Do you mind if I share a little advice? You don’t? Good. Because I had planned to share it anyway (this is my blog after all). Now brace yourselves because this will be a little hard to hear (er…read) at first. But just like any good medicine, once the dagger part of the jagged little pill goes down, the rest is heal quickly or bleed out.
I get astounded very easily, I guess.
I expect my best from myself at every given moment–even if my best is barely getting out of bed to get on with a drudge-like day in the making. I get out of bed and do my best at the moment anyway, because I know what I am capable of on my actual best days. If I fall short of what I’m capable of, I’m still okay. At least I know what lies dormant on those days that suck for everyone involved (and not in a good way).
With that in mind, I look at some of the people I know, some I work with or around or just see in passing and wonder what their best is. Did I catch them on one of their actual best days or is this a get out of bed anyway day? My face actually makes that “aghast” expression and I am genuinely perplexed at what some folk get away with and call their lives, profession, etc. and what have you. Or how they honor me in them. On a semi-consistent basis. (Let me add here that I have witnessed great amounts of awesome in people as well. People who do amazing work and offer amazing results from seeming no resources at all. But this post isn’t about those people.)
I wonder aloud and often how folk claim to be professional whatever they are and do bullshit work, that anyone within glancing distance can see is bullshit (or half-assed), or maybe just “let me get this done any ole kinda way”, take forever to do it, if at all, and then expect that they should be paid the same as if they put actual time, energy and love into it. And they want accolades for it. *aghast face*. And then when folk complain or want exception to said bullshit (or half-assed) work and that aghast face appears on the folk who submitted the bullshit (or half-assed) work to begin with. Like, “how dare you think my bullshit (or half-assed) work is bullshit (or half-assed)!” That shit is perplexing to me.
Then there are those people who sit up so haughtily on their high horse, spitting bible verse and philosophical rhyme to the tune of I’m so this and so that and I exist and so therefore you should at least acknowledge that it’s amazing that I exist. *aghast face* They think they’re so fine when they’re so average. Although, they never let a moment go by without mentioning how fine they are. Or how fine they think someone else they know thinks they are. That’s always fun to sort out. The best is when these haughty souls commit major sins in your relationship, you bring said sins to their attention and in response they make sure you know how important they are, as though to say–be happy young peon that I’m in your life to begin with. *aghast face* That shit is also perplexing.
Or the overblown “celebrity” type who gets his panties in a bunch when you have an opinion about something he’s done in his professional career, worthy of having an opinion on (whatever it is, it’s whack) and he wants to play direct message twitter tag with you in a way where he can have a direct response, but you can’t. And the response is all about how much he’s accomplished and how little, in his opinion, you have compared to him. That shit is just corny. I can’t.
So far, I must say, the common denominator in all of the above scenarios–as I’ve experienced them– have happened overwhelmingly with male people. I’m not saying all male people are like this. I’m not saying female types don’t do this. I’m writing from my personal experience, this is what I’ve been noticing and me no likey.
Do you mind if I share a little advice? You don’t? Good. Because I had planned to share it anyway (this is my blog after all). Now brace yourselves because this will be a little hard to hear (er…read) at first. But just like any good medicine, once the dagger part of the jagged little pill goes down, the rest is heal quickly or bleed out. You ready? Here it goes. GET OVER YOURSELF. There, I said it. Wait a minute. Breathe in. That’s right, now breathe out. Keep doing it. I know it hurts dear one, but if I didn’t tell you, you’d probably keep walking on this planet like you’re the shit and you really aren’t. You’re actually a puffed up version of who you’re supposed to be and you compensate for this by being who you are. No, asshole is too harsh a term. I don’t like to use it unless there are no other words available. Lets go with “ego-out-of-whack” for this one. Yes, I know it’s more than one word, but the hyphens make it roll off the tongue. Here, try it: “ego-out-of-whack”. See, it almost sounds pretty. But it isn’t because you’re making me not like you by being this way.
See, we women have been honoring the lives of men since we first looked up and saw our fathers at birth. If we happened to not see his face in our early lives, we found another male person to worship eventually–if that’s what we were into. But whatever. The truth is, men have been coddled and cared for by mothers, grandmothers, daughters, wives, mistresses, lovers and etc. for their entire lives. It is we who cure everything from the scraped knees to the common cold and it is we who have allowed you to believe that your identity is thinking you are far superior than you actually are. We have told you that fast cars are the way to our hearts and you, being (I don’t know what to call that) well, you decided that simply having a fast car isn’t nearly enough–you have to have all the fast cars and compete with other male people like you to see who can have the most variety of fast cars in the entire world. Hahahahahahaaaaaaaaa!
We told you we wanted a nice, comfortable home to live and raise our kids in. That turned into 4 houses the size of several small cities in different parts of the world. Take that guy over there! How many city sized houses do you have? Hahahahahahhaaaaa!
I could go on, but I’m already almost off topic. The point is, I’m beginning to believe that male people have lost their minds–like, for, ever ago. I mean, yeah, part of this discussion is a bit of awe about that whole Penn State raping small boys fiasco and how sticky the web of that decade long deception–you can’t make me understand what went on with that at all.
But part of it is based on an observation of what I’ve both seen and researched about what too many male people have been doing with their power throughout history and now.
We’ve been told as women that we are inferior and over-emotional and unfitting of all types of things that male people have enjoyed for eons. And yet, we have those things now, and I’m wondering what all the propaganda was about. Especially when I see all these puffed up men sprouting unwarranted peacock feathers about how amazing they like to tell people they are, but to ask them to BE what they say they are is paramount to asking a donkey to kick you in your face because you happen to be standing there and apparently, don’t really like your face.
All we women want is for people (male in particular) to do what they say they will, when they say they will, with high quality and honor us as equals and treat us as though we matter. Pretty much the golden rule. Treat us the way you would want and expect to be treated.
Your egos have been our burden to stroke for eons and we’re tired of the stroking because now that we have a proper view (eye level) we’re finally noticing how …. (trailing off because too many words fit here)…
I’m reminded about a tweet I read by a writer I admire a great deal named Dream Hampton. She tweeted (or retweeted), and I retweeted this:
@dreamhampton: Do I wish every human wld read The Four Agreements? Yes.
So I’m like wow. Isn’t that the book by Don Miguel Ruiz that is essentially the golden rule, but broken down even further into four simple ways to govern ones life that honors everyone we encounter and still keeps us in a place of honor, personally? I read The Four Agreements!
Now look, you’ll read the above and say,
…well Envy, with the exception of, maybe, of the 4th agreement…I’m working on that one… The 1st agreement is irrelevant to me because I already tell everyone how amazing I am… as for Agreement #3, not my bag because I don’t ask questions, mostly because I know everything already. With that said Envy, I should probably ignore the rest of your post because your opinion shouldn’t matter to me in the slightest because it’s your opinion and agreement # 2 says not to take anything personally and you’re speaking from your own personal woman dream and dreamy women have nothing of value to add to the all important male people conversation anyway.
*Aghast face*
The moral of this story? Nope, no moral. Just some food for thought. Thank you for reading this though. Peace and abundant “go on, live The Four Agreements” Blessings.
Love,
-e-
