Calm Down

No matter how calmly you say it, telling someone to “calm down” has never done anything but make a person less calm.

One time when I was arguing with my my mom as a kid, I remember telling her to “calm down.” She did not react well. After that argument I had a lot of calming alone time in my room.

If you tell someone to “calm down,” the standard reaction is to frantically deny and accuse the opposite. “I need to calm down?! I’m COMPLETELY calm – I’m not the one who needs to calm down. YOU calm down! I’M PERFECTLY CALM!”

It’s tricky; you have to get someone to calm down without letting them know that you know they’re not calm. “Look. We’re both a little amped up. Why don’t we soothe things down with some Miles Davis.”

Otherwise, you’ve entered a yelling match about who is the most calm and you’re both going to look insane if you do that…

“If you were calm, we wouldn’t be arguing in the first place!”

“So I’m always the crazy one! Look at me, everybody! I’m so NOT calm! That’s me: the crazy not calm person!”

“All I said was to please calm down!” 

“I was calm until YOU said that!”

I Like Diggin’ Holes

I had an awesome childhood, I’ve been told. I don’t really remember any of it. The only thing that I remember about my childhood is that I really like to dig holes. I would grab a shovel, go outside, and dig holes in my backyard all day while my brother and sister sat inside reading and furthering their education. My mom would try to get me to read books all the time. She’d be like, “Stu, don’t you want to read a book like your brother and sister?” And I’d be like, “No. I’m busy can’t you see I gotta go dig this hole!” She’d be like, “Why? What are you gonna put in it?” And I’d be like, “I donno, books? That’s not the point!”

See, she didn’t understand me. I thought that digging holes was something that people just did. I grew up in Illinois where there are all these rock quarries all over the place and you’d drive by them on the highway all the time and there’d be these huge pits thousands of feet deep. And I never thought that anybody was digging them for any particular reason, I just thought they were better at it than I was. I was like, “These people are professionals. These people understand me.”

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Two Stories about Drugs

Once I was in Seattle on a road trip with my friend Benji. We went to a park that ran along the bay. I got distracted looking at some sculptures and rocks on the beach, but I eventually kept walking to see that Benji had found a bench looking over the bay and had sat down. He had company with him. I walked over and saw that the man was having quite the in-depth conversation with Benji, although about what I couldn’t tell. The man was unshaven and lacked a jacket, but he didn’t immediately strike me as homeless. Benji gave me a look. I said “Hey Benji, you ready?” “Yeah, let’s go.”

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