What The Duce…?

I shouldn’t want to write a rebuttal. I shouldn’t let these things get to me or want to “clear the air” over people who don’t even know my real name. Worthless people, who build themselves up by bringing someone down, even if that bringing down is completely absurd.

I’m not sure why people target me. Is it my success? Do I attract losers, psychos, nut cases, liars? I must. That seems to be the majority of the people I come across on the web. I’ve never come across people so insane that they have to completely make things up about someone to appear to be the more “educated” person. Reading 90% of their blogs yeilds to words no bigger than two syllables words mostly babbled by toddlers learning to speak for the first time.

I’ve never heard of someone calling a 170 lb, 6′ person “morbidly obese” before. Even if the person had a small frame, medical science states that is not “morbid obesity” by any means.

I’ve never heard of someone being labled as “elderly” before they were thirty. With the exception of preschoolers and toddlers. Possibly kindergardeners. I remember when my oldest daughter was four and said, “Ohmigod, momma’s old! She’s twelve!” I wouldn’t expect it of anyone above the age of four to say or think such things, never mind publish them on the internet for all the world to see. What amuses me is the people saying these things are in their thirties. They are older than I am, but they are calling me an elderly woman? Where’s the common sense?

I think I know why I would be labeled as “elderly” by stupid people. Intellectually and cognitively, I am much older than twenty-eight. I was much older than twenty-three when I was first cursed by the acquaintences of these sub-humans, which probably gave off the impression that I was much older than many of them, despite physical age. My parents are in their 60s and 70s. Many of their friends’ children, who interacted with me as a child, were a good twenty years older than me. My youngest older brother is thirty-six this year. I have two more older brothers, the eldest is forty this year. Many of my true friends ages range from thirty-nine to fifty. I don’t interact with people my age.

As for a “need of human contact”, don’t make me laugh. In the real world, I make friends every day and every where I go. I get dozens of MySpace and FaceBook add requests, most of which I deny, every day, all are people I have introduced myself to and interacted with in my day. In reality, I’m surrounded by people who adore and admire me, many of which want to be good friends with me. But I despise people. I can’t stand many people out there. I avoid them like the plague. If they hold the elevator for me, I drop my books, spill my bag, get a drink, or suddenly be very interested in whatever is in the vending machines, rather than get in the elevator with people and strike up a conversation. Hell, some of that spills over onto the internets, and I don’t check my email addresses every day. This has recently gotten me in trouble, so I need a place to get daily emails. I’m working on it. I’m off the subject. If I needed or craved “human contact”, I certainly have more than enough access to it in the real world. I cannot turn my phone on for more than twenty minutes because people call wanting to talk to me, and if I took all those calls, I would never get anything done. Why would I get behind a plasma box and type out fiction to be this totally awesome person who lived this intensely interesting life for people I don’t even like to read about who get extremely pissed off because their own lives suck? I don’t have a need for any human contact, and certainly not “human contact” on the internet. I can’t stand humans in the real world, where they somewhat restrain their idiotic thoughts or stupid actions, why would I want to interact with them where they feel they can do or say what they want?

Last, there’s “being ugly”. I guess judgement of beauty is like an opinion. Everyone is entitled to one. However, I’ve never really posted photos of myself all over the internet, again, I don’t crave attention that badly. I have people who tell me every day that I am stunningly beautiful, total strangers, friends. Even my professor from last semester told me so. Of course, I was crying because my hair had fallen out, and I’d lost my hat in the wind, so he was probably just saying that to make me feel better and to coax me to come to class. But still, the argument remains that calling someone “ugly” isn’t really an insult, anymore than it’s an insult to say you dislike the colour pink and thusly their links or graphics are ugly, regardless of the graphic’s quality. However, I do take pride in the fact that every single picture of me ever posted on the internet was far more real than anything I’ve ever seen them post. For one, my face isn’t caked in make up, make up so thick it would put a clown to shame. Second, I don’t take “angled” photos. All of my photos are exactly like I would look like if someone seen me on the street. Finally, I don’t sit on Adobe software and edit my pictures so I just have two holes for a nose, Casper The Ghost toned skin, and virtually no definition to my face. I might not be Miss America material by any means, but I’m real, and that’s what really matters.

Still, my curiosity was awakened by this. Am I really ugly? Do normal people think I am ugly? Hotornot.com to the rescue! I submitted a photo of myself taken that day. No make up. No Angles. No photoshop. All I did was check to make sure I didn’t have raccoon eyes from my specs, fluff my burr (and make sure I didn’t have any feathers stuck in my hair from my feather pillows or dog filth on my face), and change out of my night shirt (I spilled pink lemonade on it), then I loaded an SD card in my camera, turned it on, aimed it at my face, smiled, and snapped a straight on picture. I directly uploaded that very image onto Hotornot.com. Then I uploaded a rare, makeup-less, non-angled, non-photoshopped photo of my accuser onto Hotornot.com. Guess what? According to about three weeks of voting, I’m a 9.5 out of 10. My accuser is a 4.3 out of 10. I suppose that means that in reality, I might be ugly, but my accuser is over twice as ugly as I am.

In the end, none of this really matters. It doesn’t matter if a 35 year old failure on the internet thinks 28 year old me is a senior citizen. It doesn’t matter if an uneducated idiot who clearly failed health class and basic biology thinks that I am ‘obese’ because I’m an Amazonian-sized woman and therefore would naturally weigh more than woman of average height. It doesn’t matter if someone who goes to great lengths to mask themselves on the internet calls me ugly. I know the person doing this is doing it to get a reaction out of me. I know they truly crave all that human contact and attention they claim I want because in the real world no one wants them. They have to join commenting communities where people are forced to comment on their blogs. It’s so much more fun when people aren’t forced to comment on your entries. It’s so much more exciting to open your email and see anyone has commented because they truly like what you’ve written and not because they’re afraid they’ll lose their commenting community account and not get an comments themselves because they’re extremely dull and boring. Or worse, they comment in other people’s names to get other insane people to harass and defame that person.

The truly sad thing is this person doesn’t stop if you ignore them. They try harder. They do more. They lie. They’re a fake. They’re nothing. In the end, I shouldn’t have spent so much energy on any of this. I probably won’t delete this–no names have been named.

To quote someone great:
“You’re a sad, cold-hearted bitch, you know that? You may not like me, but nobody online likes you. Do you know why the internet is so damn important to you, lady? Do you know why? ‘Cause it’s the only thing you’ve got in your life.“

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