Stupid (aka the post where narcissistic people not associated with other narcissists feel triggered for various reasons)

Some of you all are mean girls aren’t you. And you read the following years ago: “Now, I’m not a particularly naïve person, but I can be when it comes to how other people view me. To me, perfume is a form of art. It’s also a cosmetic. And, I love to collect it. However to some it’s mostly a luxury, and there are people who might even call really nice perfume not much more than a status symbol. So, there are people who have a perception of me that has likely been affected by my perfume collection and my display of it but I didn’t really and truly realize that until about a year or two ago.” And you decided to form a conspiracy to attack me using my kindness and lack of awareness of your insecurity. (FYI Just because I’m not insecure and know who I am doesn’t mean I’m not aware of my flaws. Quite the opposite. There are healthy ways to deal with our flaws that don’t involve abusing or hurting ourselves or others.) You know I’m not full of shit. I’m just too kind. Indeed you all knew I was guilty of being too humble. Too good. And you all were too immature and pathetic and shallow to get over yourselves and try to just enjoy perfume without attacking me passively or openly. You got off on that didn’t you? How dare I stand up for myself. That was the point of my post years ago and you’re not dumb enough not to get that. Are you?

Yeah no, you’d rather be abusive losers (by choice) than just leave someone alone? Yeah… That’s it isn’t it. (But seriously, why choose that? Why?)

I suppose if you’re a delusional narcissist it is easier to get off on your “grand” dreams of looking cooler and more amazing to some other dipshit asshole than to truly move on. To gather respect by being humble and deep instead of ignorant and self-aggrandizing is too…uncool. Being kind is too hard too isn’t it? You’re too weak? But truly some of you are so damn narcissistic (and grossly stuck in high school) that you either pathologically delude yourselves into feeling superiority you don’t truly posses or (and this one is popular too) you feel incredibly justified in your resentment against the world through your false victimhood.

But I actually was the perfect victim I guess. I take people seriously and constantly try to hold myself accountable. People who take things seriously are vulnerable. And I do not think of myself as better than people unless they insist and demonstrate otherwise. Many of you have.

Huh.

Did it work? No? Right.

I’ll be shutting down this blog eventually. I just figured out how evil and conceited and dim some people are today and it pissed me off. And I had to tell you. I figured it out. Yay!!

You don’t care about perfume. You don’t care about art. Beauty. Meaning. Love. Life itself. Fine. Probably rape people? Abuse animals or children? I hope not. But I mean who knows? I just see your gross narcissism against me. Over years. What else is there in that self-loathing dark heart of yours? I don’t abuse anyone. Sorry. Not my thing. Do you?

All of you dumbasses who hate me who can’t stop reading this blog are the folks I’m addressing by the way. Although perhaps some of you weren’t part of the “posse” and now feel what? Left out?

For those of you who are in the “posse”: I’m not sure what you all got out of it. Truly. But now I suppose I am aware of how ugly and disgusting inside you all really choose to be. So thanks for that eventual awakening. Ha! Thanks for shattering the illusion of your normalcy bit by bit. Good luck in Hell if you decide Satan is your bff ugly dumplings. *wink*

Unfortunately

I woke up this morning thinking about my family in general. Not in relation to this blog or my Instagram account. But eventually I also was pondering the many issues with social media…

Basically, I’d like to explain something I don’t think has been clear: I torched my own original account on Instagram myself.

I became tired of being forced to ignore negative people and felt that even though I enjoyed a great many people who were not often anything but pleasant the overall experience on Instagram wasn’t worth it to continue on as is. And eventually I became literally scared for my safety and then it really wasn’t worth it and I deleted my original account.

So, yes. I shared what I did about my family (in a flippant tone but honestly) to offend bullies who seemingly wanted to make Instagram one giant competition, and I worried it might offend some people who could interpret my words the wrong way or miss my tone (which ended up being almost everyone). I don’t think I’ve ever shared that last part before.

I did worry I would offend people… Or I thought people would try to poke holes in what I was saying. And if you read my original post I even say all of that to some extent. But…I didn’t think that many people would care. And, ironically, I underestimated how accurate what I wrote was.

I’ve realized this morning that I did maybe have a few passing worries about it all going badly but…the negative cloud created by people who were wrong…had become so loud and pushy that I think I just didn’t care entirely if I lost my account to the hatred. Even after all those years. I quickly reasoned that that wasn’t likely to happen because I thought people were overall less hateful or unhappy than they might be, but I was wrong and those fears are and were correct.

Still, I was just over it. Instagram had become almost impossible to enjoy. Monotonous, dreary and seemingly lacking almost any real friendships that would ever transcend social media. I thought that the people who might be real friends would understand eventually anyway hopefully… They probably didn’t.

The thing is, I was and am polite and I tried to be appropriate with what I shared about my blessings. But how does one engage with others about blessings, which is what Instagram and social media is almost entirely about, without people figuring out who is who and what is what? You can’t. Even if you’re polite it becomes evident after a while… The only way to avoid it is to almost not interact at all. But people find that off-putting too and then that falls apart eventually and etc. etc.

Some people might try to display wealth to varying degrees intentionally in a loud way to distance themselves from the masses and look obviously part of the upper class… But…that’s crass. And often people who do that are hiding a lack of wealth or something akin to it. …Yet, the thing is, if you don’t show enough status people who want to be superior seemingly tell themselves you’re beneath them or have more in common with them than you do. And they either believe their own misunderstandings (probably all of them in life) with passion or they have too much invested in their beliefs to handle or seriously consider anything contrarian.

Is it a problem to have people believe you’re their equal? No, I believe we all are equals in God’s eyes. But equal is a very complex word from a human perspective. Isn’t it? Because humans aren’t perfect and we can’t heal all wounds. We are often inherently unequal given the limitations of our mortal and dim contexts.

So…what is goodness can be twisted by those who take advantage of vulnerabilities. Laying down your sword is good but it makes you vulnerable.

I was vulnerable. And some people took advantage of that. Of me. Of my kindness and maturity and depth and sweetness. Of the fact that I don’t like complimenting myself. …And I treated them kindly as social equals. Out of decency and respect and common sense… Out of logic. Because that’s what people do if they’re mature adults. Right?

And those who who wanted to to told themselves lies if they felt insecure. Lies that ultimately became harder for them to believe over time. And while perceived equality is possibly grand and beautiful if we’re all well-intentioned for those who are trying to be your enemy it’s a weapon they use against you. “Oh! She talks too much about her family wealth.” someone said long before I shared anything openly on this blog (or so someone told me privately who overheard the conversation). …Or really almost at all on Instagram… Because what were they referencing?! Two posts. Two posts among literally thousands of posts at that time which mainly were comprised of photos of perfume. But people took great notice of those two stupid posts… Or was it more? Until 2017 I don’t think it was…

But it was Instagram and you can’t exist on social media without being scrutinized by people who often aren’t thinking truly empathetically or deeply. And unfortunately there’s been a perfect storm of people being so used up emotionally by the media in general combined with untreated societal ills of all sorts that most people tend more towards darkness. A darkness that can be suspicion or lack of hope. A darkness that can be deeply felt and held in some.

Anyway. Goodbye to all who aren’t subscribed. This will be my last public post. I could go on and on and on, but I can’t really. And I won’t.

Read Ulysses. Read the Bible.

And that is all.

