have strong feelings about so I thought we might toss the subject around .
So let us reflect together.
A dear friend quoted this to me when I expressed anxiety about losing a group of friends. Her grandfather always said "Observe the masses and run in the other
direction."
About 8 months ago I was reading a story online about a woman on welfare, and the tough times she faced. I knew something about the subject as I was once hit
by a car, and was laid up unable to work for a few months. I have also been a homeless youth and know VERY much about survival, and making do. At any rate,
the article had a picture of the woman, who was holding a fresh bouquet. She had hands heavy with silver and long, beautiful, freshly manicured fingernails. I
made the mistake of commenting how nice her hands looked and got over a thousand hostile responses. And the more I tried to back out of the remark, the worse
it got.
It went on all day, and was connected to my facebook, I deleted all the comments but they still kept coming. I eventually had to close my fb account and open a
new one. Energetically it was very draining. My adrenaline pumped like crazy all day.
Later, when it all quieted down, I sat back and appreciated the lesson of how dangerous a crowd can be. It was pretty astonishing how quickly people with no
knowledge of me or my background, (indeed my present circumstances) were so ready to string me up! I shudder to think what would have happened in 3D.
I have tons more to say on the subject, but my neck is aching and I think I will break, and write a more in a bit.
I think I am working it out as I write.
I did not become aware of the notion of popularity until about third grade. That is not to say I wasn't the target of my teachers. (Can you imagine? A target at the
ages of 6 and 7?)
My second grade teacher did her best to make sure that I didn't fit in. There were other terrible factors at play as well, and perhaps because of these I stood out
somehow.
I will never know why. I have evidence though. My mother brought me all my old report cards. There were some pretty heavy judgments about a six and seven
year old girl.
I remember they sent me to a shrink twice. He played checkers with me. I was very guarded and was able to keep my secret. I didn't want to lose the love of my
mother and father.
By third grade, peer groups were established firmly and I suddenly found myself completely outside. Worse, I was the object of much bullying and torment. I
could tell you the reasons why, but it is another long and dreary story.
My older sister was of no help, she was, like other siblings, angry at having to compete for parental resources (of which there were few), and mortified to be
related to someone so disliked by so many. At dinner she would report to my parents how ill liked I was, my mother in turn, who was top of everything in her life,
would get on her hind legs and berate me for my lack of social skills.
Throughout my childhood, I found solace from a variety of predators, but I paid a high price.
By the age of twelve I became pretty wild. I stopped giving a fuck about my peers, they were all idiots anyway. I started hanging out with the local artists, who
were probably in their 30s. Why they let me hang around I really have no idea, but I will always be grateful. They exposed me to new ideas and a new way to look
at things more critically.
But of course my mother didn't like it, and the tighter her grip got, the wilder I became. By age thirteen, my boyfriends were all men, or approaching it, and
would pick me up after school in cars. I became somewhat notorious back then. By age 14 I was envied and admired by many in high school. All of a sudden I
belonged. Even my teachers were interested in me. It was totally inexplicable, and I never had a handle on it.
Because I had been hanging around artists, my style was very quirky and artistic. Some of my clothing were cast offs from my older hippy friends, but I wore a lot
of vintage stuff from thrift shops. Everyone else was shopping in department stores, which was beyond my means anyway. I was hard to copy, but so many tried. I
wasn't sure that it wasn't a coincidence, so for a week once, I wore nothing but corduroys and turtle necks. By the following Monday, it was like being
surrounded by poets in a coffee house.
By summertime, I had washed my hands of the whole bunch, I got a job, and was looking forward to a place at a small alternative school. There, I did well among
my peers, we were all misfits and gave each other lots of space.
My husband is up right now so I will stop for the moment. I would love to hear all of your opinions on the subject.
Sometimes, people think my wish for people to like me, equals a need for popularity. (It is part of my nature and unlikely to change.)
This is more complicated than that, and I think if I continue to discuss it, we can explore what it really means to be "popular".
Although I am no where near ready to refer to the times I found myself extremely popular and how trying that was. (Do you ever wonder why I have been in
hiding for 5 years?)
