Rainy Day Rant – Who Let You In Here?

December 13, 2013 at 5:16 pm (Uncategorized) (, , , , , )

Today the weather has decided to shit out the typical snowy mix that comes with early winter in the midwest. Being unemployed, I typically don’t do much during the day but now I am trapped inside my house with no excuses to avoid writing any longer. “Oh, but I was going to go to the gym today!”; no I wasn’t, I just wanted to productively procrastinate. So here it is, a new entry for you the reader, crafted out of boredom and a general dislike of other indoor activities.

 

It’s strange to me to think on my time growing up as the weird kid in school. Meeting me today, you’d assume I was that kid but you’d be missing the isolation and doubt it caused me. Moving into the city I have found an acceptance and adoration that was so absent in my life. I was never the girl who thought I was worth anything but in the last 6 months, I think I can finally relax.

There is a bar across the street from where I live that I have adapted as my second living room. It’s the kind of place with 8 kinds of whiskey, although no one orders anything besides Stag. I was there one night for some bullshit band and there were two girls at the end of the bar. They both were wearing matching flowy numbers adorned with crosses while stumbling around in too high heels. When they originally walked into the bar, one of them pointed out to me that they went to high school with me. I couldn’t help but wonder, why the fuck are you in MY bar? Later, I saw the bartender pour something out of a fancy glass bottle into a slender glass. I asked, “what is that?”. He answered, “Vodka and cranberry”. I scrunched my nose and yelled, “who the fuck is drinking THAT?”. He pointed to the trespassers at the end of the bar. I laugh and tell the owner about my discovery. “You don’t even go here!”, she yells at them as I try to keep vertical while holding my sides.

This story sums up my feelings I think when I talk about living on the south side. The sense of entitlement, the feeling like I know something others don’t. I feel elevated when compared to strangers, which must be what the rest of the world thinks when they look at me. “Oh that girl is dirty. Those tattoos are hideous, she should feel ashamed”. It’s all very weird you know? Who am I to judge these girls whom for all I know are very sensible people?  It was in that moment that I realized that I have become a horrible cunt, the kind which made me feel so alienated and horrible all of my life. It’s hard to resist the charms of being a part of “the club”. As social creatures, we all crave it. I am no better than these girls and yet I’m sure they have thought the same of me. 

Hopefully going forward I can be more aware of my cuntish behavior and be more inclusive. I don’t want to perpetuate this culture of cliquey weirdness that south city breeds. I want this community to be able to accept the outsiders, the freaks, AND the vaguely attractive band girlfriends. Who are we to judge the merit of these normal folks out for a night of fancy? Just because they don’t smell like a gutter and have a nice haircut doesn’t mean they aren’t allowed in my bar, although sometimes I feel it should. 

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