I'm Going to Hide
Sunday, February 04, 2007
"I love America more than any other country in this world, and, exactly for this reason, I insist on the right to criticize her perpetually." - James Baldwin
I often wonder if people feel the way I feel. I think that was confirmed last night.
Let me preface this by saying that I have yet to find an on-campus student who is as old as I am. The oldest that I have found is 25.
I had a person--well, more than one person do this, but this one was different--jokingly insult me. The thing is that what she said was right. She told me that nobody got my jokes because I was old. I didn't think that I would have been upset about it. Dare I say, I took it well. This statement was one of those things that stops time, everyone laughs out loud as they, "ooooohh," and congratulate the person who said it.
Sounded like everyone agreed.
I laughed about it, too, after I almost jumped on her. I couldn't laugh as hard given what had been going on with my father. But at this moment, I am hard-pressed to not let it get to me.
In one sense, I know there is this universality of at least okay with one's self. However, I know this--actually, I've known for all of my life--something that is really painful to me.
I'm one of those people who just don't get it. I've always felt as if I were standing outside a building that all of the people around me are standing in. I see myself pulling, pushing, and tugging hard at the door, begging people to let me in, but nobody has a notion to allow me inside.
I remember when I was in the first grade. I had my first "best friend," Lisa. We would play and talk and lots of things. One day, when I got to school, she was playing with three other girls, Pat, Bettina, and Gwen. At the time, she and I were the only black girls in that grade. And she hated me. She was definitely one of the cool ones--people liked her, she was smart, she had long, thick, pretty hair--and I think she might have deemed me as being competition or just unworthy. So she and the other two literally snatched Lisa away from me. LITERALLY. They had one arm and I had the other. I was pulling with all of my might to keep my friend, but they were relentless. Over the years, I've thought that Lisa wanted to go.
I've had things happen to me in my childhood that affected me. Let me just say there are men out there who are really sick. My mom's car accident affected me, also.
I think that if I let anyone around me read this, there would be either pity or dispute, but I know it's true.
Anyway, I'm not rich enough to buy a person to help me change my personality, so I guess that I'll just have to deal with it.
I often wonder if people feel the way I feel. I think that was confirmed last night.
Let me preface this by saying that I have yet to find an on-campus student who is as old as I am. The oldest that I have found is 25.
I had a person--well, more than one person do this, but this one was different--jokingly insult me. The thing is that what she said was right. She told me that nobody got my jokes because I was old. I didn't think that I would have been upset about it. Dare I say, I took it well. This statement was one of those things that stops time, everyone laughs out loud as they, "ooooohh," and congratulate the person who said it.
Sounded like everyone agreed.
I laughed about it, too, after I almost jumped on her. I couldn't laugh as hard given what had been going on with my father. But at this moment, I am hard-pressed to not let it get to me.
In one sense, I know there is this universality of at least okay with one's self. However, I know this--actually, I've known for all of my life--something that is really painful to me.
I'm one of those people who just don't get it. I've always felt as if I were standing outside a building that all of the people around me are standing in. I see myself pulling, pushing, and tugging hard at the door, begging people to let me in, but nobody has a notion to allow me inside.
I remember when I was in the first grade. I had my first "best friend," Lisa. We would play and talk and lots of things. One day, when I got to school, she was playing with three other girls, Pat, Bettina, and Gwen. At the time, she and I were the only black girls in that grade. And she hated me. She was definitely one of the cool ones--people liked her, she was smart, she had long, thick, pretty hair--and I think she might have deemed me as being competition or just unworthy. So she and the other two literally snatched Lisa away from me. LITERALLY. They had one arm and I had the other. I was pulling with all of my might to keep my friend, but they were relentless. Over the years, I've thought that Lisa wanted to go.
I've had things happen to me in my childhood that affected me. Let me just say there are men out there who are really sick. My mom's car accident affected me, also.
I think that if I let anyone around me read this, there would be either pity or dispute, but I know it's true.
Anyway, I'm not rich enough to buy a person to help me change my personality, so I guess that I'll just have to deal with it.
Labels: My Opinion, My Writing, Prose, Thoughts
[ back home ]
Comments for I'm Going to Hide
I am so very happy that I could help you, Cat. I may have to elaborate on it, but the kind of outside that I'm talking about makes people cringe.
Yup, that's another therapy session.
I do know that a bird's eye view can make it better. As an update, I discovered that a person I have know over the last few months has been able to identify. I asked her if my sense of humor is strange, and she told me, "no, you just have to be really smart to get them."
She meant it as a compliment.
I swear she did.
Honest.
Yup, that's another therapy session.
I do know that a bird's eye view can make it better. As an update, I discovered that a person I have know over the last few months has been able to identify. I asked her if my sense of humor is strange, and she told me, "no, you just have to be really smart to get them."
She meant it as a compliment.
I swear she did.
Honest.
- Posted at Fri Feb 09, 09:23:00 AM | By Evolution of gina