I don’t understand people. I think I would be more qualified to be a basketball player than an anthropologist, and be more likely to give birth than be a psychologist. I just don’t get it. What is it about people that is supposed to be so amazing?
Look at yourself, you’re irrational, illogical and lots of other things beginning with an I. The only species more confusing to me are pandas, daddy-long-legs and those dogs that go in handbags.
So what is it about people that confuses me?
I like sitting and watching, I’d make a very good Giles I’d like to think, it’s like a real life version of reality television just with less fake tan and boobs. It’s a fun pastime as long as your are discrete because those who are too obvious with nosing into other people’s business tend to get punched. It’s a technique I learnt while working in a call centre where I cold pretend I was paying attention to you (the caller) while busying myself with something more interesting.
I find myself doing it while I’m on the train, or just waiting around, looking and observing others trying to work out there story. Last night I was wrapped up in the drama of the daughter of an old lady who was trying to arrange payment for a chiropodist to look after her mother’s bad feet. I’ll glance at people texting or on Facebook to try to work out what’s going on in their lives. What motivate’s them and what’s their innermost desire.
It’s our desire to be miserable. No other animal has mastered misery in a way we have, we have almost reduced it to an industrial process. Every time we wake up we invent new ways to feel sad.I’m no different. This isn’t pretty happyfairytaleswithunicornsridingarainbow.com after all.
Why don’t we want what is good for us? Why can’t we see that often what is in front of us is good and satisfying? Why do we overlook those who care for us with crappy excuses and then complain about it?
We are pandas, desperately doing all we can to prevent the continuation of the species.
We are dandy-long-legs, fragile pointless things living a short existence.
We are the dogs in the handbag. Stupid.
Who was the first person you encountered today? Write about him or her.
In response to: The Luckiest People