Fibs that get us through the day
We muddle through much of our lives supported by lies we tell ourselves and each other to sugar-coat the fact that much of our existence doesn’t really work. We depend on these platitudes to make us feel better and excuse the fact there are a whole lot of things we can’t fix and have given up trying to. Such as:
Talking about it will help.
Talking about it is equally likely to open up a whole bunch of new cans of even more unpleasant worms that you will never be able to force back into said cans.
You’ll feel better in the morning.
Partly true — you’ll feel better for that split second of semi-consciousness before you’re fully awake and realise that yes, that actually did happen last night.
You are unique.
Actually, you’re undergoing exactly the same experiences as thousands of other people. If we were all unique we would all have personalities at odds with each other and society would not be able to function.
It doesn’t matter as long as you try.
This is the ultimate existential folly — wasting energy and emotion on something at which you know deep down you have no chance of succeeding.
You can’t control what happens but you can control how you feel about it (or something).
No you can’t.
You’ll feel better when you’ve had a drink.
You’ll feel better for the exact length of time it takes to have the drink. Then you’ll forget about it for a while. The next day you’ll feel slightly worse than before.
If it’s not broke don’t fix it.
Where would we be if people had not decided to fix such unbroken items as the abacus, horse and cart and feudalism?
Kids need quality time not quantity.
No, they need both. They need you there when they need you, not just now and then when you feel like giving them your precious time and totally focused attention.
Just do your best.
And then what? Magic will happen? Realising the futility of this advice saved me much time that would otherwise have been spent on sports grounds pretending my lack of hand-eye co-ordination was not a reality.
Dance like no one’s watching.
They are — and pissing themselves.
There’s work there for people if they really want it.
Heaps of it — just ask the people working two low-paid jobs to subsidise their meagre benefits.
Aucklanders are addicted to their cars.
Actually, many of us hate our cars and we hate even more that a government’s mania for motorways means we haven’t had the money spent on public transport that would allow us to leave them behind.
It is what it is.
WTF does that even mean? It’s like a parody of Jehovah’s “I am that I am”, which also made no sense but at least had a bit of poetry going for it.
It was meant to be.
To put it another way, why don’t you give up all hope of ever doing anything about anything. Nothing was meant to be — everything is the result of the combination of an enormous number of random events accumulating in a single act. You didn’t get run over because fate so decreed. You got run over because you stepped off the footpath at the same time as that car came around the corner.
It is what it is. WTF does that even mean?
Give it time and you’ll get over it.
No, you won’t. You’ll merely find that the intervals between the times when it upsets you get further and further apart.
Sorry if this has been depressing, but don’t worry — it gets better. Or does it?