**Jeremy just put his head over my shoulder and scared the shit out of me when I turned around. I, in turn, bit his neck. Moving on...
Here is a smattering of backhanded, nasty comments I've gotten when stupidly attempting to share my literary life with others. Or not...sometimes these come up when I'm minding my own fucking business:
- What kind of life do you have? If you spend all your time reading, seriously, what kind of life is that?
- There are better things to do than reading.
- Who thinks crazy stuff like that? (in reference to any and all deep thoughts)
- Do you really think this matters?
- It's so pointless.
- You're making this up. You're reaching. It's worthless.
Or a doctor, "You spend like 10 years in school? For what? You obviously have nothing better to do."
Or a fireman, "You climb into burning buildings on purpose? That's stupid and pointless."
I don't think that, and I would never say that. It just doesn't cross my mind to down other people's passions that way. I'm too wrapped up in my own happiness, I suppose. My worthless, pointless passions for higher learning, abstract thought, and the pursuit of that Truth thing that doesn't exist.
So, words to the wise...if you're ever in my presence and you make a shitty comment about my career or my hobbies to my face, I will wrap your intestines around your neck and string you up with them. Because there's just no sense in being nasty.
Listening: "Untouchable Face"...Ani DiFranco
Watching: People buzz around