Gregory Lightyear (![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} lightyear) wrote,@ 2003-01-30 22:07:00 |
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Blast From The Past, Part 1: Bias
Recently, an anonymous person commented on a previous entry, Honesty Breeds Contempt.
A., one of the guys I work with, turned around when I told him about the follow-up, and my comment afterwards, and told me that actually, I did know someone from Israel; her name is S., and I've likely mentioned her before. I must admit, it never even crossed my mind. I'm generally not good at guessing nationality and worse at remembering it.
My hangups over S. are tied up in her behavior towards myself and others; its a long and complex story. Doubtless she's changed since then; as such, I must admit it isn't S. *now* that I have hurt and damaged feelings over; it's the S. I remember. I wouldn't even recognize her now, in all likelihood. Or for that matter, P., whose forgiveness I once begged for; today I could walk past him in the street and probably not even realize I'd seen him. Doubtless the same is true for them.
But I still live with the memory of my problems, the wake-up call from P., and the cold shoulder from S. I'm not the man I was; and though I begged for forgiveness, doing so now, even if I met them in the streets, wouldn't be appropriate. Like a man who's gone to prison, I've paid my debts in distant lands, and spent a long, hard time trying to undo the damage I'd done to myself that led to that shattering.
Fact is, the people who read this journal probably know more about me than the gang ever did; most of my time I spent silent. I want to believe they knew me; I want to believe I knew them. Or would today. Or could. But I ran away for a lot of reasons, and fear prevents me from reaching out now to find out if there's anything left to rebuild on; I can only assume that either they don't know I'm back, or don't want to. Either way, I've built a new life now, and while I will always have regrets over my behavior, I will never regret knowing them and once calling them friends.
I caused a lot of pain and anguish as I 'fell from grace' (I don't know, I find it hard to say 'lost my mind', 'became a freak', or 'became a delusional, dysfunctional being') and I don't much like the fact she kicked me when I was down - but then again, as I said, I caused a lot of pain and anguish for my friends on the way. Some of those friends have stuck by me, and some haven't, and that's life.
I'd always said I'd live my life without regrets; and like most who make such promises, I failed to do so. I wouldn't trade that time for the world, but if I could go back and change something, it is the one thing in my life I'd have changed the outcome of. Perhaps I am different from having gone through that - but I wish I could have done so without putting others through the emotional wringer along the way.
I don't know. It's a difficult subject - everything around that time in my life is, but that one moment in the hotel room in Germany is probably one of the hardest moments in my life; at that moment, I needed help more than words could say, and... I don't know. I wish I did. I wish that she could have said something other than she did. That call is one of the few remaining scars of a hellish wound; it never quite heals.
As I said, though. She's S. The act of reducing her to 'Israeli' and extrapolating that upon a nation of people is part of what causes many of the problems in the world we live in today. I won't do that. Couldn't. Because in my mind, she's never been 'S., Israeli'. She's been S., there, in the club, or on the couch, or making tea, or buying glitter, or wearing funky trousers and shopping in Camden Market. That's the S. I know. Those things mean something to me. There are bad memories, too - but I don't attribute those to anyone other than the people who are in those memories, and certainly don't overlay any of that into the situation in question.
There's no connection. Feels strange to have to justify that, but there you go.
Anyways, I've had to give a really good, hard think about your comments; you've got some pretty strong opinions, and I don't disagree with many of them, but... anyways, tomorrow. I'll post it tomorrow. I want to re-read it to make sure I mean what I said and said what I mean - it's an important issue, and one I feel strongly about, and I want to record it for my memory as much as for your reading; though admittedly I'm also very interested in your responses.
Recently, an anonymous person commented on a previous entry, Honesty Breeds Contempt.
A., one of the guys I work with, turned around when I told him about the follow-up, and my comment afterwards, and told me that actually, I did know someone from Israel; her name is S., and I've likely mentioned her before. I must admit, it never even crossed my mind. I'm generally not good at guessing nationality and worse at remembering it.
My hangups over S. are tied up in her behavior towards myself and others; its a long and complex story. Doubtless she's changed since then; as such, I must admit it isn't S. *now* that I have hurt and damaged feelings over; it's the S. I remember. I wouldn't even recognize her now, in all likelihood. Or for that matter, P., whose forgiveness I once begged for; today I could walk past him in the street and probably not even realize I'd seen him. Doubtless the same is true for them.
But I still live with the memory of my problems, the wake-up call from P., and the cold shoulder from S. I'm not the man I was; and though I begged for forgiveness, doing so now, even if I met them in the streets, wouldn't be appropriate. Like a man who's gone to prison, I've paid my debts in distant lands, and spent a long, hard time trying to undo the damage I'd done to myself that led to that shattering.
Fact is, the people who read this journal probably know more about me than the gang ever did; most of my time I spent silent. I want to believe they knew me; I want to believe I knew them. Or would today. Or could. But I ran away for a lot of reasons, and fear prevents me from reaching out now to find out if there's anything left to rebuild on; I can only assume that either they don't know I'm back, or don't want to. Either way, I've built a new life now, and while I will always have regrets over my behavior, I will never regret knowing them and once calling them friends.
I caused a lot of pain and anguish as I 'fell from grace' (I don't know, I find it hard to say 'lost my mind', 'became a freak', or 'became a delusional, dysfunctional being') and I don't much like the fact she kicked me when I was down - but then again, as I said, I caused a lot of pain and anguish for my friends on the way. Some of those friends have stuck by me, and some haven't, and that's life.
I'd always said I'd live my life without regrets; and like most who make such promises, I failed to do so. I wouldn't trade that time for the world, but if I could go back and change something, it is the one thing in my life I'd have changed the outcome of. Perhaps I am different from having gone through that - but I wish I could have done so without putting others through the emotional wringer along the way.
I don't know. It's a difficult subject - everything around that time in my life is, but that one moment in the hotel room in Germany is probably one of the hardest moments in my life; at that moment, I needed help more than words could say, and... I don't know. I wish I did. I wish that she could have said something other than she did. That call is one of the few remaining scars of a hellish wound; it never quite heals.
As I said, though. She's S. The act of reducing her to 'Israeli' and extrapolating that upon a nation of people is part of what causes many of the problems in the world we live in today. I won't do that. Couldn't. Because in my mind, she's never been 'S., Israeli'. She's been S., there, in the club, or on the couch, or making tea, or buying glitter, or wearing funky trousers and shopping in Camden Market. That's the S. I know. Those things mean something to me. There are bad memories, too - but I don't attribute those to anyone other than the people who are in those memories, and certainly don't overlay any of that into the situation in question.
There's no connection. Feels strange to have to justify that, but there you go.
Anyways, I've had to give a really good, hard think about your comments; you've got some pretty strong opinions, and I don't disagree with many of them, but... anyways, tomorrow. I'll post it tomorrow. I want to re-read it to make sure I mean what I said and said what I mean - it's an important issue, and one I feel strongly about, and I want to record it for my memory as much as for your reading; though admittedly I'm also very interested in your responses.
