Okay, maybe not. But damn if I don’t have evil little inclinations all the time, most of which I’d never actually follow through with. Except for the ones, of course, that make me scare the crap out of Tom at random times at home, which isn’t easy given the size of our abode (or lack thereof). Which gets me to my point! WHY is it that I shit on people? Can I get a witness, guys? I know your guys know what I’m talking about. More than that, why do I shit on the very people I DEFINITELY shouldn’t shit on, i.e. Mom, Auddy, Tom, et cetera? I’m not actually mean! Dear, sweet Tom, Mister Patience and Goodness, is the very picture of kindness, and my first inclination is to turn out the lights in the bedroom and hide around the corner with a pillow (not just any pillow, but this very adorable anatomically correct plush heart Tom names Hearty McFly we got as a wedding gift from the rawkin Amanda B) while he’s brushing his teeth before bed and nail him right in the face with it when he walks in the bedroom. WHY?!
THAT DOG WAS JUST LYING THERE! Ugh. I know it’s important to be strong, to work hard, to be healthy, to keep up the important relationships in my life, to be and do a million things, and I’ve suspected for a while now (and tried to change and haven’t been able to) that simple kindness to the people closest to me is one of those things that just… slips. I suppose working in management is a large part of it, since my day revolves around resolving issues and ensuring every person has a flawless experience start to finish, always with a huge Midwestern grin on my mug, so by the time I get home my ‘Customer Service Tara’ tank is basically empty. I stagger in from the train and a billion flights of stairs, drop my bags, flop down on the bed for a silent 5 minutes to recharge, and then am generally human. Ish. But my job is really no excuse, it’s not – there’s no good reason for treating random strangers on the train and in the salon better than my mom, my bestie, or my hubzilla, as I am feeling like I have been doing lately. Unless I’m wrong? Maybe I’m crazy and am the easiest person to get along with EVAR!!! I should just ask them and find out.
*tara walks into the living room*
t: Babe, would you say I treat you better or worse than the general population, as a rule?
Tom: Oh, you definitely treat me better than random people on the street. Usually. I mean… You know. *strum strum* BIGBROTHER’SGOTTHEKEYS!!!
*tara turns down the Ben Folds Five Tom is playing and screaming along to and shuffles back to her desk*
Shit. I think it really is an across the board thing.
*tara calls Mom*
t: Ma, what percentage of the time would you say I’m a bitch to you?
Ma: None? Well, when you were planning the wedding you were pretty awful.
t: Can’t argue with you there.
*tara texts Aud*
Okay. So… I’m just a bitch to Tom. Wow.
*tara scoops up a kitteh and walks back into the living room*
ta: So seriously, I know I’m bitchy and critical with you. Be honest.
To: Yeah, sometimes. I mean, I’m just… I’m your emotional toilet.
ta: Jesus, that sounds awful.
To: You know, you hold it in all day and you get home and you just gotta dump. So I catch it all for you.
*tara drops squirmy Peeber, pours a glass of wine and sits back down at the computer*
So, my suspicions have been confirmed. I dump on my old man, and that’s shitty (ha). I guess it’s inevitable, because he’s my safe space, my soft place to fall, my best friend, my errything – so he gets it all, good and bad. But other than bedtime pillow jai alai, it’s not that cute. It’s not like I hadn’t noticed it before, I just always said to myself that I’d do better even as the crabby comments flew out of my mouth each time, to no avail. So for my resolution this year, instead of bullshit weight loss claims, I’m just pledging to truly be better to my better half. We all have someone we lean on the most, our rock, and if you’re anything like me (or maybe I’m the only awful one) you tuck in all of your frustrations and venom for home, as I’ve found, and some of that inevitably splashes onto that lucky person, or puppy, or parrot, or cat, or… iguana? Those people/pets are there for us because they love us and don’t mind taking the good with the bad, but be cognizant of what you put out there for the people around you to absorb, be they strangers or best friends, because nobody wants to share a subway seat or a pint of Chubby Hubby with a negative Nancy (Or with Tom, ice cream gives him the farts. Shit, I’m being mean again!) or a bitchy Bobby. This year, I am going to do my best to write and blog and sing out my frustrations more and be his soft place to fall, too, as opposed to his live-in honey badger to avoid. That being said, I’ll still kick your shitty ass fender if you plow through the crosswalk when it’s my right of way or yell LET US OFF FIRST when jerks push onto the train before letting people off at rush hour (ASSHOLES. Ugh. I have to get out of this city), but I need to take my frustrations out on my creative endeavors, on the treadmill, just anywhere but Tom for 2015.
This year, I’m choosing kindness.