Category Archives: Things

My sister used to say I need to filter what comes out of my mouth. I don’t take offence to this, as I know I’m prone to voice things in contexts that are not quite appropriate. For example, I am what some would call a religious person and in religious circles, if you say it’s okay to masturbate people will look at you like they want to have a shower. And then they will avoid you. Maybe some topics aren’t for all audiences.

I don’t want to talk about masturbation. My point is that sometimes my tongue gets me into trouble or makes me feel like I’ve failed. Everyone’s heat rises when they feel slighted, patronized or outright treated badly. Mine tends to spike, then I speak, then I think, then I am disappointed. Because even if I’m justified, I feel like I should be more zen or something.

I have learned how much life can suck if you voice every crappy thing that happens. You know what? When things are crappy and you can’t change that they’re crappy, there is only one solution. DON’T THINK ABOUT IT.

You can, and maybe should, talk about things for a time to your favourite  sounding board. I mean, we relate to people by discussing both the good and the bad in life; there is some emotional benefit to doing that. But the old adage that it’s good to get absolutely everything off your chest so you don’t bottle things up and explode later on is just not true. Because the more people you talk to about a crappy thing, the more you’re thinking about that crappy thing, and the more those negative emotions associated with that crappy thing overtake you.

When thoughts of shitty stuff creep into my head I have to just get them out. It’s the only thing that works. Because sometimes circumstances will suck over which I have no control and no amount of positive thinking is going to make them better. It’s not about avoiding anything, or being unrealistic. It’s just about keeping them away until time does its magic.

It’s tempting to go on and on and on about everything we’re feeling and thinking. But it’s idiotic, and I don’t want to be an idiot.

I got in a minor car accident recently (which was not my fault) and it got me thinking of the ballsiness of men. I mean, I think of this topic fairly often in general, but this incident renewed my interest.

Women like men who are ballsy. No matter the woman, ballsy equals confident and you can never go wrong with that. Now, I know you can’t feign confidence, so if you don’t have it you likely need to read some self-help books. (Seriously! There’s nothing wrong with bettering yourself or going to counselling! We all need it sometimes.) And we all know that when any person affects confidence it’s embarrassing.

Of course, there is at least one circumstance in which it’s endearing for someone to be awkward. See, if a man seems unsure and I can tell he likes me, I think it’s cute. Not that men want to be cute; I have actually heard they would rather be called anything but. However, to me he is cute and I am delighted. I don’t trust a man who is too charming.

The last time I got into a fender bender, I tapped a man’s bumper and we pulled over to the side of the road. The man who got out of the car was about my dad’s age, easily 60. We exchanged information and he said he’d get his car inspected. A few days later he called me to say there was no damage. Then, pausing weirdly, he finally  joked that since I’d put him to all that trouble the least I could do was have dinner with him.

Good for him!

Now, I was 29, but I looked young that day. I had just been skiing and my hair was in pigtails. I could have been 19 for all he knew. So…yeah, questionable. But I was still impressed. 

I have turned down more offers than I have accepted – we all have, I think – but I have never once turned a man down and thought, “Oh, geez, this is embarrassing for him.” I think more of him, like he’s doing what a guy should do. So, yeah, good on him.

And good on that 60-year-old.

Shit happens. And I don’t mean shit in a flippant way, like tripping in the mud or missing the bus. Sometimes life hands you really rough stuff.

There are those kinds of people, however, who go through life with everything falling into place, ticketty-boo, one thing happening after another in the natural order of things without much of a hiccup. I have spoken of such fortunate ones before, and I don’t begrudge them. But there’s something to be said for experience.

I have always thought that, although I haven’t had a HARD life, I have had to work a little bit harder for every good thing that I have. I had to actually try in school to get good grades, I dated for over a decade before I found a man I wanted to marry, I had to pay for everything I owned after age fifteen and I worked 7 days a week for almost four years to have something to my name. No, not terribly hard, but I’ve never had anything handed to me on a silver platter and it’s made me, if nothing else, resourceful and enormously grateful for whatever I do have.

The thing that has always kept me hopeful, and perhaps the reason I have lots of opinions on varying subjects, is because I have LIVED and TRIED and had fantastic and terrible experiences. If someone can confide in me in their troubled time, I usually have a decent idea of where they’re coming from. And I am thankful for that. We all know that the best catharsis in a time of need is to talk to someone who can fully understand where you’re coming from because they’ve been there themselves. Everyone else, although potentially well-meaning, cannot possibly relate.

We can all attempt to empathize, and if we’re good people we try our best to do so. But ultimately, unless we’ve been through the exact same thing, we just don’t get it.

You don’t know what it’s like to lose a child if your dad died. You don’t know what it’s like to be lonely until you’ve had absolutely no one to be with. You don’t know what it’s like to provide for yourself if you’ve always had a third hand slipping you twenties on the side. And you don’t know heartache until your heart has been torn in two.

I would like to appeal to all ignorant people reading this. I mean ignorant in the sense of not knowing what a specific experience is like, which we all are about certain things. CHOOSE YOUR WORDS WISELY. I don’t mean don’t offer support, I don’t mean don’t add your two cents where you tactfully see fit. And I don’t mean staying silent when all your friend wants to hear is that he has the right to be angry or scared or hurt. But saying to a heartbroken friend that her wayward husband’s lack of loyalty is a blessing in disguise DOES NOT HELP. IT ACTUALLY DOES THE OPPOSITE.

When people talk to you about their pain, they do so because they are still raw. They don’t need to hear how much better you are without the bastard, or how God has a special someone just around the corner, or how the deceased loved one is in a better place. They need you to grieve with them. They need you to feel their loss. They want you to tell them that they love you and they are there for you if you need something. They want you to be specific in your exhortations. Don’t make vague promises that you both know may or may not be true. If you believe a heartbroken friend will find someone else because they are a good catch, tell them that. If you believe your brother will be okay because he has marketable skills that many companies need, say it. If you’ve known loss and you can say with authority that the pain subsides with time, encourage with that.

I could have done without the latest event in my life. I may be many things, but I don’t treat people like shit and I didn’t deserve it. But I know it will make me more empathetic, because I now truly understand a great pain. That doesn’t make me grateful for the experience. The most I can hope is to, at the very least, be a comfort to other people going through the same thing.

(Do ask me to elaborate. This is a blog, not a one-on-one.)

My husband is a gamer. Red Dead Redemption came out recently and he was all excited to start playing. Don’t ask me what Red Dead Redemption is, what it’s about or what its appeal is supposed to be. I would guess it’s about red people who come back to life to redeem themselves for all the bad stuff they did during their lives by doing good deeds for others. The more people you bless with kindness, the more points you get. Like, helping an old lady load groceries into her car is worth ten points, but running into a burning building to save an orphan with eczema gives you fifty. If you pick the small, delicate guy for your volleyball team in gym class it’s twenty-five, but if you ask the shy girl with an unfortunate penchant for pleated pants and raging acne to prom, that warrants eighty. So, Red Dead Redemption is probably right up my husband’s alley.

But I don’t get gaming. I think it’s pointless, like watching Deal Or No Deal. Nothing learned coupled with low entertainment value. I always tell my husband that Pac-Man, now there’s a game! Linear, immediate satisfaction, low involvement and little commitment required. Yeah, yeah, to each his own. For instance, my husband HATES The View. Like, more than I hate Resident Evil 1 through 7. And he’ll never share my affinity for chick lit or www.gofugyourself.com.

Fine, we all waste time in our own ways. I just think my time wastage is better.