Friday, August 29, 2008
Is This Some Kind Of Joke?
Journaling time. I am a horrible person. I used to think of my self as quite average, with strengths and weaknesses that pretty much balanced each other out. I now know that the scale is indeed tipped to the rotten side, and I'm waiting for the moment that the oompa -loompas are going to show up and declare me a "bad egg" just like Veruca Salt. I guess I should back up and ask: Is this a real book, and has everyone been reading it the past few days? I have never had more conversations with people that I could really care less about. Usually I can find at least something interesting in a what people are saying, but lately, it's like the teacher from Charlie Brown. Wah wah wah-wah wah. And no, it's not everybody, but quite a few. Okay, on further reflection, it's almost everybody. I confessed my horrible thoughts to my husband who, true to form, took the analytical male perspective. He can't really help it, I suppose. His conclusions were that #1. I'm hormonal (and nobody knows my hormones better than him) and #2. I'm not really a bad person because I never actually expressed my annoyance to the persons involved, I just thought it. But to me, thinking it is the problem. I'm certainly not cruel enough to tell a person to their face that it's time they stopped talking. Forever. So if I'm just smiling and being polite, I am being fake. And there are few things that I hate more than insincerity. If you are a genuine Christ-like person, when somebody is telling you a story you should be interested, right? You shouldn't be like me and focusing on, "Is this going to be much longer?" In the past 11 years -that's right, since children have entered the picture-I feel like I've developed a lot of patience. Not because I'm a great person, but because I've had to, otherwise I would have ended up in a padded room (you're still going to meet me there, right Julia?). It's like you're never supposed to pray for strength, because then you get trials. I've learned that when you pray for patience, you get children. But now I'm wondering if all of that has just been a distraction, and if in reality, I haven't made any progress at all. Maybe all the noise and confusion that comes with family life has been so loud that it's drowned out the sound of the inner me. And that me is thoroughly irritated.