A few weeks ago I wrote a blog posting titled “Superlatives.” I informally titled it “My List of Crazy Part 1.” In it, I examined the things I feel may one day cause me to lie on a couch somewhere, heavily medicated, and explain what happened when it all fell apart. I imagine that conversation going something like this:
Therapist: Well Mr. Nolan, why don’t you tell me a little about yourself? (Feverishly scribbling in her note pad)
Me: Umm, well I guess my earliest memory of being crazy was when I went door to door in my neighborhood, at age 9, trying to put the word out that I was opening my own detective agency.
Therapist: Uh-huh. Really, go on.
Me: I remember understanding full well the condescending look in every housewife’s eye as I explained my portfolio of services. They allowed me to complete my pitch, then smiled and sent me on my way. I’m sure they had a nice laugh around the dinner table that night trying to figure out the obvious cocktail of medications that Nolan kid must be on daily.
Therapist: (as her scribbling quickly slows down) How did that look make you feel?
Me: That's the most frustrating part. I knew they had no idea just how brilliant I was at solving crimes and mysteries, but I simply couldn’t pull off the image of a legitimate detective at my age.
Therapist: Ok, Mr. Nolan was your childhood home located directly under a power line, or near a nuclear plant?
Me: What the hell does that have to do with my skills of deduction?
Therapist: Ok Mr. Nolan, we’re out of time for this week. Don’t forget to fill that prescription!
What can I say, I was an entrepreneur. Anyway, Part 2 of this list will not focus on me. This list will focus on what everyone else in the world does that is driving me to the aforementioned couch. This is YOUR list of crazy.
1. Obliviousness.
Cogito Ergo Sum. Translated: I think, therefore I am. This is one of the most puzzling concepts of mankind. On a basic level it means that I exist because I have the ability to question whether or not I exist. You people, I’m not so sure about. The problem is that the evidence is far too contradictory for me to assume that everyone else in the world actually exists, and are not just unrealistically annoying fabrications of my own consciousness. The argument for your existence is quite strong. There are great philosophers, physicists, doctors, teachers, musicians, and artists who perform feats that I can barely comprehend. If I can’t comprehend what they do, then how could I possibly create them in my own mind?
Then there’s the argument against your existence; EVERY SINGLE PERSON, OTHER THAN ME, WHO HAS EVERY DRIVEN IN THE FAST LANE!!! I don’t get it. How can you possibly not see that there is a laundry list of cars, bumper to bumper, behind you screaming at the top of their lungs? Did you think that it was your day to be the line leader and we are all simultaneously cheering you on?
That’s the problem. Most of you never notice the line, much in the way that you never notice shopping carts weaving back and forth behind you in the grocery store, as you slowly march down the dead center of the aisle. Wake up people! Walk outside, take a deep breath, and try to take note of all of the other humans walking around you. They are not scenery. They have stuff to do that has absolutely nothing to do with you.
We are really trying to teach our children to be courteous to others. But, the most important part of that lesson isn’t the fact that they shouldn’t poot in public, it’s getting them to realize that there are lots of people around them who may be negatively affected by their actions. Stop being oblivious!
2. Waiting to Talk.
In my line of work, I deal with a lot of consultants. Consultants are hired by companies to act as a liaison between the company and the government. They grease the skids. Some are very good at their jobs. They understand that we have a job to do, and work with us to so that everyone’s happy. Others take a more bulldog type approach. It’s like they’ve watched a few too many courtroom dramas. They employ more aggressive tactics to get the job done. They threaten you, talk down to you, divide and conquer, and play buddy-buddy. But the worst tactic they use is the “wait to talk.”
This is where they don’t hear a word you say; they are simply waiting their turn to continue arguing their case. They stay on script and don’t bend, which usually results in failure on their part. There is one particular consultant who is infamous for his blatant use of this tactic. (Some of my CG friends are smiling right now)
I don’t do a lot of impressions, but I’ve got this guy down pat. He will lay his case out like his Perry freaking Mason, then lean back confidently in his chair. As I begin my rebuttal to his point, he sits up quickly, leans forward, holds up his hand, and quietly begins repeating the sound “Uhh” over and over as if trying to interrupt. Imagine a grown man who can’t listen to a counter argument, or attempt to compromise. Instead he makes this sound over and over, rapidly, until you pause to let him jump in. It’s embarrassing.
The bad part is that I know lots of people that do some version of the very same tactic. It is one thing when they do it consciously, but it’s another thing altogether when you realize that’s just how their made. I can’t stand talking to someone who won’t make eye contact with you, mutters while you speak, and interrupts you half way through because they missed part of what you said. It makes me want to grab them by their face and scream, “I know you didn’t hear me, because you don’t have enough respect or attention span to listen the first time! You were obviously far too busy staring off in to the distance pondering the meaning of life.”
3. Homophobes
Stay with me on this one, it might get bumpy. I get up every morning, after not getting enough sleep, and rush to shower and get dressed so I can hit the morning commute. I then recreate a NASCAR race on I-10, with 2000 of my closest friends, and try not to die in the process. Once I get to work, I’ve got to park, walk to the office, pick up some breakfast, and finally hit my desk before the stacks of paper get too high. Once off work, I NASCAR home, eat supper, spend time with the boys, spend time with Amanda, watch a little tube, and hit the sack. My point is: If your life resembles mine in any possible way, how in the world do you find the time to completely absorb yourself with other people’s lives and choices. This one could capture any group fixated on other people’s lives.
There are millions of things for me to concentrate on that are much higher on the list than who someone else is sleeping with, or how I feel about the rights and wrongs of another culture. The phrase “get a life” is thrown around a lot. But we’ve lost the message of that phrase. What is really means is: you would be so much better served if you spent your energy and limited waking hours on bettering yourself than trying to convince yourself that it really is nurture vice nature. Get over it. Instead, why don’t you focus on the fact that your car needs an oil change, or your child needs more help with their math homework?
Honestly, I’m somewhat jealous that you’ve got your life so figured out that you can now turn your attention toward correcting what you consider to be society’s woes. What is your secret? You should publish it, because it would be the top selling self-help book of all time.
4. Oh, I’m Sorry, That Was Rhetorical.
If you and I are sitting in a room, sharing a quiet moment, and I ask “so, how are you doing,” I really do want an answer. However, if I am passing you in a hallway, on the way to my office and ask the same question, just say “fine” and move along. Please don’t stop me and hijack five minutes of my time to explain that your boss has really been riding you hard lately. You know what, mine has to, which is why I don’t want to stand here anymore. It was a rhetorical question. Treat it the same way you would the word “hi.” This is really more about not picking up on social cues. If during our conversation, I’m slowly taking steps away from you while interjecting with phrases like “Ok, sounds good,” I’m begging you to wrap it up.
5. And Finally, Don’t Touch Me.
Seriously, don’t touch me. I’m not a hugger. Neither is Amanda. I think we got married because we were the only people each of us was willing to hug. I’ll shake a hand, that’s fine. But seriously, you don’t need to put your hand on my forearm to drive home the importance of your point. I’m not really a germaphobe, but people are gross. Plus, there is something a little too intimate and familiar about touching another person, and we’re not there yet.
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