Exhausted…

So I’ve maintained a slight presence on Instagram to enjoy the beautiful photos of others and to be on Instagram in general. And occasionally I’ve liked people’s posts. Liked their posts… Other times followed them. …And instead of taking that at face value as it’s meant some seem to take it a million different directions and most of them negative. Some even seem to think I’m attacking them, which baffles me as I’m simply liking their posts (or following them)… If liking a post is hateful to them I’m at a loss as to how they view or viewed almost anything. That just seems totally upside down. I can see misunderstanding some things but that…that’s sick.

Others seem to understand I mean it kindly and innocently when I follow people or randomly like their posts and I find that hopeful because that’s all it means. Or has ever meant. At least from me. Maybe others do like posts or follow people for manipulative reasons and I can try to imagine those sort of reasons (I’ve experienced them) but I never have or will do that. The most passive and possibly manipulative thing I’ve done is “call people bourgeois” who I suspected were reading my blog. Or explain or give examples of my background both here and on Instagram… But again, I didn’t think most people would think it was them I was labeling bourgeois or trying to aggravate unless they were truly “guilty”. So, naïvely I didn’t think most people in the perfume community would even think it was about them… Just the dozen or so people I was being bullied by or had been bullied by who I suspected were likely reading this blog. …Maybe I thought most people were less bourgeois than they do or did consider themselves? *laugh* I don’t know. Or maybe more of you were trying to bully me than I fully recognized. *laugh* That’s pathetic if it’s true… It’s all been very weird, surprising and disheartening at times actually. And to be more clear: I’ve never liked people’s posts or etc. to attract them to this blog to “yell at them”. Ever. Ever. I’m realizing at least some of you must think that…

To also clarify: I do use and (hopefully at least sort of genuinely) understand symbolism, subtlety and subtext but I use it sparingly as I don’t like to confuse people. I like to be clear with what I’m trying to communicate. Nuance is often there but…not in a manipulative or hateful way. Nuance is different than subtext though…

So, now addressing those of you who seem to think my likes mean anything other than innocent likes on Instagram (or elsewhere): 1. I never copied anyone. Or am copying anyone. I have read the work of skilled and expert perfume reviewers and posts on Frangrantica.com or on online company sites like Chanel.com (I’ve cited them almost all as far I know) over the years and been influenced by them (No more than you would be by a dictionary or encyclopedia however. My reviews were always my interpretations. I used words like drydown and read many sources to discover new perfumes to try but I didn’t think that was anything more than a commonplace buzzword in perfumery and I don’t think I’ve ever done investigating in an inappropriate or copying-way whatsoever.). At times I’ve taken French Film recommendations on Instagram as I don’t know a lot about French Film and would like to, but I do not copy people in general and haven’t. No, but people have copied me… And it was at times genuinely mentally ill and other times either bizarre or passive aggressive when they did so and do so. If you have to accuse me of copying you you’ve probably twisted what is happening or did happen out of spite or embarrassment. It’s a little too odd that I’ve been talking about how people have copied me for years and then people want to accuse me of that? Please. You’re just trying to be mean whether you realize it or not. Sorry. 2. I’m a pretty honest person. If my honesty has been hurtful I’ve already apologized many times and again: I’m sorry if I hurt you. I’ve explained myself many times too as to why I chose to be so blunt about certain things. At times I’ve even called myself crass to hint at the fact that I’m aware of social protocol but I’m and was so deeply frustrated that I don’t entirely care. If you don’t grasp what happened on Instagram or my blog perhaps, at this point, it’s because you either don’t read English very well or you don’t want to see my perspective almost at all? Sorry. 3. If I’ve liked your posts in the last year to year and a half the chances I was ever annoyed or frustrated by you (previous to your recent attacks) are almost zero. Therefore, whatever I wrote about never had anything to do with you. If you think we’re fighting or ever were fighting it’s (perhaps unfortunately) in your head and always has been. I don’t think I ever even knew you had “an issue” with me until you apparently assumed I was writing about you and attacked me (probably somewhat relatively recently). (Maybe I could sense tension with some people whose posts I’ve liked or etc. in the last year but it was always unclear what was really going on and I likely ignored it if they didn’t seem genuinely hateful because I assumed they likely meant well one way or another.)

…But again, perhaps some people like posts to “attract” attention one way or another? Hmm… Yeah, that isn’t something I would ever do or have done. I’m not passive aggressive. (I did block people out of fear for my safety over a year ago but that is something I don’t think I can or should openly discuss in its entirety on my blog. And I’m again sorry if that hurt any of you. I was very unsure who was safe on Instagram to be in contact with.) …And the only reason I don’t tell all of you all (this is to more than one person who’s posts I’ve liked or etc.) all of this directly is because of plausible deniability. I don’t want to embarrass myself or you if I’m simply misunderstanding you… I don’t want to seem crazy (I see that mostly metaphorical gun at my head though as I write that). I don’t want to make you feel attacked. It’s evil if you’re taking advantage of that plausible deniability to attack me and then turning around and acting like I’m passive for not confronting you… Really, it’s wrong to take advantage of that plausible deniability regardless.

But really, if you’re reading this and “hate me” I’m baffled as to why you don’t realize that you’re likely the one with “the problem”. You really shouldn’t still be reading my blog if you hate me. At all.

I’d really like to move on. I’ve apologized and explained myself. Over and over again. *shrug* And so, for the last time: I’m done trying to interpret what’s going on in all of your minds and hearts. None of you have ever seemingly tried to be even remotely as clear as I’ve tried to be. Over years. Over and over. …And I say interpret because, again, I’m not getting a clear message at all. One minute I’m being told I’m an idiot and the next I’m too smart and my head is in the clouds. By the same person sometimes. Then I’m an insignificant peasant with no status to one person who seems to act like they’re speaking some overall opinion people have of me only to be implied to be a perversely privileged, snobby, rich fool the next by some other person who seems equally sure of the correctness of their opinion. Sometimes I’m depicted as too unaware and other times as too aware. Some turn all of the passive aggressive, often mentally abusive hatred around in a knot and act like I’m insane for even noticing it at all. “It’s narcissistic to take notice of my real passive aggressive insults.” they seemingly imply with a tone of great authority and righteous anger.

And what’s genuinely sad is that I don’t think more than two or three people have almost ever communicated anything (even passively/sub-textually) kind or aware of what I was actually ever trying to ever express (that I know of). The original bullying that triggered the polite but apparently deeply upsetting posts about social class and background? Possibly because a lot of my “haters” have imagined as real conversations or exchanges on Instagram that we’ve actually never had in reality? Or they can’t believe people don’t feel infinitely sorry they aren’t all as privileged as literal kings and queens. It’s a tragedy they don’t have a kingdom(s) and a castle? And being called bourgeois or middle-class is the unforgivable sin?!? Really? Wow. Even more than ugly or stupid? Because I have a feeling if I’d called people ugly, stupid, an old lady or trash on my blog I’d still be an at least fairly popular Instagrammer in the perfume community. What if I’d found someone else to gang up on and I’d joined you all to attack that person? Would that have been less abhorrent to some of you? You know, if I actually acted like a real “ mean girl” instead of being myself and just openly “calling out” bourgeois people by calling them bourgeois? You do realize that a bourgeois person is just mostly someone who is overly concerned with trivial matters that tend to be less than empathetic or high-minded, but are very middle class (albeit often in a pejorative way) and they tend to be heavily invested in some sort of social climbing? Yes, if you’re bourgeois it means you’re probably a heck of a lot more privileged than most of the entire world. Yeah. You’re mad I’m supposedly calling you rich by world standards and not Western standards? Because that’s what it is. For real. And you’re the good-hearted, reasonable, sane and decent ones? The sophisticated ones?! The ones deserving inexhaustible amounts of empathy and pity? Wow!! Ok Karen (and that goes for you wherever you’re from, whatever gender you are, and etc.). I think, for starters, that you’re mistaking imbecilic amounts of pettiness, a high school level of emotional cruelty and self congratulating, blind obsession (with being called bourgeois?) for sophistication and worldliness.

