I've never been one to put up with much. I'm not afraid to stand up for myself and God help you if you go after someone I care about. I consider myself to be pretty easy going; I don't take myself particularly seriously. But like anyone, I have certain hot button topics. They've definitely been whittled down as I've gotten older but some are still there.
There's this prevalent culture today that being friends means teasing each other, and I'm okay with that. Witty banter in which you poke fun at yourself as well as your friends can be a lot of fun. But there are lines. Some are general lines that you shouldn't cross until you know the people well and you know they won't be offended and some are individual to a specific person. We all have baggage that has changed us or scarred us in some way. Friends know those boundaries and respect them.
So at what point do you give up on someone? That guy in the group who doesn't hesitate to cross the line if he thinks it'll get a laugh. Who's so casually cruel and revels in the power of being able to upset people. It's mind-boggling to me that anyone can have such callous disregard for people's feelings.
As you might guess, I have someone very specific in mind here. I'm not saying that he's an egomaniacal sociopath* but I just don't understand. He's very smart and witty and funny and most of the time he's relatively inoffensive. But every once in awhile he'll sucker punch someone where he knows it'll hurt most just to get a laugh. It's appalling but people laugh as long as they weren't the target. And if the person looks upset or actually says something to him he just laughs and apologizes like it wasn't a big deal.
I just don't get it. Maybe I'm being overly sensitive, but I don't really think I am.
Over a year ago, a few months after I first met this guy, was the first incident. I didn't know him very well at all (we just had mutual friends), but he ended up calling me fat twice in less than 24 hours. The first time I let it go because he was drunk, but the second time I told him it wasn't okay with me in a pleasant non-confrontational way. My mistake was saying the phrase "That's two." To which his immediate response was to lean in my face and scream "FAT!" I don't really remember what I said after that but I had a smile on my face and tears in my tears through the conversation.**
The thing is, I normally wouldn't care much if someone joked about it, but I was at a low point and wasn't feeling great about myself so it really dug in. Besides which, this guy didn't know me well enough to have any idea whether I could take that kind of joke. As a general rule, you don't tease girls about being fat.
Since then, I got to know him better. I listened to him talk about his break-up when he was really upset because no one else would listen because he was essentially an idiot. He on occasion asked me questions about my life that went beyond the usual surface-y party chit chat. I would have listed him as one of my good friends.
A few months ago, he threw out a joke about me being fat again. That time after he did it, I had a long conversation with him about why it isn't okay to say things that you know will hurt people. He countered with that he's smarter than other people so he pushes buttons to make them become better people because he can see what they need to work on and they can't. He didn't see any problem with his behavior and showed no remorse.
Last night, he and his housemates hosted a Thanksgiving dinner. Awhile after dinner a bunch of us were sitting around in the kitchen talking when he said "I can make someone storm out of the room in a rage with one sentence. Wanna see?" Without really waiting for a response he looked at me and said "Hey, have you gained weight?" I didn't say anything and probably wouldn't have responded at all, but then he came over and hugged me. I don't particularly appreciate physical contact from people I don't like. So I grabbed him by the hair and pulled him out to the living room and had the following conversation:
Me: How do you have any friends?
Him: Because I'm charming.
Me: No, you're an asshole.
Him: So?
Me: Okay.
And I walked back into the kitchen and continued talking with my friends. Because you know what? He isn't worth it. Him intimating I'd put on weight didn't bother me (I've actually lost weight), it was the fact that his only intention was to hurt me. This person who says that he's my friend and doesn't understand why I don't tell him anything about my personal life. Who is so desperate to be the center of attention that he'll look bad as long as all eyes are on him but doesn't seem to understand that actions have consequences. Who I've tried so hard to like in spite of himself.
I was upset, I was a good friend, I had a rational discussion, I caused him some physical pain. Nothing made any kind of a difference to him. But it's not really my problem. You can't change other people, you can only make them want to change themselves, and I don't have room in my life for someone like that.
