This post is very idealistic. If you feel like being cynical, please turn the page and most importantly do not post a comment stating your skepticism. I will delete it. That is my first disclaimer. If you continue reading, please note that you’ve been duly warned.
I am a very idealistic person. I, therefore, do not develop close relationships as human nature seems to dictate that practical supercedes idealistic. For me, practical too often requires a lack of consideration for others (at worst) or else selfishness at the expense of others (at best). Rather than get my feelings hurt by such behavior, I choose to be rather asocial.
By the way, this disclaimer, as the others are not, is not in fine print. Read it before you continue. Do not ignore it. It is not meant to be ignored. If you are currently making any kind of noises other than those of sincere empathy with my plight, you should really find something else to read immediately. Your toes may hurt by the time I’m done from me stepping on them. Again, you are being duly warned.
There will be cuss words in this rant. I repeat, you may consider yielding here or stopping altogether if you are not in the mood to exercise caution as you proceed.
If you are one of those people who tell me to stop being shy/asocial or get over the state of human bulshit-igins; that is, beings, read something else. Yes, in disclaimer #3 I told you there would be cuss words. That was one. I said cuss “words” with an “s” on the end. That means there will be more.
Here’s the deal:
AllState. Geico. Progressive. State Farm. The tight race for car insurance has inundated the airwaves with some, actually, very good commercials. One of my favorites is AllState’s suggestion to treat others on the road as people and not as “in the way.”
Untwist it: I don’t generally develop my moral code of ethics from car insurance commercials, but this one struck me because, though my driving sometimes suggests otherwise, I try to follow this mantra in my general comings and goings.
I was on the phone today when I finished a statement about the wonder of the ceiling fan. We’re going through a heatwave of, ummm, summer-like proportions. Why the big deal about it you ask? Because we’ll stop realizing that our utility bills and gas tanks are exploding while we focus on this “heatwave.” Classic red herring/straw man diversionary tactic.
The response to my ceiling fan ode–I was at least allowed to finish–was so off topic and random that it was painfully clear that the person I was talking to had not listened to a word I said but rather waited for the noise from the other line (my voice) to stop so that they could insert their random, off-topic comment.
Oh that I could have felt a little smaller, just enough to disappear under the couch on which I sat holding the phone incredulously away from my ear. Looking at it like it was a mutated specimen from the Twilight Zone reruns I had been watching last week.
What the…? And you say you care about me, I thought. Enough to ignore the hell out of me even when you call me to “ask how I’m doing.” Here I am telling you my thoughts, what’s up with me, and…damn.
Yes, that damn was a deep deep sigh which you cannot hear from where you are but that I wanted you to know I just made as I typed that sad-assed paragraph.
Sad that something so small was so missed by You.
Let me tell You: to be without respect for another human being is far worse than being disrespectful to them.
And respect is not just the deference of using a title to acknowledge somebody or the exaggeration of prostrating Yourself before them. It is simple consideration. Considering how Your behavior, or in this case words, might affect them. The lack of respect denies them their humanity. And when You’re capable of denying a man’s humanity in something so minor You’re capable of far worse. So I don’t wanna deal with You and Your kind.
Ignorant as hell, as in lack of knowledge.
I sometimes try to excuse this behavior–the dismissal–as just that. But the fact is if you have lived among people and not in a cave among animals for 20 years or more, you are not that friggin’ ignorant to some things. Like the fact that human beings are rarely, if ever, mind readers.
While I sense negative energy often enough that I’m ashamed and afraid that it might be my own, that’s not the same thing as being able to tell what a person is thinking; I can recognize when their aura is not positive, peaceful, or universe-supportive.
Today I spoke kindly to super-tatted, multiple pierced Yoga Boy. Sure my voice is kind of quiet and people often miss my words, but they cannot miss my smile. (Thanks Dr. Chip)! Yoga Boy looked past me–you guessed it: in silence like I’m a wall he ain’t ’bout to bump into.
Needless to say when he opened his mouth to start talking about “joy” and striking peace poses in the middle of the floor, I was quite turned off by what seemed to be a mere horse and pony show for us meager Non Yoga Girls and Boys.
Here’s what makes this case a dismissal: Apparently in the cave where he grew up people’s smile do not mean “smile back” or “say hello.” So I chalked it up to his not knowing any better. But I felt none the better that I had been dismissed. That negative energy fucked with me for hours. It tends to do that.
You see what I mean by how ignoring people altogether is worse than looking at, then away, from them? Maybe not.
It denies them their human-ness in that they just assume be an object like a door or crumb.
I’ve heard homeless people complain that many people look through them as if they are invisible, refuse to meet their eyes. I think it is because the reflection can be startling. When you look into another human being’s eyes you have no choice but to see human looking back at you. If homelessness is part of what it means to be, in too many cases, human, I guess it is a difficult thing to look at.
So I’ve been a transplant for most of my adult life. At 18 I went to school in another state. I returned to my home state for a year and was a tad out place after spending 4 years away. Moved to another state for several years. Moved to another state after that. The adventure of it is fun–even moreso since I’ve learned to see it that way rather than as one of the chores of settling into a career/life.
What really gets on my nerves about being a transplant are the stagnant folks in New City who seem to forget that most metro areas (where I’ve lived each time) are made up of us transplants.
So should I really excuse Your ignorance when You flippantly provide landmarks of places that were razed over 5 years ago in Your directions from point A to B? I guess I’m wrong for not finding a whole lot of humor in getting lost in the blue light district after 10 p.m. due to your, “oops, girl, I grew up over there so I always think of the Drop and Roll Skating Rink even though it burned down in ’85?” Damnit bitch, I was trying to get from A to B in support of You! And You have that little concern for me or my $4.00 a gallon gas? This again, dear reader, is a dismissal.
The next time you catch yourself so engrossed in life/yourself, remember that you are no more a self than a finger can be independent of a hand–at least not independent and still functioning. Other people may not be your bread and butter but like your pinky does little but look pretty, you’d notice if it wasn’t there. You ain’t gotta paint it up all pretty but at least file it and acknowledge it is part of the scheme of things.
Proceed with your regularly scheduled internet search for stuff that doesn’t bring you down.
Oh yeah, and Happy Birthday Damon! (After all these years, I still can’t forget)!