It never ceases to amaze me how ridiculous some of you apparently can be. Sorry…

…And if you’re in genuine poverty why in the world were you often competing with me to seem richer than I was? Because apparently you were? But which one? It’s not fair to play off people’s empathy like that while also trying to “take them down”. First you’re a genuine victim of “the system” and then you’re my social and/or economic equal or “better” based on the same structures? *shaking head* That doesn’t make any sense. It never did. You can’t be both well bred and totally fabulous while also being at least somewhat impoverished, from a very bad neighborhood and/or have many “ignorant” and “backward” family members and friends. Even if people aren’t and weren’t all this extreme people who kept attacking me had narratives that were often totally ludicrous… I guess I was supposed to have read all of your minds?

…And if you’re in genuine poverty but you loved perfume and joined the community to enjoy yourself and didn’t compete with me or try to hurt me I’m sorry. Truly. You deserve to be so much more popular and respected than you probably are given the way things work on Instagram. You’re the true perfume connoisseurs. You’re the ones there for real, meaningful reasons. Not to show off. Many of you very rarely posted any perfume but if/when you did it seemed sincere. Your few bottles were wisely chosen and admirable. And you’re not the ones who ever attacked me. I don’t care about your background as nobody who’s worth a damn as a friend or acquaintance would, of course. I just wish I’d gotten to know you all more as perfume friends or acquaintances if you were trustworthy people, because if you were then you were some of the only genuine people in the whole community. I’m sorry.

No, speaking to all of you reading this again: I honestly don’t understand people’s unending anger about issues of class as it’s directed at me in particular. Especially not if I’m “calling you out” after years of being bullied and copied almost everyday by someone else or actually by you? Often seemingly because people were bothered by me for reasons of class? Yeah. There’s a reason I chose that line of reasoning to openly discuss on my blog… No, truthfully though I think a lot of you who are hateful just aren’t sorry you ever bullied or hurt me in the first place (if you did) or that anyone else did either as sadly you identify more with their hatred and rage than any of my frustrations. Some of you would probably love to insult me or belittle or harass me or compete with me over and over and over and over again (*sarcastic sigh of bliss*) or watch someone else do it. It makes you feel good in a sick and totally demented way to be mean to me or see someone else do it. Even cheer them on. You feel bizarrely entitled and justified to be terrible. Do you giggle like a maniacal mean girl behind my back too? Aww. How cute. How edgy!! You’re so the cool kids now! You finally made it!!! (Note sarcasm.). Except I don’t and never did deserve it… I’m not the jerk who took all the jobs to impoverished countries away from the middle-class in the US. I’m not the toxic loser who teased you in high school. You do realize that? Right?! Except now that’s all your hatred. All of it. No one else’s. (I’m still perhaps incorrectly assuming at least some of you have depth and maturity beyond your ability to get dressed, eat, breathe, buy perfume and take photos of it for Instagram. Well, and read this blog apparently?!? …So bizarre. Truly.)

It was about 12 or so people who I thought were reading my blog who I intended to address… People who were clearly being jerks to me. Not hundreds. Not thousands. Not the whole perfume community?! And why not look up the definition of the word bourgeois before you attack my character for years and try to make my life truly miserable?! Because I wounded your poor-privileged ego? Aww. Poor you… Or not?! No, no, no! No, poor “rich jerks” who pretend to be poor to con lots of people and get free samples (now everyone I ever gave samples to will think I think they took advantage of me but they’re all seemingly long gone from being truly friendly anyway so oh well I guess) Or no?! No! That’s not even good enough is it? No, no, no!! Poor upper-class jerks with super elite friends and family who all love insulting people like me who rail against bourgeois attitudes and claim to be in the upper-middle class from an least somewhat privileged family…on their blog?!?! Yes, elite people would find it offensive to not be properly worshipped by an upper-middle class person on that person’s blog. That’s what the rumors say anyway… Elite people are all like that… Barely human. ??? So, why didn’t you just snap a quick pic with Putin or Obama or Trump or maybe Beyoncé or some other A-list celebrity and send me into horrible weeping due to painful insecurity. (By the way: meeting someone famous at an event or for business once or twice does not count honey. Sorry. A lot of people meet celebrities once or twice for minutes. A lot. And I mean a lot. But awesome try. *huge eye roll*) I’ll be clear if sarcasm alludes you: no, I would have thought it was cool if you actually had real celebrity friends or acquaintances (Or maybe had lunch with people or dinner? *ahem* Something indicating a moment of possible actual human connection. You know, something beyond when you imagined they were in love with you when they looked you in the eye for a second too long.) Because I accept and celebrate people of all backgrounds who aren’t assholes to me. Sorry I offended you by calling you too competitive and middle class (although many are apparently). You’re entitled to enormous amounts of adoration (mostly for the one time you met George Clooney at a Walmart book signing)?

But indeed, some people likely imagined fights that don’t exist except for in their minds. Projected negative feelings on me or assumed them from the start? For reasons I’ve never known for sure. Sorry, I am an empathetic person but it’s absurd at this point to try to read all of the wildly (almost humorously) conflicting and obscure subtextual and hidden snobbery and attempted insults and jabs laced with mild clues and insights (to your truths) from all of you and etc.. Totally absurd. To try to figure out who the hell most of you even really are is almost impossible. Why you were all so passionate in your hate? And of course I don’t expect an apology from any of you… I wonder why?

And again, I say for once and for all to my haters: Adieu.

Guerlain (Vintage) Nahema Parfum

Nahema. I had seen this Guerlain classic for years on Instagram and read it described so beautifully. It sounded like a grand, enormously epic Guerlain rose.

I’ll keep this bottle. Just for the sake of having it in my collection. Nahema is very grand. But…she does not like my skin chemistry. At all. Never has.

While she seemingly sings arias like Maria Callas in her prime on others…on my skin she’s a grand but quarrelsome individual. Eventually, into the drydown she gives up and turns to cherry cough syrup with hints of purple tinged lily-of-the-valley. And lest you conclude that this dear little bottle has gone bad I’d like to assert that I highly doubt it has. The other bottles we bought from this estate were in excellent condition and as I smell this one I don’t get the sense that the notes are bruised or “off” so much as that the overall persona of this great Guerlain doesn’t like me.

Maybe some of my most convinced haters should consider Nahema as a signature. *laugh* Some people probably have been hateful due to a variety of misunderstandings or misinterpretations of at least my words over the years. And then some people were likely sincere haters… I’m being entirely serious and without any desire for retribution when I suggest they try Nahema (if they haven’t already). If there ever was a fragrance that genuinely hated me this was and is it. I love the rose in Nahema, and you’d think that’d be more than enough but it’s just too much of a battle to get along otherwise…

Karen’s Gang (not a repost but a restatement of things I’ve said many times)

Online in the perfume community there are literally thousands of people who love to walk up to you virtually and say metaphorically, “Look! I have ten pencils! TEN! And they’re all more amazing than your pencils. Therefore, I’m more amazing than you.” *sigh* “If only you had more pencils. Better pencils. I’d respect you more. Be nicer to you.” …But then if you do indeed buy ten excellent pencils they just hate you even more. Or they try to find something wrong with your pencils… You could have the most amazing pencils in the world and they’d still be infinitely condescending about your pencils.

