Check it out…
For whatever reason, copy/paste from my other blog doesn’t seem to be working with Tumblr…it’s extremely upsetting. On that note, though, check out www.hayleeturner.blogspot.com for new stuff that will probably blow your mind.
National Blogger’s Day?
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Blog 50: National Blogger’s Day?
So, my aunt called me yesterday to tell me a couple of things, one of those things being that today is National Blogger’s Day, apparently. It happens every February 29th, which obviously means that it only happens every four years, which is weird and somewhat interesting and mostly pointless. Anywho, I still felt like I should churn out the magic. No, that is not a really weird euphemism, even though that’s the first thought I had…back on topic, though, I like that my 50th blog is on National Blogger’s Day! It makes it feel…commemorative. The only problem is, I don’t really know what to write about—things have been hectic and not at the same time. I just keep working, editing, going out. It’s an endless cycle.
For lack of anything better to say, I think I’ll just make a few confessions:
1) I just sat down and watched The Matrix all the way through for the first time this week. I had only seen bits and pieces. I know. I like to stay behind on the trends.
2) I listen to terrible music from time to time, typically for nostalgic reasons…or for a dance party.
3) I think UGG boots are UGGLY.
4) I’m not terribly opposed to eating things off of the ground.
5) I think the Beatles are COMPLETELY overrated and sort of boring (Give me the Rolling Stones any day).
I know I wasn’t terribly exciting this time, but the thing is, I’m trying to watch The Matrix: Reloaded now, since I’ve just bought into the franchise. haha.
6 Things I Haven’t Yet Been Brave Enough to Accomplish
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Blog 49: 6 Things I Haven’t Yet Been Brave Enough to Accomplish
6: Skydiving…I actually quite possibly could’ve gone, because of one particularly extravagant friend who just always wants to get into as much trouble as he possibly can. I really do think I used to be somewhat fearless. I remember being 15 in Honduras, jumping off of a high waterfall into shallow water and thinking nothing of it. I even shredded my shin all to hell and didn’t care. I think I jumped again, in fact. And yet, just a couple of short years later, I found myself standing on a rock face above a lake with my sisters and some family friends. They all took the leap. I froze for several minutes and eventually had to climb back down. It formed one of those little, silly regrets in my life…skydiving seems like a good way to make up for it.
5: Giving up makeup for Lent. I gave up listening to hip hop/rap last year, and as I began to think about things that I could give up without sacrificing art or social contact (Facebook, blogging, music, movies). The thing is, I’m not terribly materialistic. I don’t have any high technology besides this laptop, I don’t buy expensive clothes, I don’t have a fancy house…I don’t even spend a lot of money on hair stuff or cosmetics…and yet, I really don’t think I could go a full week without wearing any makeup. A couple of days, sure. But could I go to work, out to Barley’s, out on a date without any on time and again? Okay, I could. But I’d not be happy about it. Once I can relax and not think about it, I’m all right. But God forbid I pass a reflective surface or hear someone say: “You okay? You look sick.”<—Happens every time I go bare-faced. haha. I want to be so un-superficial that I could actually go the full 40 days without it and not blink one bland, unmascara’d eye about it.
4: Punching Whitteny in the face. Although that doesn’t take as much bravery as just lack of concern about whether I destroy her life. Admittedly, I just put that one in there because she said I would never get to be on SNL except as her musical guest. That bitch!
3: Swimming in the ocean at night. I know it probably isn’t safe…but the beach at night is pretty magical. But am I the only one who’s freaked out by swimming at night, in the dark? Yes? Oh…well…at least I can admit it. One day, I’m going to do it.
2: Saying exactly what I want to say to someone, when I want to say it. No matter whether they think I’m a jerk, a weirdo, or a big, sappy loser…Of course, I can do such a thing. I have. But I mean that I want to have the courage to do it consistently, so I don’t just sit and silently geek out about things all the time. Some people need to be told off, because some honesty would do them good; perhaps it would even get their heads out of their asses so they can live a real life instead of not knowing themselves and what they could realistically accomplish AT ALL. On the other hand, some people need to know that they’re so fantastic that they make me nervous. Still others should definitely hear why I act like such a freak around them. haha. I just need to cowboy up and say these things, but for the most part, I probably won’t. Or… I’ll wait til I’ve gained enough credibility and then drop the bomb. Yeah, that could be a real way to go.
