My last "real" post left me at a bit of a loss, not to mention a bit shaken.
How do you top a Hollywood moment?
So, I let time pass, and without really realizing it, I decided I'd given myself a year off. A year-long vacation for The Infamous CoatCheck Girl, so I could live out misadventures and fantasies and relationships outside of the public eye...more or less...some of you have followed what have become micro-blogs via my Twitter feed.
It's easier to be cryptic in 140 characters or less.
I got my wish, to some extent. I was able to experience relationships as a three-dimensional human being, without the infamy, without the expectations of the fabulous persona. I even wore jeans---if you know me personally, you know I grew up with the firm belief that you only wear jeans if doing menial labor or going out to the country!
I even found time to be a domestic goddess, see?
I also made it through almost an entire year without hearing the words "I can't believe you wrote that about me!" or "But, in the blog you said..."
And then, suddenly, a cry of "But you don't write about me!"
"Uno no puede ser monedita de oro..." My mother's words suddenly ringing in my ears.
It literally translates as "you can't be a gold coin to everyone", in other words: you can't please everyone.
And don't I know it.
And I've never tried.
Everyone I associate with knows about the blog.
Even during my hiatus, I know my friends and lovers always had the lurking thought "I'm gonna be the one who does or says the one dumb thing that's going to start her blogging again!".
It's always been a very real possibility, and everyone is duly forewarned, yet it still always takes them by surprise--- it's always funny 'til it's about you...
But to encounter such vitriol for not writing about somebody?
I am flummoxed.
I've always written for catharsis and, frankly, for practice--- continuously exploring and toying with a language not originally my own.
I've never taken the the criticism or validation of my stories too seriously. Unless it's in direct reference to grammar, spelling, or writing style, all of it is without context; merely commentary on a snapshot, my snapshot of a moment in time.
I've found people's comments to reflect more upon them and their experiences, than upon my stories or the characters therein. Nearly everyone can relate to love and loss, the humor and the tragedy of it all. That is my favorite part of this medium: connecting with people and hearing their stories.
Almost exactly a year ago (my, how time flies!), I had an exhausting day of phone calls, emails, IM's and text messages prompted by a simple Facebook status update:
"---- thinks the 'let's just be friends' speech should be stricken from the cultural record."
Within seconds, there were comments of commiseration: "Yeah, it sucks", "Whoever gave you that speech should be stricken", "Been on both sides of that"...
Then the maelstrom hit...
"I can't believe you're airing our dirty laundry in public!" (via text, from the speech-giver himself).
I tried to explain to him that nobody knew, let alone cared who the post was about.
He was, in fact, irrelevant.
The "villain" in that post (if there was one), was every person who had ever given that speech to all of those posting comments.
But would he listen? No!
He was much too busy listing the reasons we were a terrible match:
-he jogs, I don't
-he drinks tea, I drink coffee
-he's more Buddhist because he goes to the temple every Sunday, etc...
on and on, enumerating and reiterating the reasons why we weren't a good match.
I was agreeing with him more heartily with every passing minute, but it always came back around to "and I can't believe you made it public!".
So, another year, another maelstrom...but this time over an entire relationship reduced to a running tally of Facebook posts?
Oh, Facebook...a blessing and a curse! It is instant gratification taken to the extreme:
"I just made 5 new friends and I didn't even leave my house!", "They and 10 new friends from yesterday 'like' the blurry photo of a brick wall I shot and uploaded with my phone!", "Oh, only 2 people 'liked' my thinly veiled cry-for-attention suicide threat---fuck 'em, they're not really my friends. I'm deleting them."...
I've approached Facebook the same way I do blogging---not taking it too seriously--- but apparently not everyone takes this tack. My cryptic mentions (using nick-names and veiled references, as always) were not enough to placate and validate one particular individual, though all those closest to me knew he was special to me.
I tried to explain: after sharing so many intimate details for 5+ years with the world of the interweb, it's been nice to reserve a few special things, just for me.
This was interpreted as "keeping him a secret".
Sometimes a girl just can't win...and that's when it's time to cut one's losses.
Well, the secret's out, and he's got his wish...in a way.
Validation via blog.
The Infamous CoatCheck Girl would like to thank the countless people who have encouraged (i.e. bugged the crap out of me) for the last year to write/blog again. Your pleas, threats, and exhortations have not gone unheeded---I just needed a little break. I would particularly like to thank the folks at Wideshot Studios (congrats on making it official!), Mr. Matt Love, Mr. David Walker, and dear sweet Casey for all of your kind, but firm lectures to "get back to work!"