To make those people angry (because they’re obnoxious) I decided years ago to give them a taste of their own medicine and point out that based on the social structure (of most modern societies) they were using to badger and bully people (including myself) I was a higher rank than them regardless of pencils. But a Karen and her pals (of all sorts of people) can’t believe a family descended from Norwegian immigrants and who owned (and still own) Upper Midwestern farms can be old money even though Hitler himself claimed Scandinavians were the ultimate race. *laugh* Karen and her pals only use historical references (or references in general) when it suits them not based on actual context or history. They don’t know that much about their own country and its variety among other things.

So, when I shared about my family to be irritating the dozens of Karens and their pals focused instead on the part of my mother’s father’s family who were Lords in England hundreds of years ago and eventually lived in the American South. I’ve written about them fairly recently. …I had originally only briefly mentioned that family because everyone other than them were my actual focus but people (Karens) zeroed in on the English side instead and thought they were my “claim to old money”.

In people’s passive aggressive attacks that’s the old money they felt the need to attack. My English ancestry… But again, that’s the only kind of “old money” or “blue blood” the Karens and their pals know about or can even slightly understand. …And, of course, the pencil game came into play and they had to pretend they had a similar background, better background or that there was something wrong with me, my account of things or that however amazingly fascinating and impressive the family of English origin is and was that it doesn’t matter anyway. Backgrounds of old money (at least three generations of a certain social status and amount of genuine affluence that is often inherited) became “stupid” in their perspective if they couldn’t win that way. …But also, Karens live in Karenworld where only what they saw on 90210 when they were 17 really matters.

These are the “Karens” though. And Karen’s pals, of course. Notoriously, if you’re black and well-off the best they can do is make a mental comparison to the The Cosby Show. Although…the overwhelming scandal with Bill Cosby ruined that cultural reference now too I guess. So…they think of Beyoncé and Oprah? But it’s easier to diminish entertainers in general or focus on Oprah’s weight than it was to diminish Dr. Cosby. He almost broke through to them and actually helped bring change. He understood them. He could explain who people actually were and are in a way that worked.

But I don’t want to ruin it. Calling people Karen only works in terms of the Karen’s perspective if it has a sort of humorous cachet. It has to seem cool to them and if I discuss the concept of a “Karen” too much it’ll seem questionable to those Karens reading this. Not because people discredit families with an individual who received the same award as Liv Ullmann (that’s the most obvious “impressive thing” to point out to Karens about my Norwegian background but they often have no idea who Liv Ullmann is to begin with or fully understand what you’re trying to describe regardless) but because they don’t want to comprehend. And I think that’s mostly because don’t like who they are.

I tend to think racism goes hand in hand with issues of class. And oftentimes when we think of “issues of class” we think of people who are middle class and struggling… Or people who are actually poor. But I think it goes beyond that. I think people discarded honest conversations about class decades ago almost everywhere and that in my country our whole identity rests on lies about class. We’ve spread those lies along with our honorable good intentions and brave freedoms around the world. Of course, I should hasten to clarify that the genuine truth we were trying to spread (and did) was…good. Oftentimes faith and reason based. Intellectually and fundamentally sound and decent. But you can’t ignore or pretend the problems of reality don’t exist and then expect the problems to go away if you “try hard enough”. Americans have always tried to do that and it doesn’t work for race and it doesn’t work for class.

Karen knows a lot. She knows that she’s an aging white woman with old pop cultural references she often finds occasion to use. That she’s overweight herself despite calling Michelle Obama a cow. That her hairstyle is outdated. That she’s a bully who tells everyone to turn down their music if it scares her or makes her feel insecure. A liar. A hateful person in general. A truly angry person. But…what is she really supposed to do about it?! Life is harsh. Often life is unfair for everyone.

A Karen will never be the cute, platinum blond Stacy or impossibly cool, raven haired Jennifer she grew up with who were popular in her high school class in the 70’s, 80’s or 90’s. Stacy was a Jenny Garth lookalike. But those days are over.

She can “hate on” privileged (but hard working) Norwegians because that seems more justified and excusable given our gifts and race. Or she can call pretty women in general ugly. Younger people losers. But that’s not satisfying enough. That’s a dead end. No, what feels better to a Karen is to take out her frustrations on black folk. Not her dark skinned “pals” who she may or may not be actual friends with but the others… And I think part of that is that they embody the perceived death, change and parts of herself a Karen fears most.

Again, Karen can never be the cute cheerleader with long blond hair and blue eyes named Stacy who was popular in her high school. A total Jenny Garth lookalike. All the guys wanted her. All the girls wanted to be her. BUT a Karen is often more privileged than a black person. And Karen wants to be cool. She wants acceptance. From society… And mostly from herself.

Should we feel empathy for Karen? Yes. But they can be genuinely evil too (often arrogant about their ignorance) and so one has to be aware. Careful not to become a Karen. Careful not to believe their lies. Careful to take their anger seriously but not personally. It’s never about anyone but them, although it’s important to objectively and honestly process what they’re saying without ego as much as possible to avoid being like them. (Although not to an unsafe degree) Careful to find ways to not let them attack the vulnerable, or those who they perceive as vulnerable. Some “Stacys” are actually black…

Curious Questions And A Crass Response (Repost Again)

Update Again from later in 2020: I’ve come to learn today from a friend on Instagram (who wishes to remain entirely anonymous) that in the first few years of posting to Instagram I made a few enemies accidentally. They would not say who but they told me that a few (somewhat unrelated) people have been spreading lies and hateful narratives about me for years. Turning people against me. And, that obviously accounts more for why I noticed a huge shift over the years from Instagram being a place of lighthearted fun to one of deep conflict. (*Note: I later realize that even if this is true that Instagram itself has become more negative over the years beyond just the perfume community and those involved.).

*shrug* Regardless, I have decided to repost this. Mostly because I have always had the sense that it contradicts the lies people have spread for years to mock or humiliate me and instead states quite a few facts. And it also contradicts the way some people eventually used the existing hate to try to hurt me for various reasons depending on the person. Some people probably even “friended” me over the years just to try to find a way to attack me because I annoyed them and others eventually attacked because they probably misunderstood something. It all became so “toxic” as they say…

…Anyway, oh well. For real. But I’m reposting it. And let me preface this post by saying that if you want to call me or my family “white privileged” in a hateful way… you’re just hateful. Sorry. But, that being said, our (my family’s) immigrant experience should be the norm. There shouldn’t be an evil “privilege” vs evil “disadvantage”. …And while Marxism is untenable and genuinely very dangerous for everyone I don’t think reparations for the descendants of slaves is a bad idea nor do I find it tragic to learn of the block being put on further development of oil pipelines. At least not right now. *shrug* I’m sorry, I’m not a heartless idiot kiddos.

Update from 2020: I’m reposting this ugly moment in my blogging history to grieve many things about the past few years. For one, I’m grieving that I put up with people’s bullshit for as long as I did online. I’m also grieving how much I was taken advantage of.

