Online Fiasco

After everything now this.

My Facebook was tapped into and someone played a really sick joke. I'm struggling to hold back, but for now I'm choosing to take a step back and not name names or point fingers. But the damage is done and I'm afraid my own reputation has been tarnished.

I learned a very difficult lesson and I know I lost some more friends over this. Can things get any worse? I hope not. So, as you may have figured, I panicked and cut off everything and closed down for a while. I needed a break anyway, especially after everything that's happened in the past few weeks. Problem is, I have no idea what to do next.

Guilt Ridden

I can't help but feel this overwhelming sense of guilt for what happened with Andrew. That maybe if we'd been on good terms, I'd have stopped the him and Audi from going back to OCH again; after all they didn't have permission this time. I played my part in this, and if things had been different... I just wish the were different.

I'm resorting to writing this post, in the hopes that forcing myself to organize my thoughts and to logically recognize what has happened will make me pull myself together. It's not really working. I'm just reading back and wondering how I could possibly sound so cold and detached about a friend. Some things just don't translate. I need to pull myself together; someone needs to keep the project going. No more filming, but something needs to be done with what we've already finished, to complete our project.

But not just yet. I'm only human. It hasn't really sunk in yet. I need time. I know it will all pass. Things will eventually work out.

Sickened

There's a scene in Initial D, the movie, when Jay Chou's character discovers some very unpleasant truths about the girl he likes, and in that moment, he runs away and speeds off in his car, a mixture of rage, betrayal, disappointment and an edge of disbelief. I now know how he feels.

For the past few months, I dedicated my life to this non-paying project, working on passion alone and the belief in Andrew's vision that this project will be successful. For months, I fought with my parents, who couldn't understand why I wasn't looking for a good stable job, why I had to run off for shoot on Lunar New Year Eve and why I've been experiencing bouts of depression. All that based on that faith. And now that faith has been betrayed.

Audi came along with me to check on Andrew today. He had, again, gone MIA, refusing to answer his calls or emails. Perhaps Audi suspected something might happen, maybe he was in the know all along. He just wanted to come along and film the whole sordid thing.

We found Andrew in a complete mess. The editing suite was disgusting, dark and damp like a cave of rotting things. He didn't look much better. Clearly he wasn't well; he seemed feverish and a little delirious. Or perhaps that was just the alcohol.

In short, we had a big fight. I ran out, my way blurry with tears, and the anguish, the betrayal, the disbelief that my friend of so very many years just uses women like tools and I'm just one of them, literally made my chest ache.

All that time I worked so hard on this project, getting permission, convincing sponsors, managing logistics, and he's just busy chasing tail! What's more, it doesn't even look like he did ANYTHING more to the documentary.

Never before have I felt more alone being the only girl in the group. There's no one I can talk to about this. The guys just don't understand, and I'm sure they're probably high-fiving one another about what a stud Andrew is and what an overreacting psycho prude I am. Well, screw that. I'm out.

Measure Of A Man

It's so incredibly lame and Pavlovian, but apparently it works. The trite "sex sells" school of thought is still alive and well in advertising, and any kind of male-oriented activity that couldn't be improved by having some scantily clad female of questionable morals draped over it.

I logged onto my Facebook today and was invited to some poker group by some girl I don't know. Clicked on the site and on her profile and nearly barfed all over my keyboard. Please, tone down on the sexploitation. Seeing your prepubescent tits squeezed from AA to B does not make me want to cry "All in!" and shove my chips forward. It just makes me wonder where are the kiddy porn police when you need them.

It does make me wonder what kind of men would actually go and participate in that event. Are they all single desperate geeks whose closest encounter with Actual Boobs (tm) were during their breastfeeding stages? Are they "normal" men who just tell their girlfriend they're going for a poker game and leave out the fact that there are going to be little girls dressed like Geylang sluts sauntering around the place? (And I'm assuming they're just sauntering around the place; who knows if they throw in extra services.)

It makes me sick. And for as long as I'm a producer, I will never ever resort to this low and tawdry form of marketing. What are we, animals?

It's not so much sour grapes (since I'm single) but cynicism steeped in a boatload of evidence that leads me to think that maybe relationships are overrated. What's the point? You care for someone, you do so much for them, and they go chasing after some random slutty girl who appears on their radar. All your sacrifice, all your love and care means nothing. Apparently the only way to get a man appears to be tossing any self-respect and dignity out the window and impersonating a blow-up doll. It doesn't even matter if you can't communicate in the same language, because clearly talking isn't a priority for men. Better yet if you don't talk at all, since clearly they've got their lives together, so your input, no matter how well-intended, is just nagging anyway.

Call me old-fashioned, but I still believe in a Prince Charming, an honest, righteous, loyal man who takes responsibility for his actions, means what he says, and doesn't lead you around like you're some naive, love-struck schoolgirl if he has no intention of ever being with you. A man who respects women and doesn't use them like they're nothing more than tools.

I try not to judge men who fall short of this ideal, because as things go, it's pretty darn obvious that very very very few men measure up to it. But I can't help it, I do. When I see jerks who use women, who brag about their conquests, who look so damn smug about hooking up with some girl, I look down on them, I don't consider them to be friends, and I hope they contract some STD that will make their pride and joy turn black and fall off.

Maybe that might mean I'll remain single for a long time to come. That's ok. I'd rather be single than to settle for some jerk who will just break my heart, flirting with other women on Facebook, going for "poker tournaments" and conveniently leaving out the sluts that come along, telling me all these lovely things then going behind my back and saying the same things to some other girl. I mean, what's the point of being in a relationship if you don't respect your partner? If you claim she's the only one and you go behind her back? Men complain about women being paranoid, possessive psychos, but when you're the one acting all secretive and suspicious, you have no bloody right to blame us. No one likes to be made a fool of. If the tables were turned, you wouldn't be happy either, would you?

It does make me wonder what's the point of being in a relationship? Unless the both of you meet when you're in your 80s, have a few happy days together and die, the likelihood of getting your heart broken at some point by the person who claims to love you is much too strong. All the long walks on the beach are not enough for the tears and pain. Give someone the keys to your heart and they're just going to rob you blind of your emotions.

And as much as I'd like to blame the "other woman", truth is, often they have no clue. Or if they do, then they're the boyfriend/husband-stealing monsters who deserve all the crap heaped upon them. But the onus is really on the boyfriend/husband. You have no excuse. You know what you're doing is wrong. The fact that you choose to continue shows what a scumbag you are and just how little respect you have for your partner. And when the day comes and you get found out, I hope you get to feel all of the pain and betrayal you have caused your partner. All the mental anguish she felt while she kept second guessing her instincts, wondering if she was going insane and trying to give you the benefit of the doubt. If you can't commit, then don't. DON'T LIE. I'm sure she could do MUCH better than you. Don't tie her to your mediocre, insecure, cheating ass.

And ladies, have some self-respect. Walk away. It is better to be alone than with someone who doesn't really love you. You're worth much more than that.