Yet again, I've gone from planning my blog post around some conventional topic such as the abject misery wreaked upon all humans by the breakdown of (sigh, I really hate this word) relationships to writing about a topic I thought of on a complete whim. While everyone should be used to my absolutely chaotic and unstructured approach to life by now, for those who are not my nearest and dearest, I apologise, as every time I mention that I have half-written a blog post that will probably debut a week later, the odds are is that it will stay that way- half-written. I know the mark of a good writer is being able to plan and structure your work, meticulously check it for errors and then post it online for the ravaging hoards of elitist wordsmiths to rip apart like a den of rottweilers in a pile of paper chains. So if anything I've mentioned as a planned segment has caught your interest, sorry... following through on plans is not my strong suit.
Today, after managing to gather around three hours of sleep in the last 48 hours, I decided to brave an excursion into the pit of misery that is Tweed City Shopping Centre, despite the numerous amount of hoons in customised utes I'd have to battle with to secure my position of the road. Every time I visit this particular location, I have to approach it as a chance to observe the inner workings of human behavior and be completely objective, otherwise I risk becoming extremely depressed and setting the whole thing on fire (for any law enforcers that may be reading this, that last part is something us young people refer to as a "joke". I do not have any real intention to set any major public buildings aflame, the extra gas tanks in my car are just for emergencies). Not once have I visited there and thought "ah, bless, the coming together of these people provides me with greater hope in the human race, as how else can we unite except by cutting off each other in the carpack and annoying others by using our mobile phones in the cinemas?". Maybe it's something to do with the lack of airflow and bad lighting, maybe it's just because if you cram me into an enclosed space with enough people, I will start thinking of many creative ways to murder them, but being there always puts me on edge. While not everyone is bad, on some days it is like the whole place has been hired out to showcase the very worst kinds of people society has to offer.
Maybe it's because of my British heritage, but I've always had an almost anal retentive regard towards politeness. While it can be argued that I can be very crude, especially with my fucking language, I have this compulsion within me to try and be uncannily gracious in all social interactions with strangers. This manifests itself in me doing things like awkwardly holding doors open for people that are standing slightly too far away, offering to hold screaming children, anxiously hovering around dirty dishes at other people's houses offering to clean them and occasionally refusing offers of food simply because I don't want to inconvenience anyone. Of course, as I get to know people and their parents, the barriers go down and I reveal myself for the crass, uncouth slob I really am, but there's always that initial compulsion to present the perfect picture of politeness.
Because of this, the rudeness of other people, to put it in colloquial terms, really shits me off. Many people who have seen a film with me at a cinema in recent years know that I am currently conducting a one-woman war against people who text during movies. I'd like to think I'm above chucking popcorn at the back of people's heads, but it does get tempting when my light-sensitive eyes are blinded by the unwanted glare of an iPhone 5 screen, only for the sweet release when the phone is finally stowed away to be interrupted by the annoying jangle of a polyphonic ringtone as the person sitting on the OTHER SIDE of the cinema receives their blasted text message. I mean, really, are you that repulsed by each others' bodily odors that you can't possible sit together and whisper? Did you two swallow magnets as children and so cannot come into close quarters so you are not ripped apart by negative forces? Or better yet (and this goes out to all those people who think it's perfectly acceptable to shout like they're at a football match when I'm trying to watch something I paid ten bucks for), you could just shut the fuck up and watch the film. See, that really boggles my mind. Why on earth would you drive out to a public location, pay money to see a movie... and then spend the entire time on your phone like you're reclining in your own lounge-room? You could probably set fire to ten dollars to get the same money-wasting effect, AND then I wouldn't have to see your sub-intelligent selves at the cinema. Anyway, to make this brief, all I'm saying is that if I ever find myself in a position of power (I was voted most likely to go into politics back in year ten, and we all know how that's a great indicator of our futures), my first decree will be to threaten all movie-texters with public execution. Or at least make it so they're paraded around the cinema with an "I HAVE THE INTELLIGENCE OF A PROLAPSED DONKEY ANUS" sign on their chest. You have all been warned.
