(2) Speaking of delusional people
Ever knew someone who never seemed to be fully adjusted to the ways of the outside world? Ever notice how it more often than not, it seems that no matter what the circumstances, no matter what may have caused or have come of, that no amount of fault lies with them when recanting the story?
Well, a couple days ago, I commented on a post over on Black Folks Don't Swim (which you really should be reading, BTW) that made me think of such a thing.
What the post dealt with was a dude who met a girl, who would have been the unattainable female ideal, perfect skin, perfect face, perfect body, college student -- you know the drill, a combination that just rarely exists outside of movies.
One problem, and it was major one. As an athlete, she apparently had a chronic B.O. problem and apparently had never addressed it.
That made me think for a whole day about my response... Well, I thought about my response the same day, but I played ball that evening and knocked off on the couch after cooking dinner and taking a shower. Oops.
In fact, you should go and read that post for some context before continuing.
Anyway, my response, in a nutshell, was...
No, I make no claims to perfection. Perusal of prior blogs document every issue I will be bothered to present to you, from alcoholism, weight management, foul language, generally surly disposition, and many other things. I own these things, and would be foolish to hide or deny them. I am an asshole, but in no way do I present myself as justified. When I piss people off, I secretly go into my bathroom and cry. Or not.
My imperfections are what validate me as a human being. I know my shit stinks (very badly, mind you), as does various crevices of my body after physical engagement.
Not going to dwell on the B.O. thing, though.
Anyway, it that the meat and potatoes of that response is what I deemed worthy of actually blogging about. The fact that I work with one person as above described gives me a far more intimate view of this than I would EVER care to encounter.
[Phlip note - she's gaining weight and has a unibrow, now you should be able to guess which of 1 or 2 above using that information]
One time -- well several times -- in my life, I have been in the mall, at a restaurant, some other public venue and seen someone, then commented to whomever I was with "Man... tell her she ain't fly, you'd have to kill that bitch" usually to the chuckle of my company.
Ironically, more often than not, it is more a joke than an observation. If they had the presence of mind to be able to accept that what they do is not automatically great, simply because they're the one doing it, perhaps a better line of thought would be employed prior to making an ass of themselves. Or showing their ass. Or Kirking out on anyone who dare not bow to their every opinion. Or going to cry in the car.
I think I mentioned what may be cause of this over on Folk's blog, and while the first side of that is usually quite fundamental and obvious, the second sometimes remains a bit of a mystery. One common bond is usually born of being the only child, or having been the only child for an extended period of time. Conversely, being the baby child, especially that opposite of a way older sibling can create it as well and just the same. Funny is the fact that both of these situations are more or less JUST like being an only child anyway. Go figure. The end result is still some odd delusion.
Coming up through a situation where the first interaction is with no one but when the only people you interact with you have no real reason to question anything you do, your view on how things should be carried when entering regular society are generally fucked the fuck up by lack of experience.
Strangely, adapting never seems to be an option. I always say that when one person has issue with you, maybe up to a few, then it stands to reason that the problem is theirs. However, if you're the type to butt heads with damn near EVERYONE you interact with at some point, the jaws of life need to be employed in dislodging your head from your ass when attempting to talk to anyone about your favorite topic -- yourself.
You also might want to get back on your meds and into Dr. Drew's rehab as well.
One way to avoid dealing with the world as it is would be to create one of your own. A special little place where everything that happens to not be perfect has nothing to do with you. Almost like that dreamland that we all went to as children when we imagined what we would beif when we grow up. As children, when employed within reason, this makes us creative and imaginative, but as adults it makes us fucking delusional.
Anyway, I would be lying if I say I hadn't made acquaintances and/or friends of people like this. This flies in the face of my nature, as I never aim to make acquaintances or friends, shit happens. I generally make a point of trying to steer clear of situations where these quirky nuances and/or social ineptitude might make interaction difficult. Again, as a human being nothing is 100% avoidable.
In such, I stopped trying to understand people a long time ago. Well, I stopped tying to understand them further than the effort one should expend in determining just how close or far you should allow them. Live and let die I always say. I am not the one to try changing people, so it serves me little good to go about trying to figure people out, considering that is not a task for which I am compensated, and my mortgage requires a specific amount of money to be thrown at it on a monthly basis.
Well, a couple days ago, I commented on a post over on Black Folks Don't Swim (which you really should be reading, BTW) that made me think of such a thing.
What the post dealt with was a dude who met a girl, who would have been the unattainable female ideal, perfect skin, perfect face, perfect body, college student -- you know the drill, a combination that just rarely exists outside of movies.
