“Every storm runs out of rain.” –Maya Angelou
When we’re petting our peeves, we must be full of care. For if we’re not careful, we could stoke the fires into a conflagration of our mutually-assured self-destruction. Ain’t no fun when the rabbit got the gun.
Do we pet our peeves too much? Dost thou protest too loudly? What is a peeve, anyway? A peeve annoys or irritates us. We all have them. We’re all different in our pet peeves, but we all pet them. Some pet peeves must be contained. I mean, it’s frowned upon to ram your vehicle up someone’s a$$ that won’t use the on-ramp, a.k.a. the acceleration lane, to I-95 for acceleration. Cause it’s a good thing to mosey on over in 80mph traffic while going 45mph. Shouldn’t good ole pick moves be legal for special occasions like a citizen’s arrest? Isn’t the mission of driving to arrive safely at your destination? Which one of the questions in this paragraph seem the most sensible? That should give us a gauge of where we’re at.
I mean, why text when you can call, right? WRONG, that whips this introvert’s a$$. Sure, it’s fun to get all indignant sometimes, but left unchecked, the circular brooding is excruciating, is it not? Goodness, dare I say we doom ourselves to a potential lifetime sentence of being peeved, if we’re not zealous in our mediation of what we ruminate about? We must realize it’s a Bittersweet Symphony when maybe we just want to be heard. Often, it’s not what you say, but how you say it, because “we’re a million different people from one day to the next…”
I hate static electricity and popsicle sticks touching my teeth. These two items are my version of nails on a chalkboard. Strangely, nails on a chalkboard don’t bother me so much.
Denver Pyle (that’s Uncle Jesse from Dukes of Hazard) said, “I had the strength of my ignorance.” You don’t know what you don’t know. Often, knowing what not to do is all the starting point one needs. I know through long, personal experience, the frisson of excitement that gossip brings. There is a reason why the lack of gossip surrounding a group or individual is, or should be, virtuous. I strive to be virtuous without seeming pious.
How is it that such small people can take up more space than Shaq? I submit we over-value charisma and under-value character. All these years it took me to come up with, “No thank you, SIR.” Most times, it takes as long as it takes to find that Divinely timed conversation. After, all we’re left with is, “Why was this conclusion such a bother to come to?” Savor such moments, rather than moving on to the next box to check. Closure is a nice concept, but endeavor to end that nebulous chase before regret over time spent sets in.
You know what’s different this year going into the Masters, my Super Bowl? I don’t care as much. I found my choke-point with golf. I don’t play as much anymore, for starters. Golf can kill a whole day the way I prefer to play. My JBL speaker, a cooler of beer, and good company is all that’s required. I don’t play well enough to care enough to keep score, while fleeting moments of brilliance still excite the desire to plop down another golf ball. It came down to me needing and enjoying family time more. But what really turned me from watching golf religiously was the whole LIV golf vs. the PGA tour controversy. Feeling this way would have been inconceivable to me this time last year. I’ve always been a student of the history of the game. I have been known to watch old golf tournaments. I take heart, that of all tournaments, the Masters has the potential to heal the “us versus them” conundrum the men’s professional game has put itself in.
My point in conveying the above paragraph is to relish when you surprise yourself. Wonder about what such a thing leads to. “As you heal, your attractions change too. Toxicity stops looking like excitement and peace stops looking like boredom. (@moonomens on Instagram.)
Am I being preachy, like the last few seasons of the beloved, classic TV show, M*A*S*H? The answer to this question is perhaps and probably. I hedge a bit, because preachy is not where I want to be. Being preachy is a pet peeve of mine, you see. Again, be careful lest ye become that which ye detest.
Honestly, I just want to become part of the “Lost Tribe of IDGAF” and I want my readers to become part of the tribe too. As with anything that fires your curiosity, all it takes is persistent observation of our inner workings to ease the peeves. It’s worth it. You are worth it.
