“This jerkass thing I am going to say. I know you don’t wanna hear it. And I know I have no business saying it. I think I’m vaguely aware that I’m very stupid also, or, at least, that you’ve got [quite fucking literally] 50 IQ points on me. Well, I know you don’t wanna hear it. But I’m going to say it.”
Why are such people always the ones you are stuck tip-toeing around, ones you can’t just tell to fuck off?
I meant to share this story around when Charlotte was born. It’s been sitting in my bookmarks ever since.
Make no mistake: The big cable, satellite, and telco carriers are still sitting pretty with more than 100 million TV subscribers. Nevertheless, a new report claims that more and more viewers are “cutting the cord” in favor of watching their favorite shows via over-the-air antennas (remember those?), Netflix, or the Web.
We don’t have cable and never have. We have a TV we bought in 2004 (a tube!) and a digital converter box. Nothing special. We do get two PBS stations, though, since going digital. Awesome.
While I recuperate from a very fun weekend wherein I thought more about swimming, bookstores, summer ales and fresh vegetables than I did about the oil spill in the gulf and all of the other disturbing things going on in the world, check out your favorite blog as a victim of corporate greed, government mismanagement and personal stubbornness to stop driving everywhere. Cover Pragmatik in oil! (Click here!)
Hypergraphia, wanderlust and a job that ends in five weeks. These make for good journaling but bag blogging. Sorry.
Not blogging; not journaling. Writing. There was a time in my life when it was all I wanted to do and all I thought I was good at. Then I met other “writers” at college, started dating a writer, majored in philosophy, and that was that. That was thirteen years ago.
I never even tried. Not really.
Charlotte’s been enjoying the local (year-round!) farmers market the past couple of Saturdays. This past weekend, we went with two very good friends and their two adorable children. Lots of smiles (and local veggies).
So, if someone with questionable judgment questions your judgment, is that something you can take as a compliment? Especially if said person has been absent at your truly spectacular lapses in judgment?
In case anyone was wondering, joking with someone that his daughter looks like his brothers is not very funny, if you’re imply something else. Commenting that she looks like men in her father’s family is one thing. Of course she looks like my brothers and I and our father. But for someone to joke that one of your brothers actually fucked your wife and made your daughter – Well…
Since we call cucumbers cukes, can we call zucchini ZUKES?
Things that are funny today:
My neighbor who was blaring Matchbox 20′s song out the window this morning, over and over and over again. This is funny because I thought of, “I want to push you down — down the stairs!” and giggled. Maybe it was a break-up song. I don’t know. But if that song reminds you of a person with whom you’ve been in a relationship, well, maybe you’re better off broken up. There.
When people who think entirely too much of themselves have egg on face. This is especially funny when the egg is on their face because they didn’t listen to you when you answered their question that they asked while you were on the phone (!) and obviously busy. (What’s less funny is when they seem to want to blame you for this bad information, like you did it on purpose.)
How my daughter laughed her little ass off last night when I was changing her and doing funny voices.
All the cussing I did this morning trying to get my office window propped open, and especially when our archivist turned out to be right behind me right then.
Things that are NOT funny today:
Getting “advice” from someone more clueless than you are. It’s no fun when someone who never puts forth much effort jumps on you for a perceived and very temporary lack of effort. Especially not when said person has their head further up their ass than you do yourself and has much less wisdom — which is to say very far and none at all. Sheeeet, don’t we all know like five people like this?
The upcoming heatwave.
People who are bad listeners. Bad listening isn’t a bad habit. It’s a manifestation of a character flaw, i.e., being selfish and/or self-absorbed. I mean, come one. Learn to be self-absorbed and a good listener like those of us in the know. (Geez!) If you read this blog, you know that I hate bad listeners and refuse to get over it.
People who walk into rooms already running their mouths, assuming that nothing’s going on and that everyone wants to hear about their aches, their breakfast and their cat/dog/car.
Things which are happening today:
Me sitting at work, when I’d rather enjoy the spell of gorgeous weather taking my daughter for a walk or sitting outside with my pals enjoying coffee and running from spiders or having a beer with my parents on their deck or just watching a movie with my wife.
My boss is back, but I only have six weeks left on my contract and will be jobless by mid-August.
My least favorite month has started.
I will make a list and post it on the internet.
Yes. Something she’s not supposed to do for another few months, according to parental reading material. She does this adorable thing where she smiles at you like you wouldn’t believe the first time she sees you every morning. Yesterday, I gave her the deep voiced, “CHAR-LOTTE!” that often calms her down on the changing table. (Flailing baby limbs and a deeply poopy diaper don’t mix!) She smiled and cooed. I followed this up with some “Bah bah dee bee bah dah bah dappah beepy booh!” with the same voice into her ear/the side of her head. She laughed. I mean to say that she smiled hugely, shook and made guttural noises from her open-mouthed smile. She chuckled. And, to prove it was no fluke, we did this at least ten times.
She was laughing hard enough that I was afraid she might pee her pants; so I stopped. But then I remembered that she’s a baby in diapers and probably was already peeing her pants and does it like fifteen times a day anyway. And then I felt silly.
Overheard this morning:
Man: “Damn, she [Abby Sunderland] was trying to out-do her brother. He was the youngest person to sail around the world. And then she fucked up. Nice way to prove that girls can’t do anything right.”
