Hatred and Illumination
Hate is a radically atrocious word. How can so much darkness be packed into something so small? Strung together, it’s just two vowels and two consonants, alternating to form a single-syllable verb. Maybe that's why it is so poisonous. Unlike a boa constrictor, whose length is measured in yards, hate is as exacting as the venom in a spider. It feels like it should be four, or even five syllables. There is something diabolical about the simplicity in the word hate.
And that is why I try not to use the word hate. Allow me to emphasize "try." I am not perfect. When I'm stuck in Atlanta traffic, I'll say something to the effect of, "I HATE this #$@%ing traffic!" Or when I'm dealing with any number of tech-related issues, I immediately hate all products Designed in California. I've been known to temporarily hate Steve Jobs when my cell phone won't act like a phone. And by that, I mean, MAKE A DAMN PHONE CALL.
I appreciate having a map, my bank, and 16,000 songs in my "phone," but when the damn thing won't make a phone call, I'll hate everyone and everything in Silicon Valley until the problem is fixed.
Bottom line, if anything causes me to close my eyes and slowly shake my head while simultaneously taking a deep breath, it's usually followed with, "I hate _____." But I don't really hate whatever is temporarily ruining my life – it's more that I'm fed up with it and I have to express myself in as vulgar a fashion as the situation sees fit. Again, technology is the culprit most of the time, but not all the time. Allow me to illustrate the following things that drive me crazy:
Technology in all of its forms; from the use of antiquated pop-up ads to televisions being dependent on the internet, to scanning menus at restaurants, to needing an app to park, to the myriad of passwords that are required to get through the day – 80%.
Calling a business and having to push several buttons in a useless attempt to talk to a human being, who, on the odd occasion when a human picks up, is wholly unqualified to actually help me – 10%.
Driving in Atlanta for 30 years and still getting lost on highways because of idiot DOT employees who have managed to make the most complex interchanges in the Western Hemisphere – 5%.
Dealing with TSA employees, but not all of them, just the ones who think they're God – 5%.
That said, I want nothing to do with hate – truly, I don't. Hate is poison, and I aim to avoid injecting myself with even a microscopic dot of it – except for one thing.
There is something I hate with every cell in my body. And when it rears its ugly head, I drown in waves of hatred because... I need some time to think about it... I need a handful of adverbs that express how I really feel... OK... deep breath... I think I found a few… here goes:
I unequivocally hate this.
I passionately hate this.
And I indubitably hate – OVERHEAD LIGHTING.
I find all overhead lighting oppressive. It penetrates my consciousness like a pulsating strobe light. And when they're of the office variety – you know what I'm talking about, those tubular monstrosities that every soulless office has – I find those particularly terrible because they not only attack my sense of sight but my hearing too with that awful humming noise. It's like being in a full-floor tanning bed with all your clothes on.
Give me a dark room with a banker's lamp and I'm good to go. These were a staple in the home I grew up in. Always brass with a green lamp shade. My father's office had one, as did the desks in me and my brothers bedrooms. They're handsome and practical - what else do you need? Certainly not four 60-watt bulbs on the ceiling.
Warm, ambient lighting is the way to go. And if I had my way, I'd only use old-school lightbulbs – not these new ones that blind you with "soft white" light. What a bunch of bullshit! There's nothing soft about them. They're horrendous!
Anyway, if I'm not careful, this will turn into a diatribe against General Electric. But seriously, guys... enough with these blinding lightbulbs. As if life isn't a big enough pain in the ass, you had to take away the soft glow that once inhabited our lamps and replace them with bulbs that can be seen from outer space? I don't get it, but then again, I haven't "gotten it" in a long time.
Sometimes I just want to sit fireside in a pitch-black forest. Who am I kidding... that's all I ever want to do.
PS - Per using the word brothers, I know the grammatically correct way to use that word is to add an apostrophe, as in, brothers’ — but I can’t do it. I believe it’s a distraction to the reader and it’s an aesthetic nightmare, so to hell with it.
