Hello world. (Sorry, geek joke.)
When I met Scotty back in the early days of aught-four, one of the things he told me was that he made a point of telling his daughter every day that she was smart and beautiful. That struck me as one of the most incredible things I’d ever heard. A lot of people I know talk about growing up with their parents’ expectations, and I want to know if this is something common to my generation, or to people in general, or if a bunch of us just had a run of bad luck. I grew up feeling like a disappointment to my parents, and I still struggle with that. The rational side of me knows that educated, financially stable, self-employed, and well-friended should add up to success, but I have trouble feeling it. I don’t take compliments well. I squirm. I hate receiving praise for something that comes easily, like my work. Some have had the misfortune of learning how I react to being called beautiful. I shut up. I even get angry. Because smart, maybe yeah. Beautiful, no. I think I’m getting better about the parents thing, though. I grew up thinking emotions were weakness. I fear anger especially. I was sure that rationality would save us. I cried once or twice a year, even though I felt like it a lot more often. I can cry every day now if I feel like it, and I don’t care. I’ve cried at work, at the coffeeshop, and with complete strangers. I figure I’ve spent enough time being the entertaining girl, getting everyone talking and laughing. They can put up with the other side of me for once, because I’ve earned it. I try not to fault my parents for being overly ambitious or for wanting the best for us. But I have been angry and considered telling them what ‘A-? Why not A??’ does to a kid. It makes them unable to be proud of what they’ve done. It bites at their heels and keeps them perpetually moving, lest things fall apart. They see status quo as entropy. And it’s not. Jenni