1: Actually advertising myself. I write a lot, I play some music (and I know, without doubt, that I am talented in those areas)—but I think there’s a part of me that just assumes I’m not lucky enough or comparatively talented enough to actually get somewhere. That feeling combined with laziness has always been one of the main obstacles I’ll need to press past in my life. The people who make it in any area are the ones who consistently put themselves out there.
I should’ve been working on a lot of other things…but I thought perhaps taking stock of things could be a motivating tool. All right…I promise to try and be funnier next time. haha.
The Ghostwriter
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Blog 48: The Ghostwriter
So, I haven’t written a blog in a little minute. Part of it is laziness/not wanting to do anything productive after running from job to job all day, most days. Another part of it is that I’ve been spending most of my free time going out with friends. Weekly fun times, Starbucks get-togethers, sister time, family dinners—it doesn’t leave much time for blogging. My last excuse would be that I have just embarked upon a pretty exciting project. As all of you know, I love writing. Editing, however, is also a passion of mine. I love to improve upon another person’s work, and I love getting people excited about their own pieces. If I could work in publishing one day, it would be fairly fantastic. Anywho, I had been catching up with an old classmate from college, telling him about my writing/editing aspirations, when everything fell into place just perfectly. It turned out that his dad had just finished a book and was looking for an editor. My name was mentioned, we met to discuss it, and just last week I began editing/ghostwriting the full-length text. Needless to say, it’s sort of a big deal for me.
For those of you who don’t know what ghostwriting is, it doesn’t, in fact, involve dead people with antique typewriters and it has very little to do with an apparition/superhero who saves the world with a giant pencil and then disappears, mysteriously. Ghostwriters are hired all the time by people who want anything from someone to turn their vocal story into a book to people who just need advanced editing on their work. In my case, it’s editing, rewording, restructuring, and providing transition between ideas; the man who the book will be credited to is a pastor whose expertise is in writing pointed sermons rather than large bodies of work. So, this project, while hectic (I only have a month to complete the whole thing), could be a great way for me to get more experience that is actually in my field. Who knows? Maybe I’ll be editing more books in the near future. It gets my name out there. The author is hoping to have it published by May and is planning a book tour. Good stuff, right?
I know you’re just so thrilled about all of this, but I figure every once in awhile I should actually mention what the heck is going on in my life. I think it provides credibility.
In other news, I’ve been seeing so many people lately making life so much more dramatic than it needs to be. Why is it that everyone feels the need to be angry at their peers for ridiculous things? Someone made fun of you. Who cares? That person was very likely joking, and if not, perhaps you’ve done something to elicit such behavior. You can’t force the desired reaction out of people, but you can actually pay attention to the way that you treat them and prevent their dislike, almost always. Admittedly, I haven’t always observed this principle. When I was younger, I didn’t quite have a handle on things. If you’ve ever seen 500 Days of Summer, I definitely had that sort of thing going on. Up front, I’d tell a guy that I wanted nothing to do with a relationship with him. I’d continue to say it, but we would hang out far too much and my flirtatious nature would flare up to its worst levels. Of course, I’d always be shocked and appalled when suddenly the guy would start acting like a dick, but in retrospect—I sort of incited that reaction from him. It happened a few times. I was more concerned with having fun than protecting their emotions, however melodramatic they were sometimes. Worse than that, I went through a period of inconsistency. I’d set these rules and standards aloud and then go against them all. I lost some friends that way and do regret my stupidity, but what can ya do? I think everyone has to go through a process of figuring out just who he/she is.
I’ve seen a similar situation amongst friends, recently, and find it extremely annoying. Of course, as I went to criticize the girl for not seeing what she had done to bring about the rift, I had to take a look at my own past. Mmm. Humble pie. haha. I used to take sides so quickly and violently, but these days I find myself sympathizing with both sides of an argument more often that not. I think the easiest way to cleanse your life of anger is to see things from the other person’s point of view. So Jenny called you fat. That bitch! But think, does Jenny look particularly plump today? Well, there you go. Insecurity, perhaps jealousy are the things to blame for her nastiness. haha. You should never excuse bad attitudes, but you should always try and find the reason behind them. It will make it so much easier to be compassionate rather than wrathful.
