Yearly Archives: 2004

The Difference Between Rude And Inconsiderate

I just stopped at Timmies before work this morn­ing, with a large triple triple in my hand, and a caramel pecan cook­ie in the oth­er. I had to maneu­ver the cof­fee and cook­ie around because it was too hot to hold by its sides, and I did this as I was walk­ing out the door. Without think­ing, I let the door close behind me. As I step out­side, I hear a lady say, “Tanks for ‘old­ing the door” in a loud, grumpy, sar­cas­tic tone. I usu­al­ly hold the door open if I see some­one behind me, but I was still wak­ing up, I did­n’t see her, and my mind was else­where. Normally, I would feel ter­ri­ble for being so incon­sid­er­ate, but I real­ly did­n’t feel bad at all after she said what she said. I actu­al­ly wished that the door slammed in her face, spilling her cof­fee all over her proud­ly worn blue Magic School Bus shirt, stain­ing it for­ev­er, and that she would slump in the door-frame, sob­bing, because it was the final gift from the debil­i­tat­ed grand­daugh­ter she had just put in the ground. At least what I did was an acci­dent, one that I’m not prone to let hap­pen, but what she said I con­sid­er even more rude.

Trolley and I had this dis­cus­sion a lit­tle while ago. We both agree that it’s rude to keep a seat occu­pied with a bag on a busy bus, but it’s even more rude to walk up to a bagged seat, then com­plain loud­ly and rude­ly about the own­er. There are ways of polite­ly doing things that just make things go eas­i­er for every­one. Interesting, how the first per­son to take the step in being polite is the one in con­trol, but few peo­ple actu­al­ly take the risk because they assume an unapolo­getic per­son.

Anyway, I need some cof­fee in me.

So go the fuck away.

Collapse

It’s been a long, exhaust­ing, uncom­fort­able-in-clothes, hard-to-focus day. I got a lot done though, so at least I feel sat­is­fied. I can final­ly col­lapse, for the first time, on my new futon, duvet, and down pil­low, with my blue-green Aduki in my hand and Loo by my side.

The Cracking Sky

I already knew that I had a lot to learn, but it’s only now that I’m feel­ing a lit­tle over­whelmed. Sometimes it feels like I can’t keep track of every­thing, because there are so many things to think, talk, write about.

I have to keep in mind the fact that every­thing should be approached slow­ly. Rushing caus­es con­fu­sion, mix-ups of emo­tion. As much as I’d like to jump head-first into things, I have to pace myself. Learning is an invest­ment, and as long as I can pic­ture what I’m work­ing towards, this should­n’t be too hard. After all, I have the rest of my life, and the only lim­it is myself.

This will be a test.

But, most of all, this will be fun.

I've Been Here Before

Ever look at a morn­ing and think, “I’ve been here before. I was here in the sum­mers of my youth, when the leaves were still lush­ly green, in the cool, dew-dropped morn­ings before the sun rose above the trees. I was here dur­ing the first morn­ings of school, walk­ing to the bus stop through gen­tle sub­ur­ban neigh­bour­hoods, with their well-man­i­cured lawns and their inter­lock­ing bricks. I was here before the Sunday rides into town, for big break­fasts and milk tea. I was here in anoth­er life, and all I’d like is to one day do it all over again.”

Don't Interrupt Me

I hate being inter­rupt­ed. When I’m talk­ing about some­thing, I get into a momen­tum, and inter­rup­tions lose all the momen­tum. It does­n’t mat­ter what I’m talk­ing about or how comfortable/uncomfortable I am talk­ing about it. To me, it’s like try­ing to tell a joke then being told to wait five min­utes right before the punch­line. Although some­one may remem­ber the first part, the momen­tum just dies, and I’d rather just for­get the whole thing than fin­ish talk­ing.