(no subject)
So yesterday I was inspired to post by Nick's awesomely long and cut-less post. I remember'd making it a resoultion to do so more often than not. But as of late, I've been shying away from posting. I look at my friends' list and all I see are two kinds of posts. Ones filled with joy and happyness over something, and others that bitch and moan and piss and whine about something ( not to suggest that anyone's post that falls into either catagory is unappriciated or unwanted or undeserved or whatever). I didn't want to put another post of the latter variety up to take up room in other people's friends lists. But. It's gotten to the point where after 3 months of faithfully posting inane bullshit, and surprisingly accurate (read: general) quizes; I need to use this space to vent the emotional stirring that reside within me.
I have grown to loathe my job, and nearly everyone I work with. Maybe it's because of my upbringing or maybe it's because of someother environmental factor (read: I didn't grow up in the "ghetto") but I never feel at ease with about 90% of them. It's awkward for me. All the time. I'm not to sure what it is. Which is a lie. I think I've gorwn to fear black people. Seriously. For all of my life, my friends have been white. Not much of a problem with me, and they seemed o.k. with it. When I was very young, I didn't even know any black people that weren't family. I lived in Madison, and my family was the diversity. We were the black jew that lived on Liberty. It wasn't until I moved to Hamden in the middle of my third grade year that I even MET other "people of color". It seemed strange to me that when I did meet them, that I was treated as if I was family, or a close friend already, but still held at arms length in ways. People spoke to me as if they were my friends, sharing deep dark secrects, or as if they knew me better than I knew myself. It was a bewildering experiance to say the very least. It didn't last long though, as very quickly I made friends(with people who just so happened to be white) and the thoughts were completely out of my mind.
The years passed, and as they did nothing really changed in my tiny world of school, park, friends and video games. That is until middle school. Now, there would be many more students in my school, not all of which lived nearly walking distance to the building. The new sights and sounds and were both enticing and frightening, especially the prospect of gym class (bu this time I had figured out I was quite the queer, and was terribly afriad of getting a spontainious erection while spying on another student changing ...yes I was a little horndog in seventh grade). I thought to myself, regarding middle school, "Oh, well here's my chance to be like all the other black kids, and to think! I'll fit in before highschool!" I was never more wrong in my life. I had always been an intelligent person (in no way meant to 'toot' my own horn) and had always tested well. Unbeknownst to me, the school had aranged my schedule so that all of my classes were either advanced or honors classes. . . I was once again back to Madison, for I was the Lone Negro. It was odd for about a week ( "Where are all the other black kids?") but I was very soon used to it again. I soon had friends and it soon wasn't an issue of any real importance. Life continued as usual for me in middle school, I did theater, and was part of the Dork Alliance (read: Chess club, french club, theater, and role-playing games).
High School. It was kinda like middle school, only more everything. More kids. More work. More fun. More parties. More boys. More stress. More sex. More feelings of alienation. More tears. More fears. Everything times ten. At least. And then another element was introduced. Marijuana. I started smoking pot ( all the theater kids did it, and well...I, like many other highschool students was a lemming). It seemed like the answer to all of the quesions I hadn't even asked yet. I could now deal with stress with the stronget weapon available to a kid with a sharp wit and tounge. Apathy! It was awesome (like 100 million hotdogs, sir) and also, yet one more chance for me to try to be black. . . Unfortunatly it was too little to late. I had already been branded the school fag ( due to a little incident over the phone with a girl who I thought was my friend...and the truth/rumor about me and my frist real infatuation/puppy love Mr. Matt Miller...and...well you get the idea). It was too bad that at the time I never really understood what the phrase "Discretion is the better part of valor" really meant. But having being branded the school homo, I, of course had experianced shitty behavoir from other students. It was around this time, that it had been brought to my attention that if your the school fag, then thats all you can be. Alas. There had gone the last bits of a chance for me to be a "black guy".
Fast foward. I lived in Waterbury. All the people out there were cool. . . Except for the scary black people that looked like they wanted to shoot me in the face. I mean, anyone who was ever at the apartment knows, it was a scary place to be once night fell. I remember even saying to some people that were friends of mine, that the "hood" was less scary than that place. I meant it. I felt like prey dressed as a predator, in a sea of hungry predators, sniffing around for prey.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand then I moved to New Haven. I'm comfortable here. I know my way around, the faces are somewhat familier, and frankly . . . I'm not afraid. But when I get to work, it seems as though all the progress that I've tried to make over the years is for nothing, if this is the way the black people act. It's sad, even dis-heartening. Now, don't get me wrong I love black people. We're great, and we always can find a way to make any situation fun...but. . .Its just sad. I see what alot of people mean now, when they say things like " You not your usual kind of black person." or things like "Your so well spoken!". It quite frankly appaling sometimes.
