Man, did I encounter tetchy men today.
“I am half sick of shadows,” said
The Lady of Shalott.
I am also half sick of tetchiness in men. I am not a blank canvas for you to pitch your putrid paint on. Get a grip on your stress and get moving. Job’s gotta get done. Man’s gotta get himself correct.
I guess a touch of sensitivity is all right now and again, but for goodness’ sake, pull yourself together. Stop making me the one who has to pull her sh*t together and stay calm, stay cool, stay steady, betray no imagined hurt or needless emotion. The one’s who can look upon all this at one remove and remark, wouldn’t it be nice if we weren’t dictated by our lamer passions?
But I guess womankind has fought for thousands of years and is still fighting for the right to be the stronger one. Even if it can seriously mess up a day. Cos if there’s one thing that’s needed beyond the strong arm, it’s the patience to let rubbish run its course through the veins of the vain and the foolish.
Consecutive complain-o-posts! It must be Mad Hatter month.
But see, here’s a guy whose shite is tight — and he’s not even nine. The reason why he’s getting it right is he’s able to articulate why the heck he’s doing what he’s doing — the rightness of his “no”. Self-awareness. Not angling to be set in stone, but consciously exploring the beauty of all creation. Surely there’s not enough of that going around.
Crap, so now I’ve got to check on myself to see if I’m following this self-prescribed code for la dolce vita.
So be it.