Disregardia

Disregardia.  The place where dismissal lives.  Not my favorite place.  In fact, probably my LEAST favorite place to dwell.

Yet somehow I've found myself in the location that is Disregardia.  (Is that like Rihanna's Disturbia??  Which, btdubs, I totally sing "Astoria" in place of "Disturbia"...)

It's not the first time in my life, and I'm sure it won't be the last.  But being disregarded or ignored or dismissed is one of the worst things I am ever faced with.  I rarely even put myself in situations where this can be achieved.  I'm a pro.  I manipulate circumstances to unobtrusively have the last word, keep my distance, leave my guard up, and ensure those vulnerabilities stay under wraps.  Yes, I'm the picture of perfect healthy handling.

Intentionally I didn't do this of late.  I've felt pretty good about life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.  And, BAM!  Out of the blue!  I get dismissed.

What to do about it?  Do I press for an explanation?  Do I ignore it completely, chalking it up to simple douche-baggery?  I'm not 100% sure yet, I do know that openness is in order.  Everyone goes through stuff, and I can't help but still care in the wake of my perplexity.  Although I've been down that road many more times than someone my young, fresh age should have had to.  It throws me into a flash-back frenzy.  And it ain't cool living in Disregardia.

Time will tell what happens here... Good thoughts for your favorite New York fancy pants please.