5 posts tagged “social pariah”
When a couple breaks up, have you ever been able to stay friends with both parties?
Submitted by, Jessmiloo
I've never been friends with a couple.
In junior high and high school, among many other dividing factors was the BIG question: are you a rocker or a rapper? What exactly do you listen to??
Once you were split into either of those groups, you were then divided into the smaller sectors that made junior high and high school so crappy.
There were taxonomic rates for each group of kids. You know it. I know it. There was a Kingdom, Phylum, Class, Order, Family, Genus, Species to all of it. The Kingdom was always either Rocker or Rapper. In my hometown (Vallejo, or Tha JoJo as I'm starting to call it) determining if one is a rocker or a rapper is the initial factor taken into consideration for which smaller group you're going to be in and, further, where you're gonna sit in the quad.
When I was in 9th grade, this kid (rocker) who was perplexed with my rapper facial features (read: black) and rocker clothes (read: white) asked, "Are you a rocker or a rapper, Goldie?"
Now, I listen to all types of music (say it with me now, "EXCEPT COUNTRY") and always have. I could kinda mesh into either Kingdom, but I was also extremeley withdrawn and always wanted to make friends, so I always tried (unsuccessfully) to appeal to people.
When posed the question, "Are you a rocker or a rapper, Goldie?" I tried to think quick. My response?
"Rocker. You know. Like Sarah McLaughlin." Instantly, I thought, "Sarah McFrigginClaughlin?!"
He was like, "Uhhhh. That's not rock."
In my head, I was banging my head against a wall and saying, "That's easy listening, Goldie. EASY LISTENING!! NOT ROCK!"
Seriously, you shoulda seen the look on his face. He totally backed away slowly after that convo.
I think his name was Dax or Rex or something.
Elevator talk is stupid. You don't know each others' names, you don't know what one another does (except you know they work on, say, the lawyer's floor, or the hospital floor, or the computer people floor, etc.), you don't really even care to talk. You're in an elevator for 37 seconds with folks you see everyday, and while you don't typically talk to, there is an inclination to speak due to the commonality of your office building or because of the silence that some folks find awkward.
Typically, I don't fall into the category of 'we must talk for 37 seconds.' I usually find it grating. I feel there is no obligation owed to any party in the elevator to make generic conversation.
Today, though, has been a weird kind of day. I've been a bit out of
sorts. And I am blaming the scenes below on my having been a bit out
of sorts.
What had happened wuz: I got in the elevator after work with. The people from the lawyers floor were in there. My guard was up. Cus see, lawyers and insurance agents are typically natural born enemies (well, the lawyers that work with insurance agents are. there are good lawyers out there... don't know if I can necessarily say the same about insurance folks... but you didn't hear that from me). BUT I DIGRESS... My guard was up.
They're in the elevator discussing something and I join for the descent to the first floor to go home. The topic at hand: gaming systems. Something I don't know much about. Yet, for some reason (see: out of sorts) I felt inclined to contribute to the already-flowing conversation. While innocent enough, I felt compelled to correct one of the guys when he said Sony made XBox, cus I don't know a lot about gaming systems, but I do know that Microsoft made XBox.
Now, the situation wasn't as awkward as I so graciously painted below (see the detail of my hair, eye color and cardigan), but I felt it was. Granted, there were a few blank stares after I spoke, and I interpreted those blank stares as "Um. Why are you talking?" but I'm sure my interpretation was scewed cus, well, I don't know. I'm just sure that that's not what they were really thinking. But I kinda think it was.
Anyway, this is what the 37-second exchange felt like:
Friday night, my sis and pseudo-sis-in-law (and a few of her friends, cus I mooch off of other people's friends) went to an anticipated Happy Hour. My first, by the way. It was fun. I had a martini, which, per my friend's warning, did a sneak attack. Despite the buffalo wings, with bleu cheese dipping sauce, I was a bit loopy and dancing in my chair to the live band's version of Billy Jean and other various awesome songs.
I stepped away from the table to use the restroom, and three things happened:
- I discovered the unity between women who have also had a martini, or other drink of choice. While I wasn't over the top, and the other women STANDIN' IN THA LINE FOR THA BAFFFROOOM weren't either, we shared a connection. We all smiled and complimented each others respective good-looking-ness, and acknowledged each other's respective long weeks that deserves a Friday evening happy hour. It was awesome.
- We discussed the Laker's.
- My sis and pseudo-sis-in-law plotted for them to manage a way to get me to go out (again) with them later that night. They made calls, and fenagled babysitting for me.
Fast forward a few hours, and my sis, pseudo-sis, sis' friends (2 different friends this time - still not my own, thus I continue the friend-mooching), and pseudo-sis looks me in my eyes and says, "Goldie. I forgot my ID."
...
...
...
Ok.
...
...
...
So, she attempts to get in, but of the group of us, she looks the youngest and is the shortest (but has the biggest butt, which isn't relevant, but I'm jealous). The bouncer denies access and we trek back to the car. Did I mention I'd changed into five inch heels and a gold greek Goddess looking tank top. Key words here being: five-inch-heels and tank top. Cus San Francisco is hilly and it was kinda drizzly. The martini I'd had earlier had worn off by then.
But. All was good. It would have been fun to go out, but I was kinda pooped. We ended up going home, stopping at a Jack in the Box, and going back home.
With regard to Jack in the Box, they stopped serving tomatoes, and instead, I think they were using tomato paste or something, cus I bit into my sourdough burger thing and the ketchup seemed mighty thick. But, I didn't care. Cus I was hungry, it was late, it was cold and all I wanted was the three-times-re-heated sourdough burger thingy to warm my frigid soul. It worked! I went home, called the aforementioned friend, and went to sleep.
Even though we didn't get into tha club, I had a good time with my sis, pseudo-sis and mooched-friends.
Yesterday, my sis (olivia. - who never blogs anymore) had a rec basketball league. Her former coach was there, and I hadn't seen her since season, so we say hi and walk up to make chitchat.
Although I'm not sure if this is socially acceptable, I went in for a hug. Then I look up and see that her left hand reaching for a "whazzzup, dawg?" handshake. Too late. We were already embraced in my hug.
WHO HUGS?! WHO DOES THAT?!
Goldie does.
I'm that person that makes people feel uncomfortable for fear that I may hug them.
Thinking back, I totally did this last weekend. I left my wallet at Target and went to retrieve it after I'd left and I totally gave the lady a hug after she gave it to me. Not only that, but my bluetooth whapped her in the face.
WHO.DOES.THAT?!
Maybe I should start giving high fives.
My Groups
-
My Favorite Things Updated: 22 minutes ago
-
Things on Tuesday Updated: Yesterday
-
Self-Portraits Updated: 3 days ago
Neighborhood
Explore friends, family, friends & family, or entire neighborhood.
