Wrong Way to Go About it, Really

So, I think the United Way totally sucks, for reasons I don’t have the patience to go into at the moment. (One of them is that I don’t think they focus enough on the end recipients of their funds, and the whole thing is just an upper-crust and CEO circle-jerk.) But I am totally dumbfounded at the promo picture being used to advertise their upcoming event.

Behold:

Nothing encourages me to donate like a lady in furs!

I just… I don’t even…

Really United Way? This is apparently Dave and Mary Steward, co-chairs of the committee for the event. This is the kind of separation of support from mission that turns me off the whole St. Louis non-profit scene. This is “charity” at its most nauseating. Blah. United Way, you suck. Can’t wait to get my yearly “demand” letter from my employer, attempting to press-gang me into giving them my money. And I can’t wait to refuse to do so.

The only thing I know from looking at you is what you fucking look like.

If you think you understand things just by looking at them, you’re not only wrong, but you’re also an asshole.

One of the stupidest things you can do is assume that I share your retarded fucking worldview. That we inhabit a reality that we both perceive in the same way. That my brain thinks like yours. That my body works like yours. That I want the things you want, enjoy the things you enjoy. That you know anything, even just a tiny thing, about my experience in the world. Because very often you will be dead wrong.

We are mostly lazy, intellectual short-cut takers, I believe. It’s easy to assume and presume and guess things. It’s comforting to believe in the version of reality that most conforms to our instincts. It’s simple to believe that we can know and understand things by looking at them. That common knowledge is real knowledge. But that’s horse shit.

Here is the one thing I know: I have no idea what the world looks like or feels like to you. We inhabit neither the same brain nor the same body. And that changes everything. I would like to believe that I have some fucking humility as regards that fact. That most of my conversations with you will start out – “Have you found that…?” or “Do you think that…?” or “Have you ever…?” That I will take the time to establish a baseline for our communication, and that I will respect your differences once we’ve done that.

I would hope that I do not make very many definitive statements regarding you, and how your world works, and how your mind perceives things and the way your body functions. I hope that I ask more questions and listen to your answers.

What I am really working for, what I want for myself is to more often say “I don’t know. It’s not my body, it’s not my life,  it’s not my choice, I don’t know. Explain it to me, and help me understand.” I want to know how your world works, and I want to know how it feels, but I want you to tell me. Teach me something, show me something, let me understand. But don’t ever fucking presume you know jack shit about MY world, unless I’ve taken the time to share it with you. Because I am going to end up thinking you’re a limp-brained, bigoted, mouthy jackass and I will have the empirical evidence to back that assumption the fuck up.

Here’s What I’m Gonna Need

I have been exposed to a lot of dark things lately. It’s starting to feel like everything is dark, and everyone’s all rotten and crafty and scheming on the inside. Like no one is trustworthy. And that can’t be true. I don’t believe that can actually be true. So why does it FEEL that way? As I was pondering this, it occurred to me that the people I know who are leading quiet, honest lives don’t necessarily go around telling stories about their everyday goodness and morality. They don’t have gripping tales of the lack of awful shit they got up to at the weekend. But the other people – they do tell stories. A lot of stories. And those other stories are so loud and jarring that there doesn’t seem to be anything else going on out there.

So here’s what I am going to need from you. If any of the following statements apply to you, I am going to need you to randomly, periodically remind me that they do. Just feel free to throw these out there, so I am not perpetually lost in a sea of the other kind of thing.

Here’s what I’d like to hear, if you can claim it:

• Today, I did not cheat on my significant other
• Today, I did not help someone else cheat other their significant other, and then claim that was not my problem
• Today, I didn’t lie to someone to make my life easier
• Today, I didn’t betray someone who loves me
• Today, I didn’t betray someone and then claim to love them
• Today, I did not betray myself
• Today, I broke no one’s trust
• Today, I made it harder on myself, because I knew it would be easier on you
• Today, I didn’t fuck up anyone’s dreams
• Today, I didn’t screw over a friend who trusted me
• Today, I stopped myself doing what felt good, and did what was actually good
• Today, I didn’t have sex with someone who wasn’t free to have sex with me
• Today, I didn’t have sex with someone who was unwilling to have sex with me
• Today, I didn’t rob anyone at gunpoint
• Today, I did not rationalize my bad behavior toward someone else by claiming I could not help myself
• Today, I did not hurt anyone’s feelings on purpose
• Today, I stopped myself from saying that thing, and said the other thing
• Today, I was not needlessly cruel
• Today, I tried harder

Because honestly, my people, I love you—but you’re withering up the last little sliver of heart I have left. There are some things in this world that I would like to have faith in. And if I am going to be able to manage that, I am going to need you to do better than this.

If you do not want to live in a world populated by lying, selfish jerks, try not being a lying, selfish jerk. You might like how it feels.

and which flavor of sad are you?

Almost everyone I know makes me just a little bit sad.

Actually, every single person I know makes me a little bit sad.

One day, when I find the person who doesn’t ever make me sad, not even a little itty bitty bit sad, I am going to lasso them and haul them home with me and keep them forever in my closet or basement or somewhere else handy.

But that may make them sad.

Which would make me sad.

God damn it.

Here is an awesome new pair of boots that I have ordered.

They do not make me sad. So far.

For now, I am neutral about these boots. Fairly anticipatory, even, but prepared for disappointment.

Protected: On second thought

Further Adventures in City Living, Pt. Eleventy Seven Thousand

Yeah, so my license plates got stolen last weekend. And because everything about my life is required to result in some sort of saga of ridiculousness and aggravation, I still don’t have any license plates now. The nice part is that no one, including law enforcement, seems to give two shits if I drive my unlicensed vehicle all over town, so I am not too bothered about it either. (It makes sense that they don’t care if I have plates, actually, as they really don’t seem to give even half a shit if someone’s stealing my wheels or fucking a hooker up against the side of my car or popping the passenger side door handle off with a screwdriver or whatever. I presume they have more important things to do. Like direct traffic and… well I’ve really ever only seen them directing traffic, mostly. Anyway.)

So last Friday night I went out to the bar and then to another place to see a friend’s band play, and that was all really fun until my other friend got maced by a third friend. And that’s another story entirely, and I don’t even know if I can do it justice, so I really won’t try. So anyway, I am sure I had license plates when I left that place, and here’s how I know: last year when I had to get new plates my dad sheared off one of the bolts on the back plate holder thing when he was trying to change them, and then w/o asking he strung the license up on one side with wire, so it hung down at a jaunty angle. And every single time I’ve approached my car since then I’ve though “Jesus Christ, I am a hoosier.” and then I’ve gotten in my car and driven away contentedly, because I hope my car looks extremely hoosier, to keep these ghetto motherfuckers from wanting to mess with it. So I remember seeing my dangling plate late Friday night/early Saturday morning when I got in the car to drive my friends back to their cars. Continue reading »