Friday, April 24, 2009
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Monday, April 20, 2009
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
It amazes me how you can think that you know someone so utterly well that there is no chance that they could have slipped past the insanity detector and then one day.....
We are driving down a country road in that godforsaken car, headed once again to That Place We Go Every Freaking Weekend and I am trying to control my anger at his overly cautious driving. The road is currently at it's maximum of two lanes, about to narrow down to one just past the intersection we are approaching. We are in what I call the correct lane, the one that will not abruptly end. The light ahead of us turns red and the four cars in front of us come to a stop and as we approach he does something that I will never be able to reconcile with rationality: he switches lanes. He not only moves into the lane that will end 10 meters past the intersection, but he moves directly into position behind an 18 wheel diesel truck. Willingly. I almost don't want to ask, but I have to know why in God's name anyone would make such a ridiculous decision. Are we deliberately trying to make this car ride last LONGER? He has been impatiently sighing at the traffic for the last twenty minutes and he's suddenly decided to take the scenic route? Perhaps he's had an epiphany, maybe he's come to the sudden realization that life is so fleeting and our journey to THAT PLACE is a metaphorical representation of our life's path so we must enjoy the journey for as long as we possibly can. So I ask, waiting for his lips to form a response so profound that it will enrich my life just to have heard it spoken aloud. He turns to me and says with a conviction that could rival the pope's:
“Well, large trucks always start moving quicker, 'cause like they've got somewhere to be”.
And with those words my life is indeed forever changed. Everything I believed before that moment has been completely wiped away by one indisputable fact: He is completely insane.
I promised myself a long time ago, in the days of livejournal, that I would never use any form of open journal as my personal battleground.
No matter how anonymous you make something, all it takes is one person with a vendetta to expose everything.
However, sometimes my anger needs an outlet so I'm going to take a chance with this one.
I've been sending e-mails back and forth to my ex, mostly because it was a mutual break-up and I'd like to keep things friendly. But we've gotten stuck conversing on the reasons behind our mutual separation and it's now become a problem, and when I say “we”....I mean him. I won't get into the details, because the actual subjects are not the issue. This is:
I'm the kind of person that chooses my words carefully, if I use a particular word it's because it implies exactly the meaning I'm trying to get across. No more, no less. And I find that a lot of people get stuck using specific words, maybe because they like them, maybe because they aren't aware that it doesn't really mean what they think it does, but they throw them around without realizing the severity of what it is they're saying. In this instance, there's a specific word that I'm speaking of and of course, a certain person:
Irrationality. I'm not sure what Webster's has to say about its definition, but to me it implies a complete disconnect from reality and rational thought. If you're irrational, you're likely one boarding call away from the crazy train. It is a somewhat subjective term, as my rationality and your rationality may differ, but I'm talking about rationality in the more general sense. I am not, for the record, irrational. Never have been and likely never will be.
I've read this e-mail, where I and my reasoning are repeatedly deemed “irrational”, quite a few times and I'm going to either delete it or frame it as one of the few examples of things that make me truly and genuinely angry. I've explained myself to death, I've simplified the concepts so that even the mentally retarded would catch my drift and this person just does NOT GET IT. Because they don't want to. That's the only conclusion I can come to. They have no desire to genuinely understand my perspective because then it might be ok to do things a little differently. It might reveal the fact that there is truly no one, absolutely correct way to do things. I think that's what they take comfort in, as long as they follow the rules there is no way things can go wrong, there's no way that THEY can be wrong.
I've always been one to just agree to disagree and accept that while we may differ in opinion both are equally as valid and there really is no right and wrong. I guess we all have to eat our own words at some point:
You. Are. Wrong.
And if I could, I'd make you eat all your words too, starting with “irrational”.
I kind of hope you choke on it.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Friday, April 3, 2009
While at first I found it slightly strange to carry on a conversation through the wall of a bathroom stall, I've been desensitized to the strangeness of it. However, I was recently subjected to a whole new level of bathroom conversation:
I was in a bathroom in a bar in Toronto, which of course was a little on the sketchy side, complete with black paint, the requisite graffiti and the minimum of two stalls. So as I'm in one of these stalls I hear laughter coming from the one next to me. Repeatedly. This person is not on a cell phone as far as I can tell so I'm thinking they've had too much to drink.Now, I can tell from the shoes that it's a middle-aged woman, because let's face it, middle-aged women all seem to shop at the same shoe store that specializes in neutral colored, comfortable and ergonomically correct footwear that almost always has some sort of leather braiding or weave pattern all over 'em. Now this woman just keeps laughing which puts her into either the REALLY WASTED before 9pm or the mentally unstable weirdo brigade. She exits first and my first inclination is to just barricade myself in there until she leaves, but hey who wants to miss out on seeing the potentially insane? So I cautiously exit the stall to find a fake blonde, middle aged woman staring at me in the mirror with this huge smile on her face and you know what she says?
"I'm sorry, but you just have the most incredible bladder I've ever heard. I could just not believe it, like you just kept PEEING!!!!"
Now if that's not a compliment I'll remember until the day I die, I don't know what is.