Sometimes, I would call myself evil. Yes. Evil. Today, the monstrous me reared its head with ram's horns and mehyed. My evil self is also a goat who likes to eat ice cream every day and drink copious amounts of alcoholic cider.
I wasn't sad when they announced today that Rob Ford had a tumour. In fact, there was more than a glimmer of Schadenfreude. My first thought wasn't well wishes. I thought, "maybe, just maybe, this will keep him from campaigning and we won't have another 4 years of Ford." After announcing to my husband that Ford had a tumour, I also told him that I am evil. Unsurprised he answered, "that's not good."
I may have been evil in other situations. Or perhaps a better word for it would be antisocial. I so badly want to be that nice girl, when really I tend to more of an acerbic wit (and people wonder why I am so quiet - I just don't want to alienate everyone by saying what I really think).
There was a particular uncomfortable situation just two weekends ago when we went to pick up Oliver from his grandparents house. I have rather strong beliefs about food and I often disagree strongly about how they feed both Oliver and his cousin. Not to get into details, I bit my tongue until it turned blue and started to affect the colour of my face. I may have appeared hostile (while trying to seem nice), but at least I didn't confirm their suspicions of my evil nature. Or my conflicted nature - words cannot express my gratitude at having a week of being child-free (but that's for another post).
I suspect my mask of niceness is somehow linked with my obsession with what people think of me. It is starting to fade a bit as I get older, but it's still there. I want people to like me - I generally like them. That's why I don't outright tell people that they're bad parents, bad artists, or just generally off their rocker. Unfortunately I have a face like glass and they probably can tell anyways. Ooops.
It's also why I didn't approach Ford when I saw him on the street at the Cabbage town fest last weekend. I was afraid what would come out of my mouth and also afraid he would brush off the criticism with his own blind delusions of grandeur (not to be confused with the French word for large). Besides, he had a little group of admirers circling around his own orbit and reinforcing his deluded sense of self. It's no wonder.
I wasn't sad when they announced today that Rob Ford had a tumour. In fact, there was more than a glimmer of Schadenfreude. My first thought wasn't well wishes. I thought, "maybe, just maybe, this will keep him from campaigning and we won't have another 4 years of Ford." After announcing to my husband that Ford had a tumour, I also told him that I am evil. Unsurprised he answered, "that's not good."
I may have been evil in other situations. Or perhaps a better word for it would be antisocial. I so badly want to be that nice girl, when really I tend to more of an acerbic wit (and people wonder why I am so quiet - I just don't want to alienate everyone by saying what I really think).
There was a particular uncomfortable situation just two weekends ago when we went to pick up Oliver from his grandparents house. I have rather strong beliefs about food and I often disagree strongly about how they feed both Oliver and his cousin. Not to get into details, I bit my tongue until it turned blue and started to affect the colour of my face. I may have appeared hostile (while trying to seem nice), but at least I didn't confirm their suspicions of my evil nature. Or my conflicted nature - words cannot express my gratitude at having a week of being child-free (but that's for another post).
I suspect my mask of niceness is somehow linked with my obsession with what people think of me. It is starting to fade a bit as I get older, but it's still there. I want people to like me - I generally like them. That's why I don't outright tell people that they're bad parents, bad artists, or just generally off their rocker. Unfortunately I have a face like glass and they probably can tell anyways. Ooops.
It's also why I didn't approach Ford when I saw him on the street at the Cabbage town fest last weekend. I was afraid what would come out of my mouth and also afraid he would brush off the criticism with his own blind delusions of grandeur (not to be confused with the French word for large). Besides, he had a little group of admirers circling around his own orbit and reinforcing his deluded sense of self. It's no wonder.
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