Friday, November 27, 2009 by Mariskova
"Even by your standard, it's too harsh coming from you."
A couple of late afternoons ago a good friend of mine coming to my room and scolded me.
"I don't care how busy you are, right now you just have to listen to me!"
I looked up from the pile of paper on my table and the blank microsoft word on my monitor to comprehend him. At that time I just got back from business things I had to take care from morning and was finally able to sit my butt on my chair for less than ten minutes.
He must have seen my face because he then lowered down his tone when he made me listen to his long speech. When he finished, the only thing that could come out of my brain... and then my mouth was...
"What on earth are you talking about?"
There was this pause between us and then he finally realized I really honestly didn't know what he was talking about.
A couple of days ago, I wrote something for people. A message I thought conveying my point of view clearly. Clearly as in logically, unbiased-ly, a matter-of-factly, to-the-point-ly.
It turned out, for him, the message also contained the adjective: Harsh.
So, there is this guy, who has a personality trait as sweet as a candy even when he is truly mad, explained to me the definition of harsh.
"I was not being harsh." I said trying to show some human expressions.
"I didn't intend to hurt anyone's feeling."I explained.
"I didn't even feel anything when I wrote that." I confessed.
"It was just all... fact!"
He looked at me with that understanding face belonging to a man far older than he was and it made me remember one particular day when he was intensely raging against somebody. After his burst, I practically laughed in front of his face. I told him his anger was too sweet by my standard. Since then, he labeled me as not human for not being capable of showing some compassionate feelings. He stays being friend, good friend, to me, though.
This is not the first time people misunderstand me as being less human because I seem to have a problem of using my tone and choosing my words. My Javanese mother must have realized how un-Javanese I have become but then she couldn't do anything about it anymore. I guess I must have been born without that particular button containing with -particularly- sweetness. On some rare occasions -meetings, usually- where I use more logics and fewer empathy, I can actually feel that people sigh at my matter-of-fact explanations. Not many people like why most of the time I prefer to be logical than sweet.
Another friend of mine once observed me like a psychologist observing a mental patient. She told me I must have chosen to be plain cold to people because it was easier to do. She said being mean is easier than being nice. I simply laughed at her at that time while making a mental note that I'd better stay away from her for the rest of her life. For her own sake. Because she said it was easier for me to be mean, if you can guess what I mean.
I'm a walking nightmare, an arsenal of doomI kill conversation as I walk into the room
I'm a three line whip, I'm the sort of thing they ban
I'm a walking disaster, I'm a demolition man
Demolition, demolition-Sting, Demolition Man-