To blow the lid off yesterday’s vessel I will give you something to think about, to reflect on. A laughing matter it ain’t. In fact, I am in shock. Not that I should be since I have experienced same in a different guise before.
There I was, reading a comment. Unfortunately – and please do follow the story line – I didn’t take in the name of the commentator. By the tone of the voice, its sheer being obtuse, I “knew” who it was. Cue hackles rising. I worded my answer accordingly, erring on the acerbic side. Being my lucky day, before I pressed “publish” my gaze happened upon the name of the actual sender.
And what do you know? And this is the punchline and the whole point of this post – and it is shameful. Once I realized who it really was from my whole mindset changed. Suddenly, the very same text took on a completely different nuance. Seen though a filter of benevolence and affection I do have towards this particular commentator. How mad (subjective) is that? Needless to say that I deleted and re-wrote my answer.
If that doesn’t wake you to the vagaries of human exchanges nothing will. I literally cannot believe it. When I say “it” I mean, I can’t believe that I fell into the very trap I so despair of with others.
May have mentioned this before. What unsettles me more than anything else in relationships with humans, THE COLD FISH.
The cold fish has power to break me like no other creature. I suspect it’s because I don’t understand the cold fish’s approach, their detachment. That’s it: Detachment. Shout at me, criticize me, give me a hard time, tell me what you really think of me but don’t give me the cold shoulder, wrap yourself in silence.
The few times in my life I have been shown that cold shoulder, that silence, have crept me out. Made me feel a despair foreign to me. Years down the line I should have learnt; I haven’t. I cannot even begin to describe to you how helpless (and humiliated) I feel in the face of those shrugging you (and others) off. Them walking away with not so much as a backward glance. It literally defies all I myself stand for and believe in.
To give the cold fish the benefit of the doubt: Those who apply that approach are either on a power trip or are scared of life. What the latter do, first and foremost, is protect THEMSELVES. A bit like snails in their shells. Except, of course, that shells are easily crushed. Unless those shells are so calcified that little can break the barrier. Beware your bare foot being cut when, inadvertently, you step on sharp edges along the beach.
Apart from the pleasure that communicating with others give me, my blogs and those of others have been and are an education.
An education not least how and when to keep my lips zipped, my keyboard locked and generally being “nice” [make the latter not say anything at all – which is the hardest].
I could (and, in due course, no doubt will) mention many an example where and when bloggers (including myself) could do with a lesson.
A lesson. Just now I happened onto a post (I think posted 12 August) of a blogger who is a harpy. And I mean a harpy. Her harpy always but always complains. Not least about her commentators. Mainly because they are American. In her eyes Americans have nothing to say. Other than “nice”. Which is fine. We all have a bone to bury and then dig up. In her case it’s Americans who are hooked on her. Gratitude? Don’t make me laugh. Disdain is her default mode. Does she lap up the adulation? Of course she does. Even if she spits on it. So far so fine. Whatever sinks your boat.
What I don’t like – and maybe she’d like to think about it – that she allows comments yet never answers any of them. That’s not communication. That’s not discourse. Most certainly it’s not discussion. It’s “Come to my court”, and be dismissed.
As not to be misunderstood, I quite like her. Yet, truth be told, she is hard work as I have rarely encountered.
So, what got my wrath just now, reading her last post? She is a saint. A saint. Let’s leave it there before she recognizes herself as the saint she is.