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Things I have learned about myself
Feb. 21st, 2014 10:44 amI do a lot of self-study. Not navel gazing, really, and certainly not any kind of soul-searching or angsty XXXX. But I like to throw a little thought against why I think certain things, react certain ways, follow my thought processes through to see why I’m behaving a certain way. So, when I judge someone’s character because they’re driving a pick-up truck with a gun rack in the back, who cuts me off in traffic, I can self-check – hey, that’s jumping a bit to conclusions, unfair, and sort of classist of you, maybe he didn’t even see you, it’s not like you haven’t done that by mistake. On the other hand, when I judge someone’s character because they’re driving a pick-up truck, have a gun rack in the back, cut me off in traffic and have a confederate flag decal in their window, then my self-check says “yep, you can totally judge him, carry on.” Of course, in addition to sometimes course-correcting my thinking about things, learning a bit about how I mentally got to certain places, there are certain realizations that I don’t particularly feel a need to change…AND are not terribly useful or inspiring in terms of personal growth and self-knowledge. They’re pilling up. So, I thought I’d get some of them out of my head.
Things I know about myself:
I would never go on a tour bus that had Kewl Tours written on the side, no matter where it was going, because I just couldn’t support the word “Kewl”.
I will never be called a fashionista. I consider shopping for clothes and shoes a painful chore. I don’t understand why, when I find something I like, the company can’t keep making that same thing for the rest of my life so that I never again have to think about sneakers or jeans. It’s just as well, though, since every time I hear the word fashionista, I’m nearly overcome with the urge to punch someone in the face.
My ability to forget things is amazing. It took me from November to mid-January to bring in a blanket to throw over my legs at work -- the cold air rolls off the window and down to my legs…so cold air on my legs, warm air blowing on my head, I constantly felt like I was being gripped by some sudden onset influenza. I felt like that day after day after day for 2 and a half months before I FINALLY remembered to bring a throw in. So, I suppose I should feel better about the library books that I’ve now forgotten to put in my car for three days running, right? (Please don’t try and be helpful by suggesting tips here. I am impervious to reminders/notes and other techno hints. For a while, I thought I’d latched onto having Google calendar send me reminders. But I am amazingly good at ignoring them, not logging on, swiping them away and instantly forgetting. I’d invite you into my memory palace, but the roof keeps caving in.
I will never answer a message from someone on a dating site if they do not capitalize the letter “I” when it’s being used as a personal pronoun. Seriously. You are either incredibly sloppy, terribly lazy, or a teenager. And I’m not dating any combination of that.
I get frustrated with myself because there are piles of crap everywhere – bedroom, kitchen, office, at work. I resolved to get my act together this year – and I’ve been ruthless at offloading stuff to the trash, thrift stores, etc. Organizing and putting all the things in their places. It now takes me twice as long to get dressed because I don’t know where anything is. It’s all in drawers and hanging up, so now I have to find the right drawer. In taking all of Christmas and all-season ribbons and giftwrap downstairs, I somehow managed to lose my entire bin of non-Christmas gift wrap. Seriously. A long bin, holding maybe a dozen rolls of wrapping paper, has disappeared somewhere between the office, where it was, and the basement, where it was going. I’ve looked everywhere. Gone. I mean, not gone. Clearly, at some point in looking through the entire house, I’ve looked right at it. And instead of thinking “oh, there’s a long, clear, shallow, rectangular bin holding the wrapping paper, THERE it is” I’ve looked right at it and thought “gee, another bin of sweaters”. Because I will become delusional just to prove to myself that being organized is a stupid waste of time. I’m only hoping that once I’ve gone through the whole house, there will be some kind of ouroborosing of the space time continuum and all of the “hidden” things will be flushed out.
Things I know about myself:
I would never go on a tour bus that had Kewl Tours written on the side, no matter where it was going, because I just couldn’t support the word “Kewl”.
I will never be called a fashionista. I consider shopping for clothes and shoes a painful chore. I don’t understand why, when I find something I like, the company can’t keep making that same thing for the rest of my life so that I never again have to think about sneakers or jeans. It’s just as well, though, since every time I hear the word fashionista, I’m nearly overcome with the urge to punch someone in the face.
My ability to forget things is amazing. It took me from November to mid-January to bring in a blanket to throw over my legs at work -- the cold air rolls off the window and down to my legs…so cold air on my legs, warm air blowing on my head, I constantly felt like I was being gripped by some sudden onset influenza. I felt like that day after day after day for 2 and a half months before I FINALLY remembered to bring a throw in. So, I suppose I should feel better about the library books that I’ve now forgotten to put in my car for three days running, right? (Please don’t try and be helpful by suggesting tips here. I am impervious to reminders/notes and other techno hints. For a while, I thought I’d latched onto having Google calendar send me reminders. But I am amazingly good at ignoring them, not logging on, swiping them away and instantly forgetting. I’d invite you into my memory palace, but the roof keeps caving in.
I will never answer a message from someone on a dating site if they do not capitalize the letter “I” when it’s being used as a personal pronoun. Seriously. You are either incredibly sloppy, terribly lazy, or a teenager. And I’m not dating any combination of that.
I get frustrated with myself because there are piles of crap everywhere – bedroom, kitchen, office, at work. I resolved to get my act together this year – and I’ve been ruthless at offloading stuff to the trash, thrift stores, etc. Organizing and putting all the things in their places. It now takes me twice as long to get dressed because I don’t know where anything is. It’s all in drawers and hanging up, so now I have to find the right drawer. In taking all of Christmas and all-season ribbons and giftwrap downstairs, I somehow managed to lose my entire bin of non-Christmas gift wrap. Seriously. A long bin, holding maybe a dozen rolls of wrapping paper, has disappeared somewhere between the office, where it was, and the basement, where it was going. I’ve looked everywhere. Gone. I mean, not gone. Clearly, at some point in looking through the entire house, I’ve looked right at it. And instead of thinking “oh, there’s a long, clear, shallow, rectangular bin holding the wrapping paper, THERE it is” I’ve looked right at it and thought “gee, another bin of sweaters”. Because I will become delusional just to prove to myself that being organized is a stupid waste of time. I’m only hoping that once I’ve gone through the whole house, there will be some kind of ouroborosing of the space time continuum and all of the “hidden” things will be flushed out.
