I think I'm rather nice, and a good load of my friends would agree. I'm proud that I'm nice most days, but there are some days when I hateth myself for it. The days when I know I've been taken for granted, and there have been many of those days - those are the the self stabbing days.
I get mad at myself for investing so poorly in people stock sometimes, berating myself with "should"s that make no difference now, and then berating myself for berating myself.
Thoughts get stuck in my craw...ok the word "craw" has always cracked me up and in looking up the literal definitions of this word, I happened upon what Wikipedia had to say and the second entry on that page, I shit you not, was "Craw (band), a math rock band from Cleveland, Ohio". Uhhhh wtf is a MATH ROCK band and how do I avoid such a thing? I mean, there can be a MATH COUNTRY band, as two things I hate in the same place like that won't make that much of a difference one way or the other, but to soil ROCK music with MATH is just something my brain refuses to process at this time.
I had to click on that link, and I confess a single respectful brow was raised when I saw the name "Steve Albini" mentioned, but the same section of acceptable, female, facial hair came crashing down when other words like "saxophone" and "Rush" pissed on my eyes from cyberspace.
After an ocular cleanse, I furthered into nerdness by looking up MATH ROCK and the mere gesture of the first click made my glasses become two inches thicker and I went to reach for an imaginary inhaler that may or may not have been there. I can't tell as my glasses became as thick as Glen Beck.
About two sentences in, I felt death by boredom coming on and came back to finish this note and my glasses safely transformed back to their original Tina Fey status.
Ok now where was I? Oh yeah, shit gets stuck in my craw; thoughts ruminating over and over. Thoughts that sound like a posh, English, 56 year old, gay man. The kind of dude that has said "Unhand me you CAD!" on more than one occasion and plans to consciously do it again. I can "How Dare YOU?" for days, but it won't change anything will it? People DARE without explanation nor translation, and sometimes you have to just suck it up and cut your losses. I keep wavering between that and self persecution.
I'm nice, yes, but age/experience or just constantly fucking up has taught me to be better at being TOO nice. I know some are reading this thinking "Um you could give Betch lessons, you aren't TOO nice," but yeah sometimes I actually have been and got bitten in the left quadrant of my ass when I was. I'm trying to be a bit of a dick here and there to balance it out though, and I really made progress yesterday when I was shopping.
I was sifting through some shirts on the rack and one fell off a hanger to the floor and I just left it there. That's right ladies and gentleman, I didn't even look at it. Fuck that fucking shirt and it's fucking flimsy, loser ass material that can't fucking hang onto a hanger. I will not be held accountable for that fucking shirt's inability to do one of the VERY few things asked of it.
"I'll just nod, I've never been so good at shaking hands I live on the frozen surface of a fireball" 11th Dimension - Julian Casablancas
Monday, April 19, 2010 at 1:52am
I have no idea why I gave this guy my number a while back, I was bored, drunk, who the fuck knows?
He called this evening and after a quick reminder of who he was, hijacked my ear for seven straight minutes. I zoned out after about two, but then a text came in snapping me to consciousness so I severed into the one sided conversation with an excuse about having to meet a friend in ten minutes. It wasn't a lie, my cat was in the next room mixing martinis. He's one of my dearest friends with a penchant for punctuality that can't be ignored, and a genius when it comes to the libations.
I guess my participation wasn't expected in this phone conversation because he seemed quite taken aback as he asked me to repeat what I had just interjected. I did as he requested with a bit more pinch in my tone, but it went unnoticed as he preceded in asking me if I wanted to get dinner sometime.
I said "Thanks, but no."
He then asked me why I even gave him my number. I said I couldn't recall but that after hearing him on the phone, I had reconsidered.
"After HEARING ME? Wtf does that mean?" he asked.
"Well, from the second you rang, you've been the only one talking and haven't asked a single, fucking thing about me, not even 'How are you?' That shows me you aren't interested in my well being, or anything I have to say. There were no compliments sincere or otherwise in your rhetoric and that's a prerequisite to getting face time with me. If people don't say nice things to me or give a shit about anything I think, my ego can't get mentally or physically hard. If I'm not getting hard, then neither are you. These are the rules I now live by. I'm sorry but you come across as a narcissistic blowhard and I don't want to waste either of our precious minutes do you?"
The exquisite "click" sound of him terminating the call gave me more mental wood than I imagine he ever could.