But I’m mostly trying to forgive myself for not standing up for myself sooner and expecting people who hate me to be genuinely understanding. Some people just don’t like us and there’s not a damn thing we can do about it. They might not have great reasons and you might want to argue with them but you have to walk away hoping the best for them and then totally move on.

Goodbye old Instagram. Goodbye old blog. Goodbye old dreams.

Hello future.

———

Social media is fascinating.  (Also utterly depressing) So many aspects of so-called normal living are magnified times a thousand online.

For example: the online equivalent of familiar and sometimes pleasant interactions you might have with acquaintances day to day in normal life are suddenly revealed to have hidden subtexts or subversive elements that are basically imperceivable when not online.  And, the cause of the phenomena has to be a similar sort of psychological effect to the one that causes trolling.   People are just more comfortable showing unlikeable traits behind the privacy of a screen.

Now, I’m not a particularly naïve person, but I can be when it comes to how other people view me.  (Not self-aggrandizingly so but actually the opposite.) To me, perfume is a form of art.   It’s also a cosmetic.   And, I love to collect it. However to some it’s mostly a luxury, and there are people who might even call really nice perfume not much more than a status symbol. So, there are people who have a perception of me that has likely been affected by my perfume collection and my display of it but I didn’t really and truly realize that until about a year or two ago. (Someone who hates me – and there are many of those Instafolks unfortunately – clued me in a tiny bit to what she was actually thinking in reality like an adult at least in that moment. Thank God. Thank God… Years ago.)

When I first started seriously collecting perfume a few years ago, and sharing photos online, I had one relative who had somewhat recently married into my family, do something that may have indicated some negative feelings about my hobby. I was very surprised and very hurt.  In my mother’s family, which is the one this young lady married into, if something is irritating about a relative you’re taught to be tolerant (sometimes just willfully ignoring something for the sake of family solidarity) until it becomes a serious problem to them or you.  A perfume hobby certainly wouldn’t fit that negative of a criteria.  But, she was raised with likely very different ways of both viewing and doing things.  Anyway, that was it as for negative reactions at first. (The worst was yet to come! *huge fake smile*)

The perfume community on Instagram where I shared my collection was brilliant, welcoming and utterly uplifting.   (Or so it seemed at first.) It was very easy to be honest.  It was very comfortable to share just about whatever you wanted in a respectful way (emphasis: I was always trying to be kind and respectful) and you knew that there would only be a precious few, if any, mean or rude people who would bother you at all.  (Hahaha! The cruel joke on me was about to begin I guess…) You could just enjoy beauty and try to help create more of it to the best of your ability.

That’s changed. (I question this now and suspect I was just incredibly lucky somehow at first.)

For about the past year and a half to two years I’ve noticed a sudden uptick in overall negativity.   (It was always there I bet.) As one facet of that, around then, a lot of people suddenly seemed hell-bent on being perceived as the most wealthy, sophisticated or brilliant among the tip top…tip…top…tip of the “elite” of the community.  (And they would rip apart anyone who didn’t make them feel good in some way. Passive aggressively or not.) In typical form, I decided to rebel.  Of course, my form of rebellion is never the way most people rebel.  Just like how in high school I joined Young Republicans and did canvassing for Republican candidates to rebel, I decided to start talking more about my blessings instead of doing what I was raised to do. (Because it seemed funny to not roll over and play dead. To not conform to expectations of how to treat a “Karen” which entails coddling these overly competitive people and then meticulously eliminating anything they wouldn’t find flattering to their insatiable egos. They won’t try that hard to get along or respect other people unless it “works for them on their terms”. And that probably means worshiping them ultimately. Unconditionally worshipping them.)

I was taught to never, ever, ever brag.  Well, actually, never even come close to almost bragging.  But I realized when I was dating my husband that some people don’t understand subtlety and/or manners and you have to actually almost smash them in the face with reality for them to back off and stop being rude and annoying. (Other people are childish, at least sometimes heartless, entitled and demand you practically read their minds or they bully you.)

There was a woman almost six or seven years older than my husband, Mark, in her 30’s while he was in his 20’s, who was in love with Mark.  (Just to clarify for those who overly identify with this woman: she was genuinely delusional. He didn’t want to even sleep with her much less date her as he didn’t find her to be an attractive person but she fooled herself into thinking he was actually devastatingly in love with her and that she had the upper hand in the relationship. She was married and older than him too. She even gave him a copy of The Sun Also Rises because she wanted him to understand her self-perceived “inner Brett Ashley” and my husband had to have this explained to him as he couldn’t figure out why she chose that novel to gift him in the first place. She was…almost frighteningly unaware. So are you reading this that hilariously conceited? You’re nodding your head yes? Wow! Ok. That’s sad. And so then basically honey you’re possibly a true narcissist or maybe just more narcissistic than normal. Or you’d fall for a narcissist romantically and struggle to get over them I bet I really wish more people reading this could honestly shake their heads no.) (Anyway.) She happened to be married and she was even very quietly floating around thoughts of leaving her husband for him.  (And a co-worker who knew them both even warned my husband that he would break up her marriage. And of course my husband was baffled by that because he thought they were actually, truly just friends.) However, my husband wasn’t interested in dating her almost at all.  He once confessed to me that given his mentality at the time, he would have possibly started officially “dating” her if I hadn’t met him within a year or so, (Because he was slightly nihilistic at the time and she would have kept pursuing him regardless of his true feelings about her and he would have felt convinced to at least “give her a try” out of hopelessness.) but that it likely wouldn’t have gone anywhere or if it did he wouldn’t have been happy.  But she was very determined. (That’s putting it too nicely.)

I tried not to make her feel bad and my husband, being the fool that he was about such things back then, tried to create a sort of friendship between her and me. (He thought she was his friend. They’d drink together.) We all went out together.   But after a while I got really tired of it.  (And trying to counsel her in pub restrooms about her marriage while forcing myself to be too kind and “objective” about my feelings for my husband. Waay too kind.

I even offered to step aside if they were in love because “she had him first” in that case. If her version of things was true and it was this mutual affair…

But she was really in love with being a heartbreaker. She wanted to be “Brett” more than be with my husband in a serious relationship and “staying with her husband” fit with that persona more than openly and honestly expressing her feelings to my then boyfriend now husband.

And maybe she secretly knew somewhere inside her that she’d face open rejection from my husband too if she confronted him. So instead she opted for trying to force him into bed with her on quite a few occasions after they had drinks together. He always said no. She didn’t care in any way. At all.

But of course she expected me to let her walk all over us and our relationship, no matter what and be wildly jealous of her self-perceived dominance and his supposed undying love for her. Love she probably knew didn’t really exist. Dominance she insisted and insisted was real. Tormented us both with in different ways.

She had horrible boundaries. And talk about cognitive dissonance.) So, while I normally didn’t hold his hand or show any sort of physical affection in front of her (truly, I didn’t) I decided to hold his hand as we all walked around at the Minnesota State Fair.  (She had seemingly tricked herself into thinking he was impotent and not justyou know…not attracted to her.) She was livid.  And, for the rest of the evening and into the night he became increasingly affectionate with me to the point (Because we slept together and were in love. He wasn’t actually impotent and/or incapable of normal, healthy adult to adult consensual sexuality and love in general. Big shock! *rolling eyes*) that she actually apologized to us to some degree for making things previously awkward.   That was the last time we saw her.

