can we cast our shadows alone in the dark?
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Wednesday, November 05, 2003 For real this time. Per this “journal,” I have been lectured on several fronts. Firstly and foremostly, I have been instructed to stabilize, control, and fix my attitude problems and issues. In the past month or so, I have been verbally thrashed by some, and verbally instructed by others. One involves harsh words and punishments, the other includes words of encouraging instruction. I’ll let you decipher which is which. I have been called an egomaniac and full of myself, and that just barely scratches the outer layer of comments directed towards me. My actions were made known to many people in powerful authoritative positions. I was looked down upon from the administrative standpoint as an extremist, an egotist, a discriminator, and as a generally negative, pessimistic individual. I pride myself in saying that is the complete opposite of what I truly am. I believe myself to be that person you always disliked -- the one that never failed to be perky and peppy, was always in a good mood, and showed it, no less. To be called anything but this is a total and complete shock to me. As I explained (or in some cases, attempted to explain) many a time to various different authority figures, I write these words not just with a tongue-in-cheek tone, I write them with a tongue-in-cheek attitude. This attitude was not readily accepted. I was offended because, once again, I did not mesh with several figures. I have a hard time with people who don’t accept me for what I am. When they do not mold or adapt themselves to me as I have to them, I get increasingly annoyed. I don’t want to call it closed-mindedness. I refer to it more as an unwillingness to change. The two are, indeed, different. For such a serious situation, there’s a funny sidenote that peaks out and that the persons involved may not realize as of yet. It has been bugging me ever since this happening happened. No one at school really knows me. Sad as it is, there are few people, save my family, who know me as I know myself. I’m not as open as others. I try not to expose my inner self to public knowledge as much as I used to do. I already made that mistake once, and I got burnt. Charred, really. But that is finally behind me. Secondly, I have been “advised” (commanded) from here on out to use pseudonyms when writing private things which may involve people who do not want their everyday, real life dealings to be posted on some miscellaneous, obscure website. In past entries of this log, I took many, many personals shots and made discriminatory, disparaging comments at individuals. Said individuals, through whatever means taken (i.e. my own stupidity in believing I could trust people to allow this its due privacy), were able to obtain text about them which I had written and turn me in to the proper authorities. Therefore I am trying to figure out a way to explain my daily routine in such a way so as to not reveal true identities. It’s not going very well. It would be so much simpler to just use real names, and I believe I can do that if it’s in a positive light. I don’t see a problem if people are being glorified or exalted. But what happens when I have a problem with someone or something? It’s bound to happen. It seems lately that I cannot go through this life without having a minor crisis. They have become weekly. I liken my present living situation to that of one Fred Taylor, a running back for the Jacksonville Jaguars of the NFL. Ole’ Freddy T. is a Florida Gator alumni, so I must remain loyal to him. When he was drafted and signed by the Jaggies, my hometown team, I was ecstatic. However, he soon garnered the nickname “Fragile Freddy” because of his persistent injury problems. Every time he ran the ball, his JOB at that, I would cringe in anticipation of his next trip on the cart to the locker room or in the ambulance to the hospital. He played only a percentage of about 4 seasons. A few games here and there, and then he’d pull a hamstring or tweak his MCL, go on the injury list. He’d come back for 2 more games, and then come down with chicken pox or some rare form of food poisoning or malaria that no one has had in 50 years and be out for a couple more weeks. This went on for literally years. It’s the same way at my school. I cringe every time I hear whispers behind me, knowing full well that I would be getting blasted and lectured by the same people over and over again. In summation... Words are indeed very powerful weapons that should not be taken lightly. I realize now that my comments, although still my opinions which are protected by the First Amendment rights, tore deep into the emotions and mindsets of more than one individual. This situation has given me a new perspective on what I do with my writing ability. I have been given an incredible gift. Though in the future, my gift may not be as lucrative as, say, expert athletic ability (both of which can be argued to their cores), I realize that, contrary to athletes, writing and the ability to orate and put pen to paper lasts forever. In this day and age of NBA players who step on the court the very day they graduated high school, and 13-year-old professional soccer players, it is more than obvious to me that, while many dedicate themselves to making it to a higher level in terms of sports associations, less than a single percent will make it. Instead of devoting myself to a worthless cause, such as making hurtful comments about people with whom I will no longer communicate even after I simply graduate high school (which, by the way, should be taken with an entire arsenal of salt products [let alone a grain], and is not an institution I take seriously in terms of social interaction), something not considered to be a “pinnacle of higher education” (opinionated, yes, but you have gotta give me this one for sure), I have decided to commit myself to writing for a better purpose. The point is this: To all whom I may have offended with my written word, I am deeply sorry. Specifically: Russell and Andy. I will be the first one to admit that what I did was wrong. When I began writing discriminatory things about you, I had no idea who you even were. I hope that in time you can forgive me, and that we can be friends -- or, at the very least, civil with one another. If not, I completely understand. I have learned more from this situation than I ever could have imagined. It has changed the way I view things in my life, and for that I am grateful. That is all. tell me that it’s nobody’s fault but my own... overthought at 11:40:11 PM by a hole in the world |
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