Friday, December 23, 2005

Come tomorrow I'll be gone

You know, I've heard several times that theory that it takes something like seven compliments for someone to emotionally recover from one disparaging comment. I think that entirely depends on whom the insult is coming from. Sam can call me a fat prostitute until he hyperventilates and topples over, and I won't care in the slightest. There are other people who can ruin my afternoon by just being short with me.

A few days ago I completed a laborious psychology project that consisted of a collage and paper that, respectively, represented and explained my personality, bringing the "largely irrelevant 'creativity' outlet assignment" count to eight. My teacher apologized for assigning us yet another collage, and explained that in past years, the collage was instead a survey project, where you were to go around to friends/family/acquaintances and have them list five positive and five negative aspects of your personality. But that was replaced when the omnipotent "they" and some complaining parents decided that being exposed to potential negative personal characteristics was detrimental to a student's mental health.

Honestly, what level of insecurity prohibits you from being able to handle that someone thinks you're a tad lazy, or that your mom calls you disorganized? Isn't it productive and honorable to acknowledge your faults in order to have the opportunity to improve? Would you really rather live in a cloud of pretentious self gratification than bear to hear that the kid you sit next to in English thinks you're a little pretentious? Educational system, you fail me.

The results of my own negative qualities survey: I'm a little judgmental, conservative, opinionated, and mean to boys. And let me tell you, my self esteem is positively shattered.

Though I guess if the assignment had been to list seven positive qualities for every negative one, everything would've been peachy.

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