Yes, indeed. This brings me to my next powerful point; two faced bitches. I've always wondered how they can even look themselves in the mirror without getting dizzy or at a minimum freaked out by their circus freak appearance?!?!
My last blog about the power of words really tied into this one perfectly. You see, here again, we'll see that words are, in fact, the MOST powerful things around. They really do influence the ways in which we view the world. Each other. Ourselves. They influence what we buy. When we buy it. They allow us to express ourselves in ways of love, lust, greed, envy, pride and prejudice. You get the gist. They can be amazingly healing and comforting or highly destructive and detrimental. Here's where I make my next "rant".......
Why, oh why do some people (mostly women, in my experience) feel the need to say "comforting" things to your face and then highly destructive things behind your back? Now, I'm not talking about the natural "venting" about a friends idiosyncrasies that make us all nuts at one time or another; I believe that we ALL do that, and that THAT is only natural and, I'd even go so far as to say, healthy. No, I'm talking about those lovely ladies with the gear installed in their necks that allow them to spin their faces around at a moments notice. I wonder......do they sometimes forget to change it back and start talking shit directly TO people?
So, begins my "story" for the day:
Prior to discovering that I've been making ALL the residents of "Perfect" crazy with my personal idiosyncrasies, I was actually dumb enough to believe that the people here were kind hearted, nice enough, concerned for my well being and the well being of others. I will, at this time, interject that I was entirely, completely and in every way WRONG!!!
I got to find out that every one of these women who, in the past, had asked me 'how things were going?' and 'what's new?' and 'how are you feeling?', etc. did not, in fact, give a shit. They didn't really care how I was doing, or what I was doing or really anything about me and/or mine. They did, in fact, take whatever little kernel of information that I was stupid enough to give them and run with it. They would then take said kernel to the other robots (in my mind I see them as such. Heads spinning on that bizarre gear of theirs. Enter a shiver, here.) and have a splendid time raking me over the coals. Dissecting every syllable that came out of my mouth, searching for God knows what and finding, only heaven knows.
I came to find that if I was asked about health issues and answered honestly, I was then made fun of and called names. Nice. I also found out that if we were having a "friendly" conversation about womanly issues; you know the ones---periods, birthing stories, maybe even a sex story or two---that I was perceived as "trying to one up" my robot companions. Interesting. Apparently, the robots are allowed to have things in their lives that they can share with other robots, but a NON-robot better not try to share anything. I think it must be hard wired into the robots. All of their little "ones and zeros" can only compute other "ones and zeros". You see I was throwing in flowers, rainbows and sunshine. (Okay, your bullshit meter has just gone off, right? Okay, okay....so I was throwing in some slugs and spiders and bugs and ugliness. There. I was honest. Now read on.) Regardless, the robots brains were unable to compute such things and must have only heard 'a-whha, waaa, whhaaa, whaaa' (Charlie Brown talking). It's like they just shut down and only heard me being nasty. Funny thing is, they were right. I was being nasty--to myself.
I'm self deprecating to the point of annoyance. I realize it. I just can't stop it. Never once in these "friendly" conversations did I say anything ugly about one of their fellow robots. I would talk about my own life. My own ugliness. I was trying to relate to the robots, in the only way I knew how---shared experiences. Isn't that what we do? Don't we all hear someone talking about the time that they were running late somewhere and the baby decides to puke on your shirt and dirty her diaper at the precise moment you got her into her car seat and were headed out the door? Well, damn. I've been there. I know what that's like AND I want to share my story, too. What's wrong with that? Is that intrusive? Am I trying to "compete" with you because I've been there, too? Am I lying because I am able to relate to so many stories that other women tell? Would I be better off just keeping my stupid mouth shut?
Now, my life has also been, shall we say, colorful?! I find sharing my colorful life seems to bring out the worst in other people. Telling people that I've suffered abuse or was a run away, seems to make them uncomfortable to the extreme. Now, I guess the real question is this, is that their problem or mine? Is my desire to share my life, the good, the bad and the ugly, a strength or a weakness in my personality?
Reader's Digest version of a story that really illustrates what I'm referring to:
I'm at a party with several women from "Perfect". We're all sitting around a table munching on something delicious sharing stories about our lives. We're talking about having our babies, make-up, baby names, how we came up with our babies names, you know the drill. We're all laughing and being silly. I'm having a blast! Hours go by. We play the silly games that women are subjected to play at bridal and baby showers. I coupled up with a "Perfect" woman and we "won" a game or two. We collected our prizes and then settled into our various groups of conversations. I, being the "over" helper that I am, volunteered to take a ton of gifts home for the "woman of the hour" and started loading my van. It was a bit chilly and misting outside. I struggled to lug the large gifts into my van, through the rain and down the street. Not one "Perfect" woman offered to help me. Fine. No problem. I'm in my element, I'm being "nice". After my van is filled to the brim with gifts for someone else, I say my good-byes, give my hugs and am on my way to my friends' house. I hop into the car and call my husband to relay what a fun time I had. I recount the sharing conversations that I had with my "Perfect" (robot) friends and share with him just how good I feel inside. I was so happy to have been included and (seemingly) accepted by the "Perfect" people.
Fast forward to "the Event"----see previous blog entitled 'Words have power" to know to what I'm referring. During that discussion, this party is brought up. I found out that every single one of the robots barely waited for my van to pull down the street before they were shredding me to each other. They had tons to say about our conversations and even more about me as a person. Hurtful.
Fast forward again to months later, at various times and places through out our "Perfect" lives----these same women TO MY FACE, asked how I was and wanted to "share" and just chat. Suffices to say.....I had little, if nothing at all, to share. I had finally heard the gears, as they turned their faces around, right before my eyes.
Take a deep breath.......just another day in "Perfect".
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