Monday, May 25

oy my aching ego....

ok- i'm having one of those horrible weird gossipy childhood flashbacks i hadn't thought of in years... (this is door to pad we stayed at on holiday, think i put it up just to be a brat! spank me now. No not you...the karma monkey)

short story (i'll try) during the regents exams at the all white school i attended (east coast college boards) i scored a perfect 100 on the english (as well as attaining to that point the highest SAT scores the school had ever seen- alas upstate ny... i'm smart but jeez... no wonder i begged my parents to send me to Simons Rock....)

ok so i see on FB today the girl who they lowered my score for... so she could get the ROTC scholarship that was linked w/ highest regents grade suddenly went from 100 to not 100... and i lost out on , well thank god not ROTC money, but other grants i needed..... boiling mad i was at the time.... and all these years later i felt..

cheated again? Angry? Sad? an old wound... shame spiral...
it's victimy to remain in a space of sorrow or shame for life, when so much good is all around.
i think the victim lurks in a lot of us... its' how we understand it and move w/ it ...i see it mirrored back, lessons everywhere. even in ROTC. because that poor girl, kinda knew, but that was her way out of a shitty little upstate NY town... and nobody expected me to put the locals to shame and that is why i got a telly show and movies, no really- because i knew if i didn't make it happen on my own and not crumble when i didn't get way i had a shot ps..... and more to the point, my hurt is not at ROTC or her, it'a about me feeling not taken care of by the establishment, but that's a great lesson for a mixed chick to learn young...

Now I feel a weird affection and appreciation for that memory
... because it's those nicks and brusies and toughen us up, and prepare us for the world we live in...

but the beyotch better not friend me, s'all i'm saying, G.
isn't the point to realize when you've projected feelings on to another human being, or event.. and lets face it was her cosmic path was to get that scholarship.... and have her dad be mayor... oopss, there i go again. stop me-
it's about releasing and shifting the hold the our minds use to protect us, it worked as kids , not so much as an adult....fell pain we felt... and release it. so it doesn't turn into disease....

i remember years ago saying, out frigging loud, like, a lot, 'i release you fear, i know you've served me, but i'm pretty sure some one somewhere needs this flight or flight sensation to actually stay alive... but it's not me... it' never really was, but you came in handy... so thanks and bye...' w/ respect though.

why do we focus on the negs, when the garden, occasionally grey, is alive with joy....


  1. At some point, we have all been the 'victim' in situations. Now that I can look back on the situation, I can say that I am grateful for it, as it allowed me to make decisions that got me to where I am today. I'm a firm believer that everything happens for a reason. I wouldn't friend her if asked, though.

  2. What a bummer! Sometimes the worst events are meant to shape us for the best. But it seems like those realizations often come in hindsight. When they're actually happening they suck!

  3. John TrueMay 25, 2009

    Buh? How can they legally lower your SAT?
    Does she even know that's what happened?
    That's terrible, Rachel! I'm sorry they did this to you. Do you remember talking about this to your parents at the time, what did they say about it?
    I was spoiled when ii came to education. My dad made me go to a stuck up college-prep high school that was EVIL! I'm not kidding, our class was mean. I would have been in the nice class if my dad didn't hold me back in first grade. WHY did he hold me back? Because he thought I was "smaller" and "younger looking" then my class mates! He wanted me to have a year to mature! I am 40 right now and peopel STIL think I look much much younger, sometimes even by as most as my late 20's! He told me this, what are you supposed to say to that when you are in first grade and your dad is like God? You believe him, that it is for the best. If you believe him you also believe the people who teased you for looking younger. And then there is no way out from that unless you find it deep inside, the calm quiet voice of the Truth.
    Which is why none of my family is allowed to befriend me on FB. No support. I can get a new family.

    wow that sounded bitter! I'm not that bitter. I'm just upset that I had no safe harbor.

    ok, oy john!
    it already happened.
    YOU choose what happens NOW
    or at least how to react to it.
    You can see the weeds and curse them
    or you can see the beautiful flowers and bless the weeds so they are less weedy
    wow, that was almost profound!

    I hope you feel better.
    Here's a quote I love that helps me in times like this, so I use it a lot:
    A shaman told this to an upcoming female shaman: "You will be required to confront many powerful adversaries, because the darkness always follows the light. You can only overcome these opponents if you don't BECOME them. If you win by acting as they do, then you have lost everything" (Dreamways of the Iroquois, Robert Moss, p. 144).

    so, I'd say just don't steal from her! :) You're doing fine today, aren't you? You've made a nice life from that fork in the road?
    It's so sad how there is no justice in this world though!
    It pisses me off, actually!

    *listens to People Under The Stairs to try to calm down. "San Fransisco Knights", and tracks from "... or stay tuned"

  4. I had a similar experience in high school, ripped off from being valedictorian by the powers that be. On paper, and by the rules theretofore applicable, I was numero uno. Just one problemo. Numeros dos and tres were the offspring of school administrators. Me: no connections and from the coal hollow fringes of the school district where nothing good academically was expected from anyone. So what did the powers that be do? Changed the rules of the game. Counted courses not previously applied to GPA. (Was a superior athlete but couldn’t swim worth a lick, nor type worth a damn, so “D” grades in both sunk my class rank to #3.)

    For graduation night, they gave me a consolation prize – “Say, Sonny, how’s about doing a short and sweet little benediction prayer to close out the ceremony, heh?” Yeah, right, after the two impostors to the throne were coronated and gave grand speeches to the cheering crowd. Throwing me that bone to salve their collective conscious was risk-free for them. What harm could come from a prayer? Or so they thought.

    But for weeks before graduation night, I secluded myself and composed a scathing condemnation of bigotry in the school and the community – all wrapped up in a tidy little devotional. And I delivered it with passion in the stadium that night, under a rainbow after a hard rain. Concluding with a vision of black and white hands, someday joined and working together. Shocked the hell out of everyone paying attention. But for many others, it just went right over their heads as they popped pics of their kids from their brownie instamatic cameras.

    As a white man from the lower echelons of whitedom, I had only been knocked down a couple of notches. I was still in the game and made the most of my opportunities. But most of my African-American brethren and sistren in that community, and many mill hunks from my hollow, were not even there to compete, eliminated from the competition by poverty and prejudice and self-fulfilling prophesies by bigots who called themselves educators and civic leaders. The Times They Were A-Changin’, yes, and there were good teachers and good ruling class elites who were part of that change. But things weren’t changing fast enough in my little part of the world. So I got out. And the sickening stench of prejudice -- whether economic, cultural, racial, or otherwise – made me think and act differently (for the better, I trust) than if I had not been victimized by a form of it myself.

    Well, here’s the moral of my story and where it comes back to your H.S. experience. Childhood deprivations are the stuff that rebels are made of. They taught you and me to rely on no one and drove us to escape and achieve our dreams on our own terms. But you’re not just an angry rebel. (I don’t think I’m just that, either.) You’re a romantic, an egalitarian and a revolutionary all at once. (Or so it seems from your writings.) And despite your apparent admiration for Kafka & Deleuze, you are funny. Really, really funny! Your work on H&H is sheer comedic genius. As are your witty tweets & blogs. All of which means that while painful experience may have been a catalyst for change, you did not allow it to possess and imprison you. You “release[d] it so it [did]n’t turn into disease....” Bravo!!

    But you’re still a rebel, Rebel. (The wild lions and internet imposters will attest.) Respect for you always – here and in the cinema.

  5. relax, relate, RELEASE