punkwalrus (punkwalrus) wrote,

Self-fulfilling Prophesies

"Oh, oh, oh!" shouted the Queen, shaking her hand about as if she
wanted to shake it off. "My finger's bleeding! Oh, oh, oh, oh!"

Her screams were so exactly like the whistle of a steam-engine,
that Alice had to hold both her hands over her ears.

"What IS the matter?" she said, as soon as there was a chance of
making herself heard. "Have you pricked your finger?"

"I haven't pricked it YET," the Queen said, "but I soon shall--
oh, oh, oh!"

"When do you expect to do it?' Alice asked, feeling very much
inclined to laugh.

"When I fasten my shawl again," the poor Queen groaned out:
"the brooch will come undone directly. Oh, oh!" As she said the
words the brooch flew open, and the Queen clutched wildly at it,
and tried to clasp it again.

"Take care!" cried Alice. "You're holding it all crooked!" And she
caught at the brooch; but it was too late: the pin had slipped,
and the Queen had pricked her finger.

- from Chapter 5 of "Through the Looking Glass (And what Alice Found There)" by Lewis Carroll

I have met people like the White Queen from time to time. People who become so obsessed about how things will end that their obsession eventually becomes the end, as they predicted. Like people who assume every relationship will end up badly, that they drive any potential mates away.

And so I lost a friend today. Her name is Sara A. (not you, Sara T., my Scorpion Sista!, or any other Sara/h I know). Sara A. is actually close to her real name (I guess, that's her online name), and I only use it here because I want her to know, this time, I certainly AM talking about her. I feel bad about losing a friend, it doesn't happen often, but Sara feels I have been constantly talking bad about her behind her back. I had reassured her that I wasn't saying anything bad about her, or trying to backstab her, and I certainly wasn't writing in my blog about her, but when I was discussing things about Keith R., or someone's Everquest Guild (Brad, I am still looking in your direction), or just some random conversation with a friend who did not give me permission to use their name ... she thinks I am talking about her. And then claims I got the facts wrong.

Imagine this scenario:

Bill: Hey! Did you hear about my brother Jack? He was catching a fish, and fell right out of the boat! How funny!
Punk: I have no idea what you are talking about, I have NEVER fallen out of a boat fishing.
Bill: I wasn't talking about you, I was talking about Jack.
Punk:: But you really meant me. I don't think it's "funny" at all. Stop spreading lies about me!
Bill: Dude. Punk. I was talking about my brother Jack! Not PUNK!
Punk: Prove it. Get this "Jack" on the phone, and prove he's your brother!
Bill: Ah, no. That would be stupid.
Punk: See, that proves you are a liar.
Bill: No, it proves you are a paranoid freak.
Punk: There is no "Jack." I know because I have fished many times, and never once have I fallen in the water.
Bill: Wow. Time to adjust your Lithium, man.

... or here's another scenario (one of my favorite jokes):

This guy is taking a personality test in the psychiatrist's office. The doctor shows him an inkblot and tells him to say what it reminds him of. The man says, "sex." The doctor takes notes of this, and shows him another. Again, the guy says, "sex." After about a dozen of these, the doctor says, "It's obvious you have some sort of sexual fixation issue." The man says, "Me?? You're the one with all those dirty pictures!"

I could not reassure her enough. It's not that I don't like her, it's just that ... well, I can't constantly be defending myself and worrying about what I post she's going to flip out and claim I am somehow talking about her. She's only shown me proof once (in my blog), and that wasn't about her, but that dumb anime Matrix e-mail arguement that will haunt me forever. I asked her for proof again, but added that I wasn't sure I wanted to be part of this game anymore, and if this was how it was always going to be, maybe we shouldn't interact anymore. She asked me to leave.

At least it ended amicably. And so, Sara A., coming full circle, I am now, truly and totally, posting about you. How... oddly ironic. This is so weird, it's like a dream.

Note to Sara A's friends. Do not, and I repeat, DO NOT feel, in any way, that you have to choose sides over this. If you like Sara, continue to like her as always. Sara and I have agreed we don't get along, and that happens sometimes. It does not mean she's a bad person. We just had a massive rift of poor communication that I saw as spiraling out of control, and we had to end it before it hurt us even more. I'll miss her, and if any friends decide they don't like me anymore over this, I'll miss you, too. You're all a bunch of sophisticated and witty people, and as one wise friend of hers said, "Sometimes, people don't always get along in the sandbox."

But one last thing. Matt W.? You're an ass. I have been holding back on that for a while. I know what you have been saying in the chat rooms, and you have a right to your opinion, but man, if you keep dissing and bullying people like that, you're going to have NO friends left. Ask Steve and Lisa or the rest of the Fandango crowd to elaborate over a pint.

Whew! I feel better. No wait... no I don't. But at least I can stop worrying.

This entry was originally posted at http://www.punkwalrus.com/blog/archives/00000190.html
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