Memes are all the rage. On social media, they garner “friends” by the thousands, and people tune in to hear their drama du jour. How about some abject honesty?
Although I have gained weight, I do not have my own gravity field. I am not the center of anyone’s universe. Nothing revolves around me. No, I do not need sympathy or my ego stroked to know I am still just as beautiful as I was 15 pounds ago.
My beauty does not begin at my epidermis; contrariwise, that is its terminus. I do not desire adulation for what your pupil captures when you view my pictures or my person.
I did that.
If you are in my circles, you have seen that statement before. I take responsibility. Nothing which occurs in my life does so without my intervention, culpability and/or direct input. What happens in my life is a consequence of circumstances I allow or which are a direct result of my actions and inaction.
It is unlikely you will hear the words I’m sorry come from my mouth because I know how to conduct myself in a way which does not impinge others. If I have wronged you, I will ask your forgiveness only if I am remorseful. Otherwise, I will not waste my effort or your time.
In the event I have been wronged, I will find probable cause before I hurl accusations. I happen to know how much can be misunderstood from unfounded accusations. I hit those who have wronged me with their actions rather than titter in the background to those who cannot and will not make restitution.
If they are talking about me, they are giving someone else a break.” ~ Red Dwyer
Indeed, speculation about my nefarious activities and proclivities are a source of amusement for me. Rumors are always, let me repeat that loudly, ALWAYS the result of half-truths and assumptions which neglect logic and various facts both in and out of evidence. In short, they are laughable.
What is hurtful is those who base their trust and discrimination on information gathered from the ass’ mouth instead of the horse’s.
While I covet opinions, I do so merely in a fact-finding mission to gauge the reaction to (events, ideals, proposals). I do not need a supplier for my opinion; it is a quite natural phenomenon which occurs when I gather enough facts to promulgate one.
I may well listen to your opinion. I will not adopt it, however, as I have limited space to accommodate ideas which are unsustainable. Provided your opinion comes with its own vehicle, home and occupation, I might consider fostering it.
I have earned many accolades. Not a single one of those accolades entitles me to anything other than the accolade itself. I do not deserve special treatment. This sword cuts both ways: Treat me no better and no worse than anyone else.
Longevity does not entitle me to deference; it merely means my time is not complete. Intelligence does not entitle me to service or goods; those must be bought. Integrity, competence and equity earn me respect.
I do not denigrate myself unwarranted. In the event I say something which appears to be self-deprecation, before you jump up and claim the opposite in an attempt to build my self-esteem, know this: I likely have information about myself you do not. I say these things because they are true, not because I want someone to convince me of the opposite.
Likewise, I do not fish for comments or compliments. While I am gracious, I do not seek compliments. I will celebrate them with others when I have gotten one I truly did not see coming. To be frank, my version of normal is so different, I rarely see them coming.
Out with it!
If I need or want something, I do not hint. I do not beat around the bush. I do not window shop, create wish lists or fawn about the things I want. Instead, I say, “I need that.” You will not hear I want that because I tend to just buy the things I want, if I ever want anything.
Depressed? Angry? Frustrated? All of these emotions are easy to determine. I state:
- I would rather be alone.
- I am livid.
- My mousetrap needs violins and better tablecloths.
I do not sigh except in comments (*le sigh* because the Internet is not good with body language). I open my mouth and articulate. If you can hear me or choose to read, you will know without equivocation how I feel.
I have an unbelievable threshold for pain. When I go to the hospital and they ask me (in what makes me question the sanity of hospitals) to rate pain on the 10-point scale, I have a standard answer:
This rates a six on my scale, but likely a 25 on yours. On my scale, having a 13-inch hole cut in my abdomen with a soldering iron for a Cesarean section without anesthesia qualifies as a ten, and a broken skull ranks a four.”
In the last three years, I have been at death’s door twice because I did not register the pain above a three. My rule is I do not volunteer for the hospital until six. Both of those trips to the hospital were because others intervened when I could no longer stay conscious.
I live everyday with a pain level of three on my scale. Chances are good you will not see it until it gets over five. You can count on not hearing about it even then unless you ask or it is necessary for you to know.
Only those who feel it know when I hurt emotionally. I will not broadcast it by whining or wheedling. Instead, I commune with paper through art or poetry until I work out how to prevent its repetition. I bleed it onto the page. After coagulation, it is sealed away with the memories I will never share.
All of this behavior makes me an island. At least the beach is pretty. I cannot imagine myself going through life in need of rescue and an eternal victim. My wish? I were part of an archipelago.
Which meme behavior do you wish would become extinct? What makes memes act the way they do? How do we stop our children from becoming memes? Am I really a lone island?
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