Judgement Day

Well, not THAT one.  Still...

Here's a little insight to me.  I have often been far too judgmental of others.  It's not something I'm particularly proud of, and it's something I continue to work to avoid.  After all, it's not like I'm without flaws, right?  There are plenty of things I should be doing, that I just don't for whatever reason, to make myself a better, happier, healthier person.  Many of my personal favorite posts here have leaned heavily on snark as I make totally judgmental observations about my fellow man.  They may not be the most read posts, but they're ones I've thoroughly enjoyed writing; poking fun at quirky cohabitants of the space near me.  In no small part I like them best because I regularly make myself laugh at what I put into print.

So, as I sit here, almost four weeks since my last post, I realize I've been struggling to find something to write about.

And then, the universe provides...

What is it about a man that allows him to think his "man bun" looks good with a suit?  I mean, really?  I walked in to my local coffeehouse and voilá, there he was in all his manbunliness.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not inherently against man buns.  I don't know that I'd ever have one (that ship has sailed, btw) but I don't typically see them and think "Yikes" either.  But this, I don't know, incongruity I guess, of man bun and suit just kind of jolted me.

This actually started last week at the laundromat.  As I sat there, listening to the radio, playing solitaire on my phone while waiting for the washers to finish my clothes, a young family came in and started using machines right in front of me.  Their choice of machines offered me an unobstructed view of the tattoo on the Dad's left calf.

Now, because I care about you, gentle reader, I just did a quick Google search to see if I could find the exact image and, not surprisingly, it's an original.  It was...

A "Star Wars" stormtrooper guy staring at a Cubs logo.

And before any of you Cubs haters start throwing stones, let me pull you off your high horse by pointing out that the same Google search produced multiple examples of "Star Wars" themed art associated with any number of MLB (and other sports) teams.

Anyway, as I sat there, pondering how one comes to the decision to add that particular gem onto their person, I must admit I was stumped.  I'm not a huge SW nerd admittedly even though I do enjoy the movies.  And I am a long-time Cubs fan.  I'm not in the least anti-tattoo either.  I mean, I've got one on my left arm that I'm very proud to wear.  But to me, public nature of them notwithstanding, tattoos are intrinsically private.  Without doing anything in-depth, just by random conversation about tats, the people I know that are inked, are inked because it represents something important to them.  A reminder, a memorial, a recognition of a source of pride.

So again, with that in mind, why is that the choice you make to add to your body?  I'll hang up and listen for your answer.

Not really.

Ok, as long as I'm on this whole "struggling with my judgementalness (judgemantosity?) (judgmentivism?) kick, I see Mr. Poops With The Communal Newspaper has just strolled in to my coffeehouse.  And if you missed that episode, shame on you.

Time for me to hit the road, in addition to the title, it's also laundry day (woohoo) and time for me to head that way.

Peace