Writer + Blogger
Blogging since before it was cool...
I also fancy myself a bit of a writer. Think Carrie Bradshaw meets midwestern sarcasm.
A few choice selections below.
Semantics of Relationships
by Stefi Weaver
Published in USC's 2004 Literary Magazine, Artistic Proof
Ah, relationships. Whether you've been in one or are currently in one, they are the driving force behind our twenty-something lives. Since I am in the passenger seat of my non-existent
relationship, I instead live vicariously through others. Case and point: my roommate is having trouble with her "pseudo-boyfriend", a new thing in this millennium where you have all the rules of a relationship, but do not define it, for fear of all the baggage that comes with the title. Seems like a perfect relationship, right? You can't sleep with other people, date other people, but you also can't have a title for the other person. Does anyone else NOT see the logic in this?
Anyway, she's having an argument with her "pseudo-boytoy", about how he was unavailable for a commitment that she already had, and she commented that she would have to find another date. Seems simple enough, right? He takes the word "date" and defines it in his own terms, which means "fuck buddy", and becomes upset. He cannot understand why she would tell him that she would get another "fuck buddy" because he was unavailable, and she doesn't understand how having another "date" is so detrimental to their "pseudo-relationship". And I am wondering, maybe this whole "pseudo-significant other" is getting everyone confused.
Have you ever noticed that when you are talking on AIM, there is no "emotion" button to tell what emotion you are typing? I have encountered this numerous times...ok, almost anytime I am online...to the point where I literally put the emotion in brackets to make sure I have gotten my point across. Technology has ruined our ability to read emotion. AIM makes every sarcastic comment meaningful, and every meaningful comment sarcastic. Never have a fight online...the emotional confusion of not knowing what emotional tone a word is said will drive you nuts. Did he mean "I love you" as <I'm in love with you> or did he mean <I love you like I love my dog>?Trying to define these terms while you are having a meaningful talk online just confuses everyone. Sure it's nice to save these conversations and use them as blackmail for another time, but is all that typing and emotional confusion worth it? I have had many a conversation where I spent half the time crying about something someone wrote, to find out that they meant the opposite meaning of what I was interpreting. I spent the whole rest of the conversation trying to figure out if they were being genuine or fake. And the only way to find out if that AIM buddy is being fake is to have another person read the saved IM conversation. Only then, with your misinterpretations, your realizations, and a third parties opinion, can you come to the truth about one stupid statement that probably means nothing to you anymore.
But all this misinterpretation and different definitions and titles makes us who we are...lunatics of love. If we never misinterpreted a look, maybe we wouldn't have hooked up with that friend who turned out to be something more. If we never defined our definitions, maybe we wouldn't be able to have the great "makeup sex" that everyone talks about. And if we didn't have titles, we wouldn't be able to feel that feeling in our heart when introduced to the boyfriend's parents for the first time as "girlfriend".
Does the semantics of a relationship define that relationship? In my opinion...only if it defines something great.
by Stefi Weaver
She was an average girl, living in her average world. She had an average job, making average money. An average apartment with an average dog. An average life, just like any other. She played mediocre tennis at a mediocre club, with her mediocre friends who remained indifferent to her mediocre life. She never expected anything better than average, having grown up in an average home, on an average block, in average-ville, USA. But one day, all that changed. You see, average Jane was, well, plain average. Everyday was the same. She’d smile the average way, walk the same old way, to her same old car, going to her same old job. And the vicious cycle would happen all over again. Until one day, average Jane met average Joe, and since two averages don’t make a whole, the average world’s collided with Jane and Joe. And thus another set of averages were born. While walking her dog on an average fall day, Jane slipped and fell in a very non-average way. “What was that?!” she exclaimed, as her now less than average dog barked away. “But average dog, you never bark, what has gotten into you?” And just like that, average Jane wasn’t in Average-ville anymore. The bump on her head had made her unique, at least for this moment, and average Jane freaked. Whatever will I do with a non-average head injury? She wondered. Where would she go in her average world? She was shunned from her average world, as she was not average anymore, not with this big lump of a bump on her head. She was unique. She was special. And it freaked her out to no end.
What ever will I do? She wondered, rubbing her not-so-average head. She went to bed in the middle of the afternoon, which was so not the average, and fell into a deep sleep. When she awoke, she found herself in the opposite of average-land. She was in Different Land, where being average was seen as cool, and if you were different, you were shunned from the world.
Average Jane lived in an average world until one day, she meets someone from the Different land that shows her what’s so great about not being average. After a time in Different land, Average Jane realizes that it’s not so bad being average after all. Life expectancy, at the very least, is longer.
by Stefi Weaver
Published in USC's 2004 Literary Magazine, Artistic Proof
Why, in a new relationship that you think is going well, does the ex-factor invade? Unless you are dating a freshman in the dating college of life (god bless you for it), you, as a single, independent woman, are going to be compared to the ex. No matter how wonderful or horrible she was, you will inevitably fall into the comparison chart in every aspect, from clothing style to sexual position. In my current single status, I have learned from my ex beau that he used to be romantic, dropping off flowers at apartment doors just because. And since his last girlfriend didn’t appreciate them for all their beauty, as I inevitably would, I was not allowed to have drive-by flowers. In fact, because of her, I was not allowed to have expensive dinners, long walks on the beach, or jewelry. And I tried to play the “cool” girlfriend card, brushing off the comparisons about how she hated video games, and how cool I was that I could beat his roommates in MarioKart. But that gave me more best friend status than girlfriend status. To him, he never needed to do anything romantic, because we were just casually dating, I wasn’t at all like his ex, who had the ring picked out, along with the condo, BMW, and 2.5 kids. I was the cool new girlfriend, who never expected anything. But as the best friend/casual fling thing eventually turned into the girlfriend title, things changed. Why does everything change with this title? It’s just that: a title. Why did I treat it like a ring on my finger? Often times, with the title, comes responsibility, obligation. And expectation. Now, every time he compared me to the ex, which was more now than ever, I didn’t let it slide off me. I took it to heart, because, after all, we were exclusively dating, and that meant we were seeing each other, not seeing each other and the ghosts of exs past. I probably wouldn’t have a problem with the ex factor if it wasn’t for the fact that I was friends with all my exs…for some reason, I have always been able to maintain a friendship with the exs. In fact, some of these exs are my best friends, who are constantly telling me I expect too much from guys, and no one will live up to my idea of a perfect man…but I digress. Exs were showing up everywhere, even in relationship terms like the expectation of flowers on Valentine’s Day (and everyday I was sad), the exchange of phone numbers or apartment keys, the explaining and excuses for being late to movie night…the list goes on and on. Being exclusive meant being able to handle all the exceptional baggage that came with this exceptional man. There was a reason you started dating him, right?
So what is it about the ex-factor that is so intimidating? Is it the fact that I have been screwed over more than once because his ex screwed him over? Am I getting ex-screwed? Should I not care about this, and be happy that I have someone who loves me for who I am, or should I really care, sit him down, and tell him that he needs to leave his ex baggage at the door? After all, there is an ex in exit, isn’t there?