One problem, and it was major one. As an athlete, she apparently had a chronic B.O. problem and apparently had never addressed it.
That made me think for a whole day about my response... Well, I thought about my response the same day, but I played ball that evening and knocked off on the couch after cooking dinner and taking a shower. Oops.
In fact, you should go and read that post for some context before continuing.
Anyway, my response, in a nutshell, was...
"There is a cell of people in the world who, in their minds, can do no wrong. This comes from one of two angles.
[Phlip note - well, that was most of the response anyway, so I guess it WASN'T in a nutshell, huh?]1 – They’re beautiful, in every sense of the world, perfect body and skin, perfect face, yaddayaddayadda… you get it.
2 – They’re the delusional type that won’t accept that yes, every once in a while YOU TOO can and do fuck up, quite often.
With either of these people, their behaviors become indicative of this. You say the girl was an athlete, great body and happened to have the face and skin to match? Well, that would make her an option one, and when you add the whole “athlete” thing with the caveat that she was actually good, which suggests that she has probably been at it since early childhood, you have created the perfect storm where someone spends their whole lives being told they’re the sh*t AND are totally socially inept by way of lack of interaction.
When all she knows is track, track and track, it stands to reason that smelling like sweat is normal, considering the most of people she interacts with on the regular are also sweaty and likely reeking of booty funk.
Just my opinion, of course."
No, I make no claims to perfection. Perusal of prior blogs document every issue I will be bothered to present to you, from alcoholism, weight management, foul language, generally surly disposition, and many other things. I own these things, and would be foolish to hide or deny them. I am an asshole, but in no way do I present myself as justified. When I piss people off, I secretly go into my bathroom and cry. Or not.
My imperfections are what validate me as a human being. I know my shit stinks (very badly, mind you), as does various crevices of my body after physical engagement.
Not going to dwell on the B.O. thing, though.
Anyway, it that the meat and potatoes of that response is what I deemed worthy of actually blogging about. The fact that I work with one person as above described gives me a far more intimate view of this than I would EVER care to encounter.
[Phlip note - she's gaining weight and has a unibrow, now you should be able to guess which of 1 or 2 above using that information]
One time -- well several times -- in my life, I have been in the mall, at a restaurant, some other public venue and seen someone, then commented to whomever I was with "Man... tell her she ain't fly, you'd have to kill that bitch" usually to the chuckle of my company.
Ironically, more often than not, it is more a joke than an observation. If they had the presence of mind to be able to accept that what they do is not automatically great, simply because they're the one doing it, perhaps a better line of thought would be employed prior to making an ass of themselves. Or showing their ass. Or Kirking out on anyone who dare not bow to their every opinion. Or going to cry in the car.
I think I mentioned what may be cause of this over on Folk's blog, and while the first side of that is usually quite fundamental and obvious, the second sometimes remains a bit of a mystery. One common bond is usually born of being the only child, or having been the only child for an extended period of time. Conversely, being the baby child, especially that opposite of a way older sibling can create it as well and just the same. Funny is the fact that both of these situations are more or less JUST like being an only child anyway. Go figure. The end result is still some odd delusion.
Coming up through a situation where the first interaction is with no one but when the only people you interact with you have no real reason to question anything you do, your view on how things should be carried when entering regular society are generally fucked the fuck up by lack of experience.
Strangely, adapting never seems to be an option. I always say that when one person has issue with you, maybe up to a few, then it stands to reason that the problem is theirs. However, if you're the type to butt heads with damn near EVERYONE you interact with at some point, the jaws of life need to be employed in dislodging your head from your ass when attempting to talk to anyone about your favorite topic -- yourself.
You also might want to get back on your meds and into Dr. Drew's rehab as well.
One way to avoid dealing with the world as it is would be to create one of your own. A special little place where everything that happens to not be perfect has nothing to do with you. Almost like that dreamland that we all went to as children when we imagined what we would be
Anyway, I would be lying if I say I hadn't made acquaintances and/or friends of people like this. This flies in the face of my nature, as I never aim to make acquaintances or friends, shit happens. I generally make a point of trying to steer clear of situations where these quirky nuances and/or social ineptitude might make interaction difficult. Again, as a human being nothing is 100% avoidable.
In such, I stopped trying to understand people a long time ago. Well, I stopped tying to understand them further than the effort one should expend in determining just how close or far you should allow them. Live and let die I always say. I am not the one to try changing people, so it serves me little good to go about trying to figure people out, considering that is not a task for which I am compensated, and my mortgage requires a specific amount of money to be thrown at it on a monthly basis.
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