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Let's See How Far We've Come...
Jul. 11th, 2009 07:25 pmLOL. I thought I posted this this morning before I left. Now, I just logged on after work, and here it is sitting, waiting to be posted. Ah, well, it's still relevant, even if no one's around.
Thank you everyone for making this a wonderful birthday. *giant hugs*
Little story. Kinda depressing, but you can't talk about how far you've come until you at least mention where you've been. I'll keep it brief. Work in an hour. Sigh.
Little secret. I didn't especially like school. I know, that's funny coming from someone who kept going into grad school. I guess what I mean is I didn't like being AT school. I just mostly preferred being at school to being a home.
This is that scene in Pretty Woman where Vivian has to tell Edward why she didn't buy more than one dress.
They were mean to me. I know. Kids. Mean. At school. Wow, that's profound.
Back in elementary school it was pretty bad. We lived very close to the high school, so we were the last pickup on a school bus that went to the high school where we changed buses for the grade school. So, by the time my sister and I got on, there was no place to sit, and everyone on the bus was bigger than us. Now, it sorta computes that the one seat we always found open would be the seat of a kid with a not so great self esteem himself, but back then, this guy was just... he gave us the name Snort. Actually he called my sister Snort and I was Frankie for Frankenstein, but Snort stuck because it fit with our last name.
It would've been fine if it'd stayed on the bus. Five minute ride, tops. But it didn't. It went to the grade school. No one would talk to us. Everywhere we went people were shhhhhhhiiing with waving fingers... spraying for cooties... and yelling "Snort!" If someone accidentally got touched by one of us, they had to be sprayed. They sprayed for repellent. They made the spraying noise to just annoy us. Threw pennies at us on the bus. I know, cry more. Whatever, kids are mean.
I didn't much care. Okay, I did care, but I just read a lot and stayed by myself. I didn't need them anyway, right?
And then came the annual trip to the Vilas Park Zoo in Madison. We went every year. I was six, and for some reason, our teacher that year decided we all needed a zoo buddy. A partner from the class. Fine. I resigned myself to being picked last and maybe ending up with the teacher as my buddy.
Instead, the teacher made me pick my buddy. First. From anyone in the class. Me. Pick. And that was the worst possible thing she could've done. Because hiding in books and keeping your head down in class doesn't prepare you for looking up and seeing everyone look away and knowing, at six years old, that you're about to ruin someone's day, because everyone in the class would rather spend the day with anyone else but you.
Anyway, I picked a girl. She spent all day avoiding me. By the time I got to high school, I had a truce with most everyone. If they didn't go out of their way to be dicks, I wouldn't go out of my way to make them look stupid, and we all got along fine.
My God, Tracy, why would you tell us that depressing story?
Because. The other day on Oprah, they were talking about how the brain develops and how, at six years old, we are the person we will be for the rest of our lives.
I'm not that little girl.
I look back, and yeah, sometimes I look forward, and find both scenarios less than stellar, but if I draw the most logical path from where I started... there are so many worse places and so many worse ways I could've ended up in life. And I might have the occasional bout of depression but I do appreciate my family, friends, creativity, art... so much. I'm pretty darned happy most of the time.
Which just goes to show. You don't 'end up' anywhere in life. You get there by the seat of your pants or any way you can. And if you don't like... well, maybe you ought to change your pants.
(Sacha darlin', that's the most beautiful card I've every gotten, and I waited until this morning to open it just like you asked. *throws confetti* LOL. I lurve you so much!)
Thank you everyone for making this a wonderful birthday. *giant hugs*
Little story. Kinda depressing, but you can't talk about how far you've come until you at least mention where you've been. I'll keep it brief. Work in an hour. Sigh.
Little secret. I didn't especially like school. I know, that's funny coming from someone who kept going into grad school. I guess what I mean is I didn't like being AT school. I just mostly preferred being at school to being a home.
This is that scene in Pretty Woman where Vivian has to tell Edward why she didn't buy more than one dress.
They were mean to me. I know. Kids. Mean. At school. Wow, that's profound.
Back in elementary school it was pretty bad. We lived very close to the high school, so we were the last pickup on a school bus that went to the high school where we changed buses for the grade school. So, by the time my sister and I got on, there was no place to sit, and everyone on the bus was bigger than us. Now, it sorta computes that the one seat we always found open would be the seat of a kid with a not so great self esteem himself, but back then, this guy was just... he gave us the name Snort. Actually he called my sister Snort and I was Frankie for Frankenstein, but Snort stuck because it fit with our last name.
It would've been fine if it'd stayed on the bus. Five minute ride, tops. But it didn't. It went to the grade school. No one would talk to us. Everywhere we went people were shhhhhhhiiing with waving fingers... spraying for cooties... and yelling "Snort!" If someone accidentally got touched by one of us, they had to be sprayed. They sprayed for repellent. They made the spraying noise to just annoy us. Threw pennies at us on the bus. I know, cry more. Whatever, kids are mean.
I didn't much care. Okay, I did care, but I just read a lot and stayed by myself. I didn't need them anyway, right?
And then came the annual trip to the Vilas Park Zoo in Madison. We went every year. I was six, and for some reason, our teacher that year decided we all needed a zoo buddy. A partner from the class. Fine. I resigned myself to being picked last and maybe ending up with the teacher as my buddy.
Instead, the teacher made me pick my buddy. First. From anyone in the class. Me. Pick. And that was the worst possible thing she could've done. Because hiding in books and keeping your head down in class doesn't prepare you for looking up and seeing everyone look away and knowing, at six years old, that you're about to ruin someone's day, because everyone in the class would rather spend the day with anyone else but you.
Anyway, I picked a girl. She spent all day avoiding me. By the time I got to high school, I had a truce with most everyone. If they didn't go out of their way to be dicks, I wouldn't go out of my way to make them look stupid, and we all got along fine.
My God, Tracy, why would you tell us that depressing story?
Because. The other day on Oprah, they were talking about how the brain develops and how, at six years old, we are the person we will be for the rest of our lives.
I'm not that little girl.
I look back, and yeah, sometimes I look forward, and find both scenarios less than stellar, but if I draw the most logical path from where I started... there are so many worse places and so many worse ways I could've ended up in life. And I might have the occasional bout of depression but I do appreciate my family, friends, creativity, art... so much. I'm pretty darned happy most of the time.
Which just goes to show. You don't 'end up' anywhere in life. You get there by the seat of your pants or any way you can. And if you don't like... well, maybe you ought to change your pants.
(Sacha darlin', that's the most beautiful card I've every gotten, and I waited until this morning to open it just like you asked. *throws confetti* LOL. I lurve you so much!)
