Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Feast or Famine
I have just about two months left at BYU and I can just feel the freedom a comin’! Of course, I have no clue where I am going to end up, or what I will be doing for my year of transit before I get into grad school (crossing my fingers). So at the moment, I just feel like insanity is coming just as fast as freedom is.
On another note, I hate the concept of feast or famine. Either I am in a desert wasteland, where nobody has the slightest attraction to me, or I am wading in pool of men and I have no clue what to do. Recently, I have found myself in the transition from famine to feast, which is good… except the fact that 50 year old men are now coming onto my scent. I find this very reminiscent to when I started blogging and I developed a creepy, stalker fan base, which would randomly show up in my hometown, when I was 17. Yes, I was jailbait. Now that I no longer have the repellant of statutory rape, the old men have now started to dive-bomb.
I found it a bit disturbing when I received a message from one guy (50+) who said he saw me at a festival and was disappointed that he didn’t see me at the after party. Definitely a smidge creepy. And recognizing me at a festival with thousands of people makes it creepier. Then another message came from a 47 year old who wanted to fly me down to Texas… and another from a 43 year old with a kid my age. When did this become acceptable, and where the hell are they finding me? People who are closer to my age are also biting, which is better. Although most are about a decade older, have suicidal tendencies, and are addicted to porn. I guess I just attract the weirdos, which makes me wonder, why? Do I dress like a weirdo? Talk like one? If I am a weirdo, somebody better tell me soon, or heads will roll!
Also, I have an increasing fangirl supply. This phenomenon I do not understand in the least. As fangirls go, I don’t mind girls willing to wait on me like a servant, but last time I let the fangirl populous do things for me… well I ended up with lips on my face and confusion in my eyes. Honestly, I appreciate the attention because I love when people tell me I’m pretty. So I probably nurture these weirdos until they get a little too close, and then get freaked out. But I just can’t turn away a compliment. I am actually addicted to them. So as long as they keep coming, I think I will be ok.
On another note, I hate the concept of feast or famine. Either I am in a desert wasteland, where nobody has the slightest attraction to me, or I am wading in pool of men and I have no clue what to do. Recently, I have found myself in the transition from famine to feast, which is good… except the fact that 50 year old men are now coming onto my scent. I find this very reminiscent to when I started blogging and I developed a creepy, stalker fan base, which would randomly show up in my hometown, when I was 17. Yes, I was jailbait. Now that I no longer have the repellant of statutory rape, the old men have now started to dive-bomb.
I found it a bit disturbing when I received a message from one guy (50+) who said he saw me at a festival and was disappointed that he didn’t see me at the after party. Definitely a smidge creepy. And recognizing me at a festival with thousands of people makes it creepier. Then another message came from a 47 year old who wanted to fly me down to Texas… and another from a 43 year old with a kid my age. When did this become acceptable, and where the hell are they finding me? People who are closer to my age are also biting, which is better. Although most are about a decade older, have suicidal tendencies, and are addicted to porn. I guess I just attract the weirdos, which makes me wonder, why? Do I dress like a weirdo? Talk like one? If I am a weirdo, somebody better tell me soon, or heads will roll!
Also, I have an increasing fangirl supply. This phenomenon I do not understand in the least. As fangirls go, I don’t mind girls willing to wait on me like a servant, but last time I let the fangirl populous do things for me… well I ended up with lips on my face and confusion in my eyes. Honestly, I appreciate the attention because I love when people tell me I’m pretty. So I probably nurture these weirdos until they get a little too close, and then get freaked out. But I just can’t turn away a compliment. I am actually addicted to them. So as long as they keep coming, I think I will be ok.