Snippets 14

The Art of Not Caring Much

I used to be preoccupied by what people will think of me, so I over-compensated it by being nice in order to be socially accepted. Why must I always be the outsider to be judged? What if I turn the table. Return the favor maybe.

That is what I do now. I take pride in it. I called it pruning. In plants it’ll encourage production of blooms. In people, you’ll have more time and energy to invest in positive friendships – and to cultivate new ones.

First step, get rid of unknown people in my Facebook and Friendster list. I keep persons I knew and pruned the rest. There are two motives on why people add you in social networking site. First, they wanted to expand their friend list without limitation so they will have some sort of fantasy that they are popular with plenty of friends. These people took pride on having you in their friend list. Second, they wanted to keep track of you and whatever you do and that is what we called, Stalker. Third one, (okay there is some last minute addition) they really are your friends so it just sounds logical.

I understand feeling as small and as insignificant as humanely possible and how it can hurt places that you didn't know you had inside you. I used to care about people, but it turned out to be worthless. So in order to protect myself and my feeling, I need to not care too much. In the end, it just becomes habitual. If you tell me that my aunt is dead of a tragic accident that her brain splattered all around the highway, I’d say, “Okay! Grab a shovel, we’ll dig her a hole.”

No Physical Please

I have trouble of being physical with people. As a child I was basically born to thrive. I used to be the one who craved my parent attention and in order to that, I must do something worthy like getting first place in storytelling competition in primary school, getting teacher’s praises etc. It’s like I need to earn it to get it (so much of no emotional baggage claim, liar me). So I am not very used to physical stuff. The stuff I tolerate is usually a handshake and no-skin-to-skin-contact hug, the rest? I despised em’. Very much I did.

So please, people. No touching. I know it is hard for me considering my aspired vocation will require me to do palpation and stuffs, but that is different. In such situation, I am the one who initatiate it with reason, a solid one. I won’t let my mum touch me unnecessarily nor my best friends of 14 years (whom I had cold war with, right now). So people, stop being touchy to me, I may smile but I curse inside. Believe me, I did that a lot, some words you don’t want to hear. Keep your hands to yourself. Just putting it out there.

Hating is Just Like Breathing…to Me

I know it is sinful and yadda…yadda…(save your preaching breath) to hate people. But to me, it comes naturally. I start a relationship with hate and soon upon figuring things out; I’ll loosen up a little. But the catch here is the second hateful thunder, once I’ve being betrayed, that is the last straw. I have a capacity to hate people for a long run. Got reputation for it, time tested. I can even hate plenty of people in a same time. There are three on a list now and I tell you, it is expanding. So hate me so I can take pride on my long list of hating you back. Nothing as pathological, as physiological, as emotional like hate. It’ll give you cancer. The last thing I know, not a slightest grimace of regret on my face. Nada!