2002-06-18|9:49 a.m.
There is a fire blazing about 40 miles or so from the town I live. It has crossed over the main freeway, making it impossible to go outside this rural desert, where many people have jobs in bigger cities. I keep imagining the flames, dancing over the wild bushes and trees right on through the flat, manmade, tar road. The fire is close enough that the sky is sepia-tone and ash sprinkles down into our hair. Breathing is sharp, and they have advised that people with asthma and other medical problems stay inside. It is strangely beautiful.
My dad used to always say to me as I was growing up, "In life there are 'atta-boys' and 'aw-shits' and the 'aw-shits' far outweigh the 'atta-boys.'" It was his way of telling me to realize that people are going to be far more critical of me than complementary. It was also his way of saying that he wasn't going to thank me for doing the dishes and making dinner almost every night, but he was going to scold me any time he felt I was doing wrong. In a way, I learned to accept the way the world often is. It also taught me that it is better to not expect positive reactions from others. Instead, do good deeds with the merit of silence. But, even still, I have a hard time eating my pride. I live so much in expectation for the good and bad that I almost forget to live at all.
We moved a lot of our stuff into our new apartment this week. It was a bit depressing seeing this place as my new home. I think it may take a long time for me to feel comfortable there, if at all. I went from a mobile home park, to being without a home and having to live at my boy friend's mom's house, to a condo in one of the most expensive cities in the world. I might as well go live in Antarctica. Even my new workplace seems horrid. It is worse than being a ghost. It is almost like elementary school all over again, it seems. I do not belong among them, and they see it.
And of course, much of this is just in my head. Not everyone, who has more money than me, thinks down on me. Most of it is the difference that I feel. I see the comforts of having cars bought by parents, not needing to work fulltime to support themselves, having healthy teeth, eyes, and bodies, and other luxuries. I hate the gorge that sits between us as people. I hate how I have to compete with them in all sorts of forums throughout my life with a handicap. I even begin to hate them, I admit. I hate that they do not see the gorge between us as something that I have to overcome; rather, the denegation of well-heeled living makes them see it as the difference between the good and the bad. I simply become full of hate. Will this be my fate?
I hope to overcome it.
So, I will take Dad's advice and strive not for praise, but for the silence. Otherwise, I fear I will only live for them.
Word of the Day: denegation- denial.