Hypocrisy and chocolate-covered pretzels

standard August 16, 2012 Leave a response

My days and weeks are slipping by, as I search for a job and try to amuse myself in the interim. I have a lot of time to think, clean and find pictures in the paint on the walls, and I’ve come to a few conclusions:

  • 7:30 a.m. is a great time to wake up, except that you are done with everything by 9:30 a.m.
  • My neighbors don’t leave for work until 10 a.m., all of them.
  • I am committing adultery on my Mac by using a Windows machine during the day.
  • The animals are trying to make a dog-cat hybrid out of their fur.
  • I am a hypocrite (why did I type hypnotic…?).

It’s the last conclusion that I’m having problems with. No one likes to admit fault within themselves, and when we do, we deny it, sugarcoat it, blame others for our problems. “It’s not my fault I’m an alcoholic, my work drove me to it.” “I only collect 10,000 Star Wars figurines because Tommy beat me up with one in the 5th grade.”

I babble on about acceptance, things could be better if we could just all get along, but really, I don’t think these thoughts most of the time. I’m trying to do better, but as the Boyfriend pointed out to me earlier, those thoughts turn into words more often than I care to admit.

I could make excuses, it’s so hard to find anything positive in this world of negativity, self-absorption and reality t.v., but really, I have only myself to blame. How can I escape the cycle if I don’t work at it? I judge others based on their looks, their vocal inflections, etc., not for the quality of their character. 

The trick of finding one good thing in a person isn’t the best course of action for me. I just need to train my inner sarcastic nerd to shut up for a change.

Yes, I’m sarcastic. Really. I’m surprised you hadn’t picked up on it.

It’s pushed people away, kept them at arm’s length. There have been times I could have made friends, but lost the opportunity because Sarcastic Me decided to come out of hibernation and voice her opinion. 

I was thinking a bit ago that I want to be like my dog. Stop laughing, I don’t want to be a dog, I don’t particularly care for fleas, fur and sleeping on the floor, but it’s how dogs interact with each other and with humans that I like.

My dog Stormy is one of the sweetest and most laid-back dogs you will ever meet. Honestly, you can’t annoy her – we’ve tried. Poking her, prodding her, picking up her paw and dropping it. She simply doesn’t care. She loves people, too.

When we take her to the dog park, she has to make her rounds – she doesn’t care about the other dogs, but she’ll go up to each and every single person and demand pet-pets. She goes beyond friendly-dog, she acts like each new person is her best friend.

I want that outlook – I want each stranger to be a potential friend, not someone to mock, not someone to distrust.

In other news, I planned last night to be a little fun for the Boyfriend and I, as he has been studying for his CCIE. I’d picked up some white chocolate wafers recently, and I still had some candy dye from my last batch of peanut butter balls. 

Boyfriend didn’t want to decorate, he said it would be prettier if I did it, so he was put to work getting the chocolate bags ready and picking out the colors. Well, not much picking out to do, since I was down to green, black, red, yellow and orange. The teal decided to turn the chocolate into one big, messy goop.

He was happiest when he got to eat all the rejects.



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