Monday, 20 September 2010

Medusa

I admit that some bad habits that make me mad are somehow even more annoying because I know I have them too.
Seeing them in another person makes me quite upset as I know that I'm no way better.

I know that living happy is the best revenge and I should just keep thinking about the greater picture and not focus too much on the silly small details. Yet I still do focus too much, because I live a small life, made of small things, for good and for bad.

I shouldn't get upset at the never ending comments by the SouthWest Trains guard on the microphone in the Quiet Zone coach but then what's the point of having such a quite zone if you later go on and talk 10 mins no stop of all the stops on the service and the lenght of the platforms?!? Hell, I got Calvino to read, shut! up!
So you see, I get upset.

I get upset for the lack of sincerity that seems to taint every social interaction with strangers. Commuters bump into you and automatically say sorry, without even stopping to check if you're alright. People elbow you because they want to get in front of the bar stand in the pub, god forbid they can't get pissed as soon as possible and "oh, I'm so sorry!".
Sorry my ass! Everybody's saying to be fucking sorry in this country and not a single one actually meaning it!

I get upset for the fake concern some people display when asking me questions. I do get upset and start behaving badly, treating them meanly. I don't want to, but even so, I have not found a way to not get angry.
I came to the conclusion that there's nothing I can do: the simple fact that I'm asked not because of a true concern, but because it's a formality that needs to be checked off the list to then get on with what "really" matters in life, is enough to send me over the edge.

Nothing will stop me from getting that look in my eye, that look I inherited from my dad and that seems to sum up all the contempt and annoyance of this world.

If you ask me how I am just because it's an educated thing to do, but don't give a damn about what I have to say, please don't ask.
If you want to know how my day's been so far just because you don't really have more intelligent questions to ask or because you'are not really able to understand it on your own by how bad I look, please don't ask.

Really, don't ask. Or don't be offended if I reply badly. Or, even better, don't look at the monitor of your computer when you ask me how I've been doing. Look me into my eyes and I promise you I won't turn you into a statue.

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