On the “Welcome” page that promotes a man’s audio books, the first sentence I read today was: “I had wanted to issue a CD with this book, to illustrate what Shakespeare’s Globe called ‘original pronunciation’ (OP), but the production costs went against it.”
I was taken aback and had to look past this first ‘wah, wah, wah, poor, abused, misunderstood, unsupported, put-upon me’ sentiment to click on the links to his audio recordings – which I think are quite good.
Wow. Who offers a welcome like that? Uh-oh. I think I may have done it once… or twice… Yes. Reading his intro bugged me but perhaps primarily because I saw something of myself in it. Sigh. Sorry.
It’s funny (not funny-ha-ha) but when I would begin a conversation that way, it was often about something that I thought was really cool, neato and groovy. I am guilty of taking a person’s conversational “How are you” opening as an invitation to dump. I assumed they really wanted to know what I was dealing with my life, how I was coping and how I was applying all those lessons to the cool, neato and groovy thing I was doing.
Wait, I blame my mother.
No, wait! Really, it’s what I was taught. My mother had no clue how to open a pleasant conversation. She was consumed with so much ick and desperation to be cared for that her state of being (always horrid unless she had already been drinking that day) was the first thing out of her mouth. To be fair, she was an unmedicated schizophrenic, so she was doing her best but that’s what I learned.
Oh, no. TMI, right?
So, here’s where I am now – because you really want to know, right? The coolness, neato-ness and groovy-ness of the things I’m working on are the driving forces in my day. These things are great first, lots of work second and I generally feel happy and blessed to be doing this work. Sometimes, I’m frustrated, tired and overloaded, but those are the ebbs and flows of life. They aren’t my daily state of being. My inexplicable flip-flop in perspective is probably the reason that I noticed the sideways bitchiness of this man’s first impression.
Here’s also where I am – as aptly illustrated by my Mother’s to Blame explanation above. Mental illness and the uglier actions of people were an every day part of life for me as a kid. My mother talked about them all the time. It never occurred to me that most people don’t divulge their darkest, hardest and most harrowing experiences and challenges in the average course of conversation. My mother used to do that. So, now, I’m at peace with all that stuff but it still creeps into conversation. When it does, I’ve started to see the horrified looks on people’s faces and quickly try to explain that it’s all okay now. I’m fine, we’re all fine, everyone’s fine, I’m happy, doing great, blather, blather, gulp, try to recover and change the subject to flowers and sunshine.
Oh, Susan. I love you, girl and you’re such a klutz. Well meaning, delightful, funny, bold and (sometimes) a little intimidating, but a dear. You mean well.
This is a sheepish morning for me. Imagine that I’m looking up at you with a sideways smile and my chin tucked down just a bit.
Oh! Hey! How you doin?!