Posts Tagged ‘emotions’

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.

I’m a very nervous person. You’d never know it if you saw me. I’m actually a descendant of the guy from the film West Side Story known as Ice. You know, the guy that sings that song that goes “Let’s play cool” as in a reference of his nickname Ice which is cool. Cool as ice. See? Now you understand Vanilla Ice. He’s a cool white guy. Rap suddenly makes 1% sense.

(My great-uncle Rodney T. Winterbottom VII, the man who got me into musical theater)

When I get nervous, I think up worst case scenarios. They never come true. Not even close, ever. It’s silly really. I avoid doing things for fear that the worst possible thing might happen. Today’s post is more for therapeutic purposes. For me to work out the worst case scenarios in certain situations that I might not feel at ease with. Maybe it’ll help your problems too. And if it doesn’t, I don’t care.

Nervous Moment #1: Asking someone out

I still get nervous asking someone out. I think a lot of us do. We think that we’ll be rejected. We came into this world rejects. Our moms wanted so little to do with us that they were willing to cause great pain to themselves to get rid of us out of their bodies. Now we’re left thinking everyone is out to hurt us.

I remember the first time I asked a girl for her phone number. It was scary. I had seen a friend of mine do it once before. His confidence amazed me. Especially because he was such a stupid guy. But maybe his stupidity helped him. He wasn’t able to think up a worst case scenario of facing rejection. He also likes the band Nickelback. I mean, really likes them. See the kinds of people I’m dealing with? Once you admit you like Nickelback you can admit you’re a kid toucher and people suddenly think a little bit better of you.

(Raise your hand if you have bad taste in music)

The worst case scenario that can happen being rejected by someone whom you are asking out is that they say no. That’s actually not true. I think having a girl say to me “Sorry, I already have a boyfriend” is much worse. At least saying no is definite. It means that things will never change. It’s permanent. It’s death to my heart. Saying that she already has a boyfriend is like her saying if I was to kill her boyfriend, like say he falls off a bridge suspiciously, I might have a shot. But then I’d have to murder someone to get with her. That makes me more nervous. I think in my head that if I ask a girl out and she says no that I can’t go anywhere else in that town ever again. It’s so ridiculous that I believe I should be committed for thinking this way. It’s her loss, right? That’s what people who aren’t good enough tell themselves. I saw a guy on the street one time, well-dressed and well-groomed go right up to a woman and say “What are you doing Friday night?” She looked at him strange and said she was busy. He moved on. That’s the answer to all of our problems. Move on.

Nervous Moment #2: Pooping in a public restroom

I know, so amateur of me to write about. But it’s something that I am very touchy about. It’s a sensitive subject. I only do it when I really have to. Or if I think of a really good prank to pull.

Why am I nervous about it? Everybody poops! Well, you see, in my head I have this scenario. I go into the bathroom and do my business. The smell is terrible. Ungodly. It’s loud. It’s like a high school marching band but better. Someone enters and sees my feet. I exit and go out to wherever it is I am and they recognize my shoes. They look at me and think “That’s the guy who shits.” He’ll say it loudly and point. Possibly imitate the sounds of my colon. The rest of the citizens around him will join in. Pointing and laughing. Sticking their tongues out to make fun. I’ll never be able to show my face in public ever again just because I had to get something high fiber for lunch.

That would never happen. Nobody cares enough to make fun of me. I only think that might happen because that’s exactly what I think in my head when I see someone else shit. I’m a very observant person. I might not look at a woman’s shoes most of the time, but I notice a man’s shoes when they’re poking out from underneath a stall. Don’t wear gold boots. They’re a death sentence for shitters. I can spot them for far away. The real worst case scenario with public shitting is that you might clog a toilet and have to ask for assistance. Or you find a human head in the toilet. Much more likely than having a bully make fart noises in the mall food court at you.

(“McFly took a big shit. Let’s get him Ryan from The OC.”)

Nervous Moment #3: Sharing

Sharing can be a difficult thing for males. We’re told that we’re not allowed to cry. We’re not allowed to show weakness. We’re not allowed to wear a dress. I blame the media, mostly. They’re easy to blame. The media is faceless and nameless. There are also a lot of Jewish people working in the media and they’ve been blamed for so much already that it rolls right off their backs.