Some people, however, refuse to let you make amends for the things that offended them and garnered their disrespect. I had a really close guy friend from Panera who knew me just before my idiot era. He was so offended by the absolutely hypocritical things I did after I stopped working there that sadly, I believe the very sight of me upsets this fellow these days. I was young, stupid, and reckless. And I can actually understand why he wouldn’t want to remain friends. It is truly regrettable. I wish the grudge would end, but like I said earlier—you can’t demand the preferred reaction. You should never do anything if you aren’t prepared to pay the consequences. And you should never expect people to do things exactly the way you would. I forgive quickly and easily. I’ve had people wrong me that some friends and family still carry resentment for on my behalf, while I just feel better about letting it go. I like to remember the good things about people I’ve known.
The main thing to remember if someone “turns on you” is that you should examine your own actions. You’re probably both in the wrong, so just calm the hell down and quit feeling like everyone is out to get you, despite your “innocence.” I think too often we just act based on our own needs/emotions, treating other people as collateral damage without even giving it a thought. Let me tell you, life is a lot more enjoyable when you’re not playing the victim all the time or filling yourself with the venom of retaliation. Just learn to treat people right, and usually they will respond in kind.
how I hook the mens.
I think many men should take this powerpoint seriously.
The Jerk Whisperer
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Blog 46: The Jerk Whisperer
I had been trying for weeks to put into words this irksome sense of something in my head, when last night, it finally came. I have my older sister Elise to thank for it. Captioning it with “You haven’t really tried to do this for awhile, but it still made me think of you,” she sent me this picture in a text message:
Now, I think that whoever made up the word “hater” should be shot. And yet, it made me think. In my case, it’s not so much trying to win over the ‘haters,’ but trying to fix people who are just (for lack of a better term) assholes. I’m pretty sure that’s what Elise was saying…mostly in direct commentary on my love life (although I’ve had some pretty douchey ‘friends’ as well). There’s something in me that just can’t stand to watch people wallow in self-pity, depression, anger, bitterness, and so on. There’s something in me that has to show those people that happiness is not only possible, but absolutely probable if they would stop for one moment and think of all the things in their lives that are worthy of being thankful for—they aren’t starving, they aren’t uneducated, they aren’t being drafted into guerilla warfare or forced into the sex trade. People all around the world are suffering and dying, and we whine about something as stupid as a bad latte…just all the time. It’s sort of a grodie behavior. Yes, I just sad grodie. No, it isn’t 1996.
I don’t know what this says about my character, but I’m sort of a magnet for hardened hearts. The insecure, selfish, angry, decidedly apathetic, self-segregated…they all want to latch onto this lady. And I usually let them, I’m sorry to say. It’s like trying to be a life preserver for someone who has willingly attached hundred-pound weights to his ankles. Weaker vessels would be completely drained by this vampiric species we call jerks, but thankfully I always bounce back really quickly. It’s a gift.
In some ways, I really am the Jerk Whisperer. When these people hang out with me, they’re sometimes on their very best behavior. They’re cheered up, they go light on the trashiness, they at least acknowledge that happiness exists. Hell, a few even try reading. Crazy, right? But the fix is only ever temporary because it’s in pursuit of my approval, and I am stingy with praise when I don’t believe a change is genuine. Most jerks prefer the lazy, coward’s way out, so they give up after several “No, I will not marry you” statements. Moderating attitude, putting others before yourself, working hard—what nonsense. We should all just sit on our asses, drink beer, and play video games, all the while complaining about what a terrible place this world is and how unfair it is that we can’t find anyone to love us.
I’m really big on Facebook. It makes me feel like I’m communicating all the time and I just love it. The other night, I posted a status about needing to get out of my head, and received a text from someone asking what was bothering me. I feel like my response would seem lackluster to most people, but I explained that it all came from observing hopeless, lost-in-the-dark friends. I spend a lot of time compounding world problems in my mind just because of coming in contact with unhappy people. How can I fix it? Should I punch all of them in their faces? Should I just try and shrug it off? No on the last. Never give up on your picture of a beautiful world. Do I genuinely hurt for these friends? Yes. I often feel broken-hearted that they choose not to see how great things could be, how much of a difference they could make if they’d just get off of their asses and try. But I also spend a lot of time just wanting to shake it out of them. Or karate chop it out of them, Jackie Chan style. Or roundhouse kick it out of them, Chuck Norris style. Violence is the answer? What? No. No, probably not. Damnit.
