The Social Network

I saw The Social Network  with one of my frexes (a word I made up for exes who are still friends) – oh shit!  I just looked it up, and it is a word already, well that’s good then! So yeah, I got way too much pick ‘n’ mix so have enough to last me until next week’s film (Exit Through the Gift Shop).  Anyway, the film was really interesting and entertaining.  I guess it was true to real life, and captured the hilarity of depressing situations.  I was disappointed by the role of women who were just there to have sex with in toilets, snort cocaine off and tell the anti-hero of the film that he’s actually not an “asshole” (he is).  However, I can’t really see female characters playing a major role in it, especially as it’s meant to be a true story and the founder of Facebook is meant to be a “computer nerd” so an absence of women is inevitable, ha!  The whole creation of the site was shown to stem from being dumped.  Okay, so there’s some positivity about life in there; though typically success = money, here.  The bottom line was said from the beginning by ex-girlfriend Erica “You are probably going to be a very successful computer person. But you’re going to go through life thinking that girls don’t like you because you’re a nerd. And I want you to know, from the bottom of my heart, that that won’t be true. It’ll be because you’re an asshole.”  By the end of the film, he is told by another minor female character that he is actually a nice guy.  Are we meant to sympathise with him?  I don’t know, but I still think he’s an “asshole”.  He screwed over his best friend.  And did it all the while making him believe he didn’t actually care about money.  Youngest billionaire.  ‘Nuff said.

After that I went to HEADcrash Cabaret at The Birdcage.  I won’t mention all the usual acts as there were a lot of UEA CWS members performing.  I enjoyed Christine York’s punk rock granny act, and she kind of reminded me of my own Gran, in the way that she referred to other older people with their slippers… something my Gran had commented on recently!  I’m actually going to be basing a short story for my Children’s Literature module on her because she’s such an inspiration.  By the by, I got a 67 on my last essay which I’m quite pleased with as I expected low 60s, and was scared after hearing the marks ranged from 55 to 75!  Anyway, I also enjoyed American poet Angela Robinson, who presented an interesting postcard poem that I really liked the idea of.  Lastly, Amy Nicholson, who is a comedian, was amazing and probably the best act of the night, and she did a poem at the end which was great! 

The evening made me think about confidence and how much difference it makes to performance and how I really wish I had more of it.  I’ve had a lot of people say stuff about how there’s so many people who are less talented and more confident.  So yeah, it doesn’t make sense but my shyness is part of me and I don’t think I’ll ever get rid of that element but I do wish I was more confident.  I am quite self-aware though, and have enough confidence in my ability to know that confidence is the main issue I need to improve on.  Though saying that, poem quality and memory also need much work!

I’ve had about 3 or 4 hours sleep and am feeling a bit hungover so this is probably not a good day to start coursework but I hope to do something productive other than buy a toaster and fruit which is all I’ve done so far.  I went on a Dance Squad and Rugby social last night.  It was Noah’s Arc themed and me and my new mate Charlotte went as pink butterflies.  She arrived first and when I got there it was just us and a load of Rugby guys.  As the alcohol flowed it got less weird but still felt like a bit of a school disco. 

We then had to get attached to a member of the opposite sex.  Charlotte got a bad vibe from one guy and as sod’s law would have it, I got attached to him!  To be honest, I was wanting to be attached to someone more attractive, so I was gutted for that reason.  Then Charlotte told him I needed to change my tampon.  I cannot imagine someone getting out of duck tape faster!  It would be funny if it wasn’t so tragic that a guy could be scared of periods.  It became apparent that a lot of the rugby guys have menophobia, as the rumour circulated.  Funnily enough I had just come off my period.  I got a new partner and that’s how I knew that people were talking about me, and obviously, it was embarrassing… nobody wants to be known as ‘period girl’.  I’ll put it down to the fact this boy was 3 years younger than me that he bothered to ask if it were true, and when I told him I was on it the day before he said to someone ‘she’s on the blob.’ Nice.  Found out via Facebook (haha) that he has a girlfriend, so my logic that the guys cared about the period issue because of the possibility of getting laid is most likely wrong. It really is pathetic that these guys reacted like this to something that’s just a natural part of women. I mean, grow up!  The chants they were doing on the bus to town were pretty damn offensive to women, but Kat, one of our committee members made some really funny comments whilst making a point about their sexism.  It made me feel more lighthearted about the situation and off I went with my partner to the back seat of the bus… my first time piling on the backseat to the tune of “there was one on the backseat of the bus…” etc.

Anyway, this night has no relevance to anything but I feel like writing about it.  I’m meant to be keeping a record of what I drink but it kind of went out the window, and it’s kind of making me want to lie, which is bad.  So, I spent the night dancing, mainly with Charlotte.  We got laughed at for be refused champers from this guy because he didn’t know us by a group of black girls.  Their race only being relevent in this case because we both were pretty much made to feel like stupid white girls who can’t dance.  So, it felt a bit weird dancing next to them but I just tried not to care, I pretty much feel stupid dancing anyway but I enjoy it.  Even when Charlotte left, I went downstairs and then back up and danced on my own.  I got some funny looks, some guys flicking my antenna and a lot of pervy guys thinking they have the right to just touch me.  I guess because it is kind of weird dancing on your own, they probably thought I was too drunk to care.  Wrong.  It felt pretty liberating dancing on my own.  I was aware it would be funny to the outsider but it’s good to feel free.  Though, to quote Rousseau, everywhere we are in chains.

# One day we’ll float, take life as it comes #

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About carminamasoliver

I'm an ex-UEA writer from South London. Founder of She Grrrowls. Feminist Arts Writer for The Norwich Radical. BAR poet. Published by Nasty Little Press.Currently living and working in Spain.
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