December 22nd, 2005
It's almost Christmas! (Heigh-ho, no-ni-o, &c.) And I am regularly snickering and glowing proudly with my gift for my wife. She reads these rants, so, of course, I can't divulge what it is, but I don't think she is expecting this one, and I am sure she will love it. (Actually, to make trouble and obfuscate the issue: There are two parts to her gift, one of which has already piqued her interest by its size and shape under the wrapping, heh heh heh.)
* * *
So last night I stayed up late with my can of Club Soda (such is my life these days: I've gone from late-night beer to late-night coffee to late-night fizzy water) and sat around wondering how I got to be so angry about some things. And I realised that what an old friend told me last night is very true: I wasn't constantly grumpy when I first met her six years ago, I wasn't grumpy when we worked together for two years, and, in fact, the only time I am grumpy is when I detect weakness and awkwardness in others.
That is, I detest those people who are awkward and start "faking it". Hmm ... and from such a simple irritant reputations grow. And I am fiercely protective of, generous with, and loyal to those people who are genuine. Furthermore, my friend reminded me, I start out granting respect and courtesy to all, and that erodes as people show artifice in their lives. My bullshit meter is extremely sensitive—as sensitive to fakery as a cat's ears are to loud noises.
You don't need to earn my respect; I'll start out respecting anyone, but it will fade with each successive piece of disingenuous bullshit.
So last night I ruminated on this and although I greatly appreciated what my friend had to say, she missed one, rather less altruistic part of me, which is that when I am at my angriest, I tilt at every single windmill that comes along. I am like the guy under arrest who fights with his captors until they subdue him with their night-sticks. That weakness of character—that all-encompassing "fight every battle" mentality will be the death of me.
* * *
So how did I get this way?
One of the greatest musical shames in my high school years was listening to Queen. I know, I can hear the boos and hisses from here (in anticipation, even). But sometimes I just put a tape of them quietly into my Walkman (remember those?) and walked the hallways amongst my classmates loudly humming Led Zeppelin and the Doors instead. (Well, not really: I was a computer geek in high school, so they all thought I was listening to Bach, Beethoven, and so on.)
Anyhow, Queen did a very punkish song from their News of the World album called, "Sheer Heart Attack" and it has the lyrics that neatly explain away pretty much anything. And so, here I borrow their explanation of how I got this way:
Hey hey hey hey
It was the DNA
Hey hey hey hey
That made me this way
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