We all like to think we use our powers for good, not for evil. Well, today I inadvertently used the blog for a fairly, if not exactly evil, then certainly not good purpose. Someone misinterpreted some things, and one thing led to another, and well, I’ve got a nice tan now on my face from the flames that ensued.
I guess I’ve been lucky so far; I’ve written with virtual impunity. I write something and get either positive feedback or no feedback at all. A rather charmed blog existence, really. So it hurt that much more to read what I read today. Whether I did in purposefully or not, I hurt a friend. Wasn’t the first time, won’t be the last, but the first time in a while I’ve had it thrown quite so forcefully in my face.
I spoke today of people emotionally using others. At least, that was the intent of the piece. The trigger was something that happened in my life, but that “something” was simply an episode of “Angel” on my DVD player as I struggle to get through Season 1 so I can start Season 2. An amazingly varied life, I lead. Needless to say, having written 5 times a week for over a year, I learn to trust in the trigger in my head, and as such, I plopped down and wrote for an hour. Spellchecked, posted, went to bed. Woke up with a smart-ass comment from the Commander. All seemed in order.
The work day, well, that was a blur. I know I got a lot accomplished, but for the life of me I don’t quite know how. Seemingly hours assuaging and explaining on emails, fretting over anticipated responses, wondering how exactly it had gotten to this point. I don’t have the stomach for conflict, and a half-eaten bagel wasn’t sustaining me terribly well in those pre-lunch hours, to say the least.
There’s plenty to not like, hell, even hate about me. I don’t need to drag other people into the fray just to garneryes your antipathy. I can do it quite nicely on my own. Gonna give you own personal Top Five right now on reasons to hate my freakin’ guts. You don’t wanna read, hey, it’s all gravy, baby. Dad, this is the part where you click off the blog and hope I talk about funny stuff on Friday. For the rest of you, it’s a nice Cliff Notes version for anytime I vaguely piss you off, but you don’t know why. I’m all about helping around here.
Without further ado:
I’m oversensitive. I take everything too personally. I invent elaborate storylines to explain the mundane. A phone call that wasn’t returned, and email that came a few hours later than it was “supposed” to, an offhanded remark signifying nothing that I imbue with the utmost importance. I’m as thin-skinned as can be when I get emotionally invested in something and often set myself up for complete and abject failure. Chances are, I’ll take you down with me, or at least make your life for a period less pleasant than it would be if you did not know me.
I’m an arrogant jerk. When I’m right, I’m right, and damnit, that means I’m right. I keep a website like this because I believe I do it better than most people and eventually, more people will catch on and then they’ll agree that it’s great. I treat pop culture as important as the budget deficit. Despite all romantic snags in the past, I consider myself a good catch…but only in the privacy of my own mind. I pride myself on seeing more than most people, except of course when it comes to do with anything involving myself, in which case my vision is myopic. In these times, we refer to the previous paragraph. Lather, rinse, repeat.
I can’t keep an emotional commitment. Whether this be part-time crush or long-term monogamy. I’d like to think circumstances, not personal ethos, have the majority of sway here, but lately I don’t know. I look at happy couples, those my age getting engaged or married, and wonder if my emotional makeup is what’s causing it all. Usually I like to assume complete control over my life, but in this case I’d prefer a little external guidance sometimes. I bounce from emotion to emotion, riding a roller coaster of peaks and valleys so intense that I collapse nightly from the exhaustion. My desire to be wanted is only superceded by my fear of actually achieving it., and as such, I can bounce around like Tigger lest I get caught in any one place too long.
And, speaking of which, I’m moody to the point of self-loathing. I want to be all things to all people, and I can’t be the human equivalent of a Michael Jackson album. I go from highs to lows in no time flat. Yet, I always know why I am there. There’s little doubt over the origin of these moods, but my self-aware states still are difficult to break. I pity myself more than anyone in my lucky state of life should and, as such, deserve a pitiful amount of…well, pity. I’d rather just go punch a pillow and be done with it. Speaking of which…
I scare the heck out of people. Rather than accept my shortcomings, I rage against them, and in the process, scare those around me. I don’t intend to, the anger’s towards myself, but I push them away anyways. Used to see this when I’d get a case of road rage with someone in the car, and catch them cowering after the fact. Didn’t matter that my anger wasn’t directed at them; the mere state was enough to cast an ugly pall over myself. I hate that I can be that intimidating. I get irrationally mad, and then get mad that I can’t rationalize it, and well, it grows from there. I went to prep school. I went to Harvard. I was taught from the cradle how to think my way out of things. What they never ever tell you is that when really important decisions come down the pipe in life, there’s very little practical application of what you’ve “learned” to help you.
And well, this lack of practical knowledge is at the heart of it, isn’t it? Not knowing what the answers are. You can’t turn to the back of the book, even for the odd-numbered ones only. (That never made sense to me, but that’s an entirely different essay altogether.) Life’s a bit like “Let’s Make a Deal”. You’ve got your three doors, and in hindsight, if you knew Door #2 had a mule behind it, you’d inevitably go for Door #1 and it’s brand new kitchenette. Just makes sense that way. But we don’t know, and usually, two of the three doors have booby prizes.
You can kick yourself, and God knows I do, until the cows come home about incorrect steps taken along the path. Especially the ones that, at the time, seemed so “right”. They felt right. Looked right. Tasted right. And then, they turned as sour as can be right before your very eyes. As if the illusion melts away in an instant and you’re left with that wonderful, “Dear God what have I done” moment of anti-zen. Up until that moment, though, the brain, especially one oversensitive, arrogant, emotionally loose, self-loathing, and angry, can create an amazingly brilliant series of positive illusions of possible outcomes, all the while storing all the negative ones aside until you actually act upon your impulses. It’s a wonderful turnaround. Positively anti-Marlins-esque in scope. (Four of you got that. That’s OK; that’s four more people than get some of my references. See? Arrogant!)
Every time, I tell myself I won’t do THAT again. Won’t make THAT mistake. And then I go and do it, cuz hey, this time it’s different, this time she’s different, trust your gut, not your head, it’s lumpy and Bert-shaped anyways, go for the thumpa-thumpa in your chest, can’t go wrong there. And then I’m sitting there later with my 5th Sam Adams wondering how I got there. And who knows how many other people at the bar (or in their respective living rooms) are doing the same thing as me, wondering what forces conspired to put them in that particular spot with that particular blood-alcohol level.
Well, no one conspired. (Except those Freemasons, watch out for them, by golly.) Life’s just a series of reaction to stimuli. Some react better than others. I tend to have reacted quite poorly in recent times. (I’m saying “recent” since the time-frame seems to fluctuate on my mood. Right about now I’m going back roughly 14 months, give or take. Last week it was 6. And 3 weeks ago…yea, let’s not go there.) I’ve reacted to false/misread stimuli, and sometimes that stimuli in and of itself was false. Doesn’t mean future stimuli will be, just means I have to keep my guard up. We’re not doomed to relive the past, but we can’t forget it either.
That’s what I told my friend the last time I saw her. The friend who I hurt so badly today. That was a good day we had. Good times. More to come, I hope. With her, and others as well. I’m not all bad, but I’m certainly not all good, either, not by a long shot. No one seems to care as much as I do, but I’m fine as my own worst critic: I’ve held the position for nearly 28 years now. Need to face the worst of me to bring out the best in me. Hope to give you that here on the site. But more importantly, I hope to give that to my friends and loved ones in the weeks and months to come.
I often fall short, but it’s never for lack of trying.