be less scathing

not complete, but I’m moving it under “give more than I take” goal, since I think a scathing attitude is an area in my life in which I truly take take take from those aorund me without offering anything positive in return.

from work I’m not overly keen on (not hatred in the realm of Mrs. Eggs, but not someone I’d choose to spend my Sunday mornings with either) just came to my desk and asked if we could have a quick meeting about tomorrow’s eikaiwa. I actually was quite busy (never too busy for 43 things), so I sighed inwardly. She saw my hesitation and assure me it would only be a quick meeting. I grudgingly trudged into the library after her.
Turned out it wasn’t a meeting after all. She’d been on holiday to Switzerland and had bought me some presents (hankies, stationary, chocolates all wrapped in Alpine paper and ribbons) but hadn’t wanted to give me them in the office in case the others got jealous.
I felt terrible.

From now on I shall scathe no more, I promise.

Well, unless it’s absolutely necessary, which this morning it clearly wasn’t.

As if to redeem myself in advance, I spent my time before work baking cookies to bring in to the office, so I don’t feel quite as terrible as I should do.

Have to remember to greet co-workers with a smile on my face, to be open wherever possible and not see interaction with certain people as a chore.

The woman of my previous entry (you know the one, the bane of my existence and all that). I’m not sure how long I can keep seeing her without hacking off the better side of her face with an unwashed cheesegrater. She was there yesterday at the festival, turning even my professional photographic debut into a haze of deep red mist. What’s that, you’re the official photogrpaher? Don’t mind me as I stand right in front of your camera, trying to engage you in yet another conversation about my eggs (both ovular and chicken). And yes, I will insist on following you around for a good thirty minutes, insisting you return to the brass band arena to take another photo of my son and his tuba.
JUST FUCK OFF, YOU AWFUL AWFUL WOMAN!

The other day I got an email from a teacher in the next town. She had turned upon his doorstep at 8.30 (he’d never met the woman before), saying she attended my evening class and we all really wanted him to come and help out from time to time. He offered to contact me about it and she said that would be completely unnecessary. Yes, she tried to PREVENT him from contacting me about the whole thing. He told her was busy and she refused to leave until he promised to drop in on her and her horrid chicken farm at a later date.
He was a little confused as to why one of my students had come instead of me. He was also a little confused as to where the old bat might have got his name and address from.
I assured him she didn’t get it from me, that I didn’t need any help with the evening class, that if I did need help I would be sure to ask for it myself without the interventions of dear Mrs. Eggs, and that the best thing he could do was ignore her completely.

Seriously, who is this woman, and how do other people put up with her? It’s got to the point now where I lie rather than reveal to anyone the fact that I speak French, in case she finds out (she would find out), and expects me to sit around listening to her not make sense in that language as well. Oh, you’re looking for a French conversation partner are you? What a shame I can’t help you.
Some story (I’ve heard it seven times to date) about an Italian woman she met while she was a student, who taught Mrs. Eggs to speak French (I daren’t contemplate) and then married a Japanese man but got divorced, and now Mrs. Eggs doesn’t know where the woman is and it’s very upsetting.
What do you want me to do, find her for you?

She’ll be there this evening and I have decided I am going to annouce that conversation circle will be cancelled during the junior high summer holidays, due to my being absent on numerous not quite invented yet trips. I feel a bit bad for the other people in the class but seriously, if I don’t have a break from this woman soon I may start saying things like this to people who know her rather than just venting it into the anonymous vaults of the internet.

STUPID STUPID STUPID OLD CROW, FUCK OFF AND LEAVE ME ALONE!! JUST FUCK OFF! I MEAN REALLY REALLY FUCK OFF!! OFF! FUCK! FUCK OFF!

OFF!

Is it scathing to write an email which begins

“X is a nice enough lady, and I know that she means well, but essentially, she’s the bane of my existence”

and ends

“her heart might be in the right place, but let’s be honest, hearts aren’t everything”

?

I’m having a hard time finding where to draw the line between scathing and honesty.

But seriously, she is the bane of my existence.

