Red Hot Rant

With the current disaster of a Metrolink train derailment that took place on Friday afternoon here in Los Angeles ( Chatworth, to be more specific) looming in my head, the events that currently have me in a sour mood are insignificant really, but they’re still affecting me more than I’d like them to, so here I am. 2:40 a.m. in the morning, writing.

On Friday afternoon, someone who shall rename nameless said a couple things to me at work that upset me enough that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about them. Mainly that I “don’t go outside my house.”

In a normal situation, this type of comment (whose history regarding this incident is a bit of an enigma and too long to go into) would have rolled off my shoulders, never to be thought of again. When it comes to what I do or don’t do in my social life, I don’t care what anyone thinks. I haven’t ever since I have had a legitimate social life. Because, frankly, not only is it no one’s business, but I enjoy myself and the company I keep no matter what I’m doing.

But I suppose this wasn’t a normal situation, because it was in front of other work colleagues and was said in a very ill-meaning manner. I kinda went blank when I heard it and only responded with a long delayed “ok.”

I debated saying something, but at the moment, I was too choked up and pissed off to even speak. Plus, I was in no mood to get into an argument on a Friday. So I brushed it off, like the civil person that I am.

I honestly feel no desire at all to justify my private life to anyone, especially someone at work. My idea of a good time is a far cry from what anyone my age would typically consider the ‘cool’ or ‘in’ thing to be doing and I like it better that way. I don’t spend my weekends getting drunk at clubs or bars, in fact, I find this type of behavior quite repulsive. I don’t drink, I don’t do drugs, I’d rather spend time with Henry any day over socializing with people on superficial levels. And while I do love to spend my free time knitting, painting, sewing, traveling and watching Bollywood films, I do much more outside of work, than most people that I work with.

I don’t stop working when I get home. If I’m not editing and writing posts for the ezine that I work for, I’m out attending movie screenings and covering other events. If I’m not writing in this blog, I’m developing and getting ready to launch a website I’m currently working on. If I’m not getting ready for the gardening show I co-host, I’m busy being a news junkie and scoping out freelance writing opportunities. And when I’m not doing that, I’m busy planning trips with my boyfriend to any given corner of the world. So you see, I do a lot. I don’t sit at home, twiddling my thumbs, thank you very much. I’m not out galavanting the streets either, getting home at 3 a.m. and puking in my bed.

And I don’t know about you, but home is the best place to be as far as I’m concerned. I have everything I need here. At least I have a home that I feel comfortable in and not one where I’m forced to pay rent or live with a room mate I don’t like.

Sitting at home or not, I like who I am and I’ve realized that I don’t have to explain myself at all. To anyone. It takes a sad and superficial person to insult someone with the idea that another person’s social life doesn’t mirror yours (so high school, don’t you think?) Which is exactly why I didn’t answer back. So immature and sooo high school, like totally.

Photo by akk rus