Virgin Mary was tired –
So tired…
Tired of listening to gossip –
Gossip and complaints– They came from next door– John Cale
The plants grew over an inch since yesterday, thanks to the much-needed rain. It’s beautiful to see such vibrancy.
There is a syndrome called “realism” out there. I was a proponent for a very long time for something I called “being realistic” It sounds sensible, logical and responsible. It’s also almighty depressing. Like the others, I proclaimed “I am not a cynic, I am just being a realist”. All the while, it was just an excuse to bring other people down — shattering dreams is very enjoyable when you have nothing left to dream for yourself. But we mustn’t admit to being a killjoy, no… We have to excuse our pessimism and call it “being realistic” — and then we have to do everything in our power to bring everyone around us down, make our reluctant audience more “realistic”, encourage them to be skeptics and cynics. We’re miserable, so why shouldn’t they be?
We poo-poo people for enjoying what they enjoy, because we cannot enjoy anything ourselves; not really. We claim to enjoy our cigarettes, our booze, our vigorous socio-political-armchair-critic-debates…. What we are really enjoying, more often than not, is our misery — or other people’s misery because we ourselves are miserable.
Not mincing words, I understand that perspective better than I like to admit. Perhaps I am revealing this shameful aspect of my past because I like to be the centerpiece of attention and any attention will suffice. Or, I am trying to make amends for my past transgressions. Most likely, I am using my own life to express what little wisdom I’ve gleaned from life, to maybe convey my stumbling, shambling path to people so that they can learn from my mistakes and not have to repeat them. Or I could be just telling lies — we will never know (I will know, we can never know).
As always, this is just my perspective, not anyone else’s.
Back to the theme, because it is important.
You see, providing other people with unsolicited advice is not only tiresome, but it establishes that you are a boor. (Yes, yes, the pot is calling the kettle black, now pipe down Mister and listen for a second).
A boor is someone who fails to understand that, in polite company, unrequested advice is impolite. If someone does not ask for advice, please do not give it.
A boor is a realist. Is a cynic. Is someone who confuses opinion with “fact”. Even if they know nothing about the topic at hand, a boor can delve into their bag of tricks and come up with something that sounds like they know something that they, in reality, haven’t a clue about.
I grew up around boorish people. I have befriended boorish people. I have chosen a reclusive life because of boorish people… I wish I had chosen other unsavory habits (like prideful galloping, for instance) — but I was a boor and am very likely still a boor, although I have tried to cultivate myself (even the slightest) over these past few years. All the same –
If you know anyone who is a Kettle, please tell them that a certain Pot is almighty tired of getting advice about how best to boil water; advice he never requested…. Missus Pot feels the same way (we’re a team in that respect).
Did I mention how the flowers have grown so tall overnight — thanks to a lovely rain-shower after dark? Begonias and snapdragons, stretching out and reaching towards the sky?
Let me tell you about them…