is it me

Good Sunday to you, readers!

Today I borrow a blog convention from my good friend Heather. She is one-third of my Artist’s Way trifecta (we are in week 4! one-third on our way to being creative/spiritually fulfilled!), and her blog posts often begin with this title. (Just a shameless ploy to coax her back into blogging…join me in this cause…)

I ask the question, “is it me?” today because I am not certain whether I am justified in a favorite complaint of mine. Come with me if you will…
Today is the first tank top + shorts running day of the spring! Callooh Callay! Sunshine and the smell of grass and legitimate, hard-earned sweatiness! ‘Tis a glorious thing.

(Callooh Callay explained, for those of you who aren’t schooled in Alice in Wonderland. My fav Disney movie, if anyone was curious…and curiouser…)

BUT today’s cloud behind the silver lining was the five (count ’em) FIVE honks from five separate cars in the 30-or-so minutes I was out running on Kearney Street. Daaaamn, Northsiders! That’s some unprecedented dickishness, even for y’all.

I mean, I suppose it’s sweet of these fellows to take notice of me and express their feelings for all to hear. But I do dare them, honestly, to man-up enough to pull over and actually talk to me. Go ahead, put that passerby savoir-faire into practice! I would welcome it. I’m sure I could love a guy in a CRX, with a GED and STDs, on his way to KFC. (Not that I could blame him for that choice. The ol’ Colonel has some tricks up his sleeve. Homeboy turned “chicken” into BREAD, you guys!)

It BUGS me. It bugs me more than it should. I’ve ranted about it more than once on the blog…and I always conclude that there’s nothing I can do about it…men will be men…some guys are douchey whether I like it or not…bla bla bla…don’t let it bother you. It doesn’t matter.

Sure, it’s only a honk or cat call from a stranger. Harmless, right? I’m not so sure. I think respect is a thing that matters in the small moments just as much as the big. And if you can’t respect a stranger as you pass her on the street, how much will you respect a woman who chooses (god & logic forbid) to allow you into her personal space?

It irks me. Consider me irked. Call me Irk-le.
(Did I do that…?)


5 thoughts on “is it me

  1. “Words are too wonderful for words.” -Mary Oliver.
    I thought that’d be a good Oliver quote for you. I don’t think those honk/hollerers should talk with you though. They’d just get a lecture. And you’d just get bad grammar from them (which isn’t wrong in the vernacular).

    You’re part of an entire culture I’m outside of: the NPR gang. Talk radio (and radio in general) has never seemed like it’s worth my time. And I can’t listen to Garrison Keillor while driving, as he causes bouts of narcolepsy. Since I haven’t listened much, I want to ask you: is there anything good on NPR? And as advertised, here is a reading list for you:
    Ted Kooser’s Sure Signs
    Nabakov’s Lolita
    Anything by Mary Oliver
    The Moviegoer by Walker Percy
    “What the living do” by Marie Howe

    If you read all these titles, I have a 20 year old Bookit personal pan pepperoni pizza you can have. It should only be used as a trophy at this point.

  2. 1) Bookit is a good memory.
    2) Anything good on NPR? This American Life. Fresh Air. Radiolab. KSMU (SGF station, if you aren’t local) doesn’t carry them all, but they are free on iTunes. Worth your time.
    3) Do I know you? : )

  3. Agreed, Aimee! (If it was you honking & saying “hi”, I’m totally okay with it!) I know it isn’t always malevolence…or even necessarily directed at me…but sometimes it is. And it’s not always nice coworker hello-ing. : )

  4. I just put “This American Life” on a to-do list. Don’t worry, my to-do lists are a serious affair. And no, we do not know each other. That is something we will save for another life, or sometime later, like the last Christmas present hidden way back under the tree. Sorry, I don’t feel like I should be writing so much. I’m supposed to be a reader here. Maybe I can just pretend these are notes in the margin. Ooo! Have you ever edited a library book? Me neither. Because that is not my property, even if it would be an improvement to fix the one or two errors I find in every thirtieth book. Wait. “This American Life” doesn’t celebrate the everyday, does it? Nothing against that sort of work, I’m just not into it. Living every day is as far as I go towards celebrating the everyday. Also, sorry for being presumptuous in giving you a reading list. I think those folks have viewpoints different from what you read/hear. And they provide a certain peace. And not a passive peace, but an “hours of meditation” kind of peace. I’m not local (well, I guess I am, to a certain locale, but not to the middle west). If I was, I would only yell the most polite things at you from a passing car.

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