||"dawnbreak in the west"|
Wednesday, March 09, 2016
If you screw up your first shit-test, you don't get a re-evaluation.
At Shrewsbury there were two times I can think of, and one time I remember vividly, where I'd overstepped my place. My place was, you see, at the bottom. Beta; gamma - even omega, who cares; my place lay below all those Greek letters. Perhaps I was digamma, or qoppa; in a previous age, I could have belonged there, but no longer. On some rare occasions I'd shown to my peers that I wasn't a total loser. And then I'd try asserting my place in the social hierarchy.
The usual suspects, the people whose own position rested upon my being the qoppa, these called me out. I was able to brush these off; that much was easy enough. But then, inevitably, the people I'd counted as more-or-less allies stepped up - those people joined in with my adversaries. They shoved their daggers into my back. Every. Time.
It was always SO IMPORTANT that I be kept in my place. Because if I could rise above, then the whole hierarchy itself would be cast into question.
Now I'm in my forties. Easy enough to say "man up" to someone else, when you've already made it. So what did you do when you were younger, when some sad sack was trying to man himself up? Did you nod admiringly and help him on his way?
Nah. I don't think you did.
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