Freak out, in la vie de TKP
So I'm driving back from Borders after having obtained both a "Snape is a bad bad man" and a "Trust Snape" sticker (also having, with my friend, chatted up the book store clerk, who said we were cool 'cause we stood there and swapped Harry Potter theories with him, but he was only sweet in a I wanted to pet him way, because he was a foot shorter than me. I am very tall!). I'm in the right lane, pretty close to home (but not in my neighborhood yet), and it's 10.30 pm. The car in front of me doesn't move on the green light, so I'm going to pull out around him and turn, but then the light turns red again, so I'm sitting there in the left lane beside the stopped car. The guy inside motions for me to roll down my window; I do, and he asks for a jump. I tell him I didn't have any cables (which is possibly a lie; I have no idea what's in my trunk). He says he has cables, and I say, "I'm sorry, I think you need to find someone else." The guy says, "Okay, thank you, have a nice night" in an extremely polite, non-sarcastic voice, and I drive away.
I am so traumatized over this right now. Part of me feels like I did a smart thing. A lone woman, even a very tall one with not so narrow shoulder, 10.30 on a week night so there's not so many cars around, getting out of her car to help a lone man is never a bright idea in hack slash movies. Nice people get their teeth filed to nubs, their toes sent to their mothers, and their eyeballs licked by serial killers--didn't you know? But then again, it was only 10.30. We were at a brightly lit intersection. Another car was coming up, and I've been there enough at that time to know cars come up fairly regularly, even if at any given moment you're not gauranteed to have someone there besides Very Tall You and Some Guy Who Needs A Jump. And dude, if he did need a jump, if everyone's as assholic as me, he's so screwed. Though I guess he could just call someone. I comfort myself with the idea that if I had a penis I would've helped out.
The other thing that I guess I find so distressing about this is the people outside Starbucks who ask me for money. I know what people always say about people asking for money--they don't want food or gas or a blanket, they want booze or cigarettes or drugs or whatever. Whatever, the thing is, when people ask, the first thing out of my mouth is "I'm not carrying cash" (which is only true half the time. But I really don't often carry trash.) The next thing I always want to say is, "But I'll buy you a sandwich or some snacks." And yet, I never do. I always think of it; I always want to. And then I don't. Why? I don't know.
ETA: er, the way the jumping-the-guy's-car issue connects to the buying-sandwiches issue is I don't think it was just my fear for my safety that made me say no to Jump Guy. It was also something that's closer to why, in the end, I don't buy anyone sandwiches, and that is: an inherent suspicion of others (esp. those who ask for things), and my anxiety (elaborated below) in regards to both helping others and giving things to people, which can be two very different things but all hazed together here in one big rant against myself, just because I'm feeling angsty. It will pass, no doubt more quickly than it should.
I find it appalling--in myself; I don't care what other people do. I find it appalling because to me, it is totally worth it to shell out an extra five dollars for a sandwich whenever someone asks me for money (it doesn't happen that often, anyway), even if they don't want a sandwich. It's worth it even if they're just trying to see what they can mooch off other people, worth it if it's a trick, worth it if they're a junkie strung out who'll never clean up; it's worth it because it doesn't hurt me any, and because if they are starving, or even just really hungry, I made someone feel a little better. It would be way more worth it to find them a homeless shelter and drive them to it, but there's that whole, me, lone woman, you, stranger thing. Also the fact that some people actually don't want a homeless shelter. But whatever. Sandwich, least I can do, I feel like. And yet, I don't do it.
The worst part is it always happens at Starbucks. I love Starbucks coffee, but the prices are insane; as die hard as I am about coffee, it's not worth it on my salary. I only go there when a. my friends want to meet up there, or b. Daddy bought my a Sbux cash card for Valentine's Day. The thing is though that to me, Starbucks is all about extravagance. You go there when you've got money burning a hole in your pocket. So the reason I can't use five dollars on the card for someone I don't know is because . . .?
I suck at giving. I wanted to buy the person I relieve at the desk I sit at at work coffee, because whenever I came in with Starbucks I always thought, "oh, it would be so nice to have some to give him!" But I felt so weird and self-conscious about it, worried he'd think I was coming on to him, worried he would think he had to give me something in return, worried he wouldn't like it and feel compelled to drink it--I stressed about this way more than I've ever stressed about everything else to do with my job combined.
Even with people I really know well, friends and family, I flip over gifts. In the end, I hate to give them, but I really don't think it's because I'm not a generous person, or don't feel joy in making other people happy. It's because I do the worry thing. And it has to be the *perfect* present, and if I can't think of one or obtain one, I just don't give anything at all (still haven't given my brother CHRISTMAS gifts). And I get all these thoughts, like oh, I could get my Mom this, or my friend this, or send my online buddy this--but I end almost *never* just giving or sending anyone anything out of the blue, because I freeze up inside with all that angst.
ETA: Another thing. It's not just physical objects you have to pay for that I freeze up about giving. It's stuff like . . . fb. And returning emails. I feel like if I can't articulate my thoughts about it, or really give you the thought and analysis you, your post, your fic, or your message deserve, I get absolutely paralyzed. If I've ever just broken off email contact with you suddenly, that's why. *coughs*KandAmy*coughs*
I really dislike all this about myself and I feel so much better having ranted about it. I would like to write it up now in a much more amusing, less emo and hair-pulling style, but WHATEVER. Deal. This is my gift to you. Oh, and if you feel compelled, I'm not looking for reassurance here. Well, possibly I am about not giving the guy a jump because I feel so incredibly awful about that. Though if you think I did the wrong thing, I'd want to know. I *almost* turned around and went back about five different times. But anyway, it's not the things I do do. I try to be nice! And I try to give every once in a while. It's all the times I *think* of giving and don't that really make me feel sickly. I think I will make it a rule for myself that every time I go to Starbucks I will have to buy something for someone who is not me. Yes, I'm paying off my conscious. Yes, it does make me feel better.
