Life judge 

People should be allowed to live their lives their own way. Who am I to judge? …But I do. 

I do gossip about an old friend about to run off to another country to live with his new lover and her four children. I do gossip about a friend who recently left his wife and moved interstate only to find he is miserable and lovely. 

I gossip about them and make judgments about the likelihood that their relationships will work, stick, blow up. I nod knowingly with others about the low chance of success or the mistaken choices made rashly. 

Fuck my judgement and my social conditioning. 

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t discard them once judged. I judge them, but then I accept them. If that makes a difference. 

Some one I work with once told me that in the workplace, your internal selling of yourself is just as important as the reputation you build in the marketplace. People in your own company have to believe in you. Actually, they don’t have to, but if they do, life’s a fuck load easier. The really skilled practitioners are masters of internal sales and profile building.

It seems that life sales is a skill I have been employing lately. What I mean is that I have been packaging a story I want other people to swallow to make my life a bit easier. People like a life story that makes sense and they will actively support it when it does. It makes things a shit load easier when the banal minions are on your side. 

I wish I could say take me as I am. But I don’t think people can do it. 

I suppose I will continue to feel that way until I am able to accept others with out judging them myself. 

  

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