Finicky Fastidiousness

Variety is the spice of life.

Arguments, debates and debatable questions for or against this concept are out there. Way out there. Here. There.

Everywhere.

Gift wrapped. In the strangest of times wrapped up in a tightly wound bandage of contradictions and challenges.

Sometimes ya just gotta rip off the band aid.(rh)

Ouch.

What comes oozing out may be grosser than gross.

Some may argue that routine is security. Routine is good.

Finicky Fastidious is a monster to some. To others it is a blanket of security all wrapped up tightly into a moment of “Hey, I just can’t deal with it, with you, with this.”

When rigidity crosses the line………The monster comes alive and can become very scary.

Very scary.

What the recipient receives is a host of feelings dumped right into their lap. The ultimate lap dance. Not quite what was bargained for. A bargain has its prices too.

Heavy burdens, feelings, oozing from the band aid rip off.

And.

It can very well be a rip off.

For some.

What is en vogue today becomes yesterdays condition du jour.

Life has a funny way of showing up.

Condition.

Conditions.

Conditional condition.

Conditional conditions.

Knowledge and information oozing right along with the bandied band aid.

I don’t know about you, but I am tired.

Just tired.

No specific reason.

Many specific reasons.

I get this way when I cannot think straight.

How ‘bout you?

What makes you tick?

What makes you ticked off?

I get the all ducks in a row comparison.

I do.

Really.

But when is too much too much?

What goes in must come out. One way or another. When the security of the situation borders on the insane though where does the wound up wound go? For release. For relief.

A padded room?

The slammer?

The way up the mountain requires a good set of lungs.

The way down the mountain requires balance.

What more is there to say?

To the equation.

Fussy is as fussy does.

When asking a newborn baby what is wrong when they are screaming at you is an attempt at comfort control. Theirs. Not yours. You approach the tiny person and ask what is wrong…..

Their reply: Screaming. They are screaming at you Einstein because they need you to serve their needs. Consider yourself lucky they do not know words at this point in time. Believe you me, they would not be nice words.

Fast forward 20, 30, 40, 50 years and the screaming morphs into quiet manipulative meanings and gestures to get needs met. Whatever it takes.

Except of course, the circumstances and situations may have changed a bit………May be they have not changed though. The methods to the madness.

A scream is a scream is a scream. A cry is a cry is a cry.

You get the pattern.

What is the better way? To have one’s needs “met”.

Punctiliously?

Pedantically?

Puristically?

Perfectionism can kill.

The bandied band aid oozes from the pressure and convoluted convulsions take on an almost bleeding-edge condition.

Conditional condition.

And then.

Explosion.

Just ask the newborn when the screams include kicking too!

An all out tantrum.

Now who in their right mind would ever call a baby a monster?!

Not me.

They are still learning the ropes of what it means to get their needs met.

Whatever it takes.

They will embark on a journey of self discovery and they really don’t care if you like their methods😉

Finicky is as colic may do.

Colic took notes from Finicky

See the pattern?

Not everything lies within the bloodline.

Especially the screaming part.

When the wrong needs are met, watch out. In the world of finicky fastidious, all needs are precise, pristine and particular. Pity the one who uses it to their advantage. Or is that considered intelligence beyond compare. Precise beyond belief. Meticulously met needs.

Choosey mothers choose jif. Skippy mothers do not. Choose jif.

Demanding as this may sound, there are levels of literal accuracy to any supercilious opinion, belief or idea. The proof is in the pudding. And the curmudgeon oftentimes prefers it that way. All my way or the highway. Curmudgeons normally abhor sitting next to a loquacious person—one who never shuts up.

Moral crisis has a way of eating away at our guilty consciences making life a living he** for those around the place, the joint. Exploitation of the good will of the naive and not so naive. May be intriguing to some, this form of deception.

Keeping others at just enough arm’s length to keep everyone guessing. Until one day. It does not work anymore.

Waking up is still waking up. By God’s grace, we do it every day. For some, it requires leaping tall buildings in a single bound of the rumors and innuendo that built the false foundation in the first place. Until one day,

It breaks.

Just.

Breaks.

Weapon of mass destruction.

You betcha.

Disproportionate reciprocation. With a catch. The worst kind of finicky fastidiousness. At one moment in time promising safety and security to another when really only meaning it for oneself at the other’s expense. Who knew? The giver or receiver? I hazard a guess.

Which behavior would you throw your pity behind? The one who openly admits their self fraud, the one who denies their self fraud, the clueless wonder……the list can be endless.

When is the right time to throw down the gauntlet?(lk)

When enough is enough? When is enough enough? Enough already? I have had enough?. When one’s survival mechanism comes at another’s expense.

A good place to start. And sometimes starting in the middle is the only place to start.

Remember back to the screaming baby………….

Conventional wisdom holds that 90% of all communication is non verbal. A shrug, slight rotation of a hand, head shake yes, head shake no. My all time favorite—the finger—is saved and given in various ways, shapes and forms……at and to another person.😬

Deep within us all lies true expression. This honest to goodness true emotion. When we do not have the words to say “it”. This emotional leakage exposes a person’s true emotion and occurs within a fraction of a second. Catch it and you will know.

I am an expert in this. It is a blessing and a curse.

You see I see micros every day. Often and everyday. Sometimes so often I have to put my head down in an attempt to maintain control of my surroundings. Seeing these expressions fly cross the face of another is both a blessing and a curse. Seeing them in another has never let me down.

Let’s just call it deception detection!

Yes. Deception detection. Were it present in the newborn baby? You betcha.

Clearly and decisively. The baby had yet to learn how to hide his true emotions. So he just screamed. Sadly, the baby grew up still unconcerned with their methods of getting their needs met at your expense………

Gauntlet throw down time?

Yes.

Gauntlet throw down time.