Yesterday, I made a flippant, snarky remark, and the second it left my mouth, I realized it was over the line. Instead of apologizing to the offended intended party immediately, I started stewing in regret. Regret is an excellent marinade - it breaks down bravado, self-confidence, it enhances fear and magnifies past events. It is a meat tenderizer of the highest order.
I expressed this regret to several people who told me not to worry.
This is what I do. I speak in haste, and repent in leisure.
I attempted to right the ship this morning, but I was whacked with the olive branch I extended, so I am now considering the matter closed-but-not-really.
This is probably one of my worst habits - speaking without a filter.
When I was in High School, I lamented my big mouth getting me into so much trouble. My friend, Lisa, replied that for all the trouble it got me into, it got me out of a considerable bit more.
She makes a valid point. Or at least, she did at the time.
Actually she still does. My quick thinking in classrooms has served me well. I was a decent Improviser. My comedy career, short though it was, gave me a chance to be creative, and come up with words on the fly. I am fun at parties.
Now, if I could just temper my temper.
I remember in Little Women when Marmee mentioned that she was angry nearly every day of her life. That's a pretty startling admission from one of the most placid characters in the novel. But in a way, it kind of makes her this ticking timebomb for the rest of the novel. Once you see her as a seething capsule of rage, barely concealed by a thin veneer of pleasantries, you cannot unsee that. And you wonder, what was she like as a kid. If Jo is ahead of her time in the late 1860s, what on earth must young Mrs. March (was she Margaret Curtis then?) have been like?
That's the novel I could write, except, really, who wants to do all that historical research about life in the 1830s-1840s in New England. Not this bibliophile. No siree.
Also, I am not a fan of glomming on to a known franchise to create a book. Like, the woman who wrote the Anne of Green Gables Prequel. Or the one who wrote The Wind Done Gone - Gone With the Wind from a slave perspective - although, that's an interesting enough twist that I give it a wider berth. Because it's my blog, and I can.
Truth be told, I'm holding in a considerable amount of tension. I have a crick in my neck that no matter how hard I work at it, seems to be there for good. It has limited my range of motion and given me one heck of a headache.
I would love to have time for a massage, but those also cost money, and I'm in a new era of fiscal prudence.
I also don't have the time right now. So, it's just as well, right? Anyway.
That's it for me for now.
Be patient, y'all. That's my thought for today.
ae
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| Of course, I'm seasoned, so there's that. |
I expressed this regret to several people who told me not to worry.
This is what I do. I speak in haste, and repent in leisure.
I attempted to right the ship this morning, but I was whacked with the olive branch I extended, so I am now considering the matter closed-but-not-really.
This is probably one of my worst habits - speaking without a filter.
When I was in High School, I lamented my big mouth getting me into so much trouble. My friend, Lisa, replied that for all the trouble it got me into, it got me out of a considerable bit more.
She makes a valid point. Or at least, she did at the time.
Actually she still does. My quick thinking in classrooms has served me well. I was a decent Improviser. My comedy career, short though it was, gave me a chance to be creative, and come up with words on the fly. I am fun at parties.
Now, if I could just temper my temper.
I remember in Little Women when Marmee mentioned that she was angry nearly every day of her life. That's a pretty startling admission from one of the most placid characters in the novel. But in a way, it kind of makes her this ticking timebomb for the rest of the novel. Once you see her as a seething capsule of rage, barely concealed by a thin veneer of pleasantries, you cannot unsee that. And you wonder, what was she like as a kid. If Jo is ahead of her time in the late 1860s, what on earth must young Mrs. March (was she Margaret Curtis then?) have been like?
That's the novel I could write, except, really, who wants to do all that historical research about life in the 1830s-1840s in New England. Not this bibliophile. No siree.
Also, I am not a fan of glomming on to a known franchise to create a book. Like, the woman who wrote the Anne of Green Gables Prequel. Or the one who wrote The Wind Done Gone - Gone With the Wind from a slave perspective - although, that's an interesting enough twist that I give it a wider berth. Because it's my blog, and I can.
Truth be told, I'm holding in a considerable amount of tension. I have a crick in my neck that no matter how hard I work at it, seems to be there for good. It has limited my range of motion and given me one heck of a headache.
I would love to have time for a massage, but those also cost money, and I'm in a new era of fiscal prudence.
I also don't have the time right now. So, it's just as well, right? Anyway.
That's it for me for now.
Be patient, y'all. That's my thought for today.
ae
Comments
I'm not purposely mean to anyone. That's something.