I should note that I am currently the warehouse manager for Rupert's Idiosyncrasies, Quirks and Home Improvement Mecca. In my mind, my processes make sense. My decisions mostly make sense. Some of my idiosyncrasies do NOT make sense. I understand this. I acknowledge it. I own it, feed it, and walk it around the neighborhood.
And this is why I try REALLY REALLY HARD to respect the way other people "do things." In therapy, I've learned that casting negative judgement on others is generally an unhealthy method of feeling better about oneself. Unfortunately, it works but it does tend to net you the reputation of Judge-y Bitch Lady.
When I see someone doing something I don't understand, I try to calmly say to myself "That wouldn't be a good decision for me but it obviously works for them." This works sometimes. Other times, I dramatically enter the room and declare to Stuart or Edward "Okay, WHY.....<insert retarded behavior and name of possibly retarded person here>."
I admit it, it feels good to openly (within reason - MY reason) discuss why I think someone is a fucking idiot. And even after I question calmly or vent not as calmly, I do so with the intent of ending on a it's-their-choice-and-it-obviously-works-for-them note.
The problem is that I'm getting older. The strange thing about getting older is that you don't care as much about some things while caring a LOT more about others. I'm starting to have this irrepressible need to kick people off my lawn except that I do not have a lawn and I live too far from anything for someone to accidentally wander onto my not-lawn.
So I am conflicted. Conflicted between the water bong-y mantra of "Live and let live" and the luxury of allowing myself to believe another person is actually a fucking idiot.
Ayiyiyi. First world problems.
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