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In junior high, I read a novel called The Power by Frank M. Robinson. I remember the basic plot (a man who discovers one of his coworkers has psychic powers) but what sticks out in my mind is a poem on the first page.
You remind me of a man
- What man?
The man with the power
- What power?
The power of hoo doo.
-Who do?
You do.
-Do what?
Remind me of a man.
-What man?
The man with the power …*
That little conversational echo was ricocheting around my cranial cavity today. I’m not sure why a poem in a book I read over 25 years ago (and the book was almost 25 years old when I read it) would be toying with me today. As I recall, the protagonist is the one who actually has the psychic powers but doesn’t understand what is happening to him.
I’ve noticed that theme a lot recently – and maybe that’s why I thought of that book today. I can’t get through an hour of work without someone complaining about something. Usually it’s the Shrew, whining that our work policies change too rapidly. Or that her kids don’t call. Or that gas prices are too high. And she isn’t really upset about any of those things specifically – she is simply unhappy and she doesn’t understand why. She doesn’t have the capability of giving herself an honest look in the mirror, either. The Shrew told Bosshole that she thinks I’m going off the deep end again. How do you tell someone, “It’s not me, it’s you“? Next week I will be stuck in a meeting with her – a meeting about communication. I’m not sure I can refrain from communicating exactly how I feel.
It happens in the blogosphere, too. There’s been an endlessly entertaining supply of drama lately. A butterfly in New Zealand flaps its wings and a blog in Omaha deletes itself. The novelty of an online community, where people become BFF’s (for realz!) and share their deepest fears and gossip viciously about other people, lost its appeal for me in the 90′s. I went through all of that with AOL chatrooms – where a man posed as a woman for an entire year and fooled everyone (including me). The same place where I met my first ex and then the NY Ex and Kendra. The same chatroom where one woman faked multiple personality disorder and two others faked cancer; where U-haul lesbians got their real start. With blogs, we have more opportunity to reach more people with whatever words and attitudes we feel like putting out there. More and more, I’m liking what I’m reading less and less.
I’m not going to start the old “I blog for myself” argument because it simply isn’t (entirely) true. I have a journal that is mine and mine alone. What goes there does not always go here. I want people to read the blog and I want people to like it. I want it to be interesting. The things I write here have been filtered through my inner comfort zone and are safe for mass consumption, but the masses aren’t consuming it. Is it because I keep most of my train-wreck emotional baggage in my journal and not here, where it could be deemed “interesting”? I have a list of blogs that I read just so I can feel morally superior. It’s a terrible thing to admit, but it is completely true. Lots of people love those blogs and I feel like I’m the only person who reads it and yells “Oh, bullshit! Get over it!” at the computer.
It isn’t just blogs, though. My friend Griggs always has some major drama going in her life. It’s never something simple – it’s always some heart-breaking, soul-shaking problem. The thing is, she never gets to the real issue. I’m not even sure she sees it. Last night she was telling me she doesn’t feel secure at work because her boss didn’t return an email and he always responds promptly. I told her to stop being so paranoid, that not everything was a harbinger of doom. She said, “Yeah I know. Hey, I gotta go. See you later.” Yeah. See ya.
Power, power, I’ve got the power. I don’t want to feel that I’m not in control of my life. The choices I’ve made every day for the last forty-one years have brought me to this place. It isn’t fair to blame anyone else for the state of my life.
Although I’m sure some of it is probably RW’s fault.
*I just discovered this was actually a bit from a Sidney Sheldon play. Which makes me love it even more, because Sidney Sheldon ROCKED. Not sure if I quoted it correctly because I can’t find the actual scene, but it’s as close as I recall – and good enough for my purposes here.
You can TOTALLY feel morally superior to mine, I’m good with that.
Can I blame RW, too?
What?
Remind me of the man.
What man…
That damn thing!
I’ve been working on getting that out of my head for 11 years.
Damn you, Capricorn Cringe; damn you!
I used to sometimes walk in rhythm and say that, over and over again. Yeah, I’m queer like that.
