I consider myself to be cool. I mean, as cool as any other forty-something suburban dweller. I’ve paid my dues and made my share of mistakes. I laugh at myself and know where to draw the line when it comes to what’s right, what’s wrong, and what’s just too twisted for color TV. It makes no difference to me a person’s status or situation. If a person can’t be honest, I’ve got no time for their non-sense.
People may have formed an opinion of me based on things I write. That’s fine with me. People may have formed an opinion of me based on things I’ve said. That’s fine too. Quite possibly, some people have no opinion of me whatsoever. And you know what? That doesn’t bother me one bit. What bothers me more than anything is the opinion I have of myself. My opinions can sometimes cause me more hassle than they are worth.
It makes perfect sense to me that I should speak my mind and make no apology for it. Except, sometimes I owe myself an apology for the mental boxing match that goes something like this:
Aren’t you something, not giving a rat sass what other people think!
What the hell did you say? Are you crazy?
Hey, I’m being honest and if people can’t deal with it, too damn bad!
You know, you should keep your mouth shut.
I don’t have to keep my mouth shut! I can say what I think just like everyone else.
No you can’t.
Yes I can.
No you can’t.
Yes I can.
Well, you get the picture.
Jumping through hoops is for dogs and ponies. I am neither. One thing that I am though is impatient. Another thing is direct. Patience may be a virtue, but assertiveness is not a vice. I cannot contend with up-tight, pretentious, two-faced, self-aggrandizing jerk faces.
This week’s struggle has been to convince myself that it doesn’t make me a bad person just because I call bullshit like I see it. I suppose it can be a bit off-putting to some. I don’t fall in line with most people’s way of thinking when it comes to saying what I think. Factors both genetic and environmental are responsible for that, but I take responsibility for what I think and say and do. Sometimes, it seems, I care too much. I’m passionate. Yeah! That’s what my loyal follower tells me to make me feel better. I love him for that.
I realize this is a purge post. I realize there are things going on in the world at large more important than my “issues”. So, even though it wasn’t my plan to wake at 2 a.m. and write until the venting lulled me back into a state of normal thought processes, this might have done the trick. We shall see.
Interested in reading this week’s flash fiction? Check out my Friday Fictioners page.
I’ll be seeing you. Thanks for listening.