Observations...
So I finally realized something that has probably needled at me for goodness knows how long. Lol. You could probably term it apathy, but it depends how you look at it. Anyway. On to what I'm actually talking about. I can sit there and ask dozens of questions of someone, about how they feel, speculate why they react to certain things they do... as long as I'm not vulgar, people generally don't mind answering. They don't mind talking or being probed. Hell, I can dig pretty deep into the way a person operates without offending them. Not bragging, just experience. I was talking to a fella last night, name of Dave (aka the self admitted giant 8 year old from "Quotable Quotes") and was asking him a lot of various questions. Ya know, probing. We even discussed his girlfriends a bit and how they were always asking more than he was prepared to give. Finally I turned around and asked him how he could stand there and let me probe him without him having any questions of his own.
He told me that if I wanted him to know, I'd tell him.
Huh. I find that rather odd. Do you just tell a person "hey, I'm a depressed maniac"? Or does it come out through conversation, through questions, through getting to know a person? Dave would have never told me he was a complete rebel, but one that never really got into serious trouble unless I ASKED. I'm sorry, people just don't come out and say things.
But people don't ask anymore, either.
That why question is something I've asked a lot of people over the years. Why can I sit there and examine them and they'll never try to do the same to me? Maybe I'm just more curious, or maybe I actually want to get to know someone. I don't know. But in the right situation I'll fire off questions like nobody's business. I guess the point is that you know something, we're all complicated people and unless you ask someone, you're never going to get anywhere. I mean hell... where do you start? "Oh. My name's Robyn and I'm an artist." Oh yeah. Now what? Come on people! There's too much to me to explain in one sitting, too much to anyone! Far too much to sort through, to define, to analyze. Hell, if nothing else, asking questions gives a defined direction to explore in... instead of, "what now?" People AREN'T simply going to tell you everything you should know. You have to pry, dig, read between the lines, seek that understanding. And bloody hell. If someone takes the time to ask the questions, you might be surprised what you learn about yourself in the process. I don't know. Maybe I'm just being silly, but I know there's way too much I'll never even think to say unless asked.
On a completely different note, I finally found the bruise on my ankle from my fall down the steps. Lol. The bruise is on the INSIDE of my ankle, rather than on the outside where I hit it. I had a strong suspicion there wasn't enough space to actually bruise... course, by now the bruise is halfway healed and dim, but I finally found it. And my ankle still hurts on occasion. Bleh. I went skiing on it, which actually felt rather good, I might add; I think the support from the boot may have helped a lot. So I know it can't really be badly hurt, but I've never had a sprained ankle last this long. I mean... a week? And someone explain to me how you can sprain your ankle by hitting it. I mean really. It hurts because that bone that juts out of the side of my ankle smacked against the step... Somehow I don't think that equals a sprain. As for twisting it when I slipped... I don't think so. I simply slipped and fell on one side because the other leg was still on firm ground. Anyway. Enough rantage. In short, I think my mother is full of shit, my ankle still hurts (though not as bad) and the only reason I'm worried that I may have actually done something is because my pain tolerance is so high that I could have hurt it and not cared. Goodness sakes. I broke a tooth in half and it only hurt when the dentist got a hold of me. So you tell me.
Anyway. Rantage and rambling done. Off and out.
He told me that if I wanted him to know, I'd tell him.
Huh. I find that rather odd. Do you just tell a person "hey, I'm a depressed maniac"? Or does it come out through conversation, through questions, through getting to know a person? Dave would have never told me he was a complete rebel, but one that never really got into serious trouble unless I ASKED. I'm sorry, people just don't come out and say things.
But people don't ask anymore, either.
That why question is something I've asked a lot of people over the years. Why can I sit there and examine them and they'll never try to do the same to me? Maybe I'm just more curious, or maybe I actually want to get to know someone. I don't know. But in the right situation I'll fire off questions like nobody's business. I guess the point is that you know something, we're all complicated people and unless you ask someone, you're never going to get anywhere. I mean hell... where do you start? "Oh. My name's Robyn and I'm an artist." Oh yeah. Now what? Come on people! There's too much to me to explain in one sitting, too much to anyone! Far too much to sort through, to define, to analyze. Hell, if nothing else, asking questions gives a defined direction to explore in... instead of, "what now?" People AREN'T simply going to tell you everything you should know. You have to pry, dig, read between the lines, seek that understanding. And bloody hell. If someone takes the time to ask the questions, you might be surprised what you learn about yourself in the process. I don't know. Maybe I'm just being silly, but I know there's way too much I'll never even think to say unless asked.
On a completely different note, I finally found the bruise on my ankle from my fall down the steps. Lol. The bruise is on the INSIDE of my ankle, rather than on the outside where I hit it. I had a strong suspicion there wasn't enough space to actually bruise... course, by now the bruise is halfway healed and dim, but I finally found it. And my ankle still hurts on occasion. Bleh. I went skiing on it, which actually felt rather good, I might add; I think the support from the boot may have helped a lot. So I know it can't really be badly hurt, but I've never had a sprained ankle last this long. I mean... a week? And someone explain to me how you can sprain your ankle by hitting it. I mean really. It hurts because that bone that juts out of the side of my ankle smacked against the step... Somehow I don't think that equals a sprain. As for twisting it when I slipped... I don't think so. I simply slipped and fell on one side because the other leg was still on firm ground. Anyway. Enough rantage. In short, I think my mother is full of shit, my ankle still hurts (though not as bad) and the only reason I'm worried that I may have actually done something is because my pain tolerance is so high that I could have hurt it and not cared. Goodness sakes. I broke a tooth in half and it only hurt when the dentist got a hold of me. So you tell me.
Anyway. Rantage and rambling done. Off and out.