One time… (in band camp…lol)
I went to Nashville for a management conference and connected with someone I knew from a gay.com lesbian chatroom. She was supposed to meet me at my hotel. Previously, she’d portrayed herself as someone who’d broken her back and was convalescing (sp?) and walked with either crutches, a walker, or a severe limp. Everyone loved her sage advice and “shyness” and she was very nice to me. I had no qualms about meeting her in person.
She was late and I began to worry. Called her and she said she was going to be about an hour late. I was annoyed but okay with it. I went for a walk, to smoke a ciggie, and decided to sit on a wall adjacent to the far-end parking lot.
I saw someone getting out of their car and then running toward the hotel. They didn’t see me… but they were in a full-out run. As she neared the hotel, she slowed and began to effect a slight limp. The closer she got… the more she limped.
She had no idea I had seen her. We met, had a drink, and I found out way too much about this person who was totally NOTHING like the persona she’d created in the chatroom. Later, I questioned her on it and she confessed…. and begged me to not tell anyone.
Of course I did… and the entire room imploded.
Hard and weird lesson to learn.
People are crazy but even more so when they are totally anonymous and living within the texted walls of the internet. Eventually, if you are smart and pay attention, you can figure out who these wanks are and what they are up to… no matter how many times they change their nicknames.
Yeesh!
It’s bad enough that you never really “know” someone in rl… but throw the anonymity of the internet into the equation and, holy moly, it’s wacked.
Geez… you really got me rolling with this one.
We can feel superior together.
lol
I have a list of blogs that I read just so I can feel morally superior.
I hope my blog isn’t among them
I don’t have that kind of blogs, actually. Most of the blogs I read I find out sooner or later that the author’s personality is scarily similar to mine
Um….
i’m all for moral superiority, long as i get a wide berth.
btw i had no idea that “poem” was a poem. i only know it as a funny bit from the very old movie, the bachelor and the bobby soxer, with the very dreamy cary grant. fascinating.
also, when i first read this:
A butterfly in New Zealand flaps its wings and a blog in Omaha deletes itself
I thought it said “a blog for Obama deletes itself”. and don’t try to chide me about it, remember i have moral superiority.
I didn’t do NOTHIN I swear t’GOD
Tug – let’s all blame RW.
Natalie – exactly!
Len, of course you’re not on my “morally inferior” list. I mean, you don’t even have morals
I tend to read people who reach me in some way – either we think alike, or we are totally opposite, but they present it in such a way that it makes me think about things.
Lass, um …. okay. It’s your fault, too.
pmbnshb – after I wrote the post, I went looking for the “poem” that isn’t really a poem. It was reprinted in novel and laid out like a poem, so that’s what made me think that. You’re right, it was in the Bachelor and the Bobby-soxer. One of my favorite writers wrote that screenplay.
“a blog for Obama deletes itself” … that’s even better! Too bad I didn’t actually write that (or think of it)
RW – you look guilty.
I mean, you don’t even have morals.
Oh right. I forgot about that.
I can’t believe nobody mentioned the David Bowie usurpation of this for the lyric to one of the songs in Labyrinth. I’m especially disappointed in you, Lass.
linky poo
Cowboy, maybe no one mentioned it because no one saw the movie? I like the song, though.
I don’t even know who RW is, but if he’s open to being blamed, I same we blame hell out of him!
Oh, but you’re still welcome to feel superior at my blog. I already have an inferiority complex, so…meh. I don’t mind.
LOL
“I have a list of blogs that I read just so I can feel morally superior. ” That’s horrible! I would NEVER do that.
OK, I lie. Ha-ha!
You know it’s funny, I’ve been thinking these same things.
I can’t say I don’t like drama, but I would never want to make myself the subject of the drama. Since when does babbling your innermost problems and dirty secrets to strangers mean you are being “brave” and “open” and “real”? I always thought it was more like “annoying”, “attention seeking” and “sad”. But if people want to make a train wreck, sometimes I just have to look, you know? It reminds me of “what NOT to do”.