Almost. F*cking. There. (Also, a flow of musings.)
No, I'm not almost fucking. Save for manual labor I'm nowhere near it at the moment. What I mean is that, well, my hair is ALMOST at the length I'm shooting for. (Pun not intended. Maybe.) Suffice it to say my hair would look ridiculous if it weren't for seasonal straightening treatments (the second of which having been applied yesterday), so to Alison of Sabrina Fair (is that how you spell your name?) I give much thanks. To Victoria of the Zane family, I love you mommy. I know you can't stand my hair being long, and, well, ... ... I love you, mommy.
I've been thinking, lately. Yes, I know, it's quite a shock, isn't it. It occurred to me lately how viciously hypocritical people can be sometimes. Especially me. For whatever reason, these days I've had this adorable pet peeve of "being teased." You know, like something out of elementary school, which is probably an excellent indicator of my own maturity level. Now, while chants of "watermelon head" and "Red Ranger Remy" are decidedly things of the past (I don't eat most fruits, and I'm more of a Green Ranger person, really), other times I've been surprisingly quick to act (or, rather, speak) at the slightest insult. It doesn't even have to be insulting. Tell me to get a job, and I'll agree with you. Call me a slouch, and I'll tell you to fuck off. That sort of thing.
Yet here I am, brilliant in my unbridled loquacity (doesn't that sound British-ish to you?), saying similar things to others. Friends. Romans, hell, even countrymen have been caught in my proverbial crosshairs. It's not something I'm proud of. In part because often times I don't even acknowledge what I say as teasing. Neither do those who "tease" me, in retrospect, but this is where things get interesting. The common response to being teased is to "get over it." Now, while as much of an Eagles fan as I am, I ask: does anyone else find that phrase voraciously offensive?
Say you've just been kicked in the balls. Or equivalent. Now, obviously the pain of a Nutcracker Parfait is going to go away over time, but for now, it still fucking hurts. If someone told you to "get over it," would you readily nod and move on? Fo' hell, no. The last thing we want is to a) suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous OUCH, and b) just let it slide. Here, it's not so much a matter of pride as it is logic. I don't mean "eye for an eye," outright, but for meat's sake. We don't want the safety of our gears of war compromised, do we?
To me, the same idea applies to the spoken word. It's my inherent right to defend myself - my words, beliefs, hair, etc. - at least until I've gotten my point across. My mother (hi, mommy!) sometimes gets startled when I try to defend myself, or when I take offense to something said. It doesn't happen a lot, I'd say, but when it does, the difference between us is pristine. Short story long, for anyone in a situation where they feel something's been violated, why not respond?
See, vocabulary and trivia fetish notwithstanding, I'm an idiot. Words flow from my mouth just as quickly and thoughtlessly as they do from my fingers (110 WPM, if anyone was curious). And yes, I've lost friends. Romans. Even countrymen have been irreparably offended by my actions. I'd like to think I've made good efforts in repairing as much of these bonds as possible, but sometimes people make it a point to hold a grudge. It's their own responsibility, yet at the same time it's at the very least a little bit of my own, as well.
A friend of mine once said that admitting bad things about yourself doesn't make them okay. I agree. At the same time, writing about them, at least, helps me realize what needs to be done. In this particular case, I need to shut the hell up.
MAN, I'm hungry.
I've been thinking, lately. Yes, I know, it's quite a shock, isn't it. It occurred to me lately how viciously hypocritical people can be sometimes. Especially me. For whatever reason, these days I've had this adorable pet peeve of "being teased." You know, like something out of elementary school, which is probably an excellent indicator of my own maturity level. Now, while chants of "watermelon head" and "Red Ranger Remy" are decidedly things of the past (I don't eat most fruits, and I'm more of a Green Ranger person, really), other times I've been surprisingly quick to act (or, rather, speak) at the slightest insult. It doesn't even have to be insulting. Tell me to get a job, and I'll agree with you. Call me a slouch, and I'll tell you to fuck off. That sort of thing.
Yet here I am, brilliant in my unbridled loquacity (doesn't that sound British-ish to you?), saying similar things to others. Friends. Romans, hell, even countrymen have been caught in my proverbial crosshairs. It's not something I'm proud of. In part because often times I don't even acknowledge what I say as teasing. Neither do those who "tease" me, in retrospect, but this is where things get interesting. The common response to being teased is to "get over it." Now, while as much of an Eagles fan as I am, I ask: does anyone else find that phrase voraciously offensive?
Say you've just been kicked in the balls. Or equivalent. Now, obviously the pain of a Nutcracker Parfait is going to go away over time, but for now, it still fucking hurts. If someone told you to "get over it," would you readily nod and move on? Fo' hell, no. The last thing we want is to a) suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous OUCH, and b) just let it slide. Here, it's not so much a matter of pride as it is logic. I don't mean "eye for an eye," outright, but for meat's sake. We don't want the safety of our gears of war compromised, do we?
To me, the same idea applies to the spoken word. It's my inherent right to defend myself - my words, beliefs, hair, etc. - at least until I've gotten my point across. My mother (hi, mommy!) sometimes gets startled when I try to defend myself, or when I take offense to something said. It doesn't happen a lot, I'd say, but when it does, the difference between us is pristine. Short story long, for anyone in a situation where they feel something's been violated, why not respond?
See, vocabulary and trivia fetish notwithstanding, I'm an idiot. Words flow from my mouth just as quickly and thoughtlessly as they do from my fingers (110 WPM, if anyone was curious). And yes, I've lost friends. Romans. Even countrymen have been irreparably offended by my actions. I'd like to think I've made good efforts in repairing as much of these bonds as possible, but sometimes people make it a point to hold a grudge. It's their own responsibility, yet at the same time it's at the very least a little bit of my own, as well.
A friend of mine once said that admitting bad things about yourself doesn't make them okay. I agree. At the same time, writing about them, at least, helps me realize what needs to be done. In this particular case, I need to shut the hell up.
MAN, I'm hungry.