The "D" Word and the "C" Word

I have now spent my entire day going from office to office, talking to people individually about rats, fleas and cats.  Jesus fucking christ.  I have to admit that I take a certain amount of pleasure from forcing people to deal with me face to face, though.  You know how we hate that in Crazy Land.

Just so we're clear.  They're excavating the old airport across the street.  They are digging up sewers.  Guess what?  The rats have to go somewhere.  They not only come here; they no doubt go to all of the available buildings on these four street corners.  Fleas--it's been a rainy year this year.  We office next door to Flea City where the alleged Crack Ho lives who never does anything about fleas.  The cats?  They are not standing around, beckoning to the rats to come on over and chow down on the small remainder of the cat food they haven't consumed.

Is this not pathetic?  I'm sick of talking about it, so each and every one of the people whom I know are bitching about it had to talk with me.  I love creating discomfort when it arises from a dysfunctional need to inappropriately displace anger and then refuse to address the issue directly.  It's so much more productive to do it behind people's backs.  No, no, my friends.  We will most assuredly not be doing that.  I'm going to sit in your fucking office and force you to talk to me.

This approach not only causes discomfort, but it's also disarming.  When I take responsibility for something, I assure you that I mean it.  It's just such a rare event (at least in Crazy Land) for someone to actually do that, that people really aren't able to resist my honesty and personal warmth.   That's how I am.  Sometimes it serves a strategic purpose, but that's just a bonus.

I'm a reasonable person.  I'm sure you can all see that about me.  As I said before, I sometimes have to take a little break to find the reasonable response lurking somewhere up there in the prefrontal cortex. Sometimes I simply have to get back with people to allow that part of my brain to assert itself.  As opposed, say, to verbally ripping their entrails out and beating them over the head with them.  And then arriving at a sane conclusion.

No one.  Let me repeat:  no one was willing to actually say what they think or feel.  I have no idea whether they remember how direct and  forceful I can be when provoked or it's just that generalized dysfunctional thing.  I hate that "d' word and try never to use it, but when it fits, I will not only put on the shoe, I will stomp around the office in it. 

Veering off to another topic (though my time here is limited), I can't stand the "closure" word either.  What the hell does it mean at this point?  People talk a lot about getting closure when people die.  Here's the deal:  there is no closure.  It's just an empty place in your life forever.   You learn to live with it because you have to, but there is never any letting go.  I may forgive someone, but that doesn't imply "closure." 

That's my news for the day.  I'm going to Houston tomorrow, so no word from me until Monday.  Or over the weekend if I'm not exhausted.