It has been a week of revelations for me.
Good friend and fellow blogger The Irish Dreamer initiated a nightmare last Friday in a scathing post that split the Irish blogging community in two. Considering the subject of the post I'm not really surprised, and although I personally don't agree with her method of critique (and also have the impression there's more to her frustration than she lets on), my heart goes out to her; she is quite obviously reeling from being the instigator of what appears to be a very deep rift within a group of people she not only cares about, but works extremely hard to be a part of. She's in San Sebastien now, so happy holidayin' darlin. Pack all your troubles in your old kit bag and smile.
In my part of the world, a post yesterday that I had intended to be a flattering and humourous portrait of a dear friend drew completely the opposite reaction when she read it. She was embarrassed, hurt, and asked that I take it down immediately. Despite numerous apologies and attempts to explain that my intentions were not to ridicule her in any way I garnered no further reply. I hope that I haven't lost a friend over what I arrogantly presumed was an innocuous ramble.
Yesterday afternoon, sitting on the front porch in the sun and trying to digest the paper I realised that I had been reading over the same paragraph for last 15 minutes. Not that bond financing wasn't inherently fascinating to me, it's just that sometimes minds tend to have a mind of their own. Particularly mine.
Unlike the Exiled Dreamer, I've always shied away from getting too personal on these pages. Keeping people at an emotional arms length and addressing them through the fogged lens of humour is a great deal easier for me that trying to get people amused by the common facets of my life. But I realised yesterday that this goal of light-heartedness has blinded me to a very simple truth -- people generally don't like being the butt of jokes. No matter how well intended the joker is.
Unfortunately, it seems that I've learned this lesson the hard way. Hopefully, given enough time to discredit me sufficiently, my friend will stop being angry and decide that actually, I'm an okay guy. Perhaps I could speed up the hug train with the prompt delivery of some flowers; I read somewhere that apologies to girls are made easier that way. Mind you, I also read somewhere that European wasps taste like pine nuts, which is incredible when you think about what they had to go through to find that out.
"Mm, this is a lovely pesto."
OR IS IT.
Regardless of the outcome, I decided that for the sake of avoiding hypocrisy I should reverse the looking glass every now and again. But won't that just make you look really, really small? I hear you ask. Perhaps. My understanding of physics is such that anything is possible. It's a big world out there kiddo, and looking glass theory is only the beginning. Next week we could be talking binoculars. Zip Zap.
So, expect a few more posts that might not be so funny. Heck, they might not even be interesting. But they'll be about me. Me and, you know, anyone I see on the bus who looks weird. Because for me, the joy of writing comes not through the fluid expressions of an instinctual linguist, but in the twists and turns of a bumbler who has no fucking idea what he is doing.
And I don't expect that is ever going to change much.
--
Quickly plummeting down the charts at humor-blogs.com. Things are considerably worse in Darfur though, so it's good to have a bit of perspective on the whole thing.
12 comments:
In the spirit of sincerity you've adopted for this post: I really enjoyed reading it. I hope your friend does too.
Oh dear - having had a stint at being the person who talks about others on their blogs and they find it and disagree, I hope it sorts itself out.
It didn't in my case, it will never be the same BUT I think the situations are slightly different and I hope your friend comes good.
Looking forward to the upcoming posts too!
Oh. Sorry to hear about this, Davey. I'm hoping your friend will cool down and realise that it was all intended out of love and general fondness for her. Hey, why don't you ask her to write a piece about YOU for the blog? We'd love to hear about YOU from someone who knows!
Zos, I get the feeling she probably won't read it, but it was an exercise is catharsis I guess. And cheers! At least we don't hate me.
Ta Enny. Although your story fills me with impending dread, I hope both mine and yours come to their senses and realise that we're completely awesome. I mean, a gazillion people can't be wrong yeh?
Kath, really, that is a brilliant scheme. You can be sure that I'll mention it tentatively to her during a break in the defamation hearing, assuming I can stretch my banister handcuffed arm out long enough to reach the bench.
In all honesty, I do like the idea though. I guess we'll have to see whether I've ever an opportunity to bring it up. Where I'm not surrounded by cops.
Pat yourself on the back for learning your lesson and move on to write increasingly self-absorbed posts. You don't have to be witty for people to like you Davey (well... not ALL the time...). ;)
is this the chick i met? (cause you deleted it before i could see an answer (which mildl confirmed my suspicions))
That's good to know Blomster, because I think I'd be in trouble if wit was a friendship prerequisite. It'd be like, me and George Bush hanging out in the quadrangle at lunch, copping abuse from the smelly kid.
Suspicions keeks? What are you like, Sherlock Holmes? Same girl.
figured it was her
and from my awesome knowledge of her, i, like you, assumed she wouldn't mind that post.
guess we're both wrong on that one (which much greater consequences for you than me)
Personally I'm for all for the self revalatory posts, I'm always intrigued, especially when they're honest. That was a nice post, Davey, but don't stop making fun of strangers on buses either because you've got a talent for it.
i read the post, thought "shit, she sounds just like me" and thought it was charmingly affectionate, in the same way my brother punching me in the face last week was charmingly affectionate.
i look forward very much to reading more about you. now quit calling me the Irish Dreamer, you make me sound like a sap.
no deal
whoa - was this the chick that i met too? i missed the post though, so this is all rather irrelevant to me at this point.
that said - WORST NIGHTMARE. i'd hate it if some of the people i've written about over the years ever read what i wrote. but i guess you're not trying to be anon - like me. which i'm not really any more.
you should take the age old australian attitude of 'should be right'...
anyway, i'm going now.
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