My best friend, my sisters, and other people in my life are constantly asking me things like: “Why are you friends with her?” or “Why do you hang out with him?” followed by: “He’s an asshole” or “She’s a liar.” It’s not that I don’t see the horrible qualities of these jerks—I am neither blind nor stupid. It’s that I cannot shake a sense of responsibility to make an effort on their behalf. It’s that I can’t just walk away from people who are drowning in their own bullshit. They have to see even an inkling of compassion. I do believe that one day it could completely change them. So, I will probably continue to give of myself with perhaps no tangible results, as insane as it can make me. I will not, however, be getting into romances with d-bags anymore.
In short, it seems I will remain the Jerk Whisperer, but the Beauty and the Beast complex has to end at some point. After awhile, it becomes a lack of self-respect to ‘fall in like’ with guys who berate you for being “too fat,” “too smart,” or (in one case) too unwilling to disavow your own family for not being spotlessly perfect. Let’s avoid that rant, however. The point is, my heart unfortunately goes out to all of you egocentric bastards out there. And my realist-idealist, far-too-tenderhearted nature will make me hold out my hand to you for the rest of my days.
PS- NO I WILL NOT MARRY YOU.
The Curious Business of Love and Longing
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Blog 45: The Curious Business of Love and Longing
I feel like I’ve had a lot of conversations with people lately regarding romance, loneliness, estrangement; from those who pine after what they believe they can’t have to those who question if what they have is really that life-changing, meant-to-be, passionate love they’ve always dreamed of, I’ve heard it all. I think tonight, as I sit alone in the quiet house, the melancholy mood has struck—not the kind you frantically try to escape, but the kind you embrace. Sometimes, a person just needs to be sad. That being said, I settled into my pensive state with music playing.
One of the first songs was “Slow Show” by the National. It isn’t a song for everyone, but it is one that has intrigued me since the first time I heard it play. My favorite part says: “You know I dreamed about you for twenty-nine years before I saw you, you know I dreamed about you—I missed you for these twenty-nine years.” I would probably instantly fall in love with a man who spoke such words to me, as I am wont to give in to romanticism. I am enamored with the idea of a lover being so vital in a person’s life that the absence can be felt as a deep ache, before a tangible connection is even established. I don’t mean, of course, those whiny, codependent people who will fill that space with any convenient person who comes along. I mean that it is a beautiful thought that perhaps one day, a man could walk into my life who shows me just what was so empty about all of my previous relationships. I like the idea of us ruining each other for all other men and women—that we could see to the very heart of one another and be so besotted with every quality that no other person will do.
Of course, part of me wonders if such a thing will ever come. I really am okay with the idea of never being married. I would rather die alone than settle into a life that isn’t meant for me, with someone who could undoubtedly find someone “just as good” to wed. Maybe it’s vanity, but I want to be vital, understood, and truly admired. I really have no lack of patience in this arena. I think between the ages of 27-35 are the ideal years for marriage, when a sense of self is reached, mistakes have been made, real-life disappointment or tragedy has been faced and conquered, and a person has had the opportunity to see what he or she cannot accept in a relationship. I am about to make a seriously nerdy analogy, but in most cases I think marrying young is the equivalent of choosing the Fellowship of the Ring in Tolkien’s trilogy. They all seemed ideal companions initially, but it soon became clear that they were only meant to stay by Frodo’s side for a season. They began with an entire team, but in the end only Sam remained.
Anyway, I like to imagine my future self—having waded through the seasonal confidantes and transient paramours; having seen the giving, the taking, the wounding, the healing, the fear of impolitic affairs; and having moved a few steps closer to who she wants to be. I like to imagine that person being wooed, suddenly struck with an ardent and unyielding need to allow another human being into her world forever. I know I sound so dramatic. I get swept up in imaginings. And yet, like I said, I also really enjoy the idea of never marrying. I hate when I’m musing on the subject of romance and some (admittedly well-meaning) person butts in and ‘encourages’ me that I will find someone. I very well may not, and it honestly makes me angry that people think my life won’t be complete until I do.
