You ever have a situation when you knew that you were being goaded? Every part of you is screaming,
“Hey. You! Don’t bite. Don’t do anything. Most certainly of all don’t hit send and think that it will make one spit (Yes, ‘spit’!) of difference.”
Rationally I know that we are each the protagonist of our own story and that no matter how magnanimous, mature, or just fucking zen a person is, they are still the star of everything happening to them in life. So, duh, they aren’t going to understand your position. They are not going to respond,
“Ahh, now I get it. Of course. I’m sorry, I was being so selfish. Now that I see it from your point of view I totally get where you are coming from.”
And I know that it is entirely possible that in this very moment in time the source of my aggressive, jabbing of the poor innocent keys of this computer anger, is probably perched on a counter somewhere huffing to whoever will listen about my nerve, but as I said before , “We are all the…blah blah blah.” I get to say this. But of course I don’t feel any better. I feel worried that this person is going to see this entry and that I may spend the rest of the day shaky and anxious and generally pissed that people are stupid. Sound harsh? You bet.
I suppose these sorts of situations are exactly why Charles Schultz created the whole Lucy, Charlie and the football scenario. I think we all tend to distance ourselves from the Lucy character and joke about being like Charlie. We like to cheer for the Charlie types in movies and books, but we don’t want to be him. We don’t really think we are Charlie, at least I don’t. I like to think of myself as having at least a modicum of power over the Lucys in the world. In a lot of areas I have a strong Lucy radar and I am able to put my hands up, start stepping slowly backwards and saying,
“Ya, know what? Why don’t you just go ahead and hold on to that ball. Wait for the next Charlie, cause damnit today it ain’t me.”
Then of course there are days like today. I was pulled inexorably toward this dance. Every part of me stood on end, I knew I shouldn’t do it. I fought the urge several times, from several different computers. But then, I did it. I held fairness and right and wrong up as my battle cries. I couldn’t let these things go unsaid. No, I had to speak up for all those who had gone before me.
So very, very stupid.
I was warned, but I did it anyway. And everything I was warned of came to pass. I lay flat on my back, looking up at the sky wondering why the hell I thought I’d be able to change the outcome. Pissed me off too. Because I want to believe people are better than that. I want to believe that you can follow the rules, be kind, suppress the urge to do questionable things. I want to believe in altruism and trust. It also pissed me off on the totally fallible human, protagonist of my own story front.
“I’m right damnit. I don’t care what your side of this is.”
I really didn’t want to hear another side and I really didn’t want to hear from anyone else that I should listen. But the side of me that believes in an inherent goodness in most people, did listen. And when she saw a sliver of light, she shined as much right back as she could. And I know this sounds totally lame, but the two bits of light found each other, and the shaking anger of before, the unwillingness to see the other side? It slipped into the ether as fast as it had arrived.
Having started this entry at noon, and finishing it now just after midnight, I am relieved to say that both sides have spoken, both sides have assaulted their keyboards and both sides will live to spar again.