Life can be frustrating. Just called the across-the-street bar and thought the bartender hung up on me. As I was, for a change, dressed, I walked over to ask her why she would hang up on me, given that I am always polite when I call.
She said she did not hang up. The offending smokers were now drinking and laughing on the inside as well they should be. One bar fly shared that he had trouble with Chinese gamblers outside his house ... in Flushing? He said he shot one of them. Not that he was so proud of that. We three agreed that there should be a sign requesting smokers to keep it down, but evidently the owner does not care to do that. So, more telephone calls to the police and I guess I will start bugging my elected officials.
This blogging program is frustrating. This woman was prettier than she looks here.
I am thinking about some "dis" words: dismissive, disrespectful, and disengaged being the top of the list.
Also, I am getting a bit closer to articulating my ... internal dilemma? I think I absorbed a certain amount of male attitude and conditioning because that was the strongest force in my house and other than the culture outside of my house, I did not get any clear instruction or guidance. I do feel as if I am a version of the boy wolf, raised with the rest of the pack, not knowing he is different. I know that I am biologically different, but I internalized a crappy amount of "male thinking." Which is easy enough to do in this patriarchal culture.
Besides being a sexist of his time, my father was incredibly dismissive of anything that didn't serve his ego or his goals. I think my brothers were pretty much that way, too. Carl, as much as I love and miss him, was a complete and utter asshole to my mother. "Dismissive" barely covers his attiude. My older brothers are this way as well, to a lesser degree, at least to me.
Being dismissive is negating. Not listening. Devaluing. I am looking inside to see if this is a deep and knee-jerk reaction that I sometimes have.