I got a stick of dynamite, c'mere let me teach ya.

There is some major baby mama drama on livejournal this weekend. Luckily I'm not really knee-deep, so I'm able to just let my jaw drop and be amused and astounded by the nature of the posts. I often find myself on the outskirts of drama, without being too directly related. There always are some common themes.

1. "Everything is about me."
2. "I'm always right."
3. "You're more wrong for questioning me."
4. "Everything is about me."
5. "My actions exist in a vacuum."
6. "No one knows anything about me and should therefore shut up."
7. "Everything is about me."

Oh wait, those are the rules for my livejournal. I must have gotten my lists mixed up.

Seriously, it does bring back some fond and not-so-fond memories of some dramatic times from high school. What always cracked me up were the people who talked about how they were sick of drama which is why they stopped hanging around certain peope and found new friends but now there's drama there. For one, chances are, with a large group of people, there's always going to be friction and occasional conflit. Just handle your business and move on. Secondly, do these people ever suspect that THEY are the cause of drama, since it seems to mysteriously follow them everywhere?

My high school was a little rough. One of my favorite lines of all time came from a girl who was about to kick another girl's ass, and she requested her best friend to hold her nails and weave, lest they get broken or ripped. I've also heard the sound of a man's boot landing numerous blows into the ribcage of another man on the ground. It echoes. As do the grunts of the recipient. It's not pretty. I've even been in a mob of people fleeing the front schoolyard to get away from a knife-wielding bully who didn't quite go with the rule that if the person you challenge runs away, you've won the fight. They felt compelled to continue the matter after leaping the bushes and darting through the trailer classrooms.

But really, I went to a high school that certainly wasn't Dangerous Minds. It was just a far cry from every school in TV and movies. The one portrayal which was surprisingly reminiscent of my own experience was the school from the movie Girlfight. Except I didn't grow up in the Bronx. It was quasi-suburban Atlanta. Strange similarity, I know.

We had a good solid principal who worked hard to improve the school and make the students more successful. His primary piece of advice to students was 'mind your own business.' He was also fond of referring to large groups of people as "folk". In the singular. He often said, "I tell folk every year, mind your own bizness. Don't worry about your neighbor. Let your neighbor worry about hisself."

So I can't help but chuckle whenever Ludacris, the ole boy from Atlanta, talks about staying the fcuk out of his bizness, his biznass. I wonder if he went to Redan.

( p.s. )

dream diary.

Today's edition is rated NC-17. Three dreams. The first was most vivid and the longest, but also the hardest to explain. I'll sort of skim over it. The second and third are somewhat amusing though.

1. Alissa/Lisa (in the dream, they morphed back and forth between) was getting ready to move out of this huge studio loft space, and I decided that I should move in, beacuse the rent was fairly cheap for how much space it was. Much of the dream involves me walking around the space and examining bits of artwork that were actually left behind from the previous tenant. My parents were there, and there was a weird scene involving waterspouts (or whatever tornados over water are called). The building faced a huge body of water, and they kept coming off the surface and onto the backyard. Also, in one part, I was told they might not rent the apt to me because they community is rich and snobby. I remember arguing that I make the same amount as Lisa and she's renting it, but there was some weird implication that she got it because she's "striaght and married and a famous poet".

2. (Possibly continuation of above dream) I was hanging out with Damon on my way over to MelRo's house. She literally was living in a house, with her former roommate. I was talking to Damon about how MelRo was 'seeing' the Deadly Ex and hanging out with her, and I couldn't remember if we had broken up, which is why we weren't living together and she was dating the Deadly Ex. Or if we had broken up and she was just hanging out with X, or if we were still together and she was friends with X, or whether she was dating both of us. Now in the dream I wasn't even supremely jealous, I was just trying to figure out what questions I could or should ask, and how I would win her back if needed be.

3. This part of the dream I forgot about until the train ride. I was at a high school/college in the early 70's and one of the men's bathrooms was well-known guys having sex -- the students with each other, the teachers with each other, and occasionally the students with the teachers, but that was considered more wrong. I had previously been in the bathroom and got hit on, but didn't realize it -- I overheard someone gossiping later, and figured it out. So I went back to the bathroom, but no one was there. I was about to leave when this band teacher came in (he looked somewhat like Cat Stevens from the 70's, with a dash of Ron Jeremy). He heard me in the stall and somehow verbally propositioned me, then I followed him into another stall and gave him a blowjob. It was my first time but I was intent on doing a good job. When he came, he pointed himself at the stall wall and door, but some of it 'splashed' on my face and a little got near my eye, but I was glad I was wearing glasses to protect me. I was also a little grossed out that he just left it on the wall and didn't care. After the fact, I was talking to some people who were cracking jokes about the bathroom and all the sex that goes on, and someone (who I believe was Myles aka nabnag!) made a joke about the band teacher being a freak, and I sort of made this face and Myles figured out what I had done. He seemed to be simultaneously mortified and impressed. I was simultaneously embarassed and proud.