Gossip
First, my apologies for not updating! This is the longest stretch I've gone since I started the blog! Sad. Being at home means slower internet and less motivation to do anything.
I’ve been back in Small Town for five days, and I’m already inside my own head about a lot of things. Being around here makes me miss Iris and I have no idea what to do with all my time without being able to go hang out with Grandma. In any case, I’d rather not think about that right now. Instead, I shall bitch a little and tell you a story (which may or may not be interesting).
My friend Mickey and I work together, and she’s always complaining about the small town gossip mongers. She’s currently going through a divorce, so the gossip is at a high—but she certainly doesn’t help matters by telling everyone who comes in what’s going on in her life with no regard for whom else may be listening. She’s been telling me how much she wishes she could leave Small Town behind, but she can’t because of her soon-to-be ex and her son. Finally, I got tired of the broken record routine.
“Mickey, I don’t think you get it,” I finally said. “It doesn’t matter where you are, you will always been in a community, and you will always have to deal with gossip.”
“But if I go somewhere else, no one knows my past.”
I laughed. “You would have to keep your mouth shut for that to work.”
“Shut up.”
“Okay, fine, but seriously—it doesn’t matter where you go, there will always be gossip. You could move to New York and you would still be a part of a small community—at work, in your apartment building, being a mom at [son’s] school—it’s impossible to escape the gossip.”
“Whatever, it’s because we live in Small Town.”
I don’t back down from arguments very often*, but this time I walked away. I didn’t see the sense in bashing both of our heads against the wall trying to convince her of something that I know for a fact is true—and I know because I’ve been there.
I’ve said before that College Town isn’t far from Small Town, and there are lots of people from my hometown in the city I live in (most of the time) now. Despite that, when I went to school, I became part of an entirely new community with a new group of friends. I lived in a dorm, on a floor of 65 girls. Our suite of four was known as the Loud One,” and along with some friends down the hall we were The Party Girls.” We had a reputation as a group, and we each had our own individual reputations that, occasionally, people confused. The Slutty One, The One With the Shopping Problem, The Lazy One, The One Who Dances, and myself and another girl were, together, the Fun Ones—all names we had earned by mid-September of my freshman year (three had head starts as sophomores though). We tended to go out as a group, be loud on weeknights in our rooms, go back and forth between suites in towels and bathrobes, have verbal catfights, and have lots of fun too. We were well-known and stories about us were all over campus, especially in our own dorm. For a school as big as ours, it was pretty impressive to have such a reputation, even as a group, and we were pretty proud of ourselves. Still, it wasn’t long before things began to sour.
The Lazy One and I were roommates, and her irresponsibility irritated me to no end. The One With the Shopping Problem couldn’t stand her roommate, The Slutty One, and her habit of bringing home random boys. The One Who Dances was a huge drama queen and liked to cry about things that were her own fault (like sleeping with the boy she brought home and got naked with). My fellow Fun One was irritated with The Slutty One’s constant need to win every argument, and I was sick of listening to The One With the Shopping Problem bitch about The Lazy One’s inability to clean out the sink. Then girls on our floor and people in the rest of the building (the very large building) started confusing who did what. Someone heard a rumor that I brought home a random boy (like The Slutty One). Someone heard a rumor that The One Who Dances had maxed out her father’s credit card (that was The One With the Shopping Problem). Someone told me that The Lazy One had yelled at her roommate for sleeping through her 3 pm class (they had the story backwards—I yelled at her for it). These rumors caused many of the aforementioned verbal catfights.
Typing that out almost confuses me, and I lived it—I can’t imagine anyone else trying to keep it straight. Things chilled the next year when half of them moved off campus and I kept my in-dorm antics more quiet. From time to time though, I would still hear someone telling stories in the elevator about a group of girls who lived in the House the year before. I would just smile and listen until I got to my floor, keeping my own part of their story to myself.
As for Mickey—it won’t matter where she goes, she’ll still have to deal with gossip and all the rest of the bullshit that comes with life.**
*I hate to lose. I will argue until I am blue in the face. This is because I am usually right.
**Unless you’re a hermit, which I’ve considered from time to time. Unfortunately, I like to talk too much to avoid all human contact.
My friend Mickey and I work together, and she’s always complaining about the small town gossip mongers. She’s currently going through a divorce, so the gossip is at a high—but she certainly doesn’t help matters by telling everyone who comes in what’s going on in her life with no regard for whom else may be listening. She’s been telling me how much she wishes she could leave Small Town behind, but she can’t because of her soon-to-be ex and her son. Finally, I got tired of the broken record routine.
