My Bad: Too Much Info

So, there I was at a little gathering of people at someone's house. I think I knew everyone there to some degree. Casual acquaintance degree, but they've always been rather nice and down to earth.

Then Mr X (not real name) made a huge mistake--he asked a couple of probing questions which hit the button which by passes the internal censor. It is not always the racy stuff that is best to censor before broadcasting. The boring, intricate intrigues of one's life are often the kind of thing you may compulsively want to get off your chest, but they should be buried deep within your psyche instead.

The poor guy. He asked, and I told, and told and told. We went through so many facets of the cotton dust saga that things came up which I'd long forgotten, or tried to. Mostly I was just trying to prove my point that when industry is in bed with government, and when government officials grandstand with talk of sticking it to the evil corporations and "special interests", chances are that the biggest players in that industry have actually written the script, even while crying the blues about it in the press.

That is actually how it works, and once you've been in the middle of it your view of the process will forever be tainted. And, of course, I desperately want the rest of America to see what I see. You can't always get what you want, and many times you should quit trying. Think of something else to want.

Once a story gets started, it is hard to cut it short and escape while not losing the point. I kept wishing I could disappear after every volume of prattle spewed. But no. I somehow found myself stuck in the next volume in the series instead.

Maybe it is because I know I am often perceived as a life long day laborer who plays harmonica now and then. In that regard I can't rule out that there is not some ego feeding motive that compels me to override good judgement in such circumstances.

My assessment of this latest instance of bizarre behavior is that I am somewhat sad and maybe a little fearful deep down. I am very tired of handiman day labor drudgery and I feel a little guilty for not having the gumption to roar-in the Helen Reddy sense of the word, except I am not woman, so we can leave off that part of the hear me roar scenario. Surely I could do something which is a little more mentally challenging, like run a cash register, or count bears in the wild.

Perhaps I can't do anything more satisfying. At least I see the results of my work. That hinge is no longer falling off the cabinet door, yippee. I did that.

Whatever is going on, it is a downer. And I am sick and tired of fighting it. Or not fighting it in the right way. The right way is to change things. Things would be my actions and efforts. Who wants to actually change what they do or don't do? Not me, that's for sure.

All this has left me down, and angry, almost aggressively angry. That is no way to win friends and influence people.