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The Real GOOD Loser, A Story That Could…
Start of Act Two: The Turn
“In my travels I have seen the future, and it is a strange future indeed. The world, ladies and gentlemen, is on the brink of new and terrifying possibilities.”
—from the film The Prestige
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Chapter Ten: Anger
“If we stick together, we’ll win…You’ll float too.”
—from the film IT
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“Now Jose,” the side of Principal Sam’s face talks to me, “you and me need to have a little chat.”
“Alright,” I answer, not knowing why I’ve been asked into my principal’s office today.
Always doing a million things at once, Principal Sam makes me feel like I’m just in the way most of the time. I feel that way now as I watch my principal punch buttons on a computer. The smell of the hand sanitizer I just used makes its way to me as I hear something begin to print.
I rushed to get here this morning but was still a few minutes late—I couldn’t be in trouble for being late a few times with the chaos of this new schedule, could I?
In-Person-Learning has us parents waiting in long lines to pick up and drop off our kids from school each day. We sit in our cars and stare into our phones waiting forever. It’s awful.
Elon Musk is out there making bullet proof trucks and self-driving cars and talking about wanting to expand human consciousness. He’ll need to unite human consciousness first. What he should be building is energy efficient busses to get these kids excited to ride busses when this is all over.
Water bubblers are off limits at school now too. Packing my son’s lunch today I was pouring water from a plastic water bottle into his reusable plastic water bottle and remembering when recycling felt important. With everything being delivered in boxes today, it doesn’t seem that way anymore.
I filled two trash bags of Styrofoam from a television I bought not long ago—Is what we put in recycling even recycled anyways? It’s easy to rationalize our not-so-great behavior today.
With everything coming in boxes, us consumers get to put everything together ourselves as well; using instructions that probably cost more to produce than anything. If something is wrong we get to call a number and try and find a real person to talk to. When we finally press that right combination of numbers that person usually can’t speak our language too well.
It’s a frustrating world that’s for sure. FAF, I mentally labeled it filling that water bottle this morning: Frustrating as… that word Lauryn uses too much.
I was venting about all this to my son waiting in that drop-off-line this morning before school where he and I watched parent after parent let their child out and wait patiently for them to get safely all the way into the building. “For crying out loud,” I used my words and hands to express my frustration, “let the kid go already!”
My son gets me. He knows I’m kind and caring, but that I still get angry. And when I’m just being goofy angry. He does this cute thing when I’m being super judgmental of people lately: “Judging…judging…judging,” he says mockingly to me—I trained him to do it to me.
I was yelling at those cars half-joking this morning, but the lady in the big white SUV in front of me must have been watching me in her mirror. When it got to be that lady’s turn she paused extra-long once her kids got out of the car. I assumed she was doing it on purpose as it’s something I would maybe do if I saw someone acting like me in my mirror.
Frustrated, I made my son get out of the car early and then pulled beside that lady and opened my window. She ignored me and would not look in my direction. I was planning on saying something nice. “I’m sorry,” I might have said apologetically. “I’m a teacher and need to get to school myself. Have a good day.” Saying something nice usually throws people off in those situations.
That lady—if she had seen me in my car—didn’t know what I was saying to my son. “Trying to keep you kids extra safe is instilling fear in you and killing your planet at the same time.”
Driving to this meeting, annoyed by that lady, I debated sending my son’s principal a message suggesting he email parents proper drop-off etiquette. I know how much that principal is dealing with currently, so I won’t…but I still thought about it.
Grabbing the few papers that just printed, Principal Sam turns and looks at me in a way that makes me think this might not be a good “chat” we are about to have.
“Could you please explain this to me Jose?”
Principal Sam throws the papers that were just printed on the desk in front of me. Last week’s article I had written looks up at me. Reaching out, I grab the papers and read the title written across its top: dIverge.
“This was something I wrote for a creative writing contest,” I answer.
“Yes—I’ve heard,” Principal Sam responds forcefully. “But why are my students being told to read and reflect on something like this Jose?”
Assuming a student must have given Principal Sam this article, I answer. “Because each week I ask them to reflect on a piece of writing I provide them with…I told you I was doing this.”
“Yes—I know!” Principal Sam snaps. “But a story about suicide—With my students…. Are you crazy?”
