A Big, Steamy Helping of Bullshit with a Side of Denial, Please

After reading Dantallion’s post about one’s personal ozone, I got to thinking about bullshit – first other people’s and then my own. (Actually I first started thinking about the ozone layer and the inevitable hole created over the easy village thanks to my chemical dependency on Aqua Net throughout the 80’s – back then it was all about my alternative hairstyle.)

Years ago, my hippie stepmother’s herbalist, psychic friend gave me a physical/metaphysical reading although I’m not certain if this was because she simply was sharing her gift or because she had a penchant for teenage boys. Regardless of her motives I remember her telling me that I would grow-up to live my life in an ivory tower. As I write this from a 1^st floor barely 1 bedroom in the back of the building I see that she was speaking in extreme metaphor. In that case she is somewhat accurate.

I too have little regard for niceties and/or bullshit – I prefer the bottom line from bottom line type folk. I consider myself to be one. Yet, I also think there is something to be said about a certain level of bullshit. It seemed important to me to tell my 98 year old Aunt Irene she looked beautiful even if she was rather frumpy in her house dress. Once I tossed her the compliment, she became beautiful.

Some days when I am too tired to deal with much, I find it easier to tell people what they want to hear rather than what I might think, not out of my generous nature but out of laziness really. Sometimes trying to make a point can be rather tiring.

When I'm particularly raw, being lied to feels better than the truth. Tell me my work is great even if it’s mediocre, please – at least today. Tomorrow I’ll hate it myself and won’t believe you when you say it’s great even if that’s what your really think.

There’s a silly movie, not a good one, called Blast from the Past – a guy is raised in a fallout shelter from the 60’s only to discover the world he had never been a part of above him in the 90’s. There’s a scene in the film where his explanation of gentlemanly behavior is explained as something that is done to make others comfortable. Dumb movie, but that idea stuck with me.

I like being a gentleman. Even when I am dead tired, I’ll still give up my seat to a woman and sometimes a man on the subway or bus. Often I am met with, “Do I look that old?” – I always reply with something along the lines of thinking about my own age and standing would be better for me since I sit in front of a computer all day – even if she or he did happen to look “that old”. Someone complains to me about their weight and not feeling attractive, I always point out their perfect skin, or hair, or eyes – there’s always something that is truthful. It sounds better than, “You’re fat – big fucking deal” – because obviously to the person making the statement it is one. Having been emaciated all of my life – but with a great fucking six-pack – now that I have the extra pounds and more like a kegger going on around the waist line, I really hate hearing that the extra weight looks good on me – except on the days I’m already feeling good about how I look.

My bullshit, the stuff I believe at surface value but refuse to look at more deeply, manifests in various ways at different times. Sometimes when bravery is called for, faking it makes up for that which I lack. There are situations where being right is in fact what I want more than happiness.

Then there are the times when I’ve been in love. I knew he was going to leave me - I just never wanted him to give me a clue until he was actually leaving and vice-versa.

Whether gentleman or cad, bullshit is often related to comfort – usually mine but sometimes yours. Fortunately life is graced with many days in between actual crisis and on these days I’ve found that I can be knee high in the stinky stuff and be absolutely comfortable. Just like the saying, I have been as “happy as a pig in shit”.

Sine I am hyper-critical of me first then the rest of the world - bullshit is often a means for me to get along with me and you. This doesn’t work with my closest friends though – but I already get along with them regardless of the ivory tower I metaphorically reside in – I guess because theirs are often taller and have more closet space. I look up to/at them.

The bottom line in my warped sense of ways to get through the days, is simply that bullshit is the grease used to lubricate the gears of society. People that have to work together, live next to each other, walk by the same store windows which exaggerate how little money, beauty or love one has – we all need to perform a bit of bullshitting to get along and by.

I hope when I’ve become the frumpy old aunt you’ll tell me I’m beautiful so I can be.