Tuesday, November 15, 2005

I'm picking out a thermos for you

Remember- Lord loves a working man; don't trust whitey; see a doctor and get rid of it.

Never wanna be confusion-proof

Sometimes people just don't seem to understand.

That doesn't bother me.

There is a lot I don't understand.

Sometimes I want to understand. I am fairly bright. I scored well in reading comprehension. This means I can understand, although it often has to be formulated in a written paragraph, and my understanding must be illustrated by choosing A, B, C or D, and filling in the appropriate oval with a No. 2 pencil. I kid, I kid. Although I do rock a standardized test like David Lee Roth used to rock arenas. When I want to understand another person, sometimes I cross examine them, and trim any extraneous details by peppering the person with rapid-fire questions until I have extracted the requisite information. This is a leftover occupational hazard, I guess...but it is an excellent way to learn about somebody.

(Aside- This is horrible in a group instructional setting, because you never get to ask five consecutive questions. Someone always pipes up. Plus, it's kind of rude. India hates it when I do this.)

Other times, I don't want to understand. This can be for a variety of reasons. Sometimes, I just don't give a shit. Other times, I don't want to understand, because if I do, I know it will disturb me. If I am not asking you any questions, it usually means I am not interested.

Sometimes I want to be understood. Often, this borders on a compulsion to be understood. Perhaps this is another lingering occupational hazard. Ten years of seeing your verbal communication reduced to a written transcript can do that to you. You are aware before a sentence even hits the recipient's ears that it was poorly worded, somewhat confusing or unclear. Sometimes I use too many analogies, and the point gets lost. Usually, though, when I want to be understood, I can be painfully clear.

Sometimes I want to be half-understood. At times, I communicate in a layered, nuanced fashion, and splash a jigger of sarcasm on top. I usually intend for someone to "get it" when I communicate like this. Sometimes I don't, though, and I am just being a prick, amusing myself. I usually only do this when someone has offended my complex sensibilities with ignorance, hypocrisy, pomposity or douchebaggery. The result is usually a wary smile and a look that says, "Did he just..? Nahhh." Then, hours later, after nagging at the back of his mind, "Why that son of a..."

And sometimes I don't want to be understood at all.

Kind of like right now.