We sneer at the notion of "popularity" (and rightly so). But in business, (and even here, that is what I consider this place) popularity is not with out value. As a
former business owner I am aware that goodwill is the lubricant that turns the gears of commerce.
When I lived in NYC, I tended bar for a living while I pursued a musical career. As I am sure you know, charm was key for a good living.
Later as a hairdresser, not being popular would have put me on the dole. It is important that customers like you. Yes, good work is essential and I was
management in both positions.
But there was no room for the socially awkward.
I opened my shop as a resource for a few of my friends, (Magickal supplies) and to bring some of the local pagans out of the cracks and maybe network a little.
In addition to that, I found a long line of spiritually thirsty women, while it was lovely to be admired, the pedestal they wanted me on was very confining.
The endless begging for advice got so crazy, I started giving readings. This way, there was a limit on how much of my time they could take up, and I was paid for
the drain.
And still they hung on, and around. One woman stayed at my store for a record 8 hours one day. I was so wrung out I cried all the way home.
There were women who were so draining that I actually closed the store and left when I saw them coming.
It didn't stop when I closed the shop. When I had my knee replaced I was to be hospitalized for 3 weeks. I left a week early because I couldn't get any rest at all.
They all came in all day and thought they were "visiting". But truly, it was to relate their personal dramas and get my feedback. If I pretended to sleep, they would
wait.
By the time I got home, I stopped answering my phone and door.
The worst part about my "Popularity" is when Jim was getting chemo. No one offered a hand, indeed, resented it, when I wasn't personally at the store and more
than once was reproached by total strangers for it.
Perhaps that last post will explain that although I crave company, I can only really bear it on a virtual level...
I think in essence I mean that extreme popularity can be as hazardous as what happened to me the day I admired that woman's lovely hands on the internet.
And while maybe it was not popularity that drove me behind closed doors for 5 years, it was what slid the lock
Coffee, fuzzy head. I am rereading the previous posts, mining relevant data from my own essay. (I am really hoping more will chime in). I have a tendency to take
all of life in, without understanding any of it. Occasionally in a quiet moment, I will take out one of those snarled memories, and untangle that particular inch of
knotted chain. (I plant little red flags in my memories, for things I don't quite get, but "feel" like they are off somehow.)
This morning what stands out to me is that brief period of high school and the sudden approval I had from my peers, (a few teachers too)
On reflection I think it must have been the total apathy I displayed. Isn't that a silly and cruel fact? When I craved the nourishment of friendship or even a civil
response from my community, it was denied. Perversely, kind regard is usually only awarded to those that don't require it.
I think I will let that notion roll around in my head.
I have to prepare for a reading :)
So I laid awake this morning musing on this topic again. (I am so happy to be thinking creatively again!!!) And considered the different reasons for popularity. I
thought I might dissect a few of these reasons and examine them
One of the common reasons someone might be popular is magnetism. This is an elusive quality that I do not possess. At it's best, a magnetic person can energize
and motivate scores of people at the same time. They make good politicians if they are smart, celebrities if their skills are less erudite.
From a personal standpoint, when I struggled with a plethora of friendly, yet attention hungry crowds, magnetism was not what drew them in. I am pretty
confident when I say that I am anti magnetic. Lightbulbs burn out early (The new ones don't thank heaven) and watches stop working when I wear them. I like to
fancy that I have a personal talent of canceling appointments on a metaphysical level. As a kid I evaded a vaccination in school even though I stood in line with all
the other kids. I became invisible to the adults, which is a topic I will explore here later.
There is a trick I used in my hairdressing days after a long day. I would plead with the universe to cancel my last appointment. It worked so well, that I would
sometimes do it for my husband who had some long and hellish days as a massage therapist. With him, I had a modest enough success rate that we were both
surprised when it didn't work one day. lol9
But I digress.
So there is magnetism, which is relevant to the subject but not something I possess personally.
I have spent time in the presence of magnetic people. Sometimes they would even permit me to hang around. The interesting thing about magnetic people is that
they exude so much energy sometimes, it might exhaust the regular guy. Magnetic people seem limitless. I do not know if this is true about them or not.
