04.21.2004 - 8:50 p.m.
Wednesday
One of my worst memories from
my entire childhood is the time I Lied About My Report Card.
At one point in grade school, I had abysmal grades. Mind you,
I never went on to have a stellar scholastic career, but this
particular time was an absolutely brutal collection of D's and
F's.
(I feel compelled to make note
of the fact that this was because of my obstinate refusal to
do homework. I was a lazy fucker from the get-go.)
I put it off for as long as
I could, lying to my mother that my card had been delayed (because
they didn't have...enough gold stars for me?). Until she finally
got fed up, and drove with me to the school to find out what
the hey was going on.
I sat in that car, while she
was in the school. I sat there knowing how screwed I was, and
so deeply ashamed of this position I had put her in - her believing
me, marching in there to demand whatever administrative fuckup
had kept my report card from being delivered be fixed, STAT.
I will tell you right now,
that is the only time I have prayed in my entire life. I sat
there and mentally said, over and over, please god, please god,
please god. I wanted that deus ex machina to whip in and
save the day BIG TIME.
Perhaps not surprisingly, no
supernatural force came to my rescue, and I will never, ever
forget my mother's face as she walked back to the car. Her face,
bright red with emotion (I inherited that, thank you VERY much).
I don't even remember what she said, when she got in the car.
I don't remember any of that. Just the overwhelming sense of
shame, and of feeling - in trouble.
I used to think, as a kid,
how very glad I would be to grow up and never have to feel in
trouble again.
Ha.
Ha ha.
Ha.
Oh, so the thing is? It just
gets WORSE when you're older.
You don't get to be a kid any
more. You don't get to sit in a car and pretend to pray. It's
just you, and your colossal fucktardedness.
I wrote an email this morning
that angrily accused someone of reveling in my shortcomings.
After I hit 'send', on my snitty little missive, I sat back for
a moment and thought about the things this person criticizes
me for.
They're all true. Maybe I don't
deserve to get crapped on for them, but they're true.
That feeling. Of being in
trouble. It's all the stronger when you aim that shattered,
red-faced gaze at yourself.
I'm sorry, Mom.
And I'm sorry, Linda. I'm sorry
I haven't tried harder.
last ::: next
9
comments so far.
I have moved. - 1.03.2005 Obviously, a work in progress. - 12.27.2004 Happy holidays! - 12.24.2004 Listen, I am not a complete dick, it's not like I want Joe to die alone surrounded by cats or something. - 12.23.2004 Plus I am convinced my butt is extra big when it's upside down. - 12.22.2004
|