But see, she just didn’t get it.  (And as much as she totally pissed me off I also felt kind of bad that she was so wildly confused. I always did feel empathy for her. She made a spectacular fool of herself especially to my husband. Over and over. And ironically, that is heartbreaking to watch even from a distance. But she really just… *shrug* I don’t even know…) (But) She didn’t want to really understand.  She once said something akin to, “I imagine things the way I want them to be.”  (How did this not seem unhealthy and emotionally dangerous to her?!) I think for folks like her, and there seem to be a ton of them nowadays, some truths (One ultimate truth is objective and real even if we feel it personally as well.) are dormant because they so fervently buy into their own lies.  You (seemingly) have to be painfully open and honest for them to see the truth.

I’m not sure what to say about the reactions I’ve had to my response (ie Being more intentionally open and not as careful to conceal what I thought would upset people. Although people have what seems like self-aggrandizing and silly ways of determining social class and wealth?) on social media.  But I will say this, it’s been sad, frustrating, depressing and at times weird.  And I think some people think they’re a lot more subtle and clever with their competitive maneuverings and reactions than they really are.

I miss the free, untroubled, real beauty-seeking community I originally joined.    (It was probably an illusion.) Or maybe I was just lucky and the first people who I met were some of the kindest, most genuinely lovely and most intelligent souls.  (?) Sadly some of them are rarely ever on anymore and some seem to be different now.  Although, there are still a decent number left.  And I suppose my response to the shift might have easily made it seem like I changed too, sadly. (?)

But, I really am all about just being yourself and simultaneously respecting others.  I know who I am and who I am not.  Or at least, I aim to.  (So stop trying to convince me otherwise. It’s total bullshit.) I think it’s (understanding yourself in all your glory and with all your faults) an essential part of living freely and living well in general.

It is tricky (FYI This of course is not a slang reference to prostitution. When people accuse me passively or overtly of something as obviously untrue as that it makes me wonder about them. Be careful what you accidentally suggest about yourself narcissistically. I’m not going to judge you for being a prostitute actually even if I think it’s wrong but if you don’t want to share that or hint at that possibility about yourself then don’t project it on me out of shame and all kinds of hatred. And no, I’m not particularly narcissistic. But nice try again to possibly project your own issues on me. *rolling eyes*) for me though, because my parents weren’t clear on a lot of things and I grew up being bullied and snubbed by very well-off (it seems like a lot of people underestimate the wealth or status of the bastion of my peers growing-up in some way to the further genuine detriment of their understanding and then the accuracy of their accordingly stupid insults) to rich kids in my neighborhood who came from newly well-off to (almost entirely newly) rich families.  It might sound cliché, but in my case it’s the truth.  Where I grew up if you didn’t have the “right labels”, live in the “right sort of house”, have parents with the “right sort of car” and possess the right kind of bratty (“mean girl”) attitude you were a social pariah.  (It was comically at least somewhat like the tv show 902010 but with money-faded Minnesota accents and less glamor.) Obviously, with parents who were taught not to think highly of themselves or their family in the slightest (Out of stoic and genuinely kind humility not shame.), I had no idea how to react to the intense, and often truly vicious competition or rejection for not being “cool enough”.  …I grew up to become a little tough, feeling very meek but secure (because my identity rests in God ultimately and no it’s not something you can attack with your amateur atheist kit) and yet I didn’t understand things entirely. I only realized something was amiss with my understanding in that regard about myself and my family after I married my husband. Previously I made excuses for any dissonance. (People have never liked when I figure out the truths they are the most foolishly paranoid about. And yes, I too am capable of holding conflicting notions.)

Anyway, I’ve labeled us somewhat “old money” but that’s not quite right (although it isn’t entirely wrong anymore either).   That term is really loaded. (PLEASE NOTE MY HONESTY, ACCURACY, SELF-AWARENESS AND ACTUAL HUMILITY here. If you don’t like any tinge of “old money” being applied to my family I cannot imagine what sort of sadly bizarre, sheltered and delusional world you must live in. This isn’t that big of a deal in reality. Not really. It just means things are complicated. Do you understand? No? You want things to be easy? Or what?

I’ll make it simple: There are just some people with more or less of some things. Most people alive have someone with more than them somewhere and most people aren’t those who have the absolute least. There’s an enormous amount of room between those two ends of the spectrum of course and it’s not something to base your self-worth on. Please stop being such a martyr for your own ego or being fake about your insecurities.

You might be a bit “stuck” in the upper-middle class regardless of your accomplishments or your family’s striving to move-up if you’re very lucky but that isn’t my doing. Either way. Truly. It’s just complicated. And stop listening to people who want to use your insecurities to appease their own faults. Just…try to be thankful for however truly lucky you are or try to be proud of however impressive you really are. It might not make you the top banana of the universe in the end but you’re probably less icky than you think? Right. Not said in condescension. …It’s just awkward to have to say any of this isn’t it.)

Sigh

But for the sake of being honest, and maybe a tiny-bit shocking (I love to do that sometimes if it’s in the right way) here we go: (Don’t bother reading this part necessarily.).

My mother’s and father’s families are all descended from immigrants to the US.  Starting the farthest back and moving forward: in the case of my mother’s father’s family we are likely (and it’s “likely” because it hasn’t been proven as a historical fact yet by the family researchers who have documented us back to the 1500’s when we may have still actually been English nobility originally from France much earlier) the direct descendants of very old English nobility. Lords. (And no, it’s not quite that meaningless, common or mundane dear haters reading this right now.)

One relative on my mother’s father’s side researched it diligently for twenty years and compiled a book years ago but he seemed more fascinated and totally focused on the period in the US leading up to the Civil War and during it, and that aspect of our family in general than anything else.   He is a well-off southerner and probably always was though, so perhaps that’s why that part particularly intrigued him (his lineage didn’t have as many or any tragic deaths (right) after the Civil War (my line did) – more on that in a second). I wish he’d done a little more writing about the English origins but more information can be gathered, of course. We do know a lot though, and it does seem to be that we were titled in England and originally from France in the Twelfth Century.

But my maternal grandfather, the likely descendant of nobility (I highlighted this because I’ve noticed people who “misunderstand” tend to be selective readers and listeners and probably subconsciously edit out things that hold them accountable so you have to remind them of facts you’re presenting that they don’t want to hear or read it seems.) and certainly a member of an old southern family (they arrived from England in the 1730’s) was raised in a working class home in Arkansas actually, because many of the men directly in his lineage before him had died fairly young and left wives and families behind that had to henceforth fend for themselves.  (That’s justwhat happened. Historically. Not a fake excuse for the fact that he wasn’t a “rich kid” based on his father’s lineage. Not all “reasons” are fake reasons. It’s more complex. Grow up intellectually or just let it go. Please.) And although no one died in our family in the Civil War (although they were imprisoned) they died afterwards due to the direct effects of the war. All of the wealth and abundance that his ancestors had accumulated over centuries (and had in the US) was virtually demolished in the Civil War (it’s documented) and his line lost almost all of the rest of their share trying to survive afterwards.  That was how being on the losing side in the Civil War affected us, but more importantly tolerating slavery, (Yeah I’m not about to let you bully me into calling myself racist just based on family history. Regardless, it’s not that quite that simple. Again, grow-up intellectually.) even though there was at least one prominent member of the family who was an Abolitionist. (Does this mean anything to people or no? Why not? Do you not really know that much about Abolitionism? Don’t kid yourself and throw it on me out of childishness or self-indulgent laziness and arrogance if you actually don’t.)