It's really disappointing because he can be a lot of fun and I was hoping he'd turn out to be a better person. And yes, I'm judging him. We all judge people. I try really hard to not judge people based on my codes of morals and ethics because everyone has their own and they should be held accountable to those, not mine. But this streak of deliberate cruelty is something that I don't think I can overlook.
So I decided I'm done. He can be whatever kind of person he wants to be, it's not like we have any ties other than mutual friends. He's been officially relegated to the role of "that annoying guy who hangs out with my friends." Which is annoying in and of itself since there was already someone holding the fort in that area. Now I guess there're two.
*Except I am.
**The thing that made it worse is that my boyfriend at the time stood there silently for the whole thing. (The guy was his friend.)
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Making it count
My grandma died two days ago.
The past couple of days have been weird. I've never had anyone I know die before, let alone a family member. The thing is, I've never felt like my family is particularly tight-knit so I was kind of surprised about how much it affected me. I think I talked to her more in the past couple of months when she took a turn for the worse than I ever did before. I used to only see her maybe twice a year even though I always lived within a 45 minute drive and, for awhile, a lot closer than that. Now I live 2300 miles away and I feel guilty that I didn't talk to her more or visit with her more when I had the chance.
It's hard to realize that I don't know much about her, but when I think about the things I do know, it makes me realize the opportunity I've missed by not taking the time to know her better. She grew up in South Dakota but she left because she wanted to see the world. I don't know her whole story, but she went to Michigan and Florida and wound up in Kentucky. She was first generation German so she had a slight German accent which caused her some problems during WWII. She started smoking when working in a factory because smokers got smoke breaks and non-smokers didn't get any breaks at all. She didn't stop smoking when my grandpa died of a heart attack, but she quit cold turkey when my mom had my sister and said she wouldn't bring her baby to a house full of smoke. She raised five kids and was a widow for far longer than she was a wife. She was opinionated and strong-willed, even at age 92. She was frustrated and sad because the arthritis in her knees made it hard for her to walk more than 10 feet and the glaucoma and macular degeneration caused her to be almost completely blind.
There are so many gaps in that story that I'll never be able to fill in.
One thing that I frequently do is stop and think "Am I truly happy doing what I doing, right now, in this moment?" Most of the time the answer is yes, even if I'm just watching TV and crocheting or reading a book. But I've been thinking the past couple of days that maybe that isn't the right question to ask. Maybe I should be asking "Am I making the most of this moment?" Because there are so many things that I want to do; so many plans that I have. All too frequently, I put my bigger goals on the back burner and focus on the smaller ones. Sure, finishing a blanket feels good, but when my goal for the day was to work on NaNoWriMo, it's still kind of a failure.
I need to make the time that I have count. I have lists of things I want to accomplish but they never quite get done or, sometimes, even started. And I have all kinds of excuses, money and time being the main ones, but they're still excuses. I firmly believe that if you truly want something then it will happen which makes me wonder if I just don't want anything badly enough. Shouldn't you have some goal, some over-arching reason for your life? I think that people do, and that it's different for everyone. For some it's a certain career, to be a parent, to find true love, to make a difference in the world . . . I thought for me it was just to be happy, however that might come about. But it's so intangible, I don't really know how to get there. So sometimes I feel like I'm flailing through life, following wrong paths and missing the signposts.
It makes me feel helpless. And maybe that's part of the reason why my grandma's death means so much more to me than I thought it would. For a long time I thought I was afraid of old people, but eventually I realized I was afraid of being helpless. Not being able to see or hear or move, not being in control. And the terrifying knowledge that things were never going to be better than the way they were the day before. Maybe those things aren't as scary if you've lived a long and full life, but to me, right now, it's almost paralyzing. I don't want to be 92 years old and feel like I've wasted my life.
So I'm going to make a concerted effort to pull myself out of these doldrums I've been in for the past couple of days and, instead of lamenting opportunities missed, do my best to celebrate my grandma by following through on my dreams and not backing down because something is hard.
It does make me happy to think that, after over 40 years apart, she's with my grandpa again.