What is it about us that craves romance? Why do we long and pine and torture ourselves with what-ifs? Why do we get lonely? I once read that people in relationships (married or other live-in versions) tend to sleep better than single people. I absolutely believe it. As cliche as it may sound, no man is an island. We need each other. We need warmth. We need to share burdens. We need to be held, touched, and comforted.
I think that being in love is the easiest and most exciting way to allow ourselves to be vulnerable. It’s why so many people subconsciously work so hard to make themselves believe that their relationships have more depth than they actually do. It’s why my theatrical side falls prey so easily to scenes of impassioned music, dark rooms, and a hand on my face; pretending for a moment in my mind that a kiss means more than a mutual desire to escape loneliness. It’s why we allow emotions to soar. We all want to feel like we’re involved in something as epic as love because it makes us free. In love, we can lay aside insecurity, pressure, fear, and self-doubt. In real love, we can rest assured that we are cherished. As a society, we counterfeit it constantly, usually in the form of half-hearted trysts—because then we can at least imagine that the other person, for just a little while, doesn’t want to escape our company as badly as we sometimes want to flee from ourselves. Am I making any sense? I don’t know. I’ve seen enough of desperation to believe the logic is sound. I’ve been the stand-in, the second choice, and the convenient option—and I used to let that knowledge fuel my fury. These days, I still recognize that those boys (for boys is what they are) were wrong to treat any person that way, but I can’t help but be compassionate toward them. They were just trying to survive. We’ve all grabbed hold of questionable lifelines whilst wallowing in wretchedness, and spurious affection is the most soothing mistake at the time for many of the aforementioned reasons.
I believe I’ve rambled enough. I’ve got a date with a soundtrack full of exquisitely sad songs.
7 Reasons Why I Hate Women
All right, so hate is a very strong word. I really don’t hate anyone. A more apt, though less catchy title, would’ve been: “7 Reasons Why I Want to Punch Women in the Face for Making Me Lose All Hope in Mankind.” But you’ve got to be pithy and extreme with titles, you know—draw the readers in with them. Maybe I’ve demonstrated the behaviors I’m about to describe, but I have striven to avoid them at all costs for my entire life. I’m basically a dude in a lot of ways, even though I clean up real nice. First, I’ll relate the story that prompted this list, as it is fresh on my mind and I think it will help me stop seething if I type it out. haha. Another comment I’d like to make is that I’m obviously making generalities here. I can’t live thinking ALL women are this way…because, well, I am one.
That day was a great day all around, though I won’t bore you with the mundane details of my contentment. It all culminated in getting off work at my temp job an hour and a half early. Excitedly, I trotted down the stairs and out to the parking lot. Once I got in my car, I uttered the sad, “No, no, no. Please start” that I usually speak when I do something stupid such as, oh I don’t know—leaving my freaking lights on and killing Maurice’s battery. Of course, I had already been at work for 8 hours, so barring a miracle, it was not going to start. In the past, when I’ve had car trouble, I’ve just automatically called AAA because I get too embarrassed to ask for help. This time, however, I wasn’t going to be so ridiculous. I didn’t want to wait between 45 minutes to an hour when I could just ask for help. A lot of us were getting off early, so surely someone would have time. I started with two ladies in the parking lot. “Excuse me,” I said, I hate to ask but I left my lights on and my car needs a jump. I have cables and I know how to do it. I just need another battery to jump it off with.” The first response: “I can’t.” (pointing) “Ask her!”…This next part I’ll write sort of like a screenplay…
The Hapless Redhead jogs in the direction of another woman, hurriedly leaving the parking lot, and explains the situation again.
Hurrying Lady: (Pointing toward the building over her shoulder) Go inside to the door on the right.
The Hapless Redhead: Uh—o-okay. Thanks. (Jogs to car to get keys and shut the door. Then walks inside.)
Hurrying Lady: You’re welcome.
THR enters building. Two women coworkers get off of the elevator and walk in her direction, Douchey McGee and Airhead McLazy Pants.