But, when my grandfather died in the 1980’s his obituary read that he had graduated from the University of California, Los Angeles and in his later years became a judge. (He also supposedly studied at Julliard and did other stuff you might or might not find impressive?) At any rate, he was a very intelligent and creative man who loved baseball (coached baseball too) and going to the races (horses). In terms of social status he did accomplish something over the years, but it was also a rather historically significant line he descended from.

My maternal grandmother did divorce my grandfather though, in the early 1960’s.  Their marriage was fraught with troubles although they loved each other deeply at the start.

My grandmother, however, was not encouraged to finish college (women too often didn’t back in the 1930’s and 40’s regardless of social class) and after she divorced my grandfather she finally felt she should and did. Then she taught English for over 25 years (although she had taught in small rural schools before that).  A brother of hers was a dentist (doctor) and war hero.  He started his own business (dentistry) (and tried to start his own university too) and made other investments. (My maternal grandmother’s brothers were all truly brilliant.) Another brother of hers was an engineer and successful investor.  The others did almost equally well if not better.  More than one of them were well-off to wealthy (at least one was a literal millionaire by the 1950’s) (note I’m calculating for inflation as in they were millionaires in 1950’s Dollars and it would be more today) and the rest of the siblings were at least middle to upper middle class. And their parents who were Norwegian immigrants to the US, were probably somewhat well-off or close to it as well by the 1940’s or 50’s. (If that’s all too confusing to follow or gather the meaning of read it again slowly or just give-up and stop reading my blog. It’s actually difficult to be more clear. I don’t and didn’t enjoy explaining this and truly making anyone feel bad. I just got tired of people’s tiring and obtuse assumptions.) (I’m sorry this is intentionally condescending. I just don’t understand people’s weird determination to make everything I say infinitely dumber or uglier than it is. Why?! What’s in it for you? Do you get off on being withholding of intellectual acceptance? Do you even care about things on that level or just use your mind to abuse people in some way? Take advantage of someone’s hard fought for and healthy self-worth and empathy to look “smart, sassy and classy”. *rolling eyes* In that case: work it sister. Gee whiz. And shake it for the back row. Put a smile on your face and sing gorgeous! Right?)

My great grandparents took a vacation to Norway in the early 1950’s, my great grandfather bought my great grandmother a double-strand really lovely pearl necklace, and there were other fairly expensive or expensive purchases around that time too that I can think of off the top of my head… (why oh why did I ever think most people reading this would “get it” much less even be able to read this far without falling asleep or losing their temper) He also built a nice new house (four at least decent sized bedrooms with a separate sunny room for just her weave-loom, etc) in 1929.  Of course, they would have never openly labeled themselves prosperous.  Ever.  But they were never in debt and they always had enough for things.  They were also frugal and shrewd.  And they believed such things should never be discussed in polite conversation.

My great grandfather’s father was a math tutor (although he too died young from pneumonia and that was in part why my great grandfather and his sister had to leave Norway – they didn’t inherit any land to sustain them financially in Norway unlike their older siblings) and his family and my great grandmother’s family were at least educated and intelligent people.  It’s possible they didn’t actually do that much “social climbing” (socially not financially) in America despite the little they actually physically took with them to the US around the turn of the Twentieth Century. They arrived with “social capital” despite their monetary lowliness. (That’s the part of their experience that’s most significant in my opinion. The “American Dream” isn’t an easy code to crack now and it never has been entirely, at least, at any point in our history but if you have enough of the code to guess at the rest of it or enough clues in general it’s enormously easier.)

On my father’s side it’s very similar.  Although, his immediate family were somewhat middle to mostly upper-middle class in their community and his parents never divorced.  My grandfather was the president of the school board for a while and my grandmother was the church pianist. She was also often regarded as one of the most lovely women in their small town and the two granddaughters who were raised in that town decades later (my first-cousins) were both the homecoming queens in high school. They’re all exceptionally beautiful. But my father is the black sheep of his family (although he was considered good-looking as well actually). (Good looks and intelligence are in all of my family’s genes unfortunately for those who are looking for a way out for their egos. Sorry.

No, I’m not dumb enough to not know that enough.

And stating these things isn’t a challenge either. It’s just that you’re all seemingly lying or honestly confused or just wrong in some other way and probably too often being self destructive if you keep trying to “make it work” by looking beyond desperately for a way to be insulting. Your “pot of gold” or “the good stuff” isn’t here kiddo. It’s just lutefisk not the fountain of youth or the Holy Grail.

Try going out the door you came in. Nobody will mind and if they do they’re just jealous you can move on. So just quietly sneak out. Safely. And I’m not being entirely sarcastic. At all.)

My father’s siblings are all either wealthy or at least very well-off at this point (and well educated) and so is he but the only difference is that while they already were and then added more with inheritance he solely inherited it (from his parents) and went from middle class (financially) to something much more rather quickly. He didn’t pick a career path that fostered abundance, whereas they mostly did. One was a city comptroller for years in Colorado after being a CPA and an accountant before that (his wife is a nationally renowned expert and lecturer in her field). …Another is also a gifted CPA and another a very successful businessman and former farmer/rancher.

(I’m being too subtle and yet also too specific and yet not specific enough probably. Oh well. *eye roll*)

My father wanted to be professor but backed away from that for ideological and idealistic reasons and never did move beyond a very middle class position.  (although both of my parents finished four year college degrees at respectable schools of course) He is very well read and quite sophisticated though (I’m being blunt and shocking I guess) and my mother is in her own way too. He also has another separate degree from a religious institution. And my mom has also done a fair amount of traveling around the world. For a while she was a chef at a vegetarian health resort in the 1970’s in Pennsylvania. A Rosicrucian visiting the clinic once told her that her cooking was so good she must have reincarnated from a chef who once made meals for Pharaohs in Egypt. She really was and is quite artistically talented. But anyway, part of the money in both families is inherited (it’s old and new both and that’s the part that’s too difficult to fully explain but does relate to social class yet is too personal and people other than myself are affected if I share too much more more clearly) and I’ll inherit it someday too (I’ve already received some of it). But essentially we collectively (as families), and often individually as well, passed a certain point in regard to social class that it’s hard to turn back from (and most wouldn’t historically desire to anyway) fairly long ago now.

From where I stand it’s not uncommon to attend Harvard, Yale, Princeton, Cornell, Brown or blah blah (and yes, I know entrance means a lot, sorry for sounding flippant), and etc.  Although many choose to attend college more locally. I didn’t attend one of the schools from the first list (it was a goal of mine once) because I became clinically depressed in high school and my grades went down a lot…  (and around that time I also started having thyroid trouble that wasn’t diagnosable with the usual exams for years) Truly. I’ve written about it in the past. I wanted to attend Vassar though or Middlebury in Vermont and I honestly think I might have had a very good shot at it if I hadn’t started physically having issues. (Uh oh! Here’s where someone feeling triggered narcissistically decides to self-righteously call me weak “to teach me a lesson!”)

