Things that Piss Me Off - or - Haven't People Got a Clue?

As I always say, the world would be better if everyone were like me. Alas, they are not - so every so often I see fit to rant on what is just - plain - wrong.

Well, that can't last very long - the imperious/smug act, I mean. I actually am more humble, or try to be, than I let on. I work on empathy, and I have little tolerance for those who have little tolerance.

Still, things piss me off - such as this:

Couple mornings ago, dude in large pickup pulls up in front of my house, honks the horn and looks at the house expectantly. I was still had not had enough morning Joe to make sense of it for a moment. My first thought was that he was picking up a child from a sleepover, but then I realized that 1) did not recognize the vehicle, 2) there were no kids at my house but my own.

I am now a little pissed. I've never been a big fan of honking outside someone's house, but it's not a deal breaker necessarily. But, it appeared that this dude was a stranger, and that's just wrong. I briskly walked to the front door and stuck my head out. I'm not sure who spoke first, but I think the first thing I said was..."why are you honking outside my house?" And his oh-so-[important/validating] reply was, "I got some extra asphalt, you need some?" He then pointed to the end of the driveway that meets the street. There were the average cracks and dimples and messed up bits that I figured everyone has, everyone who has not newly re-surfaced in the last bunch of years. Nothing too bad. No sink holes, nothing deep enough for a punji stick. (pity, one way to get rid of solicitors)

Still, didn't need his leftovers. And if I did? Is this a way to go about business? It's one thing if you're cruising down a street and you see a neighbor out - you could ask. But to stop outside a stranger's house and just honk your flippin' horn?

Flippin' tacky is what it is.


Next up - I get a phone call the other night. Did not recognize the caller ID.
Me: Hello
Them: (Spoken with very poor elocution, and with higher volume than decorum allows, basically poor manners)   Yeah, this is (a three letter alphabet company name, which I forget, I will just refer to them as ABC), I want to come drop off (or was it pick up? I really forget) the check.
Me: Who?
Them: ABC, the transportation company, I want to do pickup/drop off the check.


- I think, wait, is this the limo company that did the airport transport for the Make-A-Wish trip? No, the name sounds wrong, the ride was already paid for, and besides, they'd be a hell of a lot more professional and pleasant.


Me: I'm sorry, I'm confused, who are you looking for?
Them: Wait - (longish pause) ...
--Click--

Me: Hello? Hello? He hung up...I wonder why he hung up. -( no wait, that's Pink Floyd.) But he did hang up abruptly, and without a gracious goodbye or a "sorry my bad" or nothing.


Still - I was gobsmacked. What just happened? OK obviously it was a wrong number situation. Hey, no biggie, it happens to all of us. But wait, this was different. You don't call, and keep saying the same thing, when the person on the other end obviously does not know who you are or what your business is. You change your tactic, you explain things in a different way, you don't breath through your mouth, you don't get all nearly shouty. You enunciate, dear man.


And then when you realize your faux pas, you don't just hang up on a person, as if you'll get cooties!


You know, I called that number back. I really did. It went to voice mail. But boy, had I got my loud boorish ABC guy on the phone, I would have gone all Emily Post on his ass.


Oh, and then there's the walking medical dictionary with no filter at Starbucks. Let me explain. I got my latte and cookie and sat down to kill some time and start in on a new book, Brother West: Living and Loving Out Loud, A Memoir, by Cornel West. I don't know a lot about Dr. West, but he's intrigued me for a while - so it was on sale, yaddah, yaddah.

So, I'm sitting there, and there are two women at the table right next to me, chatting and there was also a small girl who belonged to one of them. Because of the proximity, I could over hear a lot of what they were saying, but I was able to tune it out, and it wasn't anything that was too loud or two weird.


But that changed in a little while. Evidently a woman who was two tables away from my neighbors overheard their convo, and started asking questions of the one of the woman, the one with apparently a multitude of health issues, including a poorly working social filter, or internal editor. 


Deal Lady - you don't go yakking about such things as your procedures and your hysterectomy and your hormones and your this and your that, to a person two tables away, in a mixed company setting, that is NOT a doctors office, or a support group.