:(
It's taken me about 2 hours to write this over the course of the day. I've lost some steam as I went and I've lost some direction. BUT!!!!
The moral of the story. I hate my job, where I work with unprofessional black people, who are rude, arrogant, closed minded, and have a poor sense of priorities, and business practices.
*~Fin~*
I have grown to loathe my job, and nearly everyone I work with. Maybe it's because of my upbringing or maybe it's because of someother environmental factor (read: I didn't grow up in the "ghetto") but I never feel at ease with about 90% of them. It's awkward for me. All the time. I'm not to sure what it is. Which is a lie. I think I've gorwn to fear black people. Seriously. For all of my life, my friends have been white. Not much of a problem with me, and they seemed o.k. with it. When I was very young, I didn't even know any black people that weren't family. I lived in Madison, and my family was the diversity. We were the black jew that lived on Liberty. It wasn't until I moved to Hamden in the middle of my third grade year that I even MET other "people of color". It seemed strange to me that when I did meet them, that I was treated as if I was family, or a close friend already, but still held at arms length in ways. People spoke to me as if they were my friends, sharing deep dark secrects, or as if they knew me better than I knew myself. It was a bewildering experiance to say the very least. It didn't last long though, as very quickly I made friends(with people who just so happened to be white) and the thoughts were completely out of my mind.
The years passed, and as they did nothing really changed in my tiny world of school, park, friends and video games. That is until middle school. Now, there would be many more students in my school, not all of which lived nearly walking distance to the building. The new sights and sounds and were both enticing and frightening, especially the prospect of gym class (bu this time I had figured out I was quite the queer, and was terribly afriad of getting a spontainious erection while spying on another student changing ...yes I was a little horndog in seventh grade). I thought to myself, regarding middle school, "Oh, well here's my chance to be like all the other black kids, and to think! I'll fit in before highschool!" I was never more wrong in my life. I had always been an intelligent person (in no way meant to 'toot' my own horn) and had always tested well. Unbeknownst to me, the school had aranged my schedule so that all of my classes were either advanced or honors classes. . . I was once again back to Madison, for I was the Lone Negro. It was odd for about a week ( "Where are all the other black kids?") but I was very soon used to it again. I soon had friends and it soon wasn't an issue of any real importance. Life continued as usual for me in middle school, I did theater, and was part of the Dork Alliance (read: Chess club, french club, theater, and role-playing games).
High School. It was kinda like middle school, only more everything. More kids. More work. More fun. More parties. More boys. More stress. More sex. More feelings of alienation. More tears. More fears. Everything times ten. At least. And then another element was introduced. Marijuana. I started smoking pot ( all the theater kids did it, and well...I, like many other highschool students was a lemming). It seemed like the answer to all of the quesions I hadn't even asked yet. I could now deal with stress with the stronget weapon available to a kid with a sharp wit and tounge. Apathy! It was awesome (like 100 million hotdogs, sir) and also, yet one more chance for me to try to be black. . . Unfortunatly it was too little to late. I had already been branded the school fag ( due to a little incident over the phone with a girl who I thought was my friend...and the truth/rumor about me and my frist real infatuation/puppy love Mr. Matt Miller...and...well you get the idea). It was too bad that at the time I never really understood what the phrase "Discretion is the better part of valor" really meant. But having being branded the school homo, I, of course had experianced shitty behavoir from other students. It was around this time, that it had been brought to my attention that if your the school fag, then thats all you can be. Alas. There had gone the last bits of a chance for me to be a "black guy".
Fast foward. I lived in Waterbury. All the people out there were cool. . . Except for the scary black people that looked like they wanted to shoot me in the face. I mean, anyone who was ever at the apartment knows, it was a scary place to be once night fell. I remember even saying to some people that were friends of mine, that the "hood" was less scary than that place. I meant it. I felt like prey dressed as a predator, in a sea of hungry predators, sniffing around for prey.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand then I moved to New Haven. I'm comfortable here. I know my way around, the faces are somewhat familier, and frankly . . . I'm not afraid. But when I get to work, it seems as though all the progress that I've tried to make over the years is for nothing, if this is the way the black people act. It's sad, even dis-heartening. Now, don't get me wrong I love black people. We're great, and we always can find a way to make any situation fun...but. . .Its just sad. I see what alot of people mean now, when they say things like " You not your usual kind of black person." or things like "Your so well spoken!". It quite frankly appaling sometimes.
:(
It's taken me about 2 hours to write this over the course of the day. I've lost some steam as I went and I've lost some direction. BUT!!!!
The moral of the story. I hate my job, where I work with unprofessional black people, who are rude, arrogant, closed minded, and have a poor sense of priorities, and business practices.
*~Fin~*