If the Olympic committee made complaining an official competition, I could win a gold medal. It’s part of what makes my blog so interesting, right? That I’m constantly analyzing arguments, picking apart the possible meanings of situations, generally blowing things out of proportion, and then worrying if I’ve taken things too far.
As an expert complainer, I listen to other people complain a lot, too. And then complain about the way that they complain. Especially when it seems hypocritical. For example, the first time I met “Susan”, was the day she moved into Downtown Oakland. She dinged the car behind her trying to park and promptly threw her forehead against the steering wheel and screamed “I hate cities!” All I could think was “Then why are you going to live here?”, which wasn’t very nice of me because she worked very hard to get to know her neighbors and love the city from there on out. In another example, a girl I worked with “Jenny” bought a Mac and every time she couldn’t figure something out would push the computer away and complain “Stupid computer! I’m not a Mac person. They’re terrible!”. I thought to myself “Then why did you buy a Mac? Because they’re pretty?”
I don’t mean to make them look like stupid people, or to make myself look like a jerk (I am a jerk, probably). I’m wondering, which version of ourselves is true? If the things we say when we’re frustrated reveal the ugly sentiments we try to suppress in our better moods, which sentiments are more true? The ones we want to believe in or the ones that lurk in the backs of our minds?