I try to share as many of my thoughts as I can. Certain ones can only be shared with certain people. Certain thoughts need to be bottled up and tossed into the ocean. There are much stranger things floating around in my head than I am ever willing to share out loud. I get nervous with sharing because like my two previous nervous moments, they involve rejection and being made fun of. If I have an idea that isn’t any good then someone will say “That sucks!” then someone else will yell out “Stupid!” These things actually do happen. Nobody likes a bad idea. Especially when it invades their creativity.

(Not the best idea that people have ever had)

The problem with sharing something personal is that it can totally creep a person out. We have no real line to draw with what is okay to share and what isn’t. We’re told to not bottle anything up which is absolute horse-hockey (grandmother for fucking bullshit). There are certain things you should never share. Worst case scenario for that? You get thrown in prison, you lose all your friends, no one respects you, it’s endless. So sharing still makes me nervous because those worst case scenarios are real. Bottle it up kiddos. Nobody needs to know everything about you.

Overall when speaking of worst case scenarios it comes down to this. The worst case scenario for most of us is death. You say something stupid then you die. That’s the worst thing that can possibly happen for most of us. Not for me. I think the worst case scenario is saying something stupid and not dying. Having to live with everyone knowing I uttered out stupid rhetoric. Embarrassment hurts much more than death. At least with death I won’t care anymore. Do dead bodies blush?

There are a lot of mixed messages pounding in my head about how to deal with emotions. On one hand I’m told not to cry because I’m a boy and need to be strong. On the other hand I’m told not to bottle things up. Most of the time, all I want to do is cry. I want to cry when the line at the bank is too long. I want to cry when one of my sinuses are stuffed up. But I can’t cry. All because of how society will react to my behavior. It’s nuts.

I keep my emotions bottled up for the most part. I don’t like to rub how awesome my day was in the faces of others. I also like to be honest so I have to go out of my way to make sure that I have a bad day. That way everybody wins. I get to remain being honest about how bad my day was and you don’t feel lousy knowing how inexplicably awesome it could have easily been.

The older I get, the more in touch with my emotions I am. I’m not afraid to cry or smile in the faces of strangers. I’m so not afraid of it that I probably do it too often. Which do you think is creepier? The smiling stranger or the crying one? I’d say the smiling one. There are more things to cry about than there are to smile about. I’m much more likely to trust a crier than I am a smiler. People who smile too much are usually brainwashed and may or may not still have their testicles. At least a crier you know their intentions, to bring you down.

The only time one should really always show their emotions is when they are positive emotions. Really, as much as it can be annoying to know about how much more wonderful your life is than mine, it’s still good for you to let it out. If I have a problem with your great life, I will not pay attention to it. Or more likely, I will find a physical flaw of yours and make fun of it. And if you have a problem with that, big ears, you can continue bragging about how wonderful your life is. You have to give a little to get a little.

For negative thoughts I believe more often than not it’s best to keep those deep inside. If I let out everything I thought I would probably be in prison, an insane asylum, or on television. I’m not tough enough for prison, not flexible enough for straight jackets, and don’t tan well enough to be on television. I could always play a ghost or a hermit, but then there’s the fact that I am a terrible actor.

From talking to other people, if I hadn’t kept my emotions bottled up as a teenage boy and instead shared my feelings like I was “supposed to”, I probably would be dead in a murder suicide right now. Being a teenage sucks and the worst thing about it is that it’s impossible to understand that you’re not alone until you get older. Mostly everybody I know had fantasies of blowing things up or stabbing enemies to death with novelty pencils. Teenagers are the most violent human beings, what with raging hormones and the anger at having pubic hair to trim. It’s not good to share your emotions when you’re a teenager. They try to send you to school psychiatrists who forgot what it’s like to feel left out. School psychiatrists are dicks. The moment they send a kid somewhere else for “help” is the same moment they ruin that kid’s self-esteem. And that’s all we’ve got in this world, esteem for ourselves. Once that’s ruined, then we’ve got nothing. Then we really have something to be angry about.

It’s good to be honest about how you feel, but remember, if you think it may make you sound crazy, it probably will. Some things are left unsaid, at least for a while. If you’re reading this and you’re an angry teenager do not fret. Most of those problems that piss you off now will go away. You’ll find new things to get angry about. Instead of being pissed off about what someone said on Facebook you can be pissed off about the realization that you will die alone. Yikes!

Wear your emotions honestly, but don’t be surprised when people think you’re a nutbag. We’re all a little crazy, big deal. But if your emotions involve kidnapping, torture, or murder, wait a few years until you grow out of it. Odds are you’ll find someone else who feels the same way and you’ll both end up in prison for doing something perverted to a mean gym teacher’s buttocks.