Another pet hate of mine when it comes to issues of being polite is the use of car horns. As a person that used to burst into tears if she got beeped at (I hardened the fuck up though, as if you drive in Queensland, you must get used to it), I can testify that it is not a pleasant or helpful sound. I think the human equivilant of a shrilly beeping horn is a little fat man with a red face yelling "GO FUCK YOURSELF, YOU INCESTUOUS EMBARRASSMENT TO THE HUMAN RACE" while flipping me the bird and sodomising my various family members. Because, you know, nothing helps a panicked driver than a sound that is basically reminiscent of being shouted at for being a dumbass. Honestly, I think the sheer hostility of the sound itself has made people use it more out of anger than due to actual road safety. Who hasn't slammed their hand down on their horn and been like "what a fucking idiot.Obviously legally blind and I bet he has a small penis too" (or, for the ladies, "what a fucking idiot. Obviously legally blind and I bet she's on her period"). But menstrual cycles and small penises aside, I think car horns just sound too hostile and rude. It would comfort me greatly if we could install a more comforting alert into our steering wheels, like a selection of soothing nature noises. I'd love it if the next time I was cut off in traffic, I could press a button on my car and make the noise of a mating whale at the errant driver. Until that happens, I will continue to hang my head out of my car and make a rough approximation of the noise myself.
One other thing that particularly annoys me is when people ask really blunt, personal questions or make potentially upsetting comments that the conversation could have safely done without. Just a heads up, if I've only known you for about a day, I'm not going to like it if you ask me how many people I've had sex with. Or what my favorite position is. Maybe I've just been unfortunate enough to talk to a lot of opportunistic perverts, but my stance on that information is that I will only discuss it if I feel that our friendship is worthy of that kind of trust. The sad truth is, while everyone should be able to be loving, trusting and open, because people are human and therefore fail at doing basically decent acts all the time, there's certain information that one simply can't be free with due to the possibility of it getting spread and distorted through gossip.
Similarly, I do not like people making personal comments to me. As probably none of you are aware, I like to pretend to be a strong independent woman that don't need no man, but on the inside, I can get shaken very easily by what people say. This doesn't make me any lesser for admitting it, being impacted by the thoughts and opinions of those around you is a very common thing. So if you come up to me for the first time in months and immediately cheerfully tell me that I've "put on a little weight", do not be surprised if I make an excuse to leave the room so I don't immediately fire back "and so did you, you fat cunt". A big one that I used to get back in high school (it's a relief to say it, even though I've only been out a few months) was "gosh, Phoebe, you look tired". There is really no nice way to say this, unless you're giving someone permission to go to bed and will be following them with a glass of warm milk and an illustrated version of The Hobbit (incidentally, boys, if that sounds like your idea of a good date, let me know). You're basically saying "God, you look shitty and exhausted, I'd better say something about it so you know everyone's noticed". It's especially awkward for us olive-skinned people who are born with the type of under-eye bags usually only gained from six months looking after newborn triplets with colic. I know most days, I look like I haven't slept for a week, but that's honestly just how I look. Now stop commenting on it, or I will find an excuse to take all your family pets and replace them with murderous cassowaries.
In a nutshell, while I'm not saying we should return back to Victorian sensibilities and refer to trousers as "unmentionables" and treat the exposure of legs like a graphic view of a man's genitals, I think modern society could benefit from realising that being polite to your fellow human being is a pretty good idea. It's nice to do things like shake hands, hold doors open and make conversation with cashiers that go further than a standard "how're you going?" "good". It's also nice knowing that people don't think you're an asshole for playing on your FUCKING PHONE through AN ENTIRE GODDAMN MOVIE (look, I told you all, it's like a pathological issue with me. I hate it so much). So next time you're out, try to be a bit more mindful of others, even if they aren't mindful back. There's not really anything to lose, and what can be gained is a knowledge that you are intellectually superior to all beings that dare text their friend across a cinema while I'm trying to watch the last Harry Potter movie.
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