OK, people also are attracted to talent and expertise. The funny thing about artists and Genius in general is that they are notoriously bad tempered. And yet people
will negotiate any amount of dignity, if only to be in the orbit of a talented genius.
But maybe I can understand the moodiness of those geniuses. Not because I can relate, but the popularity I experienced as an adult sometimes held me up
timewise, and I expended more energy than I could afford, in order to not be unkind.
Maybe the passion that goes with genius, (I can only speculate this) gets the flow interrupted by all the adoration. If I was always interrupted when I was smack in
the middle of doing something ...encompassing, I would probably turn bitchy myself. As a matter of fact, I have never coped very well with friendly masses.
And what is it that people seek when they try to get close to genius, or celebrity? Do they think it will rub off? Or that they will be able to glean from the tailings
of celebrity success? Or is it as bewitching as a moth to a flame? And where does love, the adoring kind, the worshipful kind or the romantic kind fit into this?
OK, I woke this morning musing again on my own experience. Being unpopular was/has been mostly OK. (Even as a kid, I could have accepted this, it was the
torment and bullying that was so awful).
There are always people that will still engage, although the choices are narrower. I don't mind, there are plenty of great conversations to have with most
anyone...if they are willing.
But that last round of popularity, what was it and how was it different from the other times?
The earliest time I found myself "popular" I maintain was from the fact that I absolutely did not give a tiny shit what my peers and authorities thought of me. But
the fact that it (my apathy) raised their esteem for me is what has always puzzled me. But this morning I think I might have hit the nail directly on the flat of it.
It was easy enough for me to reject the opinions of my daily encounters with the public. These people tormented me and rejected me so wholly that it had for a
period, educated me in the art of invisibility. If I had not learned that skill, I would not have survived.
But the new moving part in my life, the one that made it easy to reject that bunch, was the comfort of my artist friends. I would never for an instant pretend that
they garnered anything from my friendship. No I would say that their companionship was a gift free of charge. I have never once understood it, but have always
tried to make that effort for others. I think everyone deserves a soft place to land when things are...tough.
Mostly when I was with my friends, (we had a few hangouts) I didn't add anything to the conversation around me. I might ask a question, but never tried to
dominate the room with them. I usually just drank coffee or tea with them. Often I would quietly paint with water colors or fiddle with pastels. Someone would
usually point out tips to improve what I was working on. It is worth noting at this time I had a scholarship to an expensive art program after school in the next
town. For some odd reason, my art teacher had procured this for me and even provided brushes and supplies (no doubt swiped from the art dept.) He even gave
me a ride to the next town where it was located. My mom picked me up. You see what I mean? Even a teacher somehow took THAT much interest in me. Even
let me work on my projects in class. *Mr. Blanchard hanged himself many years later. In this circumstance, perhaps he, like my adult friends, saw in me what he
felt in himself, and just wanted to give me that soft place to land.
That last recollection has left me a little teary eyed, so I will reflect for a moment.
My husband was in a service profession. A massage therapist and a great one.(Previous life he held engineering gigs). While not personally popular. he was
professionally. Some of this was no doubt his technique and intuitive perception of anatomy. He was lucky that this is a "quiet" vocation so he wasn't required to
converse much. Did he flirt? I don't know...could be. lol9 His private practice was made up of old broads that seemed to worship him.
In the end, he dropped his private practice for a slightly less lucrative spa job. He was protected with benefits and health insurance, as was I. And he didn't have to
forge friendships with the clients. (Although it did still happen from time to time).
But in private life Jim is largely misanthropic. I like to have him drive me to hair appointments, (the ones I do on shut ins) and he almost will never agree to
come inside, whatever the weather. My friends will beg and plead with him, even send out an edible treat, trying to entice him like a feral animal. (See what I
mean about what an apathetic attitude will inspire?) It is only when he is reassured that no one will speak to him, will he come inside. But usually people can't
resist speaking to Jim, so he almost always remains in the car.
No comments:
Post a Comment