A brief blurbie is fine. Oh yes, you tried that med? Me too, it worked/it failed - etc. Done.


But this convo went on, and on, and on, and ohDearGod, just move to sit next to your audience and lower your voices, for Pete's sake!

Who raises these people?


So - these are the things that trouble me. The thing is, sometimes life is so difficult, I need to focus on these other things that in the long run, don't matter one fucking way or another. Well, they do. I wish people had better manners, but still - I think the need to just ramble and vent about dumb things as well as the important things is crucial.


And that's all I'm going to say about that.

The Reading Luxury

Yes, it is a luxury to just sit and read, and read, and -- well it's a luxury to be able to just sit and do anything pleasurable for more than a half hour. And reading is the topic currently.

I just finished tonight, Armistead Maupin's The Night Listener. I have a vague recollection of this coming out as a film, but never saw it. Anyway, the story is incredible. Actually that adjective that I meant to use for "great, awesome, compelling", actually is more apt then I realized. You have to read this to see what I mean, but just remember the word, incredible and it hits home. Definite recommend.

Previously, I enjoyed the sad satisfaction of finishing Brother Odd by Dean Koontz. I actually started a separate piece on authors that surprise me, and Koontz is in that category. But let me just touch on the story. There's this dude - a sort of a wise-ass but kind - young man who lives in a small desert Southern California town. He lives simply and works as a fry-cook at a nearby diner. He has a swell girlfriend, a great boss, and some other dear friends, and he sees dead people. Yep, just like that twerp in The Sixth Sense. Luckily the sheriff understands Odd Thomas's secret, and even recruits Odd for various freaky-deeky cases.

Anyway, Koontz ended up liking this character of Odd Thomas enough to create a sequel or two, or series...and so that brings me to Brother Odd, which places Odd at a monastery/convent/school. The dead and other creepies follow him, of course - and the story is well told. But this telling, it's something special. Something beyond just spinning a good yarn. There are pieces in the pages that make your heart do funny things. Not in the sense of stopping while turning a page, but more in the fashion of "how can he possibly be able to convey this much hope and love without resorting to quoting from Shakespeare's sonnets or at the very least, a tear-jerker Hallmark Card." But really, I shouldn't be so surprised at the texture of Koontz's writing, I've seen this from him before, but certain passages from Odd are extra-amazing. I was struck deeply while reading this last installment, and I'm hoping that when I get around to my little piece on surprising authors, that I can dig up the proper words to explain what the fuck he's capable of.

And there's been some non-fiction too. A nice treat was Truth and Beauty by Anne Patchett. This is the story of the friendship between Patchett and the poet Lucy Grealy. Fantastic writing, even with a somewhat depressing subject matter.
Lastly is James Rollins' Black Order. I had not heard of him when my brother-in-law lent me Amazonia, which was a very good read. Very good up till the part where I inexplicably stopped and still have not finished. I have not heard Rollins mentioned anywhere, but he's got at least two hits on his hands. Black Order is tense mystery thriller type, mixing sci-fi with ethics and morals, and I so would love to see this made into a movie.

And what's funny, but I don't have the energy to start a whole 'thing', is that several of these books touched, even rather deeply, on quantum physics. Whodathunk?

Eat, Pray, Love - Repeat.

I’ve been reading Elizabeth Gilbert’s Eat, Pray, Love and I am not only fascinated with her story, I’m compelled to be a better writer. Rather, I wish I could write better, now, instantly. That compelling feeling is more of a knee-jerk reaction, nearly a jealousy, but not quite.

Her words are lyrical, yet earthy. She makes you want to befriend her instantly. She makes you want to travel to those wonderful countries – seeking out gurus and chefs and old men and young children who cannot speak English, but what does it matter?

Gilbert also makes me not want to have a divorce, nor a sad messy love affair. Her anguish over those lost loves is conveyed with a visceral despondence.

Oh, and she makes us hunger, mostly for that glorious pasta and pizza, but steadily a desire takes hold for enlightenment, self-actualization and contentment.

And I'm not even finished yet.

Bravo Liz - Bravo.