Love / Hate

For a delightful southern girl who really does love everyone, I have a seething rage for other people. I mostly hate them all, even though I also love them dearly. My hatred for others started at an early age when adults forced me to participate in "fun activities" with the sniffling idiots that I had to share a classroom with for nine months. I never understood why these games were met with enthusiasm and excitement and sometimes found myself wondering if perhaps I was the idiot. I must be missing something here. Should I want to tether my leg to another human and then run for no apparent reason? I don't wish to wear costumes, run relays, sack race, jump over ropes, or waddle around the playground with an egg on a spoon. Don't you kids have bigger things going on in your mind? Turns out the answer was 'no' and I was left mostly alone to be outraged by cutesy skits and adults that spoke to me like I was a puppy.
One time in kindergarten the school nurse tried to catch me in a lie. I wasn't lying and I was so offended by her condescending assumption, that I outwitted her by creating a clever (albeit fake) backstory, out smarting her trap to make me admit my lie and hopefully, making her feel like an idiot. Do you think I'm stupid lady? Is it because I'm short?

So I started hating people early on. Don't get me started on Sunday School.
But this story has a happy ending because my disgust for the human race only goes as far as shallow judgements and light name-calling, and only when I don't know them personally. Then it escalates to disparaging slurs that I know are true or will at least elicit a laugh from bystanders.

Somehow I also deeply care about everyone, even the horrible ones like Hitler because I pity the way he must have felt all the time. What did Hitler need that could have made him love? Comfort food and bedtime story? How could you hate so much? I'm getting off topic.

I spend most of my time thinking about other people. I like to watch them do routine things, specifically things that take no thought - checking the mail, feeding the dogs - what are they thinking about while their body does these easy tasks? Mostly I look at people and wonder what they know. I wonder about the childhood of the construction worker buying a Gatorade at a gas station. What did he see as a kid? What hurts him? What's his happiest memory? Where has he been?
It's so easy to write off strangers as inconsequential blobs that are just in your way. Everyone in the grocery store is just making it harder for me to get my things. I'm always thinking about the people in the other cars in the traffic jam and how to them, I'm just a frustrating car that won't go. I'm just some young bimbo in line at Chic-fil-a. I'm consumed by the idea of my own anonymity in the world. I'm terribly amused by it. It delights me to be the stranger that pipes up with a witty comment, like an extra in a movie with one line that moves the scene along. You don't get to know that extra and they don't really matter to you at all but for a moment, they were there. You ever exchange an amused smirk with a stranger when something awkward happens nearby? I love that! I love these little connections because everyone is so self-focused and frustrated by other people all the time but we're all so similar and when something busts us out of our bubble, we spread joy.

I don't know where these thoughts came from. I've told you what happens when I don't plan out my blog posts.

I'll leave you with a photo. On this night, Brett was talking at length about politics....