Ragged

The raggedy man must have ADD.

I think so. He is yawning. Is his life that tiring? He yawns loud and long.

I call him the raggedy man because he doesn't seem solid. He is never shaved, his hair is greasy and too long for the "style" he has it in, and his clothes are not coordinated. It's not that they are not good -- most people don't dress well, and I don't claim to myself -- it's that they are just wrong.

I suspect him of wearing polyester.

He is yawning loud and long, and it seems to me that it's a cry for attention. But everyone knows that if you ask a person like that why they're so tired, they will give you an angry look that you didn't really merit and your relationship will be soured.

This kind of prick thrives on sour relationships.

He has stopped yawning. Now he is drinking.

In case you weren't aware, I am English. Among the many things that means is that I was brought up with a particular set of table manners. I rarely talk with my mouth full, do not put my elbows on the table and hold my knife and fork correctly most of the time. I do not make a noise when I'm eating or drinking. How awful that would be!

This guy slurps. I cannot abide slurping. I am close to ready to break the conventions of the office and confront him.

But you can't do that.

Life is full of things you can't do. Mostly I don't mind it, because we're social animals and we need to get along.

But when he gets out his packet of crisps, I know I will want to murder him within minutes.

Chomp chomp, rattle pen on teeth, slurp water, sigh, yawn. All day long, I know he's there. I can't pretend he isn't unless I put on my iPod. But I have to resist that so that I don't feel coerced into behaviour I don't necessarily want to pursue. It's bad enough having to work.

***

I am the opposite of attention seeking. I prefer not to attract attention, unless it's from hot women. And not so hot ones, let's face it.

***

The height of this guy's bad behaviour is that he has had ten children.

I am mystified why. He doesn't seem to be religious, and usually you can tell when someone is. Why would you want to have that many children unless you wanted to be that guy?

And he is that guy.

***

So wtf. None of us is perfect, right? And who am I to judge? I realise that he probably doesn't even know that he's an annoying prick. I do know plenty of people who have no awareness that the issues in their lives derive from themselves, although I'm very aware that that's true of me.

The other day P, trying to piss me off rather than truthfully analyse me, suggested that women love me only until they get to know me. Which is not true at all. They generally love me until they find out I'm not what they imagined. Which is more a comment on their lack of imagination than on my lack of loveability, although I have no illusions about that. I got those kicked out of me a while ago. For nearly two years I've been aware constantly that I'm not worth knowing, let alone loving. I suppose I should be grateful that a few people remain who are willing, for reasons that aren't all that clear to me, to pretend that I am. I tend to feel they want something from me, and so long as I seem like I am going to provide it, I'm okay with them.

I did not want to become so cynical about people. I always believed in the good. Even when things were really bad with Mrs Zen, I kept thinking she would become human again one day, that she would wake up some morning and think, omg, I have done wrong and should put it right.

***

I miss my dreams of a walled garden so much. It is terrible to be so withered, so incomplete -- and beyond incomplete, to feel that you never can be completed. I miss hope.

I realise that when I judge the raggedy man, I am not judging the raggedy man. I am hoping that I am wrong that he is a mirror.

posted by Dr Zen @ 6:52 pm