Or, why LJ is sixteen times better than Xanga even with the excessive fandom drama.

Evidently you have noticed I've been missing for a while. (on an unrelated note, I can't type anything that start with an M-I without automatically ending it in Z. I'm awesome.)

Livejournal and Xanga are very similar to each other, and I think, in general, they are both trying to do the same things. They want to bring people together, they want to form friendships, they want to encourage people with similar interests to meet.

They just do it in completely different ways.

Xanga, I think, really wants to do this. They're just... very unsuccessful at it. Xanga gives you thirty ways to see who is visiting your site and how often. They give you views, footprints, eprops, credits, Featured Posts and Top Blogs.

Livejournal doesn't have any of this. What Livejournal has is communities. You search for something you like, ie, wrestling. You join a comm, and ideally meet people with similar interests. That's why I've been on LJ so much. In general, you meet people and you friend them based on the fact you have stuff in common. That doesn't happen here. Here people friend you based on how popular you are, how often you're on featured. 90% of my friends added me after that one really popular post and most have never commented me again.

Xanga is about popularity; Livejournal is about friends.

All I seem to see over here is drama. I don't need that, I don't want that.

Even with the fandom drama over on LJ -- I'm not going there, I have had like six fandom rants since yesterday -- I still prefer it to the drama here.

So that's where I am. If you have an LJ, PM me with your username and I'll friend you. Though I'll warn you, 90% of what I talk about is wrestling-related =D

Xanga is just about the wrong things now. And I'm just not interested in being a part of it anymore. I want to make friends, not be popular.

So everyone who actually has left comments and messages, thank you =)

In other news, I'm watching the Fifth Element and I really, really, really, love the fact that the Supreme Perfect Being of the Universe has small tits. =D

Quick recap of past events.

At the end of eighth grade, I had a crush on this kid named Matt. The summer after 8th grade, we started dating. He was only my second official boyfriend.

Ours was a "long distance" relationship, carried out mostly through the phone. That having been said, we killed the phone battery with regularity after nearly every one of our conversations. And I mean, not a cell phone, the regular cordless house phone.

Anyway, as it was, our break-up was immensely stupid. I complained about always having to call him, he never called me. I finally talked him in to agreeing to call me. Which he did not.

And that was that. I did not hear from him again until seven years later (or roughly two years ago). Where he finds me on MySpace. And leaves me a message, apologizing for his assholery and looking to contact me again.

We carried on a rough phone conversation friendship for about two months. At first, he was absolutely itching to see me again. And then he changed his mind. To be honest, I'm really not sure what happened there. All I know is that it involved another girl, his ex. And then I didn't hear from him again.

Until today.

On MySpace, again. Apologizing. Again.

So, ladies and germs. What do you think? Is this a game?

I'm kind of interested to see what happens. I wrote him back, lol. That's me... always gotta play with fire. It's exciting, anyhow.

I choose death.

Last night at just around midnight, I got a notification from Facebook saying that I have been invited to my five year high school reunion.

Granted, the likelihood of me even being IN Ohio on the day specified (some day in November) is very small. But even if I was, I would really seriously rather die.

I can think of maybe two people that I would want to see there. Maybe.

I don't want to see any of my exes, I don't want to see any of those cunts who called themselves my friends for two and a half years, I have no desire whatosever to relive anything about high school. Not one thing.

The only way I would want to go is if I was insanely rich, possibly also famous, devastatingly attractive, with a devastatingly attractive male arm-candy on my side. Since none of these things are occuring (or likely to occur) by November -- with the extention of male arm-candy, my man's a good-lookin' guy -- I'll pass on the reunion. Maybe in five more years.

Do you go to your high school reunions? Would you want to?

Hello, hello
Have you found your self-esteem?

"Esteem" ~ 8stops7

I think if guys need to know and retain one thing about women, it's that everything -- every single thing -- directly effects our self-esteem.

Granted, yeah, there are some amazingly strong, self-actualized, confident women out there that can take anything and everything anyone can throw at them. You could say anything to them, and they'll laugh in your face.

I wish I could be one of those women, but I'm not. Nature? Nurture? I don't know. All I know is I'm not. I wish I could be. I wish I could laugh off anything negative anyone says to me.

But I can't.

Nor can I just let that one comment be what it is.

One comment will burrow into my head and evolve into this entire self-confidence destroying thing. One comment leads to me feeling unnattractive and disgusting.

Especially when these comments come from someone who is supposed to love me and think I'm supposed to be the most beautiful thing on this earth... right?!?

One comment leads to other previous comments said and now I can't remember the last time he said something positive to me. It's all been negative.

Hey, guess what. You don't need to tell me about my flaws, because do you know what? I am very accutely aware of my flaws. Did you know that? I know what they are, I know the depth, breadth and degree of every. Single. One of them. You don't need to point them out.

Do you know what might be nice? Tell me about something *positive* I have. Because I don't know what any of those are. I don't even think I have any at this point.

So... tell me I'm beautiful, okay? Lie to me if you have to. Stop telling me what's wrong with me. Tell me something that's right.

Oh, I know. You're thinking that you've seen this post before. You're thinking, I've seen you play this game, you attention whore. I'm not falling for that shit again.

That post you all are thinking of, this is not that post. That post was me waxing metaphorical. I'm not being metaphorical now.

Almost five years of blogging here, and do you know what I have never done? I have never written for anyone else. I wrote for me, about me, I wrote drunk, I wrote stoned, I wrote both at the same time. I wrote theatre and I wrote parties and I wrote high school. I wrote love and I wrote crushes and I wrote hate. I ranted, I rambled, I was introspective and esoteric. I yelled, I cried, I whimpered.

Almost five years of posting. The only people who visited or commented were my friends, were people I actually knew in real life. Eventually, they faded away, they left Xanga for some reason or another. I made other Xanga friends somehow, but these are people I don't know. I like my Xanga friends, at least the ones I communicate with on a regular basis.

Somehow Xanga stopped being about blogging and started being a popularity contest. It's not who's the better writer, it's who has the most friends. The most comments, the most footprints, the most views, the most recs. When I started here, half of that shit didn't exist. Now it does. It's all... just... ways to make ourselves feel better than everybody else. I have X amount of friends, so I'm awesome. I got X amount of footprints today, so I'm popular.

The fuck?

No, god damn it. No.

Do you know what I don't want? A shit ton of friends who never comment me or communicate with me in any way.

Do you know what I have?

Yeah.

I always feel this weird urge like I need to be entertaining. That I need to be not boring, that I need to say something important. That I shouldn't just write about myself because I'm not exciting.

When I write about other stuff, stuff like Xanga, I get comments. When I write about myself, I don't get shit.

Well, fuck that. I'm not fucking here to entertain you. Let Featured Blogs entertain you. Let the Ish sites entertain you. I'm tired of feeling paranoid about what I write because people are reading me (in theory, anyway) and I don't want to be boring.

I don't care anymore. I don't need friends and recs and footprints to be awesome. I don't need to be your friend to boost your legions of followers. You don't need to be mine either. I don't need a legion. I want my own little corner back where I talk about my own shit and not worry about anything. When my Xanga was for me and not you.

No comments today. If you have something you'd like to say, you can leave me a message. Because I am also tired of mass messaging about shit that has nothing to do with me. You can also leave me a message telling me why I shouldn't friend cut you, because I have 46 friends not doing anything for me. While I appreciated (and yes, did enjoy) the popularity gained by *that* post, I still have roughly 46 friends who don't care enough to drop by and say howdy. I would rather have a few friends to talk to than 46 blank stares.