daily preciousness

Saturday, April 29, 2000

resolved: 2000

I had lunch/coffee/breakfast/supper with an acquaintance last week/month. I was sipping on an organic soft drink/mocha cappa/orange juice/italian soda when I realized that I'm just TOO NICE sometimes. I let people ramble on and on about their little problems while my mind is wandering hither and yonder, paying only the slightest amount of attention to them.


My companion was talking about his/her job/pet/child/car repair/trip to Idaho/favorite radio show while my mind was busily planning my shopping list and dinner menu for the next week. This isn't fair to them or me.


Why do I get myself into this type of situation so often? Have I too carefully honed my skills at creating a faux-interest/concern look when I speak with people? What's up with that? How did that happen? Should I cultivate a disinterested air of contempt for people? No, that's not the solution.


I suppose that makes me a shallow, callous person. Well, I'll just have to learn to accept that, or else I'll have to declare loudly and boldly, "Please stop littering my conciousness with your petty concerns" the next time somebody begins to unload their spare tonnage of worry upon me.


I *care* about other people, I do, but I don't need a detailed account of their day-to-day life. (I can't give details of how people have bored me because I'd hate to think that they might read this entry and know that I was bitching about them.)



Of course, *I* was NEVER being boring. I'd like to think that I keep everybody around me sufficiently entertained and informed. But how do I know that I'm not getting the same treatment from everybody else?


My resolution for 2000: be more assertive in my time-management skills so that I won't be bored to tears while people launch into therapy sessions when I'm in no position to help them. (This physician must heal himself, first.)


Okay, I'm glad we got that out of the way. Ironic, isn't it, that I've just wasted your time by complaining just as others have so often done to me? Tragic. Such is the bitter irony of life.

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