Though I try to hold myself back in my interviews, when I feel like they are going well enough, I set my demons loose among the hens.
In second grade, these disabled kids came to school and volunteers from my class took them around the campus.
I did not volunteer. Instead, I made fun of the disabled kids after they’d gone.
My best friend Wayne Cherry was appalled at my cruelty.
In fourth and fifth grade, my friend’s family moved close to a home for the mentally ill. These people would traipse by every day on the way into town.
Seeing that they weren’t in their right mind, I tried to barter with them. I offered them my underwear in exchange for the radios they carried around.
None of them went for my deal, which made me conclude they weren’t so daft.
I’ve always been obsessed with getting ahead and breaking into the cool crowd, which is usually populated by the beautiful people. Sickness and disability make me uncomfortable. I want to be cool and beautiful and I want to get there by doing the things that are most congenial to me, such as charming the pants off chicks.
Then I got sick for six years and all my peers left me in the dust. On the other hand, all the people who were nice to me were in the second half of life.
So I resolved when I was sick that if I got well, I’d reach out to those less fortunate and give of myself to them.
I’ve done a bit of that, but I’m haunted by the fear that I’m not a good person and that I need to do less onanism and more chesed.
Hmm, let me ponder my lofty thoughts for a moment. I know I can be cruel but I’m so exquisitely sensitive about it. Yes, yes, yes, that is just right. Now don’t move. Perfect.
PS. Many people ask me if a blog can have too much self-loathing. In my view, no, not as long as the loathing is genuine.