The past couple of days have been weird. I've never had anyone I know die before, let alone a family member. The thing is, I've never felt like my family is particularly tight-knit so I was kind of surprised about how much it affected me. I think I talked to her more in the past couple of months when she took a turn for the worse than I ever did before. I used to only see her maybe twice a year even though I always lived within a 45 minute drive and, for awhile, a lot closer than that. Now I live 2300 miles away and I feel guilty that I didn't talk to her more or visit with her more when I had the chance.
It's hard to realize that I don't know much about her, but when I think about the things I do know, it makes me realize the opportunity I've missed by not taking the time to know her better. She grew up in South Dakota but she left because she wanted to see the world. I don't know her whole story, but she went to Michigan and Florida and wound up in Kentucky. She was first generation German so she had a slight German accent which caused her some problems during WWII. She started smoking when working in a factory because smokers got smoke breaks and non-smokers didn't get any breaks at all. She didn't stop smoking when my grandpa died of a heart attack, but she quit cold turkey when my mom had my sister and said she wouldn't bring her baby to a house full of smoke. She raised five kids and was a widow for far longer than she was a wife. She was opinionated and strong-willed, even at age 92. She was frustrated and sad because the arthritis in her knees made it hard for her to walk more than 10 feet and the glaucoma and macular degeneration caused her to be almost completely blind.
There are so many gaps in that story that I'll never be able to fill in.
One thing that I frequently do is stop and think "Am I truly happy doing what I doing, right now, in this moment?" Most of the time the answer is yes, even if I'm just watching TV and crocheting or reading a book. But I've been thinking the past couple of days that maybe that isn't the right question to ask. Maybe I should be asking "Am I making the most of this moment?" Because there are so many things that I want to do; so many plans that I have. All too frequently, I put my bigger goals on the back burner and focus on the smaller ones. Sure, finishing a blanket feels good, but when my goal for the day was to work on NaNoWriMo, it's still kind of a failure.
I need to make the time that I have count. I have lists of things I want to accomplish but they never quite get done or, sometimes, even started. And I have all kinds of excuses, money and time being the main ones, but they're still excuses. I firmly believe that if you truly want something then it will happen which makes me wonder if I just don't want anything badly enough. Shouldn't you have some goal, some over-arching reason for your life? I think that people do, and that it's different for everyone. For some it's a certain career, to be a parent, to find true love, to make a difference in the world . . . I thought for me it was just to be happy, however that might come about. But it's so intangible, I don't really know how to get there. So sometimes I feel like I'm flailing through life, following wrong paths and missing the signposts.
It makes me feel helpless. And maybe that's part of the reason why my grandma's death means so much more to me than I thought it would. For a long time I thought I was afraid of old people, but eventually I realized I was afraid of being helpless. Not being able to see or hear or move, not being in control. And the terrifying knowledge that things were never going to be better than the way they were the day before. Maybe those things aren't as scary if you've lived a long and full life, but to me, right now, it's almost paralyzing. I don't want to be 92 years old and feel like I've wasted my life.
So I'm going to make a concerted effort to pull myself out of these doldrums I've been in for the past couple of days and, instead of lamenting opportunities missed, do my best to celebrate my grandma by following through on my dreams and not backing down because something is hard.
It does make me happy to think that, after over 40 years apart, she's with my grandpa again.
Friday, November 4, 2011
Yup, I'm a curmudgeon
Sometimes, with my job, I just really want to smack people. I mean, they can be entitled, inconsiderate, lazy, whiny, and insanely frustrating and I just have to smile and bite my tongue.* Once I have more of an established working relationship with someone I'll occasionally express a dissenting opinion in a (hopefully) mild way but for the most part I try to hold it in and rage out later in the privacy of my car on the freeway.
Essentially, I own my own business so when I work with people it's in a mutually beneficial business arrangement. I don't really feel the need to pander to people who I think treat me badly. A couple weeks ago I dissolved a business relationship** with someone who kept jerking me around on scheduling and was incredibly irresponsible. And yes, I lost money because of it that I kind of can't afford to lose but the stress that woman was putting in my life just was not worth the amount of money I was being paid.
