Terrible things happen every single day. Every day someone’s best friend dies. Can you imagine? All 364 days in the year (I’m not buying into that Roman 365 days crap) someone loses their best mate forever. Other bad things happen too. Countries get invaded. Pets get sucked into airplane propellers. Cell phones drop in toilets. All devastating, but all occurring on a daily basis. My vow I plan to take, no longer asking for pity from others.
It’s tough. I’ve always been one of those people who tries to “one up” the others in how bad their life is. My whole family is the same way. It’s like that one scene from that one Lethal Weapon movie when they compare scars. When my family does it things don’t end on hot, compassionate, violent sex. Most the times at least it doesn’t. What makes someone try to make their life sound so bad? Well, it gets pity. Pity gives an emotion. Having people feel bad for you can be a drug. It’s a childish thing. To want to hear “Awww” then be hugged because you ordered something spicy at a restaurant and don’t have enough beverage to chase it. I use that example because it is one I’m sure someone in my family has tried. We really are a bundle of Non-Joyful Debbie Downers.
(I make way too many Lethal Weapon references despite never actually watching a whole one through. I blame the Six Flags stunt show)
My clan is not the only guilty party in this. Oh no child. Lots of people are. The one which really gets my goat is when people complain about work. Either their boss is a dick or they cannot go out and party because their schedule was changed last-minute. Your life is that fantastic your biggest complaint is you have to make more money? What would you have done with that time anyway? Gone out to eat and gotten fatter? At least now you have a few extra bucks. But of course you will be cheap anyway when people ask you if you want to actually do something interesting. Maybe it’s me, but I’d rather do one amazing thing per year than a lot of time-wasting money costing events. I’d give examples, but I am the last person who should give examples of things that are not fun. I think I could fall asleep looking at earth from outer space.
(You see beauty and how precious life can be. I see an ice-cube or cracked nail up close)
Sympathy is something I have also had a little bit trouble understanding. Or is it empathy? I’m really not clear on the difference. Like alligators and crocodiles. I know one lives in salt water. But by the time I get close enough to sip the water I’m being chased by the alligator or crocodile and I forget which lives where. People try to get a lot of sympathy for the way they live their lives. They will make mention of how sick they feel or how little they have eaten lately. As much as I hate people who shop at Whole Foods, they take care of themselves. They only complain about ozone layer holes and other exaggerations. People who eat well and exercise feel really good. Physically and emotionally. I know I go crazy if I go a while without exercise, especially when my diet has been half brownies. So please, if you’re near me and you feel like shit and there is not a salad in front of your face, shut it.
One of my biggest peeves on this subject are people who try to get me to feel bad for them based on the people in their lives. Example, people who use their parents as a barricade. I know my parents were never strict, but I have a hard time believing someone who can vote, possibly drink, and knows not only what a Cleveland Steamer is but also where to get one, will allow themselves to get pushed around by someone three times their age. Yeah, some people have scary parents. I had someone tell me to call their dad sir. Unless you’re Paul McCartney’s daughter you have no reason for people to call your father sir. He didn’t earn a thing. If someone ever tells me to call them sir again I’m forcing them to call me doctor. When they don’t I’m punching them in the face. Who are the cops going to believe? A guy who goes around thinking he’s a knight? Probably not.
(All those years at medical school and Dr. Doomsday becomes a super villain. Imagine how the people he gave prostate exams to feel now)
I don’t own too many nice things. I find owning crappy items is a major pity plea. I kind of enjoy having such horrible outdated objects. When it breaks I don’t feel too bad. Words such as “just” are thrown before possessions to make them seem not so glamorous. Sometimes this is used as a reverse tactic. “Oh it’s just a 9883 Fender Gibson Les Claypool guitar. No big deal.” or whatever a type of fancy guitar is. The only time I use the word “just” in a negative way is when ordering water at a restaurant. “I’ll just have water” saying it as if anything else could kill me. Feel bad for me! My beverage has no flavor. I guess hipsters have made owning clothes with blood stains cool again. Hipsters of course being the biggest pity pissers of all. They make themselves look ugly so we stop and tell them they’re beautiful. I hate dark poets so much. How about picking a favorite movie other than The Crow? It’s really just Robocop filmed with a bit less light.
(Did I say “just” Robocop! I did it again!)
Now I will need your help to make sure I don’t turn anything into attempts at sympathy. Call me out on it. Mail a bomb to me. Do whatever you can to get me to stop. Being subtle about sympathy is not far off from fishing for compliments. Another societal problem, but one I will work on later to fix. With my vow I eliminate a lot of compassion. This may seem evil, but it is misplaced compassion. Better used on important things like truly lost individuals in need of help. If your tummy is bothering you because you got really drunk last night I will not flinch my face to make a false frown. When your parents boss you around and make you feel any sort of guilt I will tell you to act your age. Finally, when I feel like you send out a negative vibe on the state of your life for the sole reason to get me to say “Awww” I will simply stop listening. You have me in your life. Things can’t be all that bad.