balcony-tanned
When words are all one has to go on, then it is on these words that an impression is formed. If no further explanation is made, then the plain meaning of the words will be taken. If there are no actions to refute the obvious meaning, then that is the understanding that one will leave with.
For example:
You overhear me say, "I like cats."
You have neither seen me fawning over cats, nor beating one over the head with its own paw. In fact, you have never seen me around a cat in our daily interactions before. So after I say what I said, you leave thinking, "she likes cats."
You run through the possible meanings this may take:
1) I like cats in general.
2) I like cats... for dinner.
3) I like Cats, the overrated Andrew Lloyd Webber musical.
You decide, quite sensibly, to stick with option 1.
Later on in your observations of me, I do nothing to indicate that I dislike cats. Nope, nothing at all. Moreover, at times I act in a way which indicates that my feelings for cats trump my feelings for, say, dogs.
Is it then so illogical, so unreasonable and so unwarranted for you to turn around one day and tell me that I like cats? It may possibly be inaccurate. Or perhaps, in the period between my last cat-biased actions and now, I was mauled by a vicious herd of them. Regardless, the conclusion that I like cats remains the most compelling and logical. If we required a full-on dissertation of every sentence uttered, communication would come to a standstill. Sometimes "I like cats" is simply that, and will be taken as such.
So take your judgments on my judgmental behaviour and shove it up your ass.
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It was an absolutely gorgeous day today, made better by the fact that I got someone to drag the sofa out onto the balcony and spent the day lounging on it in my bikini. I managed to get a pretty fierce tan, which is happy-making because, at the very least, it'll hide my horrible sandfly scars. I popped open my 42 Below (Manuka Honey flavoured!), set up the speakers I pinched from Geoff, started up the old iPod, and pulled out a book and a packet of smokes...
...and it was a perfect moment.
A few vodkas-on-the-rocks later, with Renata Tebaldi blaring from the speakers, I briefly toyed with the idea of fulfilling my flatmates' incessant requests for me to sunbathe topless...
...and you'll never know whether I did.
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I never did get my duckomelette though.
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For example:
You overhear me say, "I like cats."
You have neither seen me fawning over cats, nor beating one over the head with its own paw. In fact, you have never seen me around a cat in our daily interactions before. So after I say what I said, you leave thinking, "she likes cats."
You run through the possible meanings this may take:
1) I like cats in general.
2) I like cats... for dinner.
3) I like Cats, the overrated Andrew Lloyd Webber musical.
You decide, quite sensibly, to stick with option 1.
Later on in your observations of me, I do nothing to indicate that I dislike cats. Nope, nothing at all. Moreover, at times I act in a way which indicates that my feelings for cats trump my feelings for, say, dogs.
Is it then so illogical, so unreasonable and so unwarranted for you to turn around one day and tell me that I like cats? It may possibly be inaccurate. Or perhaps, in the period between my last cat-biased actions and now, I was mauled by a vicious herd of them. Regardless, the conclusion that I like cats remains the most compelling and logical. If we required a full-on dissertation of every sentence uttered, communication would come to a standstill. Sometimes "I like cats" is simply that, and will be taken as such.
So take your judgments on my judgmental behaviour and shove it up your ass.
--------------
It was an absolutely gorgeous day today, made better by the fact that I got someone to drag the sofa out onto the balcony and spent the day lounging on it in my bikini. I managed to get a pretty fierce tan, which is happy-making because, at the very least, it'll hide my horrible sandfly scars. I popped open my 42 Below (Manuka Honey flavoured!), set up the speakers I pinched from Geoff, started up the old iPod, and pulled out a book and a packet of smokes...
...and it was a perfect moment.
A few vodkas-on-the-rocks later, with Renata Tebaldi blaring from the speakers, I briefly toyed with the idea of fulfilling my flatmates' incessant requests for me to sunbathe topless...
...and you'll never know whether I did.
--------------
I never did get my duckomelette though.
Permalink