That's a hubris of a different color!
I was browsing through Facebook one afternoon, as I am wont to do. (Hey, don't criticize me. I can't really get involved in one of my many projects because of all the many little fingers that like to glue/staple/modpodge/cut/shred/tack/paint themselves. You try it. I will unleash the Littles on you for an afternoon, and then you can tell me (if you survive) how you did on your projects. I DARE you.) I scrolled through, enjoying looking at my friends' updates, reveling in that feeling only true voyeurists know...
...when I came across a comment on one of my friend's updates.
It went something to the effect that they didn't like attending church because of all the snubs they got from others (as if we should be going to church because of the other people there, but I digress, as I am asocial and just felt like putting it out there...I go to church completely distracted by the fact that my soul is in mortal peril and I spend a good deal of my time in Sunday School in a state of tortured self-flagellation, and would rather be left to sit by myself, thank you very much. I also get distracted by babies. Mostly mine. And how much shorter people seem to be when I am wearing my hooker boots...). When my friend attempted to console this individual for any feelings of inferiority, they were met with an arched response. Oh, they didn't feel inferior. Quite the opposite. They were superior to those they attended church with.
I almost choked on my spit.
Wowzers.
That's new.
The monumental hubris of this individual brought an incredulous and delightfully snarky smirk to my face.
I turned to Jeremy and read the response aloud.
He immediately started chanting, "Do it! Do it!" egging me on to say something.
Now, if you don't know me well, let me fill you in on something: I will tear apart something you say, but I will never tear you apart (at least not to your face). Not my style. Not because I wouldn't be good at it (heck, everyone is good at that sort of thing, sadly) but because I don't think that way.
It's like this:
"Gosh, this person just said something that makes no sense, and to save them from their own folly, I will say something, just in case they have never been told how things really are."
There was no room for this approach with the Commenter.
There was nothing to say.
But, I will admit I was naughty and I made a popcorn ball (and it smelled so sweet) out of the sheer ridiculousness of the whole thing, hunched over my prize and pet it in the dark recesses of my mind, chuckling evilly.
Nothing like a batch of misplaced hubris to inflate your own, I suppose...
A few days later I was reading a book on parenting.
It required, at one point, to take a personality test to see which quadrants are dominant in one's thinking.
It was a tie.
Between Superiority and Controlling.
Whelp.
That about sums it up. Hoisted on my own hubris-y petard.
In my defense, however, I don't pit my "superiority" against others. I pit it against myself.
"I did this thing so well! How can I make it better? Wow! I did it! How can I make it even more better??"
It's exhausting, just in case you were wondering. I spend a good deal of my time trying to trump myself.
"Yesterday, I folded the laundry, put it away and then, using the empty basket, hauled my dirty laundry back to the laundry room all in one trip. How can I defeat me? Well, maybe if I woke up, hauled my laundry from my bedroom hamper down the laundry room, dumped the laundry out, pulled out the clean clothes, then folded and put them away, it would be better! But, I don't take out the clean clothes, because that's Josh's job, and hauling an empty laundry basket down the hallway seems like a total waste of a trip, so maybe the first way really IS the best way...or maybe I just haven't figured out a more efficient way to do this...Gosh, I am bad at laundry..."
Which is why I have a hard time getting myself to try something new, in the event that I am bad at it (like knitting...those needles are evil, and were designed to torment my perfectionist soul into a perpetual state of anxiety and frustration...and making ravioli....).
The little side of me is inclined to think that my type of hubris is better than the Commenter's.
But then that would just be me being superior.
And we can't have that now, can we?
...when I came across a comment on one of my friend's updates.
It went something to the effect that they didn't like attending church because of all the snubs they got from others (as if we should be going to church because of the other people there, but I digress, as I am asocial and just felt like putting it out there...I go to church completely distracted by the fact that my soul is in mortal peril and I spend a good deal of my time in Sunday School in a state of tortured self-flagellation, and would rather be left to sit by myself, thank you very much. I also get distracted by babies. Mostly mine. And how much shorter people seem to be when I am wearing my hooker boots...). When my friend attempted to console this individual for any feelings of inferiority, they were met with an arched response. Oh, they didn't feel inferior. Quite the opposite. They were superior to those they attended church with.
I almost choked on my spit.
Wowzers.
That's new.
The monumental hubris of this individual brought an incredulous and delightfully snarky smirk to my face.
I turned to Jeremy and read the response aloud.
He immediately started chanting, "Do it! Do it!" egging me on to say something.
Now, if you don't know me well, let me fill you in on something: I will tear apart something you say, but I will never tear you apart (at least not to your face). Not my style. Not because I wouldn't be good at it (heck, everyone is good at that sort of thing, sadly) but because I don't think that way.
It's like this:
"Gosh, this person just said something that makes no sense, and to save them from their own folly, I will say something, just in case they have never been told how things really are."
There was no room for this approach with the Commenter.
There was nothing to say.
But, I will admit I was naughty and I made a popcorn ball (and it smelled so sweet) out of the sheer ridiculousness of the whole thing, hunched over my prize and pet it in the dark recesses of my mind, chuckling evilly.
Nothing like a batch of misplaced hubris to inflate your own, I suppose...
A few days later I was reading a book on parenting.
It required, at one point, to take a personality test to see which quadrants are dominant in one's thinking.
It was a tie.
Between Superiority and Controlling.
Whelp.
That about sums it up. Hoisted on my own hubris-y petard.
In my defense, however, I don't pit my "superiority" against others. I pit it against myself.
"I did this thing so well! How can I make it better? Wow! I did it! How can I make it even more better??"
It's exhausting, just in case you were wondering. I spend a good deal of my time trying to trump myself.
"Yesterday, I folded the laundry, put it away and then, using the empty basket, hauled my dirty laundry back to the laundry room all in one trip. How can I defeat me? Well, maybe if I woke up, hauled my laundry from my bedroom hamper down the laundry room, dumped the laundry out, pulled out the clean clothes, then folded and put them away, it would be better! But, I don't take out the clean clothes, because that's Josh's job, and hauling an empty laundry basket down the hallway seems like a total waste of a trip, so maybe the first way really IS the best way...or maybe I just haven't figured out a more efficient way to do this...Gosh, I am bad at laundry..."
Which is why I have a hard time getting myself to try something new, in the event that I am bad at it (like knitting...those needles are evil, and were designed to torment my perfectionist soul into a perpetual state of anxiety and frustration...and making ravioli....).
The little side of me is inclined to think that my type of hubris is better than the Commenter's.
But then that would just be me being superior.
And we can't have that now, can we?
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