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I’ve been trying to figure out what’s wrong with everyone else for so long, and I think I finally figured it out. It’s not them, it’s me! I just am so intolerant, and it’s getting to me. I’m not sure how to change it though…
So my little idea a week or so ago was to sing this song to myself every time I feel like punching someone in the face. That hasn’t been working quite as well as I thought it might, but it does help to remind myself that I’m being a wench every time I get ticked off at someone for doing something that slightly annoys me. For instance, just now I was on FaceBook looking at random people’s status updates, and someone said something like “Can’t wait to see you at Shar’s wedding!” The “Shar” in that statement is really named “Sharlene”, and the fact that she’s getting married but still has a bunch of high school friends that she’s best buds with and they all have shortened her name to something so damn snobbish… these factors all came together immediately in my mind and caused a little puke to accumulate at the back of my throat.
But I’m being highly critical and bratty because I’m a loser, sitting at home on a Friday night when my husband is at work, listening to nothing but the fly stuck in the paper lamp across the room lightly fluttering against the shade.
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I remember, back in high school, that one of your favorite songs was “Prince of Darkness”. Maybe Emily’s message is true for you, even now? Our most consistent sadness stems from dreams we feel inexorably pushed to abandon.
I was just at a camp-fire with drunk people almost twice my age. (Well, about fifteen years older than me.) As I was driving home, I decided to try and come up with life-dreams. It’s so easy to notice and be resentful of people who seem constantly content, if not happy. (I do that all the time, in my awkward, wallflower-y way.) My new hope, and one I think might work for you as well, is trying to focus on finding my own happy, whatever it is that might be.
Because I think you’re right. It’s nauseating being an outsider watching pretentious social displays. Not caring, in the Zen kind of way, isn’t realistic as a goal, either. I’d rather care about something else so intensely that I don’t have a need to care so much about the people around me.
I mean, I’m still a whiny brat, after all.
Comment by Ben May 22, 2009 @ 10:06 pm