Monday, August 8, 2011

It’s not you, it’s me

I’m tired. I feel like I need to put a large distance between me and humanity because humanity has drained me of my last bit of energy. Unfortunately space travel of that magnitude still eludes us and if it didn’t there’d be other bastards out there (in space) and I would bump into them.

I was at the hairdressers on Saturday and not only did I disappoint my hairdresser by not cutting my hair this time instead only opting for color but I had to sit through listening to this extremely inane woman’s conversation. It makes me sad upsetting my hairdresser because she’s so nice. It makes my head hurt listening to extremely inane conversations.

My hairdresser is young and smart. She quickly ascertained that I was in a mental death state, got me a cappuccino and a tiny muffin, and left me skulking with a Madison magazine while the color was doing its thing.

The inane conversation woman, another middle-aged hair dresser, middle-aged is now dangerously close to being where I am whether I care to admit it or not, was happily droning on and on about TV programs, coloring and other things that made my brain want to explode. I lacked the energy though, fortunately. I was left trying to figure out why people like that seem so much more content with life. They’re so blissfully unaware of what goes on around them and how little sense the things that come out of their mouths make. They have no need to analyse anything or everything for that matter. They just do. They just flow through life while their mouths endlessly narrate their lives in the worst possible way. I envy them. They’re just so much happier than I am.

So I’ve decided that I need to change tack and make like a Zen monk. I need to come to the full realisation that the frustration I feel over others’ inability to make (the right) decisions, treat me like I have a brain despite the fact that I’m a woman, show people respect in general and be a little more tolerant over all, and all that other stuff that tend to make my blood simmer, if not boil, is not about them but about how I react to what they do.

I know right. I’m a bloody genius. Or not. Never mind. Because.

I’m going to learn to take the agro out of dealing with others by turning the other cheek, not being so emotionally invested, trusting that people are doing their best and generally enter each day after having taken a full dose, or maybe even a double dose, of I-don’t-give-a-fuck.

I’m going to enter each day reminding myself that the world won’t capsize and sink just because I don’t feel incensed over this, that or the other. It’s time, high time, that I learn to relax and allow whatever the hell is happening to just happen.You can’t control it all but you can try, right? It’s the trying that creates stress and a feeling of not fitting in. Sitting on your front porch watching the world go by knowing that’s all you need to do is a nice change for someone like me. It’s going to be hard though. It’s going to be hard as hell.

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