5441: Lazy Lies
So here's one of those admissions of wrongness on my part. "To be fair," I have a decreasing tolerance for junk from unfamiliar sources, so when that .001% chance of a legit thing comes through on a day when I'm particularly "fuck this shit," of course it's gonna a splode in my face.
Specifically, C and I are (not surprisingly) invited to a certain (event), one of the participants being someone who grates on my nerves in a way I can't explain, other than one time that person publically tried to call me out on "jumping on a hate bandwagon" (which I could spend all day justifying but there maybe was a point where I laid it on too thick) and from that point I couldn't really bear that person's presence. I've come to realize this is sort of hypocritical, given a growing sentiment that people shouldn't be crucified for having said a stupid thing once on the internet over a decade ago, and it's been a fight to suppress that instinct to keep holding a grudge over basically nothing.
Anyway, I got a snail-mailed invite and, since it looked precisely like junk mail I've gotten in the past from a similarly dubious, unfamiliar source, I dumped it unopened into a doggy-doo bin.
I know it was the invite to the thing, because I spewed bile onto social media about "So-and-So sent mail addressed only to me and I don't know who that is, I don't accept strange mail at the apartment, only at my PO Box (unless it's addressed to C as well), I dumped that in the doggy-doo bin" and the person immediately responded that the unfamiliar senders were relatives, who sent the invites.
Shit in MY face! And I was doing so well at trying not to be horrible. (Okay, no I wasn't, but history should tell me that I typically relapse, and so spectacularly that the fallout is massive.)
So. I dunno. I kinda want to just delete my profile(s) and fuck it all, because clearly I don't belong on social media. Only regrets lie that way.
But at least I get to prove that I admit to being wrong =p (why do only the people most likely to a splode read social media 24/7... or did I answer my own question)
Edit: Latex gloves + rain + trash (almost no doggy-doo but still trash) + mortification at possibly being seen = due punishment for needless righteous indignation? (Will it sink in this time?)
Specifically, C and I are (not surprisingly) invited to a certain (event), one of the participants being someone who grates on my nerves in a way I can't explain, other than one time that person publically tried to call me out on "jumping on a hate bandwagon" (which I could spend all day justifying but there maybe was a point where I laid it on too thick) and from that point I couldn't really bear that person's presence. I've come to realize this is sort of hypocritical, given a growing sentiment that people shouldn't be crucified for having said a stupid thing once on the internet over a decade ago, and it's been a fight to suppress that instinct to keep holding a grudge over basically nothing.
Anyway, I got a snail-mailed invite and, since it looked precisely like junk mail I've gotten in the past from a similarly dubious, unfamiliar source, I dumped it unopened into a doggy-doo bin.
I know it was the invite to the thing, because I spewed bile onto social media about "So-and-So sent mail addressed only to me and I don't know who that is, I don't accept strange mail at the apartment, only at my PO Box (unless it's addressed to C as well), I dumped that in the doggy-doo bin" and the person immediately responded that the unfamiliar senders were relatives, who sent the invites.
Shit in MY face! And I was doing so well at trying not to be horrible. (Okay, no I wasn't, but history should tell me that I typically relapse, and so spectacularly that the fallout is massive.)
So. I dunno. I kinda want to just delete my profile(s) and fuck it all, because clearly I don't belong on social media. Only regrets lie that way.
But at least I get to prove that I admit to being wrong =p (why do only the people most likely to a splode read social media 24/7... or did I answer my own question)
Edit: Latex gloves + rain + trash (almost no doggy-doo but still trash) + mortification at possibly being seen = due punishment for needless righteous indignation? (Will it sink in this time?)