360 for Christmas after I said I missed mine. At this point, we had long since stopped dating and I hadn’t even said I wanted one! (So maybe I’m not all that manipulative and B is just a “soft touch” as my mother used to say. But it’s not for want of trying with people other than B.)


 

Sometimes, I think I overreact when it comes to things like blowing people (and friendships) off. But I go with what I feel each time, and if my intuition says “leave”, I’m gone. (Even if the leave message comes while I’m “in the PMS Zone”.)

I was waiting (not entirely patiently) for a new friend to come back from performing a chore and–perhaps out of boredom–I let a sarcastic tweet rip. Now one of my longtime friends might have come back and said something like, “Sheesh, D…impatient much?” But “K”? K claimed that I “hurt” her.

Oh, I’m sorry…you were looking for someone who is always sugar and spice and sweetness? Someone who isn’t sarcastic, acerbic, doesn’t cuss and especially doesn’t use the many variations of “fuck” often enough to make Debra Morgan proud? You’re barking up the wrong tree, babe, ’cause I’m exactly the opposite.

Now K hasn’t exactly made a secret of her success. I grant that the online entertainment magazine she works for is her sister’s brainchild and it looks like it’s more of a labor of love on K’s part…but someone who has publicists emailing her on a regular basis, asking her to interview their celebrities, is certainly no small fry. (Despite the fact that I’ve never heard of the magazine until a couple of weeks ago.)

So in my “burning bridges mode” (once I start flicking that proverbial Bic, I can’t stop), I tweeted:

I forget that in this crass, highly consumerist, money hungry society, you don’t mean anything to anyone unless you’re a celebrity. (Or the child of a famous, Old Hollywood family, like one I follow and one I used to crush on.)

(I’m referring to Martha Plimpton and Cade Carradine in that second comment. Nothing against them, especially since Martha is clearly trying to distance herself from her father’s famous name and make her own way in the world–they just got thrown in there for examples’ sake.)

We went back and forth for a few minutes and I told K a variation on what I said above and she said something to the effect of, “I didn’t say you couldn’t be yourself…just tone it down a little.”

But that is “myself”, I thought. (In fact, I believe my exact response was “Except ‘myself’ is not nice”.) “Toning it down” is not being me. It’s being some plasticized, perfectionist version of me–a robot that society might accept, but I would not. No one would dare tell Stephen King that he needs to “tone down” the “thrills and chills” that make up his books…I feel the same way about my personality.


 

In fact, while we’re on the topic of me and who I am, another thing I should point out is that I fail at meeting the definition of “normal”.

Normal people don’t believe in “soul families”. (I almost said “soulmates“, but actually, quite a lot of people believe in those.) Normal people don’t believe that Paganism, the occult and other supernatural occurrences are…well…normal. (Normal people don’t watch A Gifted Man and find it amusing to watch Michael Holt deal with issues that are normal to them, come down to it.) Normal people don’t sit down and watch a movie the day before Samhain, thinking that it might possibly be a message from A Certain Someone currently residing in the Summerlands. (Normal people also don’t call Halloween “Samhain” and the place where you go between incarnations “the Summerlands”, either.) Hell, normal people don’t even get pulled out of class (in high school) by complete strangers because they make a compelling interview for a sociology project!

I AM NOT NORMAL!!!

(Get the picture?)

I’m going to take my sarcastic little self off to bed now. I haven’t written for days and if I keep this up much longer, my biting remarks to myself won’t be sarcasm…they’ll be the truth.

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