Pride

When speaking one a phone recently, I was told that I was proud. A proud person. Now, it urked me some, as they repeated it a good few times over the course of a rather short time. Pride, proud pout.

The first of the deadly sins, and the source of all other sins I wanted to argue my case, but instead decided to wait, think some more about it and ultimately write this. I had to look up the words on dictionary.com, as for all the books in our house the only dictionary I could find was a German one. It was the third definition that I most often apply to the word, "Arrogant or disdainful conduct or treatment; haughtiness," and I cannot say with any honesty that I have been clean of such conduct, though it may not saturate my character. I ofcourse would rather be called dignified, but just because it is what I would rather does not mean that is what I am. The quality or state of being worthy of esteem or respect, seems to suit my pallet, but. gah I do not know.

When I think of pride I think of people dyeing for their country, gays walking with banners, and drunks at the bar. I have often argued that we would all be a lot happier with a little less pride.

I want a quiet dignity, to understand myself and be sure of who I am without stepping on any one else's toes. To live my life, and conduct myself in a way that still allows me to sleep at night. Am I so proud, loud,

maybe.

I only have two minutes left.

Well, I will think about it and get back to you.

UehenaeS