I think it only fair to direct you to my most recent blog entry, entitled “a random list of things that annoy me”. That probably counts as scathing.

http://www.madsbev.blogspot.com

Just been to the post-office for the third time today. The first time was to send some packages back home. All went well, or so I thought. I mean, the customs forms were completed, the stamps were affixed, the required amount of money was exchanged for a small badly printed receipt: my afternoon was getting off to an auspicious start.
Or was it?
No sooner was I settled back in my staffroom chair when I’m called over to receive a phone-call – always a moment of great trepidation, not knowing what painstaking conversation is about to take place with the eyes of the all the office upon me, sniggering at my mispronunciation of ん. Turns out it’s the post-office, who apologise but they gave me the wrong customs form to fill out, so could I please come back and fill out the new ones. Well, we all make mistakes I suppose. Off I trudge. Only to return to the staffroom to be greeted, 15 minutes later, by ANOTHER phone-call from the post-office, this time to inform me that I was mistakenly undercharged for one of the parcels and would I please come back and pay the outstanding amount.
I really am trying very hard to keep my scathing to a bare minimum. Sunshine is helping, I suppose.

I’ve discovered the key to this goal. Just being happy. Being happy is not a particularly cool thing to admit to, especially where I come from. No one likes a good moan more than the Brits. but there’s moaning – useful exprulsion of frustrations fo daily life – and then there’s MOANING – pointless exagerration of frustrations of daily life in order to make a better anecdote/ give yourself an excuse to feel shitty. God knows I’m guilty of both of those.
But recently, since I started using 43 things in fact (now there’s a press release in the making) I’ve found myself sitting around, smiling, of all things. For no apparent reason. The other day I was half way through my yoga routine when suddenly I had the strangest sensation. It went something like “why yes, my body is a miracle of cumulative adaptation. Look at how strong my arms are, and my spine. Doesn’t it feel amazing to be pushing it out as far as it can go, testing the limits of this beautiful awe inspiring machine”. This morning I hauled myself out of bed at 5.30 and went for my walk, and as I was strolling up the hill I noticed the crocuses were out even the snow has only been gone for a couple of days, then I noticed the smile on my face, and I breathed in very deeply, and fleetingly I worried as to what on earth my friends would think if they could see me, master of cynicism, so completely and utterly at ease with myself and the world around me.
I can’t be sure what it is that’s triggered this off in me, but all of a sudden thinking scathing thoughts seems to take so much energy, and be so futile. Part of me is already worrying how long these sensations can last, but another part of me is saying,in a louder voice “who cares? If they were all to go away tomorrow and nover come again, that wouldn7t change the fact that you feel them now”.
This is a new way of thinking for me, and I think I like it.
It’s about realising the degree of control I have in my life (I write on my list of goals, “I want to get rid of my TV”, and then, great scot, I get rid of my TV); about understanding the opportunities I have. I’ve always been aware of them, but only in an abstract sort of way. Yes yes, I’m so lucky to have an education and be able to do what I want with my life, now pass me the ketchup would you. Now all that seems to be sinking in on a practical level.
Last week I decided I wanted to go to China during Golden Week. Before 43 things, I would have thought, I want to go to China, and that would have been the end of it. But as it was, I texted someone I barely knew and asked if he wanted to go to China in three week’s time. Now the tickets are purchased, the visas are in process and by god, we are going to China. As simple as that.

SOmetimes I think the whole way we live – analysing, internalising, hashing and rehashing (scathingly) everything amkes things seem so much mroe complicated than they are. You want to go to China? Go to China. You feel a little vulnerable from time to time? Feel vulnerable. It’s not a crime. Accepting yourself, and the degree of control you actually have over your life (oh but’s it’s easier to pretend you have no control, that you really are bound into your life the way it is and you cannot change it; the reality is that in most cases you could change it if you were brave enough to face the consequences of that change)..therein I think, lies too much happines and sense of self worth to leave much time for scathing.

Long entry, sorry. But I’m still smiling!

..I see a fool, I scathe. It’s a natural reflex. This goal is going to need a LOT of work.