If anyone dares to tell me that I look beautiful in any of my photos, I am going to give them a flying headbutt for insulting my intelligence.
I always see it... people telling other people that they look gorgeous or fabulous, and the latest one I heard; glamorous.
Now, I know we have all grown up being taught that if we don't have anything nice to say then don't say anything at all, but that is not a licence to talk shit. Really, do you really care to speak so much that you would straight out bullshit to someone? Do you think that is being nice?
Oh, I know that there are some dumb asses out there who will believe you when you tell them they look beautiful, even when really they resemble the not-so-pretty end of a baboon, but that person is not me.
If I look crap in a photo, I am smart enough to know it. By you telling me I look beautiful, you are acknowledging the fact that you think I am stupid enough to believe you, and hence you are insulting my intelligence. Considering the fact that I regard my intelligence as one of my greatest assets, this belittlement will almost certainly result in blood-shed.
But hey, in the meantime, you keep providing me with great entertainment by telling all those ugly baboon butts that they are gorgeous! Mwah!
Ok, so it's not a therapy session, but it certainly feels like one! Every week I travel to my hour-long Chinese lesson. I have one of three different tutors; two young female tutors, or one older male tutor. The last two weeks I have had Xin (pronounced "Shin"), the older male tutor.
Xin seems to really like me, and lavishes me in compliments and very big smiles every time we meet. Well, I guess all the tutors like me, but Xin is the one who ensures I walk out of my lesson feeling like the next world leader. Bob, who studies with me, has noticed the way all the tutors seem to like me and complains that they are constantly comparing him to me. "You can do no wrong in their eyes," he said to me.
The last two weeks I have been blessed with having my lessons with Xin. He has a very laid-back teaching approach, and explains everything so thoroughly; he always ensures a very productive lesson.
As many of you (those who follow my blog) know, I go through a broad spectrum of moods; usually right from one extreme to the other. Some things I write about, and some things I don't. One of my big issues is confidence. I know I am not a dumb person, and I believe I've got a pretty good head on my shoulders, but I have never been able to pull off that "big thing" I always wanted to do.
So anyway, I usually don't talk about my confidence issues very much, and definitely not with many people. And I have never talked about them with Xin. But somehow he manages to tap into that hidden darkness, seemingly without even realising it, and turn some sort of light on in me.
I usually arrive to my lessons feeling nervous, pathetic and unprepared. After my lesson with Xin I leave with a smile, a sense of satisfaction, and some really crazy-wild ambitious thoughts running through my head.
Some of the regular compliments he gives me are, "You are very smart", "You are very logical", "You have a really good memory".
Some of the bigger compliments I have received from him include last week's, "You could win the Nobel Peace Prize if you wanted to!" - Wow! What a compliment. I was in shock after that one! Then this week he tells me that I could get in some "really high, important position" because I am so logical in the way I learn. Then he said he could see me doing my PhD in Chinese, and enthusiastically exclaimed, "If you study Chinese at University, I want you to apply for scholarship! You are that good!" I didn't know what to say, so I just said, "I love your faith in me, I wish I had it!"
So, as well as having a very productive language lesson with Xin, I usually walk away feeling very good about myself, too, which is why I have likened the lessons to some form of therapy. The feeling doesn't usually last too long - maybe a couple of hours - but it is good while it lasts!
I couldn't help myself, this is just too funny not to share. I always get a huge laugh when I see smug smart asses getting proven wrong; having this happen publicly and in written form is always a bonus! So who can't say Facebook has provided us with the means of this type of entertainment?
The smugness in this guy's attitude can be detected right from the first status update. Maybe that is why one of his great friends questioned him in the first place?
His smugness is reinforced with the tone of his response "CLEARLY I said AM". You can probably just imagine his facial expressions at the time he wrote it - like "Pffft - c'mon, it's obvious".
Oh, the pleasure in reading his friend's correction and the subsequent responses.
What makes this whole scenario even more humorous is the profile picture this guy sports. Oh the irony... gotta love it!
It was a 40 degrees Celsius day, and we had just embarked on our first day of the Overland Track in Tasmania, Australia. For those who don't know what the Overland Track is, it is a 5-6 day hike of approximately 74 kilometres (excluding side tracks).
The first day of the hike includes the (optional) climb of Cradle Mountain. Cradle Mountain is not like your average mountain; it consists of boulders that get larger toward the top.
At one point, the boulder that I needed to conquer before going any further was bigger than me, and it was physically impossible for me to climb it on my own. We were getting quite close to the top at this stage, which meant that the cliff face was quite a lot steeper than earlier. It also meant that it would be a huge shame to turn back now after coming so far.
Fear set it. The only way I could get up over this boulder was to rely on someone else, which meant putting my life in someone else's hands. It would mean placing my hands in someone else's who was already up there, dangling my feet in the air, and have that person pull me up. One slip, one mistake, one ANYTHING,... and my life was over.
My instincts told this was a bad idea, and I announced that I would not be going any further. My friend put the pressure on me to continue, and assured me I would not die. Again, my head told me that this promise was not fool-proof, and that anything could happen.
The pressure placed on me was so intense. My fear grew, and I soon began to sob. The situation remained the same for a good ten minutes, although, at the time, it felt a lot longer. It became apparent to me that this situation was not going to resolve itself without me taking that step.
I still don't know how I did it, but I somehow mentally prepared myself to take the risk by accepting the possibility of my own, very painful, death.
I put my hands in his, closed my eyes, and said "Go!". I felt the pressure as he began to pull, and my feet left the ground. I was now mid-air with my life in the hands of someone else. The fear never left me, although I remained calm as my body was elevated onto the ledge.
It only took a few seconds and I was safe on firm ground again. I sat there, overwhelmed at what I had just been through, both physically and mentally. Again, I sobbed. This time with relief.
I continued the climb, and I made it to the summit. I also made it safely back down, and somehow I felt like a different person.
Being raised by parents who kept me in bubble-wrap, I had adopted their ways through life, and was afraid to do many things. Without even realising the difference conquering this fear had made in me, I completed the Overland Track with no further fears. I did things I wouldn't normally do, and I did those things without hesitation - even where others around me displayed signs of fear or concern.
It was a massive achievement, and a great sense of accomplishment, once I reached the end of the Overland Track, but nothing like what it was like to conquer a fear with the ultimate acceptance of death.
I still joke that Cradle Mountain earned its name due to its ability to reduce grown adults into crying babies.