Can you be too forgiving? I have a problem with people who hold grudges. Possibly because I used to be one of those people when I was in High School. I've jumped the train tracks and now I'm too forgiving. At what point does a grudge need to be maintained. Then again, grudge is such an ugly word. We need to protect ourselves from the social predators of the world. Too often in my life I have felt like I've been taken advantage of. Yet if a pattern develops you run the risk of being in perpetual dissatisfaction with your relationships. So how important must a friendship be for it to be worth severring due to "friendshipal" abuse? I'm not bringing up this dilemma in response to a certain relationship in my life. It just started needling me randomly on my drive over to the coffee shop.
For those of you who know me, I have no problems deciphering electronic technology, however when I step into the realm of automotive maintenance I'm a regular Pollyanna. Fact: I don't know how to change a tire. Fact: I don't know how to jump-start a car. I've found myself in a few demasculating situations where I'd rather maintain my male pride than admit my lack of expertise in this area. For inastance, the teacher, whose house I'm staying at, has been obsessed with a car video game. Now he thinks that it's an easy topic to bond on. So he'll talk to me for hours about how he's doing in the game and will call me over to the tube everytime he purchases a new car in the game. Frankly, I couldn't care less, but I try my best to humor him. For the last few months, I've had mild problems with the starter in my car. I'll sit in a parking lot for a half an hour before my car will finally run. Well the starter finally took a drastic change for the worse and I realized that I need to take some serious action or risk having my car out of commission for a long time. Well not having a means of transportation is not an option, so I asked my host for his advice. First off, he taught me a trick involving smacking the starter with a tire iron in order to jar it and in turn get the car started. I am not a gear head, but let's just say that I know how to smack around a starter like a circus elephant...bad joke. I did feel pretty awesome when I used his trick today and got my car to start. Boo Ya! Then I joined him in the installation of a new starter I purchased from a local auto parts store. I felt so bad ass, all covered in grease, holding that flashlight like a nascar pit crew member. He had given me some cause for anxiety when his prognostication that the operation would take an hour (and that was an overestimation in his eyes) took nearly three hours. But finally with all the hoses and bolts reattached, the car purred like a kitten and I can return to my James Dean status. I don't know enough about cars to own a muscle car, but men can dream.
Going to Baton Rouge tomorrow. Maybe I'll meet some southern belle and then I can incessantly reference one of my favorite Garth Brooks songs, "Calling Baton Rouge." Songs become infinitely more agreeable when you can acknowledge a legitimate reference point.
If I was stuck on a desert island and could only take one cd with me, it would definitely be Your Majesty, by the Anniversary. Check it out. Great music.
and a quote from the album..."At the edge of the rest of my life, at the end of a one way road, i'm losing everything. And tonight may never shine, if you never open your eyes. I keep this heart right next to mine." The Siren Sings.
