05-29-00
Sometimes people pay you the strangest compliments, and they don't even realize that they have inadvertently stricken you all the way to the core of your being. A client of mine who happens to teach junior high science told me that I would make an excellent junior high art teacher. Completely unbeknownst to her, I had been pondering the idea of art education, but to hear the idea unsolicitedly offered up was quite a revelation.
I used to despise children for the annoying pests that they are, and I always proclaimed that no filthy little critters would issue forth from my loins or suckle at my breasts. But then I reevaluated that statement. Was I speaking from a true hatred of children, or merely from the fact that at this point and time I am barely capable of taking care of myself? Clearly, I couldn't handle another smaller person to be responsible for. I frequently joke that if I had children, the state would have taken them away by now. I can't even remember to water the plants most of the time.
But then I thought about it a lot. Most other people's children seem fine. It's only the ill-mannered ones that run around restaurants and stores that seem to bother me, and that seems to be more of the fault of the parents that the children, anyways. If I had someone to help me raise children in a loving, caring, non-latchkey environment, would I want a passel of rugrats? I don't know. I'm not entirely sold on the idea, but at least I'm taking it into consideration. Teaching children about different artistic expressions and media just might be the true test of my convictions.
As an aside, the attempted suicide is apparently doing well in the loony ward. No one who works in the store wants to use the bathroom though.
And, I did in fact, receive an invite to my high school reunion. Mighty coincidental, that. Days after I complained about not getting one at all, one magically arrives in the mail. Who'm I to bitch? I still need to find a date, though.
COMMENTS:
5/30/00, 12:20 A.M.
Don't get me wrong, I didn't think your words were either mean or demeaning to my job. You see, in order to get the thought into some sort of coherent form I sometimes have to twist the facts a little bit.I kind of painted the whole thing like you had said something demeaning or something, but really I enjoyed your response to my statement. I paint your response more like this though, and the whole thought loses it's structure. Suddenly there's no reason to write the thought in the first place. Or maybe there is, but this way is certainly easier. I mean, I could have attacked the whole thought from another angle and had it been all like how I have this double mind about bookmaking in general and how it works out alright because this way I can fit in with both the artsy lithographers and the pressmen, but you know, then the whole thought starts to sound self indulgent. So I manipulated my feelings toward your response in order that I could paint my little thought as something I was actually pondering as somebody confused rather than just some self indulgent rambling, but really, as I've stated, I enjoyed your response. When I referred to dana as my so-called friend in the thought this was also a somewhat manipulated statement. It adds a sense of intrigue to the thought. "In what way is she so-called?" the reader asks. Also I used that phrase because it makes me laugh on account of it making me think of claire danes and her tv show. I sometimes say mildly rude things, sometimes even extremely rude things, because I find these things funny in a way. I mean, I don't mean to offend anyone or anything, although this occurs as well, but primarily I have a sense of humor that controls just about every aspect of who I am and how I express myself. My original statements toward you concerning bookmaking and how I didn't understand it as a hobby form originated from this vein of my mind. Anyway, enough of this. It's been fun interacting with you, but I must go read something now as I've been sitting on my ass watching tv all day with periodic naps to help re-energize me for more viewing of crappy television.
P.S. -- Bomb pops are quite literally the pops that started my popsicle fascination. Not the little commercialized ones, but the really big industrial strength ones.
- faithfully yours,
- Thomas J. McCarthy
----- Original Message -----
From: Miss Kristen To: Thomas J. McCarthy Sent: Monday, May 29, 2000 11:17 PM
Other people respond to their public in their guestbook! Dana does it too! Ben Brown does it! I'm not alone! I'm not alone!And I didn't mean to be rude or mean or demean your job in any way shape or form. The stuff I do is more like those handmade journals you get in snotty bookstores for way too much money. It's the kind of training that gets you a gig as an archivist in a lieberry, probably making less than the people at your job, but perhaps more rewarding.
And I'm somehow flattered that you wrote an entire article about the thing. Teehee.
P.S. I love bomb pops. In the summer they are a livesaving staple of my existence.