Woman: “Yeah, thanks a lot, bitch. Like we really need that shit.”
Personally, I think it’s pretty freakin awesome to sail around the world, even in a boat with SHOE CITY on the side of it. I wish I’d had the guts to do that ever. I certainly don’t buy into the notion that the female members of our species can’t do anything right. My wife can school me in most things (save cooking and beard-growing).
“Be Prepared.”
It doesn’t mean carrying everything you own in your car in the event that you need a case of expired soda on hand or might want to play football in the 7-11 parking lot. It doesn’t mean carrying survival gear on the bus like you’re going into the bush. It doesn’t mean that your iPhone will save you when you get lost and try talking to it, or even giving it kisses via the touch screen.
In case you were wondering.
I wonder what all the dummies who referred to the mounds of snow in Maryland this winter as “piles of global warming” think about the boiling temperatures and a heatwave we haven’t seen in, literally, years. I guess a radio personality will have to tell them what slogan to blather and bleat about the heat now.
The Jif peanut butter commercial wherein they say something stupid like, “Choosy moms choose Jif,” was on this morning when I was watching the news. Because, you know, having a vagina grants you special wisdom in parenting, right? Or maybe it was condescending to women, i.e., “You can’t work, and men rule the world, but damn — you can pick out a mean peanut butter!”
This time, the commercial said, “Choosy moms — and dads — choose Jiff.” What? Does this mean that fathers are now legitimized as people capable of taking care of our children? We get credit for picking a peanut butter now? Wow. I mean, now a piece of consumer America is giving us a nod? We must have evolved as parents and people without vaginas at the same time.
Then again. They could be insulting us. I mean, choosy dads choose Peter Pan, yo.
Okay now. Despite my long-running blog, I am an introvert. There. I said it. You know what that entails, so I won’t repeat it. I have good friends and family members who are also introverts. So I know how annoying we can be. We aren’t verbal with our feelings. We don’t like to go out much. We hate meeting new people. You have to try and “read” us because we don’t wear our hearts on our sleeves. Etc.
“Do you know someone who needs hours alone every day? Who loves quiet conversations about feelings or ideas, and can give a dynamite presentation to a big audience, but seems awkward in groups and maladroit at small talk? Who has to be dragged to parties and then needs the rest of the day to recuperate? Who growls or scowls or grunts or winces when accosted with pleasantries by people who are just trying to be nice?
If so, do you tell this person he is ‘too serious,’ or ask if he is okay? Regard him as aloof, arrogant, rude? Redouble your efforts to draw him out?
If you answered yes to these questions, chances are that you have an introvert on your hands-and that you aren’t caring for him properly. Science has learned a good deal in recent years about the habits and requirements of introverts. It has even learned, by means of brain scans, that introverts process information differently from other people (I am not making this up). If you are behind the curve on this important matter, be reassured that you are not alone. Introverts may be common, but they are also among the most misunderstood and aggrieved groups in America, possibly the world.” (more….)
I wonder sometimes if extroverts know how amazingly insufferable they can be. I am talking about people who scarcely have a thought in their little heads that doesn’t manifest itself in words that whosoever is closest or the best listener has to sit through. Sure, we introverts can be hard to figure out. But we [generally] don’t dump all of our drama onto other people (save sometimes in blogs). Then again. I guess some extroverts would have to be told that they are annoying by another person because they’d never figure it out. (Whereas an introvert would never listen and would have to figure it out him- or herself. I know.)
I’ve gotten the impression that some extroverts I know actually look down on me because I’m not “forward” or “upfront,” because you can’t read my mind, because understanding an introvert requires one to actually listen, because I’m not very sociable or a good public speaker, etc. If you’re an introvert, you’ve probably heard the same things from people who can’t seem to keep their mouths shut.
“Loners often hear from well-meaning peers that they need to be more social, but the implication that they’re merely black-and-white opposites of their bubbly peers misses the point. Introverts aren’t just less sociable than extroverts; they also engage with the world in fundamentally different ways. While outgoing people savor the nuances of social interaction, loners tend to focus more on their own ideas—and on stimuli that don’t register in the minds of others. Social engagement drains them, while quiet time gives them an energy boost.” (more….)
I find myself looking down on extreme examples of extroverts, too. We look down on people who can’t read without doing it out loud. I can’t help (it seems) but to look down on people who can’t think without doing so out loud. I cannot understand why someone would need an external sounding board for every little ache and pain, every source of stress, every decision. I’m sure such a person would not be able to understand the need for privacy and alone time either and would probably think I’m creepy. Fair enough. But which takes more strength? Or, is that even the point?
I don’t remember my point. I just found articles while I was annoyed with extroverts. Maybe.
Oh, yeah. What’s more annoying than an extrovert? (I think I might have said this before.) An extrovert who thinks that she/he is an introvert! I know at least three people who think they’re introverts because they believe that alone time is cool, that introverts are deep, that caring people are all introverts, etc. But. Well. It ain’t true. Or, if it is, they’re not introverts when I ever see them. Whence the freaking mystique over being a person who likes alone time and who processes things internally?
I wish that I could snap out of it sometimes.
I can only imagine that being a father and an introvert are going to clash harshly.
There is a difference between merely not having a focus and being unfocused. This goes for photography and for, you know, real life.
