i don't know what to write, but i want to write
It's much like me speaking. I just now passed on the chance to wish someone well while they were down. I do that a lot, and it bothered me somewhat because I always want to do so, but rarely do. It never really occurred to me what was going on, but I think I may have just figured it out. It's rather simple:
I have the most amazing, incredible propensity to say the absolute worst thing at the absolute worst time. I have from since I can remember. I don't know what it is, but it seems that no matter how hard I try it always seems to come out wrong or only partially come out or something...and the something almost always leads to my looking like an ass.
It's funny really, funny in that ironic way that I am the type of person that wants to always give and always wants to do whatever's best, but too often what I say comes out all garbled and seemingly crude, mean, and unfriendly...the meaning of my words transcending the message and almost always not coming out right at all.
I remember when my mom died and we were at the funeral home discussing all that really fun stuff like the casket and the obituary and cemetary lots and the issue of the cement block thingy (I forget what it's called) that the casket is put into so that as things decompose the ground doesn't sink into the space made. A vault, that's what it is. In any case, this wasn't explained to me -- I presumed from what the funeral home guy was saying about it being water tight and the casket being made of wood that this was meant to keep the casket and the body dry and prevent it from sitting there in still water, doing what biological matter does when sitting in still water...so I say something along the lines of "why don't we put the casket in a plastic bag" which makes me shiver even to this day. Anyone that knows me knows that the loss of my mother was devastating to me, that I would never mean any disrespect to her -- but what I hated was the fact that the funeral home was trying to milk us out of another several hundred dollars just to push back the inevitability of her body decomposing and all that. I remember the look my aunt gave me. My mom, of course had she been there, would have been proud at my intent of trying to save money and stand up to the man and all, but it just came out all wrong...really wrong.
I do that. I try to bring levity to a situation where I know levity would be appropriate if I were there, but it's not for the person that is there. I try to be somber when everyone else is trying to be festive. I try to be contemplative when others just want to not think about anything. I try to seak when that other person just wants to be held. It's always the opposite. I always manage to do just the opposite thing that I should do and say the opposite thing that I should say.
Perhas I should make out like George Constanza in that one episode of Seinfeld where he decides to the exact opposite of what he thinks he should do...he ended up getting the girl, getting the dream job, and all around having everything go his way as the result.
*sigh*
I have the most amazing, incredible propensity to say the absolute worst thing at the absolute worst time. I have from since I can remember. I don't know what it is, but it seems that no matter how hard I try it always seems to come out wrong or only partially come out or something...and the something almost always leads to my looking like an ass.
It's funny really, funny in that ironic way that I am the type of person that wants to always give and always wants to do whatever's best, but too often what I say comes out all garbled and seemingly crude, mean, and unfriendly...the meaning of my words transcending the message and almost always not coming out right at all.
I remember when my mom died and we were at the funeral home discussing all that really fun stuff like the casket and the obituary and cemetary lots and the issue of the cement block thingy (I forget what it's called) that the casket is put into so that as things decompose the ground doesn't sink into the space made. A vault, that's what it is. In any case, this wasn't explained to me -- I presumed from what the funeral home guy was saying about it being water tight and the casket being made of wood that this was meant to keep the casket and the body dry and prevent it from sitting there in still water, doing what biological matter does when sitting in still water...so I say something along the lines of "why don't we put the casket in a plastic bag" which makes me shiver even to this day. Anyone that knows me knows that the loss of my mother was devastating to me, that I would never mean any disrespect to her -- but what I hated was the fact that the funeral home was trying to milk us out of another several hundred dollars just to push back the inevitability of her body decomposing and all that. I remember the look my aunt gave me. My mom, of course had she been there, would have been proud at my intent of trying to save money and stand up to the man and all, but it just came out all wrong...really wrong.
I do that. I try to bring levity to a situation where I know levity would be appropriate if I were there, but it's not for the person that is there. I try to be somber when everyone else is trying to be festive. I try to be contemplative when others just want to not think about anything. I try to seak when that other person just wants to be held. It's always the opposite. I always manage to do just the opposite thing that I should do and say the opposite thing that I should say.
Perhas I should make out like George Constanza in that one episode of Seinfeld where he decides to the exact opposite of what he thinks he should do...he ended up getting the girl, getting the dream job, and all around having everything go his way as the result.
*sigh*
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