Terms

It is difficult to come to terms with one's self. At least for me. I haven't yet figure out why in particular I find this so difficult, but it might have to do with how flighty I am. Flighty in the sense that I don't keep my focus for very long on any one thing, so much so that I might look away and, although a complete transformation has occurred in my absence, I expect that something should stay the same as it once was.

Of course, this being reality, being real life, in a world of constant change and flux - it is a very rare thing to see something which stays the same for long periods of time.

Thinking about it, it's strange to consider that the things that you think about least, - how things used to be, how you were raised, what your mom told you about this or that - these things are what affect you most on a day-to-day basis. They're how you function and get up in the morning, how you say hello to everyone every day. How you approach your job. Your morals, beliefs, standards - or the lackthereof. You don't think about it much but at the end of the day they are there.

They are the basis for what you believe to be true about the world. The backbone for your uneasiness towards people; uneasiness for young adults, your friends, your enemies - anyone - who obviously had mama and daddy hold their hand their whole life, who got everything they wanted, got a full wardrobe. Got a shiny car, had the pack of friends around them all the time. It makes you think about those people and the ones who grew up on the other side of the tracks.

I got new clothes maybe once a year, usually less. I remember being teased in sixth grade because my jeans came down to only my ankles. "Are those high waders?" My fashion-sensitive classmates asked. I didn't know what high waders were, that was nothing that concerned me. I told them they were high waders, thinking this would appease them. I don't believe in that stuff. Clothes are clothes. Your face is your face. I didn't have time or money to worry about what make-up was and if it was worthwhile to wear. Sooner or later the guy I'm sleeping with will know just what I look like when I roll out of bed in the morning, whether I'm wearing make-up or not.

Kids like that don't have much to offer, really. They're not cute enough, not well-dressed, usually not too clean, probably not smart enough, usually getting in some sort of trouble. I had far more fun in middle school sticking it to the shitty teachers at my school and making them look foolish than I did studying hard and getting good grades. And all the others kids would laugh, because who else would dare say that to the teacher's face?

There's something that really stuck out to me about Denis O'Leary's "Why We Suck" and it was his description of his neighborhood and the kids that lived there. I don't think I had it that bad, and I certainly didn't grow up in a neighborhood with a large amount of kids, anyways. But those kids had grit, they learned young that if you get beat up, you get back up --- etc., etc., those bs cliches.

I can't handle people who can't handle the real world. The ones who shut their eyes, or maybe just avert them, and seem to expect only lovely things to be sitting there waiting for them when they look at the situation again. Wait, mom's taking me shopping? Mom visited me at college and brought me all this cool stuff? That doesn't happen. Really? Get out on your own, buy your own dinner, buy your own clothes.

Now I'm in college, I still don't have much to offer. I don't believe in pansy shit. My mom doesn't buy me stuff on a whim. There isn't money for that. If I want it, I have to get it. I don't believe in weakness; if I did I would've given up a long time ago. I fight for so many things I probably don't even need to fight for; I learned somewhere along the way that you have to be resilient and pop back up off the ground. Letting someone kick you down isn't going to get you very far. Being too afraid to do what you want to do, or say what you want to say, isn't going to get you very far.

And the other point behind that - you have to express yourself. I can't understand the amount of people who are terrified and/or just plain intimidated because I speak my mind and I will swear at you and tell you what's on my mind. I can't tell you how many people are intimidated because I see something I want and I will go out and get it. I will chase it down. And this is something I absolutely can not understand. I suppose, generally speaking, I might classify those who stare after me slack-jawed as those I mentioned above whose whims were supported their whole lives by parents that could afford it. Of course they didn't need to fight anything. I had to fight the urge to give up on school and barely graduate high school like my mother did. Or to settle for something that would get me no where.

I can't understand people who do not have a passion, somewhere, somehow, for something worthwhile. I'm not talking about the lady who is so passionate about clothes-shopping and oh, how she cannot live without her infinite desire to go spend money on the next ugly sweater. There is some sort of instinctual basis that I think most of society lacks nowadays to genuinely care about what is happening around us, to genuinely care about how we live our lives, how we affect other people, how we interact with other people. I think this is a problem.


Listen, I'm not trying to be tough. I'm not trying to sound like a hardass, or a person who hates the guts of every person who doesn't know reality when they see it. I just don't believe in being a whiny, passive person. I'm trying to come to terms with this in a world, in a social sphere, that is dominated by people who didn't really have that tough of a time growing up, by people who didn't really fight for too much, and now expect me to be a clone just like them. I don't believe in that. I don't believe in wending my ways just to fit in somewhere. I've tried it so many times and I know I will never fit into one group or social sphere, or whatever sort of classification system you may deign appropriate. I have an unquenchable desire to care and be cared for but no matter what I do I don't belong. I'm coming to terms with that but I always forget the simple things, the things that made me the way I am - and sometimes those are the best things to look at when trying to understand how you act today.