The dose I got of Langston Hughes this morning (the same one I kindly but
illicitly passed on
to all y'all) reminded me: this is what poetry is for. What power he had in
his words.
I love what words and logic can do. I hate when they bite
me back. Today at lunch, my most petted of pet peeves was pulled on me. I hate
like hell being condescended to, an unfortunate combination with my having the
prickly sort of psyche that finds patronage in what was probably intended to be a
kindly sharing of information.
I mean, come on. Who doesn't know what aI'm standing there
looking through my change after paying for lunch.Total Stranger,
male of course: Do you collect the new quarters?Me: Not collect,
really, just trying to see what I have here.TSmoc: Do you know what
to look for?Me: Actually, I don't know what the latest one for this
year is. [Hoping he'd tell me.]TSmoc: Well, it's not just the year.
Look here. [pulls out a quarter] See, look here under the year -- there's a little
tiny letter there, see?Me [coolly]: Oh, you mean the mint
mark.TSmoc: Uh, yeah. The 'P' ones are really hard to find, so those
are the ones to look for.Me: No they're not!
TSmoc:
[looks puzzled]Me: My whole family lives in
Philadelphia.
But yeah, I
know, the guy wasn't really assuming I'm an idiot, just sharing what he apparently
thought was cool esoteric information. Maybe my pet peeve is just people who have
a low threshold of the esoteric.
The worst thing is, I've been
accused of being patronizing for doing just about the same thing. I suppose I feel
that other people should just naturally see I'm not intending be that way, just
taking delight in sharing a bit of esoteric information. Damn, I hate when logic
bites me in the ass.
On the other hand, if people would just assume I
know everything, or will ask if I don't, we'd all get along just fine. Start at a
high level and I'll bring it down if necessary -- I don't mind looking stupid when
I actually am. Can I reconfigure the world that way?