The Hilton. Arlington, Texas. 1:36AM
…to get off my chest right now, which is why I am writing again. Hours after I left my mark, with a brief statement, which spoke volumes to my mood.
First, I had to omit the name of “my friend” from a poem for a friend, because my friend, well, I don’t know if he’s my friend anymore, has no fucking sense of humor, and I couldn’t take the ridiculous emails telling me that I was slandering his good name. I don’t consider a poem, written on the third grade level, slander, and I don’t think what I wrote should have been altered. So now my poem sucks, okay not sucks, but didn’t reach it’s full potential, and although I am not a fan of censoring, I was apparently ruining his career and his life by mentioning his first name. Get a grip!!! Some people take themselves way too seriously.
Second, I have been working my arse off in Dallas for almost no money and little recognition. While I can’t say I’m not appreciated, because I realize I am, although any idiot willing to work for a bag of Ruffles potato chips and a free ride to Dallas would be appreciated, I feel like I am doing more work than I should be doing. And I know when things go right I’ll get little to no credit, but when things go wrong it’ll all be my fault.
Third… okay, I’m not going to bitch about a third thing right now because like Meatloaf once sang, “Two out of Three ain’t bad,” and there is a rainbow at the end of this blog. I relearned a valuable lesson tonight, one that most of us learn in the first grade.
Don’t judge a book by its cover.
I can’t go into much detail because the person who told me her story, told me her story in the privacy of some Hertz rental car, but still it was private. When I met her I judged her based on what I could see, which included an extremely messed up tooth located on the left side of her mouth. Last night I learned the real story behind her exposed chomper, and it made me feel angry and sad, helpless and powerful.
It reminds me that what we see isn’t necessarily what we are.
People used to ask me all the time what I learned from working at Toys in Babeland, and my generic response went something like this; you can never tell what a customer is going to buy based on what a customer looks like. Some leather clad biker dude might be afraid of a flogger, while the CIO of a Fortune 100 is looking for the latest in butt plugaphanalia. You can never know who someone is by what they wear. And you can never tell who someone is by how bad their teeth look.
There’s a lot more I could say but I won’t, because I also realize there’s a whole lot more for me to learn.
So while some people can’t get over themselves, and while others never feel appreciated, there’s a group of people who carry on, regardless of their situation. And it’s those people who make me realize life is so much more than a set of teeth.