Thursday, 25.10.2007. 1838 hours.
Today I felt as though I were a museum exhibit on display.
To be stared at, prodded, gawked at, quizzed about.
I know it's just the paranoia in me, but I couldn't help feeling like that.
I'm unused to unsolicited attention.
First by my friends, then by his friends.
Add the frustration of going nowhere with my stalled work, and the SLP being downright abrasive, and I felt ready to implode.
My privacy and my stagefright are probably two of several of my well-kept secrets.
Since both are going to ashes, I might as well come clean with them.
Like I told J around this time last year, though among my schoolmates (J's one of them), I was a known retired public-speaker, what they didn't know was how I'd break out in cold cold sweat, and my hands would shake each time I go out on stage. My father's training, and later my own public-speaking taught me to hide that initial nervousness. And obviously I learnt to do it well enough for people to not notice.
It's the same with my privacy. Behind the aggressive behaviour, the crazy laughter and the psychotic smile, I'm actually a very shy and intensely private person. I've trained myself to blush less. To ignore certain things. Yes, I'm used to a certain amount of attention. Doesn't mean I like all of it. Which is why I try to protect my privacy as much as possible. At least the innermost sanctuary where my many multiple personalities dwell. What's private to me, may not be private to someone else. To each their own.
I keep plenty of things close to my chest, I dislike laying down all my cards at once on the table to a person. Until I trust the person enough, am comfortable enough with sharing.
I dislike my private space disturbed. Few people know where I stay, even less are allowed into my room. Some call it anal, some call it freaky, but I like it that way. I make no apologies for my quirks.
My thoughts are even more so. I'm annoyed especially, with the SLP because he's an Extremely Invasive Man. Some things people just don't wanna tell you. Don't push it already. It's intrusive. A Transvaginal Ultrasound Scan plus Cervical Pap Smear is preferable to some of his choicest questions. For instance: "How can your father know everything. You mean he even knows who and how many men you had sex with?" This was less than a month from meeting him. And in front of colleagues to boot. I was so angry I could combust. No, I didn't. But the day I leave, I'm gonna tell him he's one obnoxious, snotty, irritating, egocentric little little asshole of a man. For now, it's 'Ignore Everything, Say Nothing.' Well, I can try. :(
To be asked so many private questions by so many people all at once, to then have my decision questioned at every turn, to later have a private conversation observed by others made me feel downright naked when I'm not ready to be. The unsolicited attention was enough to make me feel as though my private sanctum was intruded. Invaded. Without my permission. And then ransacked. I couldn't help getting my defenses up. It was a reflex defensive mechanism after all. And being used to standing up for myself and looking after my own interests on my own for the most part of my life, yes, I was downright defensive. And aggressively so.
I know I'm insane. Among other things. 'Prickly porcupine'. 'Cactus'. 'Seahorse'. 'More male than female'. 'Shrew'. An oxymoron. A walking contradiction. Anal, paranoid bitch. Psychotic, neurotic weirdo. :( I'm sorry. I make no excuses for all that.
No one owns the market on insecurities.
I'm trying. Learning to finally let go of my hang-ups, insecurities and plenty of little eccentricities, and then finally, and slowly, learning how to share my life so closely with another individual frightens me. It's difficult. At least for me.
I'm so used to being alone. I LIKE being alone. Independence is something I greatly appreciate. Having to answer to as little people as possible. That type of freedom to do what I want, when I want it. Behave however the fuck I want to. However the fuck I like. And the devil can fly with public opinion. Up yours, you know. Within the borderline norm of civic behaviour, of course.
Now I have to learn how to be a GIRL. Dammit. This isn't easy. Not for me, it's not. I was brought up to be with more boys than girls. To be more like a boy. To think like one, too. It was a counter-offensive measure.
Because girls, sadly, in the larger community, is treated more like a liability than an asset. Because in the larger scheme of things here, women are secondary to men. Dispensable. That's the ugly truth.
I would have liked that people could think that although men and women are equal, we are NOT the same. Men and women are made to complement one another. But it doesn't mean that women are all that different from men. Sigh.
I'm the female who told a guy in university who whined about women being difficult to understand and difficult to live with that: A hole is a hole to you, right? So if women are that difficult, go settle down with a pinata la!!
Fine. I'm aggressive when I get my defenses up. :( No one likes the truth being thrust in their faces, I suppose. Yes, damn macho. :(
Being a girl. I wonder if I could do that. This is worse than being given 1 week to study for a Physics exam. At least there, only I would get hurt if I fail. :(
I know this news is THE bomb, Myocardial Infarction-worthy. It being a first, it's a novelty, too. But I'm trying to get used to this whole idea myself. Still currently trying to slowly feel my way. Groping half-blind in the half-dark, in a way.
Cut me some slack, people. I'm not a lab specimen. I'm not a goldfish living in a fishbowl. Give me some room to breathe. Please. I feel asphyxiated.