THR: (explains exact same way)
Douchey McGee: I would, but I don’t have time. (turning to friend) Do you have jumper cables? If you do, you can go find—
THR: Oh, I have jumper cables—
Douchey Mcgee: (ignoring THR completely and addressing her friend, who stands open-mouthed) Yeah, if you’re willing to wait for her, just go find Janitor So and So and he can do it.
THR: But—
Airhead McLazy Pants: (Makes stupid sound, then just looks, confused, back and forth between the two other women)
THR: (realizing neither of the two women are going to do anything but waste time) It’s okay. If neither of you can help, I’ll just go ask around and find someone else. (Walks toward the stairs)
Douchey McGee: (Heading toward the door) Just go find So and So. Don’t you know who that is?
THR: Nope. (continues on her way)
Douchey McGee: (shouting) Don’t be rude to ME! Blah blah blah I’m a jerk. (<—-obviously, that part is verbatim)
Okay…that method is going to take way too long. Moving on. Next came running up the stairs and asking the receptionist if she knew anyone who could help (because the ‘room on the right’ I was originally directed to was empty). She, like the other women, only shook her head, confused. Nobody can jump off a car. What? That’s crazy talk. There were like three women coming out of the office who heard my whole predicament, glanced at me, and got on the elevator to leave anyway. I was upset. I went down the stairs, calling AAA and resigning myself to a long wait. Thank goodness, my friend (who is one of the leads there) just happened to be on break and he graciously came out to help. It took all of five minutes. Yeah LADIES. FIVE MINUTES! How terrible to wait five minutes longer. It makes me so angry that people are too selfish to help anyone in need. I have jumped off two cars in that parking lot, and I didn’t have to be asked. I saw the people having trouble and went over to inquire if they needed a jump. And as much as I like to help people, that’s not exactly Mother Teresa level behavior. It’s just a common courtesy situation. Anywho, on to the point…
7 Reasons Why I Hate Women
7: They all hate each other for being competition. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been fear-friended on Facebook (when a girl friends you despite not knowing you, because you’ve commented on some guy’s page…then she stalks you a little). I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had menopausal managers who were perfectly kind to all the male workers but basically went all Evil Queen on any other women who worked there. It’s disgusting. Also…there are those crazy girls who hate you for even being in the same room as their boyfriends or what-have-you.
6: Too many of them think that acting stupid is cute. (Speaking with that annoying voice where all their “s’s” are weirdly emphasized—yeah, you know what I’m talking about) “Oh. My. God. Let me tell you the ssstory of the time I acted like ssssuch an idiot and didn’t even realize how dumb it wasss until sssomeone totally exssssplained it to me!” (giggles)
5: They have stupid voices. (See above)
4: They always act like there’s an audience. The other day I noticed a chick at Starbucks talking to a friend. Every exaggerated facial expression, every look-around laugh, every pristine sip on her coffee looked like it was calculated for someone to see it. “I hope everyone sees how cute and happy I’m being over here. Can’t stop smiling or someone might not think I’m adorable!” Everything has to be a show or a big production as a ploy for attention instead of letting themselves proceed in a natural way. Everything seems so fake. Some examples: girls who order bottled versions of the beers on draft (I’m not going to explain why), girls who only order salad on dates, girls who wear a ton of makeup and designer clothes to the gym. Another gem in this category of annoying behavior would be those chicks who take pictures of every single thing that they do. “This is me and my lunch! This is me wearing a hat! This is me totally sitting in a grassy field on a sunny day.”
3: They feign ignorance so often—as if they don’t know what they’re saying with those dirty double entendres; as if they don’t see the poor schmucks they flirt with getting hopelessly hooked; as if they don’t strategically wear thin, white shirts on rainy days. They are so often pretenders, rather than straight-shooters.
2: They like the dumbest things. Case in point? Twilight. Titanic. UGG boots. Coach accessories of any kind (hello? What is so aesthetically appealing about a bunch of c’s on basically plain brown cloth?). I could go on and on, but I’m sure you catch my drift by now.
