My Freedom

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

The Diplomacy of Olympus

How do we deal with people? Better still, how do we deal with people we don't want to deal with in the first place? How much can we take and how much snakes can we keep from bursting out of our mouths so that, like heat-seeking missiles, they find their way into the hearts of these vermin we so passionately hate?

Relax. Pray. Torture your Barbie. Etcetera. No matter, the moment is not without its resbak, the day ends and a new day begins... the circle completed, you have no choice (slave!) but to meet people once again. They are part of life!

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, I worked at an office and one day, a group of visiting kulturati, really, old veterans who have made their mark in the field of arts... comes waltzing in.  Immediately, they scoop up some of our displays, our posters and command one of us to prepare the artifacts they've chosen for transport (not request mind you, command as in, do this peon!).  The resident O.C. that I am immediately swings into action. "Hey! You can't just barge in here and do that..."

And I am immediately put in my place... like the poor little fish stung by the invisible poisonous strings of the Port’ Man O War. "How dare you rebuke us? Is that the way to talk with someone senior? Aren’t you Tagalog, you don't know how to say PO? ... To think I KNOW your parents!" (Great, now not only am I going to lose my job, I’m getting a spanking as well...)

I just stood there absorbing all these sh_t from these older citizens of art Olympus and several thoughts boil in my head... yes, how do we deal with people? Particularly “these” people. The Don Corleone resident evil in my head says "with respect". But doesn't the word respect go together with the word "mutual"? The incredible hulk lurking neath my inner temple shouts “kill! Smash! Destroy!” But the cowardly Peewee Herman that I am says peace bro; she can kill you with those lethal stilettos! Then, the mother-like dweller of my left hemisphere coaxes, diplomacy.

Diplomacy? But isn't that a political word? Isn’t it that it means "compromise" in the real world? I’ve seen it among neighbors, more formidable than the fences that surround them. It is the unspoken “I don't care what you do, so why should you care what I do?”, otherwise called the “dedma” syndrome. I’ve seen it quite often among squabbling siblings, let's do this for mother, she's sick you know...

Ah diplomacy, the glue that keeps the world together. But wait, whatever happened to mutual and respect? Alas, I took the road less traveled. 

Go in peace Peewee and build your own world!

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