But I Didn't Mean To...
Accidents happen. I'm a klutz--both physically and socially, so I have much empathy for the spilled wine glass, or the joke that comes out poorly and unintentionally offends. I vowed long ago to never yell at anyone who spilled, broke or otherwise accidentally despoiled any items in my household. I always try to take comments with the best possible context from those I trust or care for. Intention matters--even our courts acknowledge this and mete out lighter sentences for manslaughter than murder, even though a person is dead at the end of both crimes. So, when uninformed pals make jokes about mental institutions, I do not hold their ignorance of my mother's frequent visits against them. If someone is late because their bike got a flat, I will not be upset at their tardiness. And when red wine is spilt all over my nice rug, I try as hard as possible to alleviate any guilty feelings the other party has (while pouring salt on the spill, of course...).
However, there are occasions wherein "I didn't mean to" just doesn't cut it. If you knock a glass over and break it because you didn't see it, I won't be angry. If you try to take the tablecloth out from under a fully set table and all of the dishes crash and break, then we're going to have words. In neither case does the individual "mean to" break something, but in the latter, the offender knew there was some probability of breakage and proceded anyway, hoping to land in the "happy" tail of the probability distribution--hoping to "get away with it." In the courts, we call this negligence. If you own a pit bull and build a ten foot tall impenetrable fence and the dog escapes, you are not held liable when Fido bites someone leg off because you took reasonable actions to guard against such misfortune. However, if you are a pit bull owner and built a 3 foot tall shrub around the back yard, you are liable under the law for negligence. Further, even if you are the responsible fence-builder, the second time that dog escapes, you're in trouble. Almost every known set of laws from Hammurabi's Code to the Laws of the Old Testament lay out punishment for such negligent behavior.
I have recently broken up with a pal. One evening, pal and I walked a mile to a local bar, reached the door and were phoned by her love interest--to whom I had introduced her a week earlier. Love interest had unexpectedly come back into town a day earlier than planned, and wanted to see "us." I begged my pal not to invite love interest; further, I said they could make out all they wanted to after we left the bar, but I had zero desire to feel like a third wheel for the next two hours, and really would not gracefully handle being ditched. Pal invited love interest, and then the two waited about three minutes before leaving me alone in the bar by myself.
My pal was confused as to why I was so upset. "I would never intentionally hurt you. Really, I did not mean for you to feel ditched."
Uh-huh. This felt to me like she tried to pull the tablecloth out and the dishes fell to the floor. I have no doubt there was no malice involved, no pre-meditation, no ill will. However, she knew before taking said actions that there was a very real possibility of my feelings being hurt, and she decided to take her chances. We did not land in the happy tail of the distribution.
There's also the problem of cumulative emotional neglect. When you see that someone has rolled the emotional dice with your feelings and their actions, you begin to question their innocence for past transgressions you might have assumed at the time were cases of true accidents. I have the problem that until some transgression really pisses the hell out of me, I smile, rationalize their behavior for them using much better excuses than they could ever contrive, and sweep it under the rug and out of my mind. It's like putting the raging pit bull back in the yard without telling the owner it escaped. When the dog finally takes a bit out of my hand, I'm out of grace and understanding and am ready for the pruning scissors.
We all know how I feel about conclusions by now.
However, there are occasions wherein "I didn't mean to" just doesn't cut it. If you knock a glass over and break it because you didn't see it, I won't be angry. If you try to take the tablecloth out from under a fully set table and all of the dishes crash and break, then we're going to have words. In neither case does the individual "mean to" break something, but in the latter, the offender knew there was some probability of breakage and proceded anyway, hoping to land in the "happy" tail of the probability distribution--hoping to "get away with it." In the courts, we call this negligence. If you own a pit bull and build a ten foot tall impenetrable fence and the dog escapes, you are not held liable when Fido bites someone leg off because you took reasonable actions to guard against such misfortune. However, if you are a pit bull owner and built a 3 foot tall shrub around the back yard, you are liable under the law for negligence. Further, even if you are the responsible fence-builder, the second time that dog escapes, you're in trouble. Almost every known set of laws from Hammurabi's Code to the Laws of the Old Testament lay out punishment for such negligent behavior.
I have recently broken up with a pal. One evening, pal and I walked a mile to a local bar, reached the door and were phoned by her love interest--to whom I had introduced her a week earlier. Love interest had unexpectedly come back into town a day earlier than planned, and wanted to see "us." I begged my pal not to invite love interest; further, I said they could make out all they wanted to after we left the bar, but I had zero desire to feel like a third wheel for the next two hours, and really would not gracefully handle being ditched. Pal invited love interest, and then the two waited about three minutes before leaving me alone in the bar by myself.
My pal was confused as to why I was so upset. "I would never intentionally hurt you. Really, I did not mean for you to feel ditched."
Uh-huh. This felt to me like she tried to pull the tablecloth out and the dishes fell to the floor. I have no doubt there was no malice involved, no pre-meditation, no ill will. However, she knew before taking said actions that there was a very real possibility of my feelings being hurt, and she decided to take her chances. We did not land in the happy tail of the distribution.
There's also the problem of cumulative emotional neglect. When you see that someone has rolled the emotional dice with your feelings and their actions, you begin to question their innocence for past transgressions you might have assumed at the time were cases of true accidents. I have the problem that until some transgression really pisses the hell out of me, I smile, rationalize their behavior for them using much better excuses than they could ever contrive, and sweep it under the rug and out of my mind. It's like putting the raging pit bull back in the yard without telling the owner it escaped. When the dog finally takes a bit out of my hand, I'm out of grace and understanding and am ready for the pruning scissors.
We all know how I feel about conclusions by now.
posted by slickaphonic at 6:39 PM
5 Comments:
It's uncanny how your thoughts are my thoughts. Only you write them way better than I do. Maybe you could be the ghost writer of my life?
Hook it up, yo.
OK, that's it. You have got to stop talking smack about pit bulls or we are so over.
some of my best canine pals are pit bulls... =) {for reals, they can be the sweetest babies in the world...but down in here socal, there is a huge problem of breeding and training them to be vicious...and then dropping them off at the local pound).
by the way, i haven't read a good molly otterness story on your blog in a while...sigh.
yeah, yeah, I know, I know. I keep thinking I'm gonna and then the kids are over, or we go road tripping, or I am freakin tired from being a 42 year old part time construction worker. I realize how much my writing was dependent on having a regular, stable, managable environment, which I sure as hell don't have here, after only 7 weeks. Thanks for missing me, I miss me too!
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