Hello darkness, my old friend
By: Mary Volk, Columnist
Issue date: 4/24/08 Section: Opinion
Everyone has a pattern. For me, it is self-sabotage. I frequently make terrible decisions that I know will bring me nothing but misery, but misery is epic and glamorous; everyone knows that.
Sometimes, however, my just-barely subconscious pursuit of poetic glamour can be inconvenient.
I bought a bubble gum pink silk sundress with a teal hem on Saturday morning, and on Saturday afternoon I wielded lotion too close to the dress. I thought, "Mary, you gorgeous thing, you really should protect your dress from that lovely L'Occitane lotion that is sure to stain." But then I did not move the dress, and I got lotion on it.
Freud would have a lot to say about that particular mistake, but I care much more about the fact that I now have a new dress that has been rendered unreturnable. (Not that I would have.) So, I will try to break my pattern. Right after this article comes out, of course, since my words are yet another manifestation of my desperate need for anguish.
Breaking patterns is difficult; a lauded scholar named Dr. Phil McGraw, Oprah protégé, once said, "People do what works, y'all." That they do. So wrecking my own life needs to stop working. I must stop allocating my paychecks in such a way that allows me to purchase only dresses, gin (I'm 21 mom, relax), lip gloss and ballet flats. Food, gas and charity need to worm their sensible ways into my budget. But my pattern is boring.
Sabotage, fail, complain, repeat. Snore. I want to talk about some other patterns. The Lake Forest College campus is surely swimming with ruts more interesting than mine, so let's investigate. Anonymously, obviously.
I know a girl who only likes arrogant men. Her name is Carrie Polk. She's really pretty. Anyway, Carrie knows that if she can win the favor of only the most arrogant, then she will be a member of an exclusive club of women filled with those who actually like to be insulted.
This is the most glaring example of her own very special pattern, which also happens to be self-sabotage. But I defend her, and this is what I tell her: Arrogant people have something going for them. No one who is truly accomplished is ever sincerely humble, and the arrogant among us are more honest, more trustworthy, and frankly, exponentially more interesting.
A snob is a person who knows that he or she has something going for them, some inimitable talent or fabulously crowded bank account. Benjamin Franklin said this before I did, obviously, but I'm allowed to reiterate, because he is both well-liked and dead. If someone honestly, really, truly has something to be proud of, it will show. Everyone will be an ass if he thinks he can get away with it, and those who are truly special can and do behave like bastards with startling success.
So, I told my charming, shiny-haired hypothetical friend that she should be happy that her self-sabotage leads her to strive for the favor of the elite rather than simply causing her to ruin beautiful mini frocks purchased at Intermix. Some patterns are just too fun to break.
Have a good summer, everyone, and remember: don't pick the nice guy; he's only nice because he doesn't have enough going for him to be a jerk. Kisses!
Sometimes, however, my just-barely subconscious pursuit of poetic glamour can be inconvenient.
I bought a bubble gum pink silk sundress with a teal hem on Saturday morning, and on Saturday afternoon I wielded lotion too close to the dress. I thought, "Mary, you gorgeous thing, you really should protect your dress from that lovely L'Occitane lotion that is sure to stain." But then I did not move the dress, and I got lotion on it.
Freud would have a lot to say about that particular mistake, but I care much more about the fact that I now have a new dress that has been rendered unreturnable. (Not that I would have.) So, I will try to break my pattern. Right after this article comes out, of course, since my words are yet another manifestation of my desperate need for anguish.
Breaking patterns is difficult; a lauded scholar named Dr. Phil McGraw, Oprah protégé, once said, "People do what works, y'all." That they do. So wrecking my own life needs to stop working. I must stop allocating my paychecks in such a way that allows me to purchase only dresses, gin (I'm 21 mom, relax), lip gloss and ballet flats. Food, gas and charity need to worm their sensible ways into my budget. But my pattern is boring.
Sabotage, fail, complain, repeat. Snore. I want to talk about some other patterns. The Lake Forest College campus is surely swimming with ruts more interesting than mine, so let's investigate. Anonymously, obviously.
I know a girl who only likes arrogant men. Her name is Carrie Polk. She's really pretty. Anyway, Carrie knows that if she can win the favor of only the most arrogant, then she will be a member of an exclusive club of women filled with those who actually like to be insulted.
This is the most glaring example of her own very special pattern, which also happens to be self-sabotage. But I defend her, and this is what I tell her: Arrogant people have something going for them. No one who is truly accomplished is ever sincerely humble, and the arrogant among us are more honest, more trustworthy, and frankly, exponentially more interesting.
A snob is a person who knows that he or she has something going for them, some inimitable talent or fabulously crowded bank account. Benjamin Franklin said this before I did, obviously, but I'm allowed to reiterate, because he is both well-liked and dead. If someone honestly, really, truly has something to be proud of, it will show. Everyone will be an ass if he thinks he can get away with it, and those who are truly special can and do behave like bastards with startling success.
So, I told my charming, shiny-haired hypothetical friend that she should be happy that her self-sabotage leads her to strive for the favor of the elite rather than simply causing her to ruin beautiful mini frocks purchased at Intermix. Some patterns are just too fun to break.
Have a good summer, everyone, and remember: don't pick the nice guy; he's only nice because he doesn't have enough going for him to be a jerk. Kisses!
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