Joe Banner

Saturday, December 18, 2010

What I Don't Think I'll Say

I love it when people are trivial. I don't think it's annoying. I love the little insignificant things that people are thinking about so hard. You want to tell me that your grandmother sneezed thirty-three times this past hour, and that your cat has 437 gray hairs on his left foot? Go ahead. It mattered to you, and that makes it worth while to me.

I love it when people screw up. Go ahead, trip all over yourself. Stutter like a trooper. Look at the girl on the cover of that magazine, and forget what you're going to say. Be an awful kisser. Freak out that your clothes are inside out, shoes are on the wrong foot, sang a God-awful note, and screamed like a banshee when you slipped on the ice. It makes you really, really human, and I love it.

I love to disagree and feel the same. Today, let's argue politics. Throw a screaming fit. Let's talk about what's moral and what's not. Let's want to kill each other. But tomorrow, when we're done screaming, I want to know that we like the same artist, that we both sleep like cats, and can't stand the sound of nails on a chalkboard. I want to know that we met the same best friend at Girl Scout bingo. I want to know that we hate dryer sheets, or love being stuck in traffic. I want to know if we had the same 'Word of the Day' from entirely different calendars.

I love people with bad taste. Correction: it's not bad, it's different. You know that. And I want you to know that it's okay if you think orange and blue are complementary, or that baggy turtlenecks are a total turn on. I want you to know that it's okay if you like shallow, meaningless, screaming, taunting music, even if it makes me want to throw up a little. It's great that you like skinny, balding cats and flavorless food. It's okay if you want to date that creepy kid with the pedo-smile. Maybe he's secretly really sweet. And maybe you lose yourself in that kind of music, or found someone who really thought those obnoxiously clashing colors really bring out your eyes. It's beautiful.

I love it when people get lost. I want to see when you close your eyes in the music, only hum when your favorite song comes on (out of respect). I want to see it when you get lost in telling me something that only means something to you; why e is your favorite number, the Star Wars convention made your decade, and how you had an uncontrollable urge to make a snowman in nothing but your boxers yesterday. I love to see people passionate about something more or something so much less. 

I still just love people. And I love people who love people, too. 

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