Wednesday, March 21, 2012

I screwed up again. D'oh!

I've been saying, "I'm sorry" a lot lately. Even as I type this, I'm pondering the significance of yesterday's blog about making mistakes. Now if my assumption to make errors from time to time was correct, by my calculation ratio of errors to apologies yesterday, the moon and planets should have aligned perfectly at 3:34am MST. What gives?  D'oh!  Wrong again.

At 3:37am MST, precisely three minutes after the miraculous event failed to occur, I stared at my bedroom ceiling and considered the situation. Why am I in a constant state of "uh oh", "re-do", or "undo"?  This is my conclusion...

I'm emotional.  I react with words or actions before I stop and think, "Hmm, perhaps throwing a glass vase during a temper tantrum isn't the best way to get my point across."  If I'm not destroying dishware, then I have verbal diarrhea.  I'm a pouter and a baby.  Waaah!  Good Lord, help the people who have to put up with my nonsense especially during Banshee week. 

This is the dawn of technology.  Texting is a frightening form of bickering with me.  I love the written word.  I can type out nasty barbs and stingers oftentimes with little or no effort whatsoever - except, of course that I can't spell to save my life. Naughty, awful, emotional Breezy.

The other part of my problem is that I'm a doer.  When I start writing a blog, for instance, I go full speed ahead until it's finished.  I proof it (usually too quickly and miss ridiculous errors), add Web references, content images or video, and hit, "Submit".  Do I stop to consider that my readers in Belarus will be shocked that my bra size is 42DD?  No.  Do I hesitate because I used five 4-letter words in a run-on sentence?  No.  Do I consider that a topic might hurt, startle, or shock one of my very best friends.  Again, sadly no. 

For these reasons, and these reasons alone, I could never apply for work as a cleaning technician in a nuclear missile silo. One of my overseas Facebook friends would get me riled, we'd have a texting duel, and I'd hit the big, red button out of spite.  Uh, oh.  Re-do?  Undo?

So for those of you, my dear friends and blog readers, who were on the constant end of my apologies yesterday and for those of you who have received them in the past, I will work harder at being less of the robotic "doer" that I am.  I'll also make sure that all glassware is out of reach when my temper flares.  Finally, when my feelings get hurt or I have a misunderstanding, someone will be assigned to take my phone texting pad out of my hands before I hit the big red button and say, "Uh oh!".