Hateful Things

I recently spent some time dipping into Phillip Lopate’s highly recommended The Art of the Personal Essay. Especially delightful was my discovery of Sai Shonagon, a tenth century Japanese essayist, poet, and court lady. She wrote The Pillow Book, a sort of daily journal that is a compendium of poetry and prose covering subjects ranging from the petty to the consequential. I was an immediate fan when I learned that, like me, she seemed to be obsessed with articulating her ideas through lists.

In the early days of my new life, my journals were a sometimes incisive, sometimes spiteful, often hilarious jumble of all that I was processing. So of course I was drawn to her entry Hateful Things—a title that could have been my theme song. While some entries may reflect a bygone era (for example, we’re not likely these days to find “that a hair has got caught in the stone on which one is rubbing one’s inkstick”), others are still relevant over a thousand years later (such as when “[o]ne is in a hurry to leave, but one’s visitor keeps chattering away”). And any doubt that I’d found a kindred spirit vanished when I read her nugget that so perfectly articulated what today we call mansplaining: “a man who has nothing in particular to recommend him discusses all sorts of subjects at random as though he knew everything”.

Reading Hateful Things served as both a reminder not to take myself too seriously and an invitation to create my own list. Which follows:

·The mosquitoes and no-see-ums that begin feasting on me just as I’ve settled in for my post-swimming meditation.

·A person, especially a stranger, who just assumes I have the same opinion they do on a controversial topic.

·When the sink backs up or a lightbulb in the twelve foot ceiling burns out two hours after the handyman has completed his monthly visit.

·Any sentence that starts with “You should…” and any person who utters it.

·When you can regularly enjoy acrobatic sex or vigorous exercise but your back goes out bending to tie your shoe or pick up the dog’s bowl.

·A person who expresses sympathy because my life isn’t like theirs.

·When you’re straining so hard to be quiet that you fumble and cause a clatter.

·A grown woman who acts like she’s time traveled back to seventh grade.

·When you can taste the last [fill in the treat] because you’ve been dreaming of it for hours, but somebody got to it first.

·A man who truly believes the patriarchal bullshit used to brainwash generations.

·The tenth circle of hell, otherwise known as the Apple store.

·A grown woman who is joined at the hip, both physically and emotionally, with her husband/partner, and who needs to consult him before making a move.

·The mascara wand that pokes you in the eye or smears your cheek as you’re rushing to get out the door.

·Ignorance and provincialism masquerading as superiority.

·Being stranded in the shower without toiletries or on the toilet without paper.

·The crushing of a child’s spirit.

·The totally unnecessary phone call that wakes you from a blissful sleep.

·When people use their neighborhood social media site to advertise just how empty their lives are by viciously complaining about minor inconveniences or unjustly accusing “strangers” of plotting misdeeds.

·Unkindness of any stripe, but especially from a position of power.

·When my dog holds his poop until just after we’ve passed the last doggie disposal spot, so I have to bring it home with me.

·A person who expects me to shrink my life just because I’ve had a certain number of birthdays.

·Being unable to take away my child’s suffering.

·Holiday newsletters that chirpily detail every last event of the year. More than a sentence about each person in your family is too much. Especially if I haven’t seen you all year.

·Being willfully misunderstood.

·A person who imagines that everyone else in their shared public space will be enthralled by the details of their very important life that they’re shouting into their cellphone.

·Toxic positivity.

·A gossip.

·Our healthcare system.

·When a person tries to delegate their anxiety to me.

·Being asked “What do you do all day?” or any version thereof.

·Old lady behavior, including indecisive dithering, fear of change, and sharing your health and Medicare status in the alumni newsletter.

·A cheapskate.

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Let’s talk! Surely you have something to add to the list!