Blame it on the Alcoh- no - Ignorance, baby.
When I left high school, I decided to leave all the biases I’d gathered behind as well. Expecting someone to disappoint you either leads them into a trap or fills you with habitual negativity and I intended to live my life better than that. Imagine my bitter surprise when I realized how easily I faltered in that philosophy and consequently placed a classmate in a deep and echoey well of judgment.
I’ve had a class with “Anna” before. In the presence of Dr. Walking-Literary-Encyclopedia, our British Literature professor at the time, her unnecessary and light-hearted comments seemed to me to degrade the integrity of his lecture. Before the first day of class had even started I had judged her as an attractive chatterbox lacking any depth beyond cheap humor.
It’s not that I judge harshly of every person who is different. I love goths, hip hopsters (as my grandfather calls them), gamers, thespians, atheists and evangelists alike. It’s only my experience with this specific type of person and the unfortunate grudgery that has me all ugly inside. It’s like my dad always said, “If you beat a dog enough, it’ll stop coming back.” And they beat me. For a painfully shy lesbian in high school, I was easy-pickens.
BUT today I was taught a valuable lesson. Waiting outside our class, American Lit, she mentioned an article she read about the lack of funding for Poe’s museum, how upset she is because he’s one of her favorites, what other museums of influential literary figures she’s been to (which far surpasses my list) and which ones she’s dying to visit. This blonde, boppity model gets her jollies off by traveling to historic sites and checking out museums?
Commence self-flagellation.
Before putting someone in a tightly confined box and nailing the lid shut, I could give them every benefit of the doubt. I could remember what it felt like being the one buried. Hell, I could toss the coffin aside and hold out a garden pot for an opportunity to grow in.