*loves you all so hard*
I am so traumatized over this right now. Part of me feels like I did a smart thing. A lone woman, even a very tall one with not so narrow shoulder, 10.30 on a week night so there's not so many cars around, getting out of her car to help a lone man is never a bright idea in hack slash movies. Nice people get their teeth filed to nubs, their toes sent to their mothers, and their eyeballs licked by serial killers--didn't you know? But then again, it was only 10.30. We were at a brightly lit intersection. Another car was coming up, and I've been there enough at that time to know cars come up fairly regularly, even if at any given moment you're not gauranteed to have someone there besides Very Tall You and Some Guy Who Needs A Jump. And dude, if he did need a jump, if everyone's as assholic as me, he's so screwed. Though I guess he could just call someone. I comfort myself with the idea that if I had a penis I would've helped out.
The other thing that I guess I find so distressing about this is the people outside Starbucks who ask me for money. I know what people always say about people asking for money--they don't want food or gas or a blanket, they want booze or cigarettes or drugs or whatever. Whatever, the thing is, when people ask, the first thing out of my mouth is "I'm not carrying cash" (which is only true half the time. But I really don't often carry trash.) The next thing I always want to say is, "But I'll buy you a sandwich or some snacks." And yet, I never do. I always think of it; I always want to. And then I don't. Why? I don't know.
ETA: er, the way the jumping-the-guy's-car issue connects to the buying-sandwiches issue is I don't think it was just my fear for my safety that made me say no to Jump Guy. It was also something that's closer to why, in the end, I don't buy anyone sandwiches, and that is: an inherent suspicion of others (esp. those who ask for things), and my anxiety (elaborated below) in regards to both helping others and giving things to people, which can be two very different things but all hazed together here in one big rant against myself, just because I'm feeling angsty. It will pass, no doubt more quickly than it should.
I find it appalling--in myself; I don't care what other people do. I find it appalling because to me, it is totally worth it to shell out an extra five dollars for a sandwich whenever someone asks me for money (it doesn't happen that often, anyway), even if they don't want a sandwich. It's worth it even if they're just trying to see what they can mooch off other people, worth it if it's a trick, worth it if they're a junkie strung out who'll never clean up; it's worth it because it doesn't hurt me any, and because if they are starving, or even just really hungry, I made someone feel a little better. It would be way more worth it to find them a homeless shelter and drive them to it, but there's that whole, me, lone woman, you, stranger thing. Also the fact that some people actually don't want a homeless shelter. But whatever. Sandwich, least I can do, I feel like. And yet, I don't do it.
The worst part is it always happens at Starbucks. I love Starbucks coffee, but the prices are insane; as die hard as I am about coffee, it's not worth it on my salary. I only go there when a. my friends want to meet up there, or b. Daddy bought my a Sbux cash card for Valentine's Day. The thing is though that to me, Starbucks is all about extravagance. You go there when you've got money burning a hole in your pocket. So the reason I can't use five dollars on the card for someone I don't know is because . . .?
I suck at giving. I wanted to buy the person I relieve at the desk I sit at at work coffee, because whenever I came in with Starbucks I always thought, "oh, it would be so nice to have some to give him!" But I felt so weird and self-conscious about it, worried he'd think I was coming on to him, worried he would think he had to give me something in return, worried he wouldn't like it and feel compelled to drink it--I stressed about this way more than I've ever stressed about everything else to do with my job combined.
Even with people I really know well, friends and family, I flip over gifts. In the end, I hate to give them, but I really don't think it's because I'm not a generous person, or don't feel joy in making other people happy. It's because I do the worry thing. And it has to be the *perfect* present, and if I can't think of one or obtain one, I just don't give anything at all (still haven't given my brother CHRISTMAS gifts). And I get all these thoughts, like oh, I could get my Mom this, or my friend this, or send my online buddy this--but I end almost *never* just giving or sending anyone anything out of the blue, because I freeze up inside with all that angst.
ETA: Another thing. It's not just physical objects you have to pay for that I freeze up about giving. It's stuff like . . . fb. And returning emails. I feel like if I can't articulate my thoughts about it, or really give you the thought and analysis you, your post, your fic, or your message deserve, I get absolutely paralyzed. If I've ever just broken off email contact with you suddenly, that's why. *coughs*KandAmy*coughs*
I really dislike all this about myself and I feel so much better having ranted about it. I would like to write it up now in a much more amusing, less emo and hair-pulling style, but WHATEVER. Deal. This is my gift to you. Oh, and if you feel compelled, I'm not looking for reassurance here. Well, possibly I am about not giving the guy a jump because I feel so incredibly awful about that. Though if you think I did the wrong thing, I'd want to know. I *almost* turned around and went back about five different times. But anyway, it's not the things I do do. I try to be nice! And I try to give every once in a while. It's all the times I *think* of giving and don't that really make me feel sickly. I think I will make it a rule for myself that every time I go to Starbucks I will have to buy something for someone who is not me. Yes, I'm paying off my conscious. Yes, it does make me feel better.
*loves you all so hard*