Strange realization I've been cycling towards for a little while now: I may not be the most easy-going person around. But, sadly, I thought that I was. I thought because I was forgiving and understanding of people, I was forgiving and understanding of controllable situations, and that is just frankly not the case.
So in light of Justin Timberlake's Twitter post about his three things pet peeves: Being poked, patted, or pinched. So, thank you, JT, for I too have those same pet peeves! G-d, is poking not the worst? The kvetching began with this heat, yeah, I am talking about it again. When your body shuts down, makes you dizzy and you head pound painfully when it's humid out, then you may bitch alongside me. Other things that have been irking me: IM etiquette that varies from my own. Don't be "return" happy. If you split up your sentences into 14 lines, I will cry a little on the inside. And I would really appreciate if people didn't IM me the nano-second I log in. There are things I like to do. Like, sit down completely. Gather my thoughts? Start what I set out to do. And while I am ranting like a soon-to-be lonely friendless cold-hearted something or other, if you IM me, or call me, or seek me out in any way, it would be lovely to have something to say. The whole, "Hey, what's up with you?" "Nothing, relaxing, you?" "I'm booooredddd, entertain me!" thing was tired before it ever started on its long and pointless journey. I call people when I have a purpose. Is that weird? Do people today like being interrupted from whatever they choose to do with their time to be tasked with being someone verbal circus clown?
The truth is, I am so lucky to have friends that call to listen to a whole lot of nothing, and I would only trade them for their identical twins if they had better IM and phone etiquette. But can you really expect anything less from this girl:
When I was young, about 6 years old, I wanted to have a sleepover with this girl across the street (Sandy Sin), and we begged for two years and my mother always refused, because we were "Just across the street!" But, when my parents split up, my dad was at that house with me, and he let me go over there on night in the middle of the summer. So, our six year old dreams were realized, and we got to stay up late and polish our nails at her place. Once we go to bed, she on her twin bed, I on the floor, quickly realized that sleep would not come early. I had never been anywhere that didnt have air conditioning and I can still remember the panic and tossing and turning that rapidly ensued. I made her switch spots with me thinking being closer to the window might help, and back and forth about five or six times. At around 3 am, I let her know our sleep over was over, and I marched over to her father's bedroom door and started knocking. She begged me not to wake up her strict Korean father, but her cries fell on sweaty ears. I successfully woke him up, he called my dad, and they met in their boxers in the middle of the street to hand me over like a defunct parcel. And I remember the freezing cold that encircled me as I got into my father's room. He likes to sleep in 45 degrees also!
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