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Working on the drabbles, really
My hard-to-make decision for today: I could get into my club free tonight, yet it's raining and I don't know if I want to walk there. Not that it's a long walk or anything, but I'm feeling lazy right now.
My life is so hard, really.
Anyway. I know you're all fascinated by the saga of the racist guy, so here's the latest news. We're in a student group together, as I've said, and we had our meeting last night. Thankfully, I've finally managed to find my zen again.
See, the thing is- I don't like stupid people. Obviously. Obviously I don't think it's okay for people to be racist assholes, I assume I don't even need to say that. But I'm rarely upset over it. I can't remember getting angry in this way at someone for a long time. I have no problem with disagreeing with someone, with getting into a fight, even with going to extremes, but I like to think that I have to be driven to it. I don't seek out excuses to hurt other people, even if I have problems with them; that's not how I think of myself. That's not who I think of myself as being. But I was, here, though I'm not sure why, and now I'm not, though again I don't know why, just that I'm grateful to have stopped it.
I ended up getting stuck talking with him, because in my normal state* I can be endlessly polite even to people I hate, who rarely manage to pick up on the "I disagree with everything you're saying and am pretty ignoring you!" signals for some reason. I find it fascinating how long some people can carry on a conversation when my sole contributions are "Hmmm," and "That's interesting," and "Do you think so?" Guy has problems in the head (um. Other than the obvious ones). He was telling me about some of the stories he's working on, and every single one features graphic and extended violence. Now, I've got no problems with violence. I like a bloody fight scene as much as the next person. But when every single story is playing out like "And then the demon rips out the guy's throat and eats it and then he rapes the six-year-old and then he burns down the hotel with all the people locked inside and then..." it starts to get worrying.
Also, thoughts like "this life is a neverending tragedy" (Me: "Well. I like it.") and "This is a fallen world" (Me: "Is that what you believe?" Him: "It was perfect once, but then sin entered and it's been fucked-up ever since. But I believe Jesus Christ will return one day and make it perfect again." Me: "Hmmm.") do not seem to indicate a lot of happiness.
I wonder if these are the kinds of stories that the neighbors of serial killers remember after they've given the obligatory "but he was such a nice, quiet man!" soundbite.
*You know, zen is really not the word for this state, because it's actually rather cruel on my part. The fact that the other people involved usually aren't awaree that I'm pretty much toying with them and adding to my list of "reasons why I don't like you" doesn't make it better.
My life is so hard, really.
Anyway. I know you're all fascinated by the saga of the racist guy, so here's the latest news. We're in a student group together, as I've said, and we had our meeting last night. Thankfully, I've finally managed to find my zen again.
See, the thing is- I don't like stupid people. Obviously. Obviously I don't think it's okay for people to be racist assholes, I assume I don't even need to say that. But I'm rarely upset over it. I can't remember getting angry in this way at someone for a long time. I have no problem with disagreeing with someone, with getting into a fight, even with going to extremes, but I like to think that I have to be driven to it. I don't seek out excuses to hurt other people, even if I have problems with them; that's not how I think of myself. That's not who I think of myself as being. But I was, here, though I'm not sure why, and now I'm not, though again I don't know why, just that I'm grateful to have stopped it.
I ended up getting stuck talking with him, because in my normal state* I can be endlessly polite even to people I hate, who rarely manage to pick up on the "I disagree with everything you're saying and am pretty ignoring you!" signals for some reason. I find it fascinating how long some people can carry on a conversation when my sole contributions are "Hmmm," and "That's interesting," and "Do you think so?" Guy has problems in the head (um. Other than the obvious ones). He was telling me about some of the stories he's working on, and every single one features graphic and extended violence. Now, I've got no problems with violence. I like a bloody fight scene as much as the next person. But when every single story is playing out like "And then the demon rips out the guy's throat and eats it and then he rapes the six-year-old and then he burns down the hotel with all the people locked inside and then..." it starts to get worrying.
Also, thoughts like "this life is a neverending tragedy" (Me: "Well. I like it.") and "This is a fallen world" (Me: "Is that what you believe?" Him: "It was perfect once, but then sin entered and it's been fucked-up ever since. But I believe Jesus Christ will return one day and make it perfect again." Me: "Hmmm.") do not seem to indicate a lot of happiness.
I wonder if these are the kinds of stories that the neighbors of serial killers remember after they've given the obligatory "but he was such a nice, quiet man!" soundbite.
*You know, zen is really not the word for this state, because it's actually rather cruel on my part. The fact that the other people involved usually aren't awaree that I'm pretty much toying with them and adding to my list of "reasons why I don't like you" doesn't make it better.