“Labels are for laundry instructions–not for people.”
Do you feel uncomfortable when you see someone else being embarrassed? What’s most likely to make you squirm?
While standing in a checking line in a supermarket or big-box store, someone ahead discovers they don’t have enough money to pay for all the items. Was it absent-mindedness or someone scraping together every penny to survive? They’re embarrassed, and make the painstaking decision on what is essential and what to leave. Occasionally, embarrassment takes over, and all items are left.
When watching married couples having down-and-dirty arguments in public places. Personal details are brought out that never should see the light of day. Their young children, with blank expressions on their faces sit and wait. I cringe, because this is the way they think things are supposed to be.
I feel sorry for the poor, usually teenage, store clerk or wait staff person, berated abusively for some insignificant minor detail blown out of proportion by some adult power-tripping lowlife customer. I’m also embarassed for employees chewed out in front of customers by their supervisors. It shows a complete lack of class.
This is a frightening thing for me–admitting my abnormalities. Frightening, because there’s a lot of psychoanalytical ground to plow. Right now, I’m cursing at my keyboard. The keyboard’s in no way responsible for my lack of typing skills. If anyone thinks I’m giving away all my secrets–they’re crazier than I am. Limiting peculiarities to approximately six, I can handle.
I’m uncomfortable around people who reveal too much about themselves. I’ve had to overcome shyness over the years. My fantasy life has always been more interesting than my real one. It’s a kind of “Walter Mittyish” thing. I’m turned off by loud, obnoxious people. As I child, I was an instigator–nowhere to be found when the spit hit the fan. I used “plausible deniability,” long before the term was popularized. Still waters ran deep. As an adult, I could be seen as quiet, hard to get to know, some would say I’m anti-social. For those willing to get acquainted, I’m worth the effort.
I have an aversion to taking pictures of people–prefer animals and landscapes. It’s the same with my drawings: I can draw a cartoon with insect characters to the finest detail, but not human characters. I like my two pet dogs better than I like most people. Sometimes I exhibit obsessive-compulsive behavior. I recheck lights and doors. I’m never completely satisfied with blog entries–rewrite, correct, over-and-over. I write and eat left-handed, but do everything else right-handed. I’m ambidextrous. I eat salad after a meal, not before–in lieu of dessert. Even as a skinny kid, I could never get a hula hoop to work.
A favorite pastime is watching “B” science fiction movies from the fifties–like “Plan 9 From Outer Space.” The cheesier the special effects, the better. My very favorite cartoon series of all time is “Rocky and Bullwinkle.” I liked it because it was written on different levels. It also had some of the best political and social satire ever written. I also enjoyed watching “Pinkie and the Brain” with my grandchildren.
I’m a lifetime student of human behavior–an endless source of story material. I look for oddities and absurdities–anything and everything is fair game. Maybe my abnormalities won’t be abnormal enough? No matter, I’ve lived with them for sixty-four years. We’ve become friends.
Sure was hot
Not too bad
Could be better
Crop prices down
When would it rain?
Anger welled inside
How dare they
Block the path
Of an impatient
Seventeen year old?
Just as quickly
All that could be
Had been said
Two old friends
Went separate ways
Annoying little ditties
Hymns from yesteryear
Bach to Rock
Innocent, carefree days
Feelings left behind
You and me
Now and then
Affairs of the heart
Years to build
Easily torn apart
Ones that got away
Nothing but memories
What might have been
Symphonies of life
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