Most people suck

I've been thinking more about what I wrote earlier, and I went out and listened to some music, had some ice cream, drank some free wine. Yes, I crashed a party and had some lovely wine for free just like a gallery opening, which I think it was, except on the street. So, you might call this drunk blogging (in the spirit of drunk dialing).

But I don't actually feel drunk. I had one glass of wine earlier (which I mentioned) and Kaori said "aren't you drunk after a glass of wine." and I said "no, I am an Anglo-Saxon, and we can drink forever and never get drunk." Of course, then I had to explain what an Anglo-Saxon is.

Which leads me to my main point: Most people suck most of the time. Some people suck only some of the time. I even think I suck some of the time. And since I always like to try to learn from these kinds of observations, I think the lesson is to hang on to those people who hardly suck at all (you know who you are, I hope).

Our experience with the waiter made me think of lessons on abusive relationships. Maybe "abusive" is too strong a word, but I think I mean relationships where there is a struggle with the power dynamic. They just don't work, whether it is with a waiter, a family member, a friend or a partner. Yet, in my unfortunate experience with this kind of thing, the other person is always shocked and upset when I take that necessary step back. I really don't think the waiter expected us to leave, bc he was trying to bully us into ordering, which we had fully intended to do bf he went off on us, even after it was clear that the relationship didn't work. Maybe the easy way for him to think about it was that we were "bad people" trying to take advantage of him and the restaurant, but you know that that was not the case.

On another matter all together, I was trying to get my key at the reception this afternoon and I noticed the DOB on the passport of someone checking in. He was born in 1987, and I was totally shocked to realize that I am almost old enough to be the mother of the people I sleep next to in this hostel. Maybe even the English girls I met on the train and later ate dinner with the night I arrived. This makes me think of a poem that Eric sent me the link to the other day:
http://www.livejournal.com/users/dpolicar/82758.html
Maybe it's finally time for me to, well, not act my age, but start acting like a grown up, or something. I don't know what that will be but, "it's just as well I'm coming home" so that I can figure that out.