Taking a break from wasting gas driving around on a hot summer day with the windows down and my chow's head stuck out the window (...with Fall Out Boy playing on my CD player) to make an LJ post, because I just finished reading this excellent entry over on Tomato Nation about crying in public and how to react to it (or not). I loved the comments, especially, all of which are blessedly articulate and well-written. This one especially had me:
When I was 19, I was in a minor-but-upsetting car accident in the mall parking lot. My state was made worse by getting into a fight with my dad on the phone, and I wound up bawling my eyes out in the shoe department at J. C. Penny. An older lady was really nice to me, but the thing that made my entire day better, and that still makes me smile almost a decade later, was the little girl–maybe three years old–who saw me, left her mother's side, and came over and put her tiny arms around me. It was the sweetest thing, and the best public-crying comfort I've ever gotten.
So, yeah. Stranger-comfort is nice sometimes, but it may be best coming from small children, who don't know enough to judge you.
And this one:
When I was 6 months pregnant with my first child, I had chronic, endless morning sickness and was working a horrible, horrible job. I was walking uphill the 5 blocks it took me to get to the 116th train station and I just stopped, leaned against a building, and began to cry over how absolutely lousy I felt. An oddly familiar-looking man in a bathrobe who was walking by looked over, and wordlessly handed me a tissue, then went into a trailer parked on the street. Strange, but stranger things have happened in New York City. I felt better, and as I walked past Columbia University to the train station I saw a ton of camera crews, lights and more trailers. Then I realized that the man in the robe was actually Willem Dafoe, there to shoot the first Spider Man. Bizarre NY experience. Thanks, Willem.
As a person who cries easily, and frequently, I found this whole line of discussion really interesting. Weirdly, the last time that I had this happen to me (that I can remember, anyway) was when I was in 9th grade and the principal came on the intercom to break the news that a member of the student body had passed away. I unexpectedly knew the person who'd died (this in a school with 2,500 students in it) and immediately had that shocked, crying-but-not-yet-in-hysterics reaction, because I was too stunned. My teacher, bless her heart, came over and gave me a hall pass so I could leave and get myself together.
I personally think that if this happened to me (assuming it wasn't for some stupid reason like I was listening to Radiohead on my iPod) that I'd want to be acknowledged. Not necessarily in a big way, but the silent tissue-pass seems very sweet to me.
One poster makes a note about always carrying tissues and some chocolate with her in case of need for upset strangers. This must be something that happens more in a big city than out here in the suburbs, but even so I think I like that idea. I dunno. There's something very comforting in a generalized way about the idea of a random stranger caring enough to show some sympathy for your obvious distress.
When I was 19, I was in a minor-but-upsetting car accident in the mall parking lot. My state was made worse by getting into a fight with my dad on the phone, and I wound up bawling my eyes out in the shoe department at J. C. Penny. An older lady was really nice to me, but the thing that made my entire day better, and that still makes me smile almost a decade later, was the little girl–maybe three years old–who saw me, left her mother's side, and came over and put her tiny arms around me. It was the sweetest thing, and the best public-crying comfort I've ever gotten.
So, yeah. Stranger-comfort is nice sometimes, but it may be best coming from small children, who don't know enough to judge you.
And this one:
When I was 6 months pregnant with my first child, I had chronic, endless morning sickness and was working a horrible, horrible job. I was walking uphill the 5 blocks it took me to get to the 116th train station and I just stopped, leaned against a building, and began to cry over how absolutely lousy I felt. An oddly familiar-looking man in a bathrobe who was walking by looked over, and wordlessly handed me a tissue, then went into a trailer parked on the street. Strange, but stranger things have happened in New York City. I felt better, and as I walked past Columbia University to the train station I saw a ton of camera crews, lights and more trailers. Then I realized that the man in the robe was actually Willem Dafoe, there to shoot the first Spider Man. Bizarre NY experience. Thanks, Willem.
As a person who cries easily, and frequently, I found this whole line of discussion really interesting. Weirdly, the last time that I had this happen to me (that I can remember, anyway) was when I was in 9th grade and the principal came on the intercom to break the news that a member of the student body had passed away. I unexpectedly knew the person who'd died (this in a school with 2,500 students in it) and immediately had that shocked, crying-but-not-yet-in-hysterics reaction, because I was too stunned. My teacher, bless her heart, came over and gave me a hall pass so I could leave and get myself together.
I personally think that if this happened to me (assuming it wasn't for some stupid reason like I was listening to Radiohead on my iPod) that I'd want to be acknowledged. Not necessarily in a big way, but the silent tissue-pass seems very sweet to me.
One poster makes a note about always carrying tissues and some chocolate with her in case of need for upset strangers. This must be something that happens more in a big city than out here in the suburbs, but even so I think I like that idea. I dunno. There's something very comforting in a generalized way about the idea of a random stranger caring enough to show some sympathy for your obvious distress.
Current Mood: 
thoughtful
thoughtful21 songs | Sing