I fling things into the ether of the internet in the hopes that it will help mitigate circumstances which would lead to real life screaming throw downs.
I've always thought my parents did a good job with raising all of the kids with good manners. Even if we are being vulgar or crude, we are still extremely polite. Lots of "please, thank you, excuse me"--a real sense of propriety among other people.
What I can't figure out is how I ended up the chivalrous one, while two of brothers are real jackasses.
I just lugged two huge loads of stuff from my car into the apartment. Two long boxes of soft drinks (so heavy on one shoulder), huge bags of books---just a shit load of stuff. Took me two trips.
My bro is sitting outside on the front porch when I pull up. He doesn't make a move to help me. Well, he does push the front door open for me, so there's that.
On trip two I have to open the door myself. He's just sitting there.
Okay.
Then I'm unloading stuff inside and his first words to me, as if we were already in mid conversation, are "Man, I really wish I could quit my job." He briefly details that other ppl want to quit too. Because it's Just. So. Damn. Horrible. This from the guy who goes in when he wants, leaves when he wants, and just recently negotiated being able to work from home. Yeah.
I feel my internal alarms go off, as the thermometer on my rage starts going up. I put some things away and wander back to the living room. Guess who wants to comment some more on how angry and peeved they are? Clue: it's not me.
At this point I have said absolutely nothing to him except my initial "Hi" when I got out of the car. It took an amazing amount of willpower for me to not blurt out "Oh, hey, my day went just great, thanks for asking? No, it's a breeze working again with all my defective organ issues. Yeah, I'm totally still struggling with the med induced rage, but my docs have told me to fuck right off about it. Thanks for asking!"
No. Instead I grabbed my backpack and retreated to the bedroom. Shutting the door. I've been in here typing for 5 minutes and Sherlock just asked "Hey, are you alright?"
Jesus Fucking Christ. How the hell did I end up the only chivalrous one in my family? My dad and brothers SUUUUUUUCK on that level. So self involved, so dismissive.
And it's not a sexist/gender thing for me. I open doors for men and women. I have helped out elderly couples in airports, wheeling them to their proper gate (that was opposite of mine). I'll stop and help someone pick up something they've dropped. When visiting my parents, I always go out and help her bring in the groceries.
Chivalry. Graciousness. Awareness. Whatever you want to call it, the quality is sorely lacking in some of my closest associates. Is it any wonder the world is fucked up?
And thus endeth my rant. Thank you, dear interwebz, for allowing me to say this here rather than beating my brother upside the head with a box of soda cans. It's probably a better choice. Maybe.
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| Black Rage! Black Rage! |
--As always, tamping down on my emotions so other people can have theirs, H.
I agree with obvious exhibition of obliviousness by your bro. Rage-inducing, indeed. I have recently discovered it's easier to politely ask/tell someone to help you rather than wait for the help to be offered (especially if you live with them), because most folks are completely self-involved and unaware that anything else in the world is happening outside of their own internal focus. Whereas you (and I) seem to be hyper aware of the actions/situations of the other people around us, often resulting in frustration with other NONHELPFUL people. "Hey man, grab these sodas. They are heavy. Thanks."
ReplyDeleteWise words. So much more logical to make a direct request. I wonder if it's possible to eliminate all of one's passive aggressive tendencies. Hope you are chilling and getting back into the flow in NoCal. That's for the words of encouragement. :)
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