Inspiration
Jan 20, 2006 in Life-logger
I get asked by other writers, bloggers, journalists, how I feel about, how I handle, the hate or the criticism. If it's genuine criticism it comes in the spirit of kindness and good intention, with an obvious sentiment to help me improve or consider things in a new way. Hateful remarks or judgments like, "you're as jappy as they come," or "want to try something new for the new year, try killing yourself" come from fear or the hate they have for themselves. I know I sound like a self-help tape; I don't care. I'm not perfect, either. I judge and lash out, usually about the things I don't like within myself. I've never lashed out at another blogger, been hateful, even when provoked. Really provoked. It's not about high and mighty or some higher road. It's not. It's about taking the time to let it settle in, without reacting straight away. Then understanding what it's really all about. And for a change, it's not all about me.
From Greek Tragedy
But unfortunately, I'm not as dignified as Stephanie. Being young isn't even an excuse. I'm clumsy, I stumble, I fall, I make my mistakes, as does everyone, and honestly, I flop more than most people do… and then the self-awareness kicks in, and I realize, in places, I'm almost like her, because I reveal almost everything there is to reveal except the parts where I can't because there are things more important than the self.
I'm not even halfway near there, even now, I have to admit it, my ideals are different, I'm not anywhere qualified to say, 'It's not all about me,' but I'll get there one day I hope. Of course it's all about me, why would it be about anyone else? I cannot say I've never provoked anyone, the opposite is the fact. And even on provocations, I can be nasty, but when I've done what I've done, a few months later, I don't bind myself to the options not to let these go, change is inevitable anyway.
I've shamed myself too many times, but I've never said I'm proud of my faults. I allow myself the slips, and then instead of burying them in sand I jot them down because I want to remember the falls, and sometimes, yes, the 1% takes over me, I'm not proud of that either, unlike some people who're pretty much conceited in the belief that they're fighting for the right thing. Occasionally I know exactly what I'm talking about, but occasionally I don't, but that isn't all that bad, is it?
I'm learning the ropes, taking small steps, occasionally, after falling down, instead of standing up and walking away, I choose to recount the previous steps, because I want to know why I fell. My hormones (hah!) sometimes do not help my unstable emotions, but what do they matter to you?
Do you even care?
Or do you live just to leech on other people's shit?
It's shit anyway, it's supposed to stink.
I cannot understand this fascination with something that's NOT MEANT TO BE GLAMOUROUS . And then it's not only me. It's quite like the time when your third aunt-in-law keeps on telling people about how you vomited all over her baby's silk dress, but then that happened ten years ago. It's a tired story, it's over, and it's the only memory you even have of someone you hardly know.
And then I take my lessons from her, because like she says,
People can't be afraid they'll be seen as braggy, or you'll feel embarrassed and afraid of the consequences, if it's what your critical self needs. It's why I do what I do, despite all the shit I take for it. Because in my heart, the one I'm working on, I know I'm doing what I need to do. Period.