It's completely bizarre to me how some people don't comprehend that actions have consequences. I don't even know how you can get to the adult portion of your life without having figured that out. I suppose if you live a charmed existence or are SERIOUSLY oblivious it might happen . . . but geez. It makes life for the people who have to deal with you pretty unpleasant.
I'm the first to admit I'm a bit of a stickler for being responsible and dependable. I hold people accountable for things whether it's personal or professional. I had this one friend in college who was surprised by my attitude several times. Once, I let her borrow my class notes for a weekend as long as she gave them back by Sunday night since we had a test on Tuesday. Well, she went home for the weekend (40 miles away) and forgot to bring them back. So when I asked her for my notes back and she said they were at home, I said "Then I guess you'd better go get them." I can see where some people would think that was harsh (she certainly did), but I did her a favor and her response was to ignore the impact her actions had on my grade. I was very serious about school and that was NOT okay with me. Another time I lent her a book and when she gave it back it was stained, the pages were folded and the cover was ripped. So I checked the price and told her she could replace it or give me $8 so that I could. Once again, she was flummoxed. In what world is it okay to destroy someone's property and then not replace it? I take care of my stuff because I want it to last for a long time. I still lend out books to people, but now I make sure they know up front that if they don't return it to me in like condition, they'll be buying me a new one. And they have without exception agreed that was perfectly reasonable.
Sometimes I feel like such a stick-in-the-mud because when people don't hold themselves accountable, I have to do it. Because, quite frankly, I'd rather be considered a fuddy duddy than let people walk all over me. I just wish people would man up and act like considerate adults instead of entitled toddlers. Then we could all be pleasant together and I wouldn't have to rant and rave and possibly have a stroke.
*To be fair, I work with some really awesome, respectful people too.
**I like to say I fired them because it makes me feel like a badass.
Essentially, I own my own business so when I work with people it's in a mutually beneficial business arrangement. I don't really feel the need to pander to people who I think treat me badly. A couple weeks ago I dissolved a business relationship** with someone who kept jerking me around on scheduling and was incredibly irresponsible. And yes, I lost money because of it that I kind of can't afford to lose but the stress that woman was putting in my life just was not worth the amount of money I was being paid.
It's completely bizarre to me how some people don't comprehend that actions have consequences. I don't even know how you can get to the adult portion of your life without having figured that out. I suppose if you live a charmed existence or are SERIOUSLY oblivious it might happen . . . but geez. It makes life for the people who have to deal with you pretty unpleasant.
I'm the first to admit I'm a bit of a stickler for being responsible and dependable. I hold people accountable for things whether it's personal or professional. I had this one friend in college who was surprised by my attitude several times. Once, I let her borrow my class notes for a weekend as long as she gave them back by Sunday night since we had a test on Tuesday. Well, she went home for the weekend (40 miles away) and forgot to bring them back. So when I asked her for my notes back and she said they were at home, I said "Then I guess you'd better go get them." I can see where some people would think that was harsh (she certainly did), but I did her a favor and her response was to ignore the impact her actions had on my grade. I was very serious about school and that was NOT okay with me. Another time I lent her a book and when she gave it back it was stained, the pages were folded and the cover was ripped. So I checked the price and told her she could replace it or give me $8 so that I could. Once again, she was flummoxed. In what world is it okay to destroy someone's property and then not replace it? I take care of my stuff because I want it to last for a long time. I still lend out books to people, but now I make sure they know up front that if they don't return it to me in like condition, they'll be buying me a new one. And they have without exception agreed that was perfectly reasonable.
Sometimes I feel like such a stick-in-the-mud because when people don't hold themselves accountable, I have to do it. Because, quite frankly, I'd rather be considered a fuddy duddy than let people walk all over me. I just wish people would man up and act like considerate adults instead of entitled toddlers. Then we could all be pleasant together and I wouldn't have to rant and rave and possibly have a stroke.
*To be fair, I work with some really awesome, respectful people too.
**I like to say I fired them because it makes me feel like a badass.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)