Reflections

I knew a boy once, who learned through some process of experience that it was not safe to let anyone know what he was feeling. It seems when such was known, he would be mocked and criticized. Perhaps he was unduly sensitive. But I expect it's more likely that he was around angry and insensitive people, who used someone smaller and weaker as an object to vent their own emotion. I'm sure they had their own demons that tormented them. But that isn't an excuse, is it. After all, a functional definition of evil is, to hurt others in order to make yourself feel good. Sort of brings it home, doesn't it. Sort of holds up a mirror.

What? You think I'm talking about myself? I laugh self-consciously, and change the subject.

When I'm writing in my little blog, I enjoy it. I like pulling bits of information together, telling some randomish story, sharing with some imaginary friend ideas or opinions that I'd generally keep to myself. I'm not unaware of that tendency (I did not say "yearning," "longing," "urge") to want some sense of connectedness. And I do think I have something to say that's worth hearing. I was in the "gifted" program, you know, in school. When I was a kid. My brothers were very jealous about that. So even if I don't have anything new to say, at least I say it in a readable way. Or so I flatter myself. Even those who snipe seem to think so. Anonymous commented something like, "you may write well and be funny, but you are a fucking idiot." Something like that. I chose to read it as a compliment. I must have learned somewhere to distort my perceptions just enough to think that hatred is a kind of constructive criticism.

I think that was a change of subject.



J