“Mickey, I don’t think you get it,” I finally said. “It doesn’t matter where you are, you will always been in a community, and you will always have to deal with gossip.”
“But if I go somewhere else, no one knows my past.”
I laughed. “You would have to keep your mouth shut for that to work.”
“Shut up.”
“Okay, fine, but seriously—it doesn’t matter where you go, there will always be gossip. You could move to New York and you would still be a part of a small community—at work, in your apartment building, being a mom at [son’s] school—it’s impossible to escape the gossip.”
“Whatever, it’s because we live in Small Town.”
I don’t back down from arguments very often*, but this time I walked away. I didn’t see the sense in bashing both of our heads against the wall trying to convince her of something that I know for a fact is true—and I know because I’ve been there.
I’ve said before that College Town isn’t far from Small Town, and there are lots of people from my hometown in the city I live in (most of the time) now. Despite that, when I went to school, I became part of an entirely new community with a new group of friends. I lived in a dorm, on a floor of 65 girls. Our suite of four was known as the Loud One,” and along with some friends down the hall we were The Party Girls.” We had a reputation as a group, and we each had our own individual reputations that, occasionally, people confused. The Slutty One, The One With the Shopping Problem, The Lazy One, The One Who Dances, and myself and another girl were, together, the Fun Ones—all names we had earned by mid-September of my freshman year (three had head starts as sophomores though). We tended to go out as a group, be loud on weeknights in our rooms, go back and forth between suites in towels and bathrobes, have verbal catfights, and have lots of fun too. We were well-known and stories about us were all over campus, especially in our own dorm. For a school as big as ours, it was pretty impressive to have such a reputation, even as a group, and we were pretty proud of ourselves. Still, it wasn’t long before things began to sour.
The Lazy One and I were roommates, and her irresponsibility irritated me to no end. The One With the Shopping Problem couldn’t stand her roommate, The Slutty One, and her habit of bringing home random boys. The One Who Dances was a huge drama queen and liked to cry about things that were her own fault (like sleeping with the boy she brought home and got naked with). My fellow Fun One was irritated with The Slutty One’s constant need to win every argument, and I was sick of listening to The One With the Shopping Problem bitch about The Lazy One’s inability to clean out the sink. Then girls on our floor and people in the rest of the building (the very large building) started confusing who did what. Someone heard a rumor that I brought home a random boy (like The Slutty One). Someone heard a rumor that The One Who Dances had maxed out her father’s credit card (that was The One With the Shopping Problem). Someone told me that The Lazy One had yelled at her roommate for sleeping through her 3 pm class (they had the story backwards—I yelled at her for it). These rumors caused many of the aforementioned verbal catfights.
Typing that out almost confuses me, and I lived it—I can’t imagine anyone else trying to keep it straight. Things chilled the next year when half of them moved off campus and I kept my in-dorm antics more quiet. From time to time though, I would still hear someone telling stories in the elevator about a group of girls who lived in the House the year before. I would just smile and listen until I got to my floor, keeping my own part of their story to myself.
As for Mickey—it won’t matter where she goes, she’ll still have to deal with gossip and all the rest of the bullshit that comes with life.**
*I hate to lose. I will argue until I am blue in the face. This is because I am usually right.
**Unless you’re a hermit, which I’ve considered from time to time. Unfortunately, I like to talk too much to avoid all human contact.
Labels: everyday musings
posted by nicalyse @ 11:11 PM
2 Comments:
Ugh, gossip. You just reminded me of yet another reason why I despise people. I mean, I'm not gonna lie, I've done it before too, but I've also matured quite a bit since my high school days. Now I make it a point (or try to at least) to not do it. It just seems so....I dunno. Juvenile? Ignorant? Completely unnecessary? Maybe all of the above. I'm a firm believer in keeping my nose out of other people's business. And I hate when other people are so nosy. It causes so many problems. Like my mom for instance. I love her to death, but she's incredibly nosy and judgmental. Two characteristics I hate in people. We'll be at the mall or something and a goth kid will walk by and she'll give me this "look". Then I get mad and tell her not to do that. She shouldnt automatically think he's weird just because he dresses like that. She doesnt know him personally and neither do I, so we shouldnt automatically assume things about him. I mean, I know people are judgmental by nature, but come on. It just seems wrong to me.
*sigh* You know, that hermit thing doesnt sound like such a bad idea come to think of it...
People are dumb.
I agree with everything you just said, and I know exactly what you mean.
I'm seriously considering the hermit thing. I suppose I could talk to people online...but then I would have nothing to blog about.
Rock and a hard place.
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