Hello again, my friends.
I am feeling much better tonight. Now, it's Patricia's turn to feel sub par. She has been sleeping all night while I have puttered around the house. Now it is approaching 9:30 and I sit in the recroom in my fave chair with a laptop on my lap. Newbie sits on the arm of the chair and obviously can't wait for me to finish this post so that he can jump on my lap and kneed my flesh until it bleeds. Soon, my pet. Soon.
Where to begin? Well, my next Frank column is mostly written. I will send it off to my editor on the morrow. I continue to appreciate the exquisite poetic justice that the acronym for the Plex Media Server is "PMS", because whenever I have to configure it, or add certain shows to it, it often balks at the content, sending me off in a tizzy until I figure out what I am doing wrong. I start ranting and screaming and throwing things and now you know why "PMS" is such an appropriate acronym for this product.
Canadians have the reputation of being overly polite. I can refute that by pointing to some of the people I have met over the years, but never mind. I am one of the polite ones. I apologize to people I haven't bumped in to yet, and may not at all; I excuse myself if there is even a remote possibility that I may cross someone's path; and I mutter the phrase "that's degrading to women" several times a day, just because I feel I must.
Back in university, there was a guy named Robert who went through women like I go through... uh, something I go through quickly and don't stop and think about it. He was also argumentative and opinionated about things that a person needn't be argumentative and opinionated about. It reached the point where some of us would dread lunch time because it meant sitting in the student union building with him while he disagreed with us over some trivial subject, and go to the wall over that subject, driving his points home and shooting down everything we said either with a sharply-worded counterpoint or a scoff of derision. It was exhausting, spending time with him. After a while, many of us would give up, and he would think he had won his argument. I have a relative who is the same way, by the way. I argued with her over some subject and eventually gave up because it was getting late and I had to go pee. She just said it took a big man to admit he was wrong and savoured her victory. Sigh and double sigh.
Not sure where I am going with this. I suppose it is that after the experience with Robert that I am now overly cautious about not wanting to hurt people's feelings. I know because I am human that I will occasionally say something I oughtn't, and most of the time I am scolded for it. But sometimes I wonder if it is healthy to be so tentative in what I say and do for fear of offending someone or pissing someone off. How many times have I bitten my tongue when I heard something that was so offensive to me that I had to leave the room, or cut off contact with the person for a period of time? How often do I hear things that I dislike, and I say nothing for fear of reprisal? And how much must I gird my loins when I hit the road every day for work? Maybe I excuse myself, or apologize, or say "that's degrading to women" in some kind of superstitious context, as if saying them would ward off some bad luck.
I don't know.
All I know is that it is getting late and I have to go pee.
See you tomorrow.