Passive-Aggressive: It's the New Black
So, whoa, hold on here. I write what I thought was a rather innocent post about a rude man at a theme park, and all of a sudden I am being labeled passive-aggressive, about to keel over and die from my frustration and the high blood pressure it causes. After reading a few of the comments from persons who will remain unnamed (but who happen to live in Texas and own a new black refigerator, along with a certain someone on the East Coast with extremely thin legs) I thought for a second that I should commit myself to some serious psychiatric care. Why, I could explode at any second, causing serious harm to myself and the furniture!
Then I thought, well what actually is passive-aggressiveness? Before yesterday, I would have considered myself one of the last people on the planet anyone would ascribe with that particular malady.
That august body, the NIH says that passive aggressiveness is:
Passive-aggressive personality disorder is a chronic condition in which a person seems to passively comply with the desires and needs of others, but actually passively resists them, becoming increasingly hostile and angry.
Now, I'll give you the angry part. I can indeed be hostile when someone does me or my family wrong. But I in no way complied with what the man was doing, I rather politely (or so I thought) called him on his behavior and walked away from it.
Deep thinker that I am, I began pondering the whole concept of blogging and the perception of my readers of me and the things I write. What else do you have than what I give you to go on as far as determining the type of person that I am? I have never met 99.9% of you, so all you have to judge me on is what I put out there on the internets. I can be, uh, dramatic at times, but exactly how far do I actually stretch the truth? Or do I? How do you know that I am not some Swedish man living in a first floor apartment with an iguana as my pet?
And thus lies the beauty of the whole thing. People are smart. Given enough time, they can smell a fake multiple iguana cages away. Only someone with a pure hatred of laundry, a husband, and a preschooler could successfully write the things I write and be even remotely convincing.
So believe me when I tell you that I am most certainly not passive aggressive.
Or else I never would have written this post.
Then I thought, well what actually is passive-aggressiveness? Before yesterday, I would have considered myself one of the last people on the planet anyone would ascribe with that particular malady.
That august body, the NIH says that passive aggressiveness is:
Passive-aggressive personality disorder is a chronic condition in which a person seems to passively comply with the desires and needs of others, but actually passively resists them, becoming increasingly hostile and angry.
Now, I'll give you the angry part. I can indeed be hostile when someone does me or my family wrong. But I in no way complied with what the man was doing, I rather politely (or so I thought) called him on his behavior and walked away from it.
Deep thinker that I am, I began pondering the whole concept of blogging and the perception of my readers of me and the things I write. What else do you have than what I give you to go on as far as determining the type of person that I am? I have never met 99.9% of you, so all you have to judge me on is what I put out there on the internets. I can be, uh, dramatic at times, but exactly how far do I actually stretch the truth? Or do I? How do you know that I am not some Swedish man living in a first floor apartment with an iguana as my pet?
And thus lies the beauty of the whole thing. People are smart. Given enough time, they can smell a fake multiple iguana cages away. Only someone with a pure hatred of laundry, a husband, and a preschooler could successfully write the things I write and be even remotely convincing.
So believe me when I tell you that I am most certainly not passive aggressive.
Or else I never would have written this post.
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