Civil War

Tough week. Before the election, I had a 5 day migraine so bad I couldn’t think. After the election, I’ve had just people who don’t care to hear what I think even if I said it. Fetishizing multiculturalism and diversity, driving people farther and farther apart- people are acting like bullies and animals. I feel lost and purposeless in this sea of aggressively wicked stupidity. My assistant at work is exactly what I’m afraid of for the future. She could be bright, but she can’t wait for me to finish any explanation of my stance before she launches into half-baked slogans and over-generalized ideas she’s heard said by her hipster-wise buddies at the bar she frequents. Even as she’s saying it, I can tell it’s not a thought that came from her own mind.

Have you ever heard a novice do voice acting? Even if they wrote the words themselves, reading them out loud sounds stale and rehearsed. That’s kinda the feeling I got patiently listening to her. I didn’t interrupt and I didn’t correct her until she felt like she was done speaking. Half way through I wondered if she thought she was properly schooling me on objections I’d never heard before. I wasn’t acting confused or frustrated by her objections. I didn’t use language that implied she was an idiot or that I was attempting to change her mind- just answering her questions about what I believed. But it didn’t matter. She wasn’t there to hold a real discussion or to understand like she pretended. She has that tone all young ignorants have when they can’t commit to even their own ideas for fear of offending or looking uncool. It’s the tone where every statement is turned into a question. This time, it wasn’t even limited to the attitude but her opinions were stated in the form of a question too. Starting with, “Well, don’t you think that…” or “But do you really think that…?”.

I’ve had to face the same issue with people asking questions about my religion too. Those not truly interested in anything deeper than rubbing a hallow intellectual ego in my face who waste my time. It has a good side effect to it- I have learned how to carefully phrase ideas so they are strong and unarguable. Much like my favorite Logic and Reasoning class back in college. I’ve written about this before so I’ll move on.

But no matter who I talk to, I always treat my challenger with respect. The best thing I ever trained myself to assume is that the other person has the best intentions. They may not understand and that may not be their fault. I let the burden of the discussion fall on my shoulders and my ability to communicate truth. Otherwise, I’m happy to learn. Eager even.

I’ve recognized a pet peeve in myself. The kind of thing that makes me snap and brings to mind the image of a cornered cat- the bristling back hair and low growl followed by lashing out with claws so fast, the razor sharp nails are a blur in the fervent attack. What I hate more than anything is to be treated like an idiot. Maybe I’m a little over sensitive to it because I’m so conscious of my failings. But if I can’t be pretty and I can’t be brave, then all I have to go on is my brain. Can I make clear enough how vital that is to my person? Don’t get me wrong- I don’t mind being a student! I’d be a real fool if I willingly ignored the wisdom that others have to give. That’s how I got to be a good communicator- listening and taking in what people have to say. But it grates on my very last nerve to be treated like or be spoken to as though I were a shut in, a dimwit, red-neck, bible pounding, bigot, with only enough reason to be a Stepford wife.

Phrases like, “Get out of your cage”, "Don't be so naive“, “You’re so cute”, and “You just don’t understand” enflames the violent part of my imagination. As though anyone knows and has experienced the world as a sage enough to earn the right to be disrespectful and crudely offensive. I find the smartest people in the world are kind and no matter how brilliant you are, I expect it from you too.

Jeremy has that habit. Among not answering my questions (with either a catch phrase or an indirect lie) and refusing my offers until the identifiable stars align, it’s probably my least favorite of his. Naturally, he picked election night to jam an icepick into that nerve. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end I was so mad. And now 3 days later I’m still not in the mood to go back and talk to him. I tried yesterday but I was just not born with a star-alignment gift.

It was busy today so I wouldn’t have had much to say specifically to him anyway but I can’t get rid of this wounded feeling. I have to fight even my best friend? I’m tired of this week.