Warning: If you are easily offended (or so self-obsessed that you think the author is writing about you specifically) don’t read this post. In fact, go here, where you will be distracted by the pretty colors, fascinating shapes, and cute sounds. That way, the bubble you live in won’t be burst by that evil thing known as reality.
Sometimes people do or say things that just drive you completely nuts. It could be a neighbor who mows his lawn every other Sunday at 6 am, or it could be your sister-in-law who gives you government surplus cheese she steals from the foodbank she volunteers at, or it could be your significant other who talks during your favorite TV shows or at the movies.
Some of us are more tolerant than others and handle these situations like a patient parent who doesn’t want to ruin the child’s budding self-esteem. I am not one of these people. I tend to respond in a highly incendiary manner… which is to say that I’ll throw a few F-bombs out there just to see where they stick.
I like to believe I’m a patient person. I’ve worked four different Special Olympics in Southern California, dealing specifically with people whose main form of communication is throwing handfuls of shit at passersby. I should be fucking sainted! The fact is I know how to count to ten when I’m frustrated and now how to diffuse my own anger. But for some strange reason, I have very little tolerance for certain types of behavior. I… just… can’t… do… it!
If I encounter a stranger doing something that is slightly less than rational, I can look the other way… ignore them completely, in fact. If I know them and know also that they have an IQ well above that of a handful of sand, I can get pretty annoyed. I guess I just expect people to function with more intelligence than a boiled turnip, but when they don’t, I lose it… well, at least I’m at a loss as to how best to proceed.
Sure, some of you might say, “Fuck E, that’s pretty fucking lame… mean… insensitive… blah… blah… snivel… whine!” If those particular labels don’t fit or don’t do your particular brand of outrage justice, choose your own favorite passive aggressive word and let ‘er rip. Of course, I tend to think with my brain and not with my dick or my ovaries, so I’m a bit different than a lot of people. That said, I also know that the problem isn’t the people around me… it is me. I’m big enough and smart enough to understand that. I sometimes lay in the dark and wish for some event that changes me forever. In fact, I wish that I might suffer some form of brain damage in some horrific event… At this point, I wouldn’t mind if it was extremely painful. Something to make the wheels in my head to spin slower… then at least I would be more in tune with the world around me…