Operation Mini-Skirt Status: -46.2 lbs.
Mental State: Much improved.
Somebody stole my People magazine off my desk. I wasn't even finished reading it. I bet if I find my People, I'll find my copy of Vanity Fair, too. And while we're at it, maybe my damncheese will turn up alongside it. Bastards.
* * *
A conversation I had with Hamlet lots of years ago popped into my head today. We were talking about grudges, and how some people can actually forgive and forget, while others tend to carry torches of anger that will light the candles at the wedding of their first grandchild.
Self-righteously, I insisted that I was not one of those sorry people, and knew enough not to hold past mistakes against a person.
He said, "No, Mare. You don't carry grudges. You just pull aces out of your sleeve."
I paused, a little perturbed, and then asked him to elucidate.
"You're not brave enough or mean enough to carry a grudge. But every so often, someone manages to piss you off enough, so that you're able to pull out a past transgression, aim it, and hit the bull's eye."
"Yeah. You make 'em feel like shite with their own deeds."
I thought about that, and I have to admit that I was rather pleased with the analysis. Strong enough to forgive and put away yet smart enough to never forget. And most importantly, ballsy enough to throw a dart if I have to.
I look back on that now, and wonder when it all changed. When did I stop being kind enough to forgive a mistake, and start getting mean enough to remember every single one ever committed? Just as bad, when did I lose the courage to stand up for myself when my feelings were hurt? If I'm not letting go of all this bitterness, and I'm not throwing it back at the sources, all I'm doing it storing inside, right? All that does is form an almost toxic level of umbrage that poisons you against anyone and everyone. And that's just stupid. We've all got enough pop-psych knowledge to understand that a wall of resentment is circular, forming itself around you until there's no opening for anyone to get in.
So, when did it happen? When did I get unkind and unreasonable? I can think of... God... too many people, who've done something - sometimes innocently, sometimes not; some things insignificant, some things not - and for the life of me, every time I see them, whatever it was that turned me off or hurt my feelings just pops into my head. I can't seem to let it go. They don't know it... or at least, I hope they don't know it. I'd like to think that I'm smart enough to cover up the fact that I'm thinking stupidly. But it's there, nonetheless. I've tried. I've really tried. But... sometimes, with some people... the easy comfort level that was there before just... isn't, anymore, you know? And I never actually SAY anything about it. That's the worst part. Actually, no. Scratch that. The worst part is that I'll say something, but not to the offender in question. I'll tell my sister. I'll tell my friend. I'll complain bitterly and self-righteously. And... that's it. And, y'know? That's just not right. It's just not.
The moral of the story, boy and girls? Heartburn starts at home. So if the neighbour annoys you, make sure you let the bastard know, otherwise you may as well start buying Tums in bulk.
Have a lovely, bitter-free day, all.
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