motivational speaker girl
February 19, 2001 02:55 PM
Being direct. People complain to me all the time that they can't do it. I don't mean being literal, which still isn't and probably will never be something I want, but taking action. Being, as any cheerleader can tell you,
A G G R E S S I V E.
It hasnt always been something I'm good at. It hasnt always been "my style".
When it came to. When it came to people, really. Relationships and non-relationships. Inklings of relationships. I once was talentless at this "direct" business.
My mother likes to tell me that, when I was a child, people would wave at me and ask me questions. And I would not speak. Not a word. I was a precocious but quiet child. Shy, sort of.
And I drifted. Let others push me where they would. Waited. Waited for things to happen to me.
I grew regrets.
The usual regrets. Friends I might have had. Problems that could have been smaller. Regrets like anyone else. And I sat around. Waited for my regrets to grow forgotten.
I have, fortunately or unfortunately, too good a memory. Too little dependence on fate and life and the flow of things to change me. Let's be unpoetic and call it what it is. I am. A control freak. And my controlling self got tired of putting up with regret after a series of early-college dramas that left me feeling like I ought to paint a big calligraphic red A on my itty white t-shirt.
So I came to believe that the cost of rejection or humiliation had to be infinitely smaller than the cost of misunderstanding, angst and melodrama. Even considering the frightening effort of saying what you want. I tested this belief. With a little rejection and humiliation. By fooling around with a few people. And I was right.
And then I met a boy who was totally indirect. I sat him down and said "hey, listen here, mister" and everything was happy and joyful. Well, most everything.
I guess my life just beat me into directness. There is a cost of inaction that outweighs the uncertainty of acting, and it's not just the loss of something potential. I believe that.
TrackBack
« coffeehouse |
Main
| highway »
/-->
|