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Tuesday Hatred: Greek Holiday Schedule

I hate getting into arguments. I further hate that I get into arguments regularly. Last week I got into 2 on-line arguments.  In the first one I was posing under a female pseudonym. I was being called hysterical. In the second I passed under a male pseudonym. I got charged with being insensitive. The latter was in English. The former was in Dutch. In both arguments, ultimately, it were my language skills that were called into question. I hate that. It saddens me deeply, mostly on account of it being true. I have no time to review what I write, I tell myself, but I know the truth is that mostly I can’t be bothered. I rely on charity and that is, I hate to admit, a most uncharitable thing to do.

I hate people wanting to have the last word in arguments. I hate even more those people who offer others to have the last word in an argument. At least I didn’t take either of these options. I hate to say that I think I must finally be growing up.

But never mind on-line arguments with people I don’t know, today I got into an argument with somebody I do know. That, dear readers, I do hate more than anything else. It gets under my skin, up my nose and makes me want to punish myself with things worse than death (for instance: not being able to go for euthanasia when I would finally get Alzheimer’s disease or become incontinent or some such thing). Insensitive I am not.  I hate it. I hate it. I hate it.

I hate it so much that I hate to admit that the great plans I had for last week’s Friday’s Confessional that I wanted to recycle for the present Tuesday Hatred seem as pointless as they always were.

I vaguely remember that they had to do with the fact that this week and the next I will be fully focused on watching 200 or so human medical experiments take one of the most indirect bicycle routes possible from one part of France to Paris. I hate that this argument (the last one) prevents me from feeling the sweet taste of my childhood memories of re-enacting the Tour de France with figurines and marbles on the beach (sand sculpted so as to approximate that day’s stage). So, I’m just going to say for the record that in said re-enactment I was playing the role of:

Freddy 'The Lip' Maertens

[Ah, those innocent times when world champions could be walking tobacco adverts!]

I hate that I am not a child anymore. If I were I would be him:

The man that keeps Belgium together.

[Ah, so innocent are our times that Belgian champions can still be cycling adverts for gambling!]

I hate that I’ll miss most of the third week of said bicycle race because I’ll be on holidays with limited access to television.

I hate that I did not call my friend before replying to his somewhat one-sided e-mail with a completely one-sided e-mail. This helps somewhat, but not enough. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I know I said that already but it’s true. I hate it. He does too. This makes me hate it even more. Two days ruined for no other reason than the failure to try to understand him (well, and the knee-jerk reaction of protecting the actions of somebody else).

I guess I owe you an explanation of the title. I hate that I half forgot and don’t really care much anymore about the other half. That said, I hate to leave loose ends so: it had to do with me being on holiday for a couple of weeks within a couple of weeks (you might have figured the latter out already) and needing to figure out whether I would quit smoking  forever or quit the internet for that couple of weeks. I’ll go with the former meaning that there is no need to work out a schedule for my absence but this is an insight that came after choosing the title (and I’ll be damned if I’m going to make another one up). Mostly my deciding to stop is followed by a decision never to try stopping anymore. There is no harm in trying, I guess.

I hate to say that I don’t have the energy anymore to explain the word ‘Greek’ in the title. I’m seeking to avoid controversy. I have had enough arguments.

I leave you with a demonstration of my opinion on language skills.

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July 5, 2011 - Posted by | Tuesday Hatred, waking up in a cold sweat

6 Comments

  1. I hate when people start internet discussion of New York Times Magazine articles the moment they get published on the web. Oddly my hatred is not directed at the New York Times but at the people who don’t understand that the magazine is for discussing no earlier than Sunday, probably after brunch. For what it’s worth I don’t hate that the relationship between The Weblog publishing schedule and my time zone is such that features often come out up to two hours before the appropriate day. Like, it’s Monday, but here I am with hatred!

    I hate that people with whom I should achieved a certain generosity of assumptions have been demonstrating a lack of said generosity. I hate that the level of comfort I have in speaking freely around those people has contracted as a result, and I hate that bringing this up is a wiser course of action than sweeping it under the rug.

    Comment by Josh K-sky | July 5, 2011

  2. I hate how owning a home has caused me to do something I never used to do. I look around the house and see projects. The second bathroom is a toilet that needs resealed and walls that need painted. The backyard is a wasteland that needs some combination of hardscaping so the dogs playing doesn’t cause a dust storm. The basement needs carpeting and converted back into a livable space so my wife will agree to host parties again. I won’t even get into the garage.

    I hate “chameleon clothing” that appears to be in one family of colors at home and then seems to belong to another clan once I get to work.

    I hate when people say a situation has become a “cluster”, with the understanding being that they mean “clusterfuck”. Either bust out the grown-up word or dig deeper into your vocabulary, dammit. I hate that as I’m typing I have to assume my spelling is correct because there is a guest button and three login buttons covering my efforts.

    Comment by Matt in Toledo | July 5, 2011

  3. I hate seasonal allergies and the degree to which they have occasionally debilitated me in the last week. Even more, I hate how irritable I become during the worst moments.

    Comment by Adam Kotsko | July 5, 2011

  4. Every day, I wake up and make a decision within the first hour or so whether I need to take a Zyrtec. What’s sad is a factor in the decision is whether the allergy issues are serious enough to eliminate my opportunity to enjoy a nice, cold beer later in the evening. Yes, it’s just a beer and I can easily do without it. But man, a tall one after a run or with a nice dinner out sure hits the spot.

    Comment by Matt in Toledo | July 5, 2011

  5. If it is so bad you take Zyrtec in the morning it is better to get an equivalent that doesn’t numb you out. Here it is called Aerius. Probably it is a prescription drug over there as well. Works for me anyway (I steal them from The Oldest Son).

    I hate sneezing.

    I hate messing up Josh’s sense of time. I’ll try to be more respectful next time.

    Comment by Guido Nius | July 5, 2011

  6. I hate what I just read on the Zyrtec bottle for the very first time: “Avoid alcoholic drinks.” I wouldn’t say that I avoid them at any time, really.

    Honestly, I’m not even sure Zyrtec is doing anything for me. Using the Neti pot daily has made a huge difference this year, but a couple days ago a new pollen wave started apparently. Sudafed seems to be the only thing that brings me immediate relief — or Benadryl if I’m going to sleep. Maybe I need to cut the Zyrtec out or try another “baseline” allergy drug. Too bad I don’t have health insurance right now!

    Comment by Adam Kotsko | July 5, 2011


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