A pet peeve (or pet hate) is a minor annoyance that an individual identifies as particularly annoying to him or her, to a greater degree than others may find it.I used to like imagining that I'm a rather mild person, imperturbable. I used to think it was bad to let yourself be annoyed, and even though I had a point there, I was being a bit harsh with myself. Innocently harsh, because it started when I was twelve and came only out of a desire to be a better person; I wondered to myself one day in school WHY some people are just ANNOYING. I pondered it for quite some time. I figured no one really has the authority to say that someone's particular ways are just wrong and therefore that person is annoying, not worth anyone's time or attention or even tolerance. I thought I ought to be kinder than that and give people the gift of a smile when they tried to be funny--all they wanted was for someone to acknowledge their effort to be funny. I didn't have to think it really was funny.
So, the cool thing is, I cultured my reactions until I became the kind of person who didn't let herself be annoyed much, and I was more friendly to everyone--even if that person didn't seem so great by typical standards. My patience grew, and I felt like I began to understand people better.
I think that's wonderful. But sometimes I turned it into a mind game, deciding to be positive about EVERYTHING. Which is good, right? What's bad about that? Well...
Well, one long story would involve how I ended up lying to myself about someone because I insisted on seeing only the good in him, and it all led to the ugliest chapters in my life. I wanted to think kindly of him, to believe in his potential, to the extent that I sacrificed too much of myself in the effort to help him be his best.
In fact, it was more than a little frightening to emerge from those Ugly Chapters into the light and realize I hadn't been "Qait" for two years--freeing and exciting to embrace life again without the burdens I'd strapped to myself, but I felt an immense, gaping hole in my past where I hadn't been true to myself.
I meant to be more vague than revealing there, by the way. It's not a blog topic. I'd wax apologetic, hoping to reassure you sweetly sensitive hearts out there, and say that it wasn't as horrific as it could have been, but...like I said, those are Ugly Chapters. No kidding.
So. That's pretty sad, isn't it? And I'm not bashing optimism (I live on optimism). I've just learned to be a little more open with myself. Which means I have begun to admit that some things truly do annoy me.
And these pet peeves aren't uncommon, but they sure do bother me more than other people seem to let on!
- Static electricity in my HAIR. Or my armhairs, but my HAIR!!! Ohhhh, it so annoys me when I try to brush my hair away from my face and the pieces creep back to shroud my face! I cannot function properly. Not like that. Ew. Just imagining it is enough.
- Scrambled bedsheets. It makes me spazz. My little sister can testify in my behalf; she has witnessed my outbursts. When sheets are in disarray like that, it creates this odd panic similar to claustrophobia. Maddie and I called my rages "clauster attacks." Sometimes it even happens if the sheets are simply too stifling, like in a hotel bed. It's bad. You know how
weirdpeople say "You don't make your bed to get in it"? Um, what? You don't? Because I do.
- Glass things on the edges of counters/shelves. It's like impending doom to see something glass and frail balanced at the precipice of the kitchen counter (or even the shelf in the cupboard). Seeing glass things all precarious like that makes me see the future, and it's not pretty. So I pretty much can't control the urge to gently scoot everything back a safe two or three inches.
- A whistle in my nose. I can't sleep if my nose is noisy. I can't focus (or relax much) if my nose is singing to me while I try to breathe quietly. A private picking is definitely justified in these instances.
- Crumbs that stick to my feet from the floor and somehow stay invisible no matter how much I sweep and brush off my feet. Mopping takes care of this, thankfully. But I should probably just wear socks most days (the problem with that is I feel kind of trapped if I wear socks for too long--it's just a mild case of claustrophobia, I'm sure).
For today, let's pretend that's all. What are your most inherent pet peeves?