I don't like it.
Confrontation, that is.
Nor do I much like controversy. Mostly 'cause I'm no good at debate. Which is why I avoid the debate board except on days when the other boards are really, really slow or when I'm up in the middle of the night looking for something interesting to read. I can't be trusted to effectively argue, no matter how strongly I believe or how well-versed I am on the subject. I swear to you, I could lose an argument with the cat.
"Human, my water bowl is slimy."
"It most certainly is not! I cleaned it an hour ago!"
"Human, I said my water bowl is slimy."
"No, it's not. Do you really think it's slimy? I could refresh it. Would you like some lemon zest?"
"Cat, I'm sorry, but you just scratched the living DAWG outta my leg for no reason whatsoever, and you must be punished."
"Human, you deserved it. And GROSS. You need to SHAVE!"
"Right you are. So sorry to have troubled you, Cat."
Even when I've been wronged, I hate to stir anything up. I'd rather let it simmer and boil over and have to clean up the resulting sticky mess than have the person who wronged me feel bad for wronging me. Is THAT the stupidest thing you've heard all day, or what?
It takes every ounce of me to tell someone they've screwed up. It takes all that and more to tell someone they've wronged me. (And that, my friends, is a heck of a lot of ounces!) So rest assured - if I ever work up the nerve to say anything to you, know that I've stewed about it long and hard.
Well, wait a minute. That's not entirely true.
Sometimes, when I've taken all I can take and I can't takes no more, sometimes I go off without warning. When I've been "this close but not quite close enough" to having the marbles to confront someone, and they say ONE MORE STUPID THING, it might appear that I go off half-cocked. But truth is, my finger has been on the trigger for awhile. This is not a healthy way to live. I realize that.
And sometimes I'm just plain mouthy. I go completely off and it's totally out of the blue. It shocks even me, that cloud on the far horizon that's upon me in 3 seconds flat. It starts swirling out of control and without warning, chews up and spits debris 30 yards afield. Sadly, I only do this to people I love and trust. Darren? Oh, my. Poor man. He's taken full-force Hurricane Stacy winds while holding an Umbrella of Sanity in one hand, clinging to the Doorframe of Doom with the other, all the while looking out the window and wondering what in the world just blew in, and trying to pacify me with chocolate at the same time. So rest assured - if I ever blow in unannounced and let loose with fury and wrath and flooding, it's only because I love you THAT MUCH.
But mostly, and I say this with all seriousness, I hate confrontation. When the carhop at Sonic brought me a Diet Vanilla Coke WITHOUT FREAKING VANILLA IN IT, I couldn't bring myself to press the red button and lodge a complaint. I didn't want to be any TROUBLE. Even though I'd paid my 15 cents for a shot of vanilla and how hard can it be for my local Sonic to get an order all the way right once in a while?? Instead, I drove home and knocked the cat out of my chair.
Which brings me to this:
My daughter was conceived and born of aliens and dropped on my front porch as a babe and I just don't remember it. That MUST be what happened. 'Cause she sure as heck ain't mine. I know this because she's going into her communications class tomorrow morning prepared to deliver a persuasive speech on the subject of, of all things, the new immigration bills. She knows her stuff. She's excited to open up a can of whoop on the kids in her class who walked out of school twice last week to protest stuff they have no clue about. (Mostly they were tired of the neighborhood Taco Bell and wanted to eat at that trailer taqueria between here and downtown.) She's not scared at all. She's excited about the CONTROVERSY AND CONFRONTATION. Freak.
Heh. Don't know why it surprises me; she sure isn't scared to confront and controverse ME most of the time. Must mean she loves and trusts me.