People might not be wishing the worst for you, but they certainly aren’t wishing you the best either. There’s something about bettering yourself that makes people uncomfortable and angry. People have no problem assuming what I’m incapable of without giving thought to all the things I’ve already accomplished. Or if they have, it’s dismissed with little regard.
I’ve wondered why it is that people want to think of me as lesser than, less intelligent, less of everything than they are. I’ve concluded it’s a combination of insecurity, social conditioning, and a lack of desire on their part. You can say what you want about progress. In my eyes it comes in many shapes and fails to become anything more than a concept, like most things.
Sometimes I wish people would just come out and say, “I’m supposed to be better than you. I’m not Black.” This goes unsaid, but it’s clear in the way people behave and how they speak. It’s evident in the opportunities that aren’t given, in the invitations that aren’t sent, the lack of consideration to the way you feel…I could go on.
I’m not writing with an emphasis on eloquence or a desire to be politically correct. I’m writing with the intent of transparency and making my thoughts clear for anyone reading. In the past year I’ve come up against some of the worst kinds of people. Racists, misogynists, people who can’t shake their own misery who desire to suck everyone into it like an inescapable void. That’s a pathetic kind of life, isn’t it.
It’s takes more courage to be generous and happy than it does to be hateful and injurious. While I have the propensity for forgiveness, I believe forgiveness isn’t warranted on all occasions, nor is it applicable. I don’t need apologies. I need for people to stop being trash.
If anyone ever tells you, “I’m completely devoted mind, body, and soul to my job while I’m at work,” this person is likely the biggest, fattest liar you know. Why? People daydream while they’re driving, while they’re having family interventions, during sex, the moment one realizes someone is staring at them in an extremely close and uncomfortable manner. We all daydream. My job is typically, almost always, quiet and most time the only way around it is to talk to my co-worker, raise some hell, or think up pleasant or horrifying scenarios in my head; my favorite on being finding a huge stash of money while I’m walking my dog, in all honesty it’s my most replayed fantasy.
Since working in a beige box doesn’t provide much of a jumping point for creative stimulation, I have reliable sources of mental inspiration. Here are some thoughts that help get me through the day.
This will be a post about clothes, I swear, but first: I have a new job — amongst my freelance writing gigs — and that job is retail.
What’s more, I actually like it.
I know. It sounds odd, but there’s obviously something inherently lonely when blogging all day, hearing your own voice edit and try to spin stories into something at least amusing. I craved people and at least making someone laugh that wasn’t my creepy self as I wrote blog posts.
So that’s why my new gig at a museum gift shop is so refreshing right now. For one, I have to show up at the shop, which is nice if not unusual for freelancing rookie me, who just has to log-on wherever she is at the specified time. I also have to have a scheduled lunch, which reminds me of school in a fun way because I’m now assigned Think Time. Seriously, it was like a reboot to my creative juices having this extra think time during slow moments at the shop — when I’m not eyeing the Jane Austen merch that is. It’s doubly nice because the people around me are all creatively inclined along with being in retail, which I find hopeful and interesting. Artists, actors, media…we’re a nice mishmashed bag of dreamers. Continue reading