Tuesday, July 2, 2013

Intellectual Honesty

Last night could have been one of the most relaxing nights I'd had in a long time.  IF it weren't for absolutely everything and everyone that made it into the exact opposite of what it SHOULD have been.  This post is obviously turning into a vent session.  One I might regret later on, since it will indubitably give people an insight into my very own "Mr. Hyde". However, on the same hand I don't mind all that much.  Because some things just need to be said.  And ya know, every now and then I get a family member or a friend say to me, "ShaNae, I love your blog because it's authentic, it's real.  You don't hold back.  It's completely YOU."  To which I let out a sigh of relief knowing my deepest intent has reached my readers.  I AM HONEST.  And sometimes brutally so.  If something needs to be said, if there's an elephant in the room, I'll be the one to  tear off the sheets.  Not because I'm always abrasive, though sometimes I am.  But because just like the rest of the human race, I have a streak of egotism.  At the end of any given day, almost everything I did was for myself. We are not an altruistic race.  FACT.

So let me clarify.  I'm not brutally honest or authentic for your sake, though keeping you from going out in public in that dress WAS doing you a favor.  I'm honest for myself.  Because I can't physically function without being honest about how you or him, or them, or that, is making me feel. I'm honest because I can't shut up and smile when what you're saying makes me wanna scream and spew. If I trust you, you'll know it.  If I don't trust you, we won't even speak. There's a reason I am who I am.  There's a reason I'm not my mother, but I'm not my father either.  There is a reason I am the perfect mix of both.  Allowing me to be honest but diplomatic, abrasive yet soothing, assertive yet composed. I've grown to be brutally honest through my father, while using diplomacy and a continuously improving brain filter through my mother.

So, back to the point of this post.  Last night was date night.  Spenser and I have been working our tails off this summer and felt like we hadn't REALLY seen each other in days.  So, I proposed we make it a date night once he got off work.  We ended up with free dinner at my parents house and a cheap movie at the water gardens.  It was easy, low budget, low stress.  Exactly what we like.  Shoulda been a great night.  Shoulda ended great too if you know what I mean.


Okay, let me just ask you this.  Ever done something to fully and completely embarass yourself?  Don't you usually know, getting some kind of sixth sense, that you're embarassing yourself? So you stop whatever it is that you're doing?  Unless it was all done and over so quick that all you can do is grovel and hope to high heaven it doesn't leave a lasting mark on your record? Most of us have, I should hope, born naturally within us, the ability to rocognize when the motors running our mouth should stop.


Last night at the movie I sat by a group of young adults who more than lacked this ability.  MORE than lacked. Meaning, not only did they not realize what they were doing. They kept it up the ENTIRE two and a half hours we were there.  They were oblivious to the glares coming at them from all directions. AND, they got louder with each passing minute.  Okay, so in the movie, for those of you who haven't seen it, Mr.Gatsby uses the name 'Ol' Sport'...a lot.  It's a term of endearment.  Kinda like my siblings call me Nae, or my husband calls me babe...nothing special. Just 'Old Sport'. Oh, but to the boistorous group seated next to me, that was down right, the FUNNIEST thing they'd ever heard.  The whole movie was funny to them.  Every little thing a normal person might find artistic, classic, creative, or exciting, they found...HILARIOUS.  So they'd force out ridiculous laughter, then chat about what they'd seen for thirty seconds to follow.  Needless to say my Gatsby experience wasn't ruined by an unhappy ending, it was ruined by a group of people with a gaping lack of social skills.  At one point I turned to the boy sitting nearest to me, with rage boiling behing by eyes and ears, opened my mouth to say a thing or two, but something stopped me.  Something, probably the filter aquired from my mother, stopped me.  Because honestly, I wanted to stand up, walk over, grab his drink and pour the soda all over his lap, then tell him to PIPE THE *$#! DOWN.  But I couldn't.  All I could do was glare.  Because I knew making a scene would only fuel the fire burning in everyone else's chest.


Being an egotistical human being unable to function without expressing my fervent emotions, I had to do something for myself.  Something to satisfy the anger I felt toward these vociferous, raucous, riotous, uncouth, insolent, ill-mannered, ridiculous people.  So, I vented to my husband the entire drive home.  Not exactly what I had in mind.  I was hoping to engage in some kind of verbal brawl out in the parking lot after the show.  I knew the vocabulary of my perpetrators was minimal, based on their behavior inside. I could beat them into the ground using only words in a matter of seconds. My honest self sure wanted to.  Hell, my honest self still wishes I would have. But thanks to my even-tempered husband, and the image I try to uphold when he's around, I kept my mouth shut this time.  I used a slightly less satisfying, yet probably more commendable alternative to channel my fury. I simply vented.  Cursed and screamed inside the safety of my own car.  I saved myself from a possible throw down, and still got to be honest with my emotions. A win-win.

But obviously my vent session couldn't terminate in the Nissan.  I had to write about it. Why? I don't know.  That's a stupid question. It's besides the point. Maybe so you'd know that acting disrespectful during a movie while I'm around is a threat to your own safety and self esteem.  Or maybe so I could remind myself using retrospect that engaging in lesser forms of abrasiveness is okay, I'll still FEEL OKAY, knowing I've exerted my honesty.  Sometimes, when things like this occur in my life, my husband or others close to me will say, "But aren't you glad you didn't stoop to their level?" To which I say, "Oh no.  You see, I could NEVER stoop there.  I could NEVER lower my IQ enough to stoop there, not even for five seconds.  What I wanted to do wouldn't have been stooping. It would have been educating...so as to save someone from future embarassment"  That's all.  No curse words.  No high volumed senseless chatter.  No Yo Mamma jokes because I hate what you did back thur in that thur movie.

Just brutal, intellectual honesty.

And to my friends back at the late showing of Great Gatsby on July 1st, 2013.  If we ever cross each other again in similar circumstances, that is exactly what you will recieve.

And You're Welcome. It may just save you from someone or something far worse in the future.

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