(This is so hard to reread again. It really is my life. *shaking head*)

I went to a good college named Messiah College (now a university), but I could have done a lot better (If you’re reading this and you’re a Messiah graduate I’m sorry if that seems offensive. Perhaps Messiah was your ideal school for lots of reasons or maybe it wasn’t. In my opinion I regret going there despite the fact that it’s a quality institution and a lot of brilliant and lovely people attend there and have graduated from there.). Again though, I wanted to ideally go to Vassar or Middlebury College. (My husband actually tried going to Middlebury but was waitlisted and went to a very good school in New York instead). And although I spent four years at Messiah College, one at a university my father chose because it was geographically close (I was in the honors program) and it was his alma mater, and I had college AP credit from high school, I am still credits short of finishing my degree.  It’s my biggest regret in life and it was beyond expected of me by everyone including myself. I will however finish it someday and probably go further too. (I’d like to finish a PhD)

But I have many relatives and friends over the years who have gone to one or several Ivy League schools or something very close (ie Northwestern in Chicago).  (For real. As an aside I find people’s lack of understanding of value versus show and calm consideration of objective truths that build our universe bit by bit irritating. People’s flares of temper or simmering temper tantrums have made it very hard to have genuinely thoughtful, edifying or deep discussion in regard to me. Although it’s not like almost anyone who hates or hated me ever were even remotely interested in that kind of reasonable and even discourse about this post or any other I wrote to begin with… Just in attacking me most often. In some cases it’s possibly faked discourse or thought that’s most likely intended as a childish and totally unwarranted attack out of nowhere… Entitled people get obsessed when they aren’t given the ego boost they demand and may be accustomed to.) Some of them teach (or taught) at those schools, or could but decided on other paths.  My husband went to a school that’s considered a “little ivy” (Union College) and graduated magna cum laude at age 21 (even though he was waitlisted at Middlebury).  His father wanted him to attend Harvard actually and made him apply there, but my husband hated his English classes in high school and didn’t get accepted at Harvard in part because those grades weren’t quite high enough. (He’s certainly a decent writer though, just to clarify and his SAT score was high.) (He’s a real genius actually. No. Like Mensa real. “Get a clue” I say to the arrogant fools giggling or chuckling now due to a subconscious desire to feel better…as they read this for what may be the hundredth time.

You’re not really able to hear any of this. That’s what’s happening. You can’t handle not being better than me in some way. Or better than my husband. To a strange degree. You’ll just look for it forever I guess? Dear God move on…)

And there are people in both families who have been either knighted or have reached genuinely high ranks of some sort for prestigious reasons involving actual work and talent (someone bought a bank, someone else wrote novels and etc.). And, by wealthy I mean genuinely wealthy according to well accepted standards in the US. And I’m not sharing every possibly impressive thing because that’s too gross. (One hater tried to twist things I wrote here and used my actual real empathy, reticence to share more and circumspection against me.)

But that, my dears, is where I came from to some degree.  I’d share more but this should be more than enough to explain how I wasn’t beguiled by a lot of people’s silly shows of false abundance and attempts to seem elite and super superior. *eye roll* Or etc. (I don’t understand why people need my approval if I’m so far beneath them. That’s totally absurd and dishonest. Totally sick. And they’re obsessed with finding some way to hide from the fact that they’re what? Either at least a tiny bit bourgeois and/or insecure? Do you even know what bourgeois means? That’s not poor honey. It’s just not as elite as you crassly demand to be perceived by others at the expense of your actual honor and integrity I guess?). I’ve never fully explained or elaborated on every painful thing that happened because it’s just that: painful. But I’m not a snot.  I’m not stuck-up. And I’m not pretentious. (Learn English yourself. And stop preaching to me about it. I have a sad amount of typos I take responsibility for and am occasionally linguistically a bit lazy. Sorry. Get a grip.

You. And you. And you. And you. …I could go on. Learn English before you go around trying to correct native English speakers.

You’re not as smart as you seemingly demand to be perceived as being… Regardless, stop using people’s actual humility to seem smarter than them. Not just my own but many people’s.)

If I’m being brutally honest I suppose I should admit that I can be a snob (almost?).  And if I am a snob at all it’s not because I see people as being genuinely inferior but because I see some things they choose to do as being crass, rude or wrong.  And also on occasion people have mistaken something I’ve done or said as snobbery when it’s actually just shyness or reserve on my part, but other times people have assumed I’m just “one of the gals” (I am a cis female to be clear for those who have often chosen to twist everything) and it’s been very awkward if I’m forced to correct them or be silent about something that might make it seem to them like I’m not.  People get offended if they feel you can’t relate to them about certain things and if they haven’t figured out “who you are” already they often put you in a position where you can come across like a bad person if you’re honest with them. It becomes a lot like snobbery (even if it’s not intentional at all) when and if things grow increasingly awkward and tense. People want to be impressive apparently (on occasion more like always your superior too) and refuse to believe you can be their friend or respect them if you aren’t impressed… Nothing convinces them of your innocence or sincerity as long as they feel insecure. …Everything. Gets. Twisted. (Look in the mirror honestly first.)

…One thing that particularly irritates me though are people who remind me of the worst bullies I grew up with.  Some of them did well, but a lot them actually didn’t, at least relatively speaking considering their opportunities and privileges growing-up.  And sadly, their parents’ abundance, prestige and etc. was all they’ll likely ever experience of it beyond perhaps the occasional thing done for appearance’s sake.    The kids who did best were the idealistic nerds (of course) who were always (often) kind to me and who I often became real friends with.  …Or in some cases, just the nerds (not only the idealistic ones). I never truly fit in in any group well though. (If you’re reading this and I grewup with you stop melting if I don’t see how awesome you were and describe it enough here.)

There.  Now go be jerks or whatnot if you want.  (You’re all either narcissistic and took this as a challenge and/or I think “haters” really don’t get it.) But, at least I’ve tried to somewhat clearly explain something.  Anything else more glamorous or less is nothing I want to share openly.  I’ve said all I’ll say (*eyeroll* I always regret writing that), and I know, based on a few interactions, that some people were more than a little curious.

For those of you who are above such lowly and silly things: God bless.  I’d like to think I actually am too (usually).  (Clue: This is the most important part.) But don’t be surprised if I find (at least semi-malignant) insecurity and (seemingly never ending) competition annoying, albeit, depending on if you’re an overall jerk or not, I may have sympathy for you. And if you have more than me: good for you. Truly! (Read that again supposed members of “the elite”. Do you see your mistake in logic?).

Try to be comfortable being yourself and if you want more materially or socially than you currently have then go find a way to genuinely and morally get it.  And, be humble.  Right? (Way too happy. Most of you are determined depressives?)

p.s. If you want to know my husband’s salary just look what actuaries with years (over ten) of experience and who have passed lots of tests (over seven) make. (This is how class is calculated by scholars. Professionals hon. Again, get a clue. I’m not praising myself here. I’m being what in English is called smart. Look it up.).

Nahema (Repost)

I’ve seen Nahema around on Instagram and wondered what it was all about (Guerlain 1979). It sounded like a truly mysterious rose. And, it is…

Of all the roses I’ve tried this is by far the darkest and wildest. It’s not dark and wild in some trite, static-moment-in-history, tacky way either. The peru balsam mixes with the green 70’s peach and creates a velvety thickness that flanks the daring rose. It’s nothing to be trifled with. At all. …But intriguingly while I appreciate it a lot it does not work well with my skin chemistry. As it wore on it almost seemed…angry *laughing* and as much as I wanted to love it for personal use I can’t. But for those Nahema likes I imagine it’s absolute bliss to wear.

Top notes: rose, peach, bergamot, green notes and aldehyde notes. Middle notes: hyacinth, Bulgarian rose, ylang-ylang, jasmine, lilac and lily of the valley. Base notes: vanilla, passion flower, Peru balsam, vetiver and sandalwood.

Nose: Jean-Paul Guerlain