1: They are far less likely to lend a helping hand to someone with a flat tire, a dead battery, a spilled change purse, or a dropped set of keys. They’re so freaking paranoid about the entire world being out to get them, that they lose all sense of what it means to help their fellow man. When I approached the women who were technically my coworkers, they looked at me suspiciously and were extremely standoffish. Me, in my purple hat, little dress, and flowered rain boots. It’s not like I was some big, hulking thug with bad grammar and gold teeth, wandering around downtown with some story about needing cash to feed my baby mama. A polite “excuse me!” began the conversation, and objectively, I looked adorably approachable. I just can’t begin to imagine why women are so self-centered these days. Not that men can’t be egocentric or that I imagine that they always have the purest of motives when helping a lady, but damn. I’d rather people help me just because they think they’re going to get something out of it than not help at all. Too many women are sorely lacking the hero complex which, in the right measure, makes a person perform the duties of a “good Samaritan” in their everyday lives. I would’ve even accepted a half-assed good deed where someone simply pulled the car around, staying inside while I did everything on my own (in the rain. Did I mention it was raining that day? Or drizzling, rather.).
There you have it. I tried to make this humorous rather than mean…but like usual, it’s probably a bit of both. I just get so tired of being constantly embarrassed by my entire gender and their shit. It’s like going out to eat with a friend for the first time and realizing that he or she is one of those deplorable people who acts horribly rude to the wait-staff and then doesn’t tip. If you’re a decent human being, you feel apologetic and want to make up for it. Well, you can generally make up for a douchey dinner date with a sizable tip and a kind word or two, but it is much more difficult to compensate for the horrid activities of 90% of the women you know on a daily basis. haha.
A Punch in the Stomach
Most people who have known me for a few years know that I haven’t always been the most patient or kind person on the planet in the past. My teenage years saw me behaving rather beastly (and not in a good way). Since then, so much of me has changed. I’m barely the same person any more, and I hold on to the hope that this metamorphosis has brought more good than bad. Lately, something else has become a recurring theme in my daily life—and I honestly can’t decide if I like it.
For the past month or so, I’ve found it so much easier to deal with people. I love talking to customers at Starbucks, I can refrain from retaliating when a person is rude, and I find myself shrugging off the things that make me angry within a few short moments. Of course, this is a vast improvement. The part of this new-found gentleness (I guess I’d call it, for lack of a better word) that I am ambivalent about is this gut-wrenching compassion that I keep feeling at random times. I’ve always been a bit tender-hearted, even in my meaner days. Movies, sappy songs, sweet gestures, or seeing a man cry are all things that will make me lose the ability to remain detached and composed.
Of late, however, I find that it’s just about every other person I see that stirs a strong feeling of empathetic sadness—the technologically helpless old man I spoke to at Talbot’s apologetically sending a late birthday gift to his daughter, the regular customers of ours who have recently lost their jobs; even this man who, after snapping at me for getting his drink wrong, realized I had gotten it right and got super embarrassed, awkwardly muttering excuses. It’s not just an “aww” moment I’ve been having, either. I’ve found myself surveying a crowd and approaching the point of tears. It has made me drastically change the way I respond to humanity, but at the same time, it’s sort of making me feel like I’m losing my mind. I love the happiness that comes from being able to enjoy people despite their shortcomings, but I don’t know if I can handle this “just got punched in the stomach” feeling every time I come in contact with an unhappy or disadvantaged person. For my own part, I’m very happy with my life right now, despite the financial hiccups and chronic car issues (a feeling I’m not used to), but for theirs—I want to do something. I want to fix it somehow. I can give them a discount, maybe. I can make them laugh. But it doesn’t feel like enough. Nothing is cut and dry anymore. I imagine their stories and why they are the way they are. How can there be so many bitter and disillusioned people and no remedy that they will accept?
My roommate can attest to the fact that I’m “on the edge” as I call it, at any given moment. We both almost cried when our obviously inexperienced waiter kept messing up our order and getting embarrassed the other night. It was sad and funny, though, as we kept talking about how sorry we felt for the poor little dear, alternately laughing and uttering “awws.” It’s much easier to feel this strongly for people when it’s a shared burden. I don’t know where this is coming from or if I can take it much longer. A friend from work suggested: “Maybe it’s the Ghost of Christmas Past!” Maybe it is. Maybe it’s some apparition making me do penance for all the times in my life that I’ve been a selfish or impatient jerk. haha. Regardless, I love and hate it. It’s a good sort of pain, I think, and I hope that doesn’t come across in an emo-kid sort of way. At this point, I suppose I’m just going to roll with it and enjoy the rollercoaster ride it brings.
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