The final three words are spoken slowly—or maybe I’m just imagining it. These words have become my kryptonite. They stab me in pieces. Silently I slide the papers back onto the desk in front of me. I don’t want to touch them anymore. I hate them.
“Jose,” Principal Sam sits down and begins speaking in a lowered voice. “This story makes it sound like you’re glorifying suicide. I would think you’d know how I of all people would feel about that.”
Principal Sam pauses to stare at me before continuing.
“We need to talk about this Jose. We need to talk about your decision making and what exactly you’re trying to do here with my students….”
When Covid first started I began walking every day. It’s given me time to think about a lot of things. On those walks I’ve noticed most people don’t acknowledge each other. We act distracted by our phones or focus on the road ahead of us— Are we scared to acknowledge a stranger, or do we maybe feel it unnecessary?
When I attempt to cross a street on my walks vehicles with blacked out windows in the front make it impossible to know if a driver can see me— How are we supposed to communicate with each another … Maybe we aren’t supposed to?
Listening to Principal Sam now I think to know why we don’t talk to people: “The first rule of Fight Club is you don’t talk about Fight Club.”
A moment ago, I thought I was about to be angry, but now I can’t help but feel stupid and little. I imagine myself sitting on that white bench again with the name of that troubled boy from high school carved into it… I am once again that troubled boy from high school.
With Principal Sam lecturing me, I wonder to myself if this world is purposely designed in a way the more a person tries the more anger grows inside of them. Even now my stupid mind is thinking of things I might tell my students… Why can’t I just shut this stupid mind of mine off?
We get mad at those that make it look easy and annoyed with those that aren’t trying hard enough; as if we are being taken advantage of for trying too hard ourselves. Social media rationalizes our anger and unhappiness. It justifies our frustrations and feeds and encourages our delusions. And when it’s not doing those things, it’s numbing our ambitions with endless scrolling distractions.
“You may leave now Jose,” Principal Sam says. “Just know I expect better from you.”
A strange face across from me comes back into focus. It’s as if I’ve woken up and in an instant remember where I am. I stand up and leave the room, unsure of what Principal Sam may or may not have just said to me.
Leaving the office, I head to the faculty bathroom down the hall. Entering, I shut the door behind me, lock it, and step to the sink.
Breathe Jose… just breathe.
Removing my mask, I reach down and turn on the water: Hot.
“You idiot,” I say out loud to my reflection. “What were you thinking giving them that?”
Rolling up my sleeves I place my forearms on the sink and hands under the running water to feel it slowly getting warmer. I stop talking out loud and begin fighting the thoughts in my head instead: You let them in—You let them see… You should have known better.
The eyes looking back at me have a mixture of rage and pathetic hopelessness waking up in them. This look is too familiar—I am so sick of trying.
“You’re too big for this place,” I speak a delusion out loud. “These people. This life…You’re just visiting remember.”
When I was in that halfway house and my life was falling apart without my permission—more than it already had—this is something I said to myself. Saying it now comes naturally.
There are so many things I could say to this little boy looking back at me in this mirror: Your success is coming. My mind repeats a bs line I don’t much believe and pictures that Michael Jordan poster that hangs on my wall at home…
“Some people want it to happen,” that poster reads, “some wish it would happen, others make it happen!”
The frustrated me clenches his teeth and wants to scream— That’s what I was supposed to be doing here!
A moment passes and I realize not all of this is that little boy’s fault. Instead of yelling at him I ask him question: “What are you gonna do now?”
I consider this as the water finally scolds my hands. I did this at that halfway house too. I found myself crying a lot there and would hide from the men in the bathroom to gather myself doing this water thing…attempting to distract myself from the pain of my reality.
“I want to challenge you to do something for me Jose.” —Something my mother said over the summer comes to me— “I want to challenge you to stop using the words ‘The World’ all the time.”
I had just gotten home from a meeting with Sirena and our son’s principal at his school. The same principal I considered sending a message to this morning—Why does that feel like so many frustrations ago already?
Sirena teaches at the middle-school just up the hill from where our son goes to school and was pushing to have him skip a grade over the summer. She had gone behind my back to pull some strings and make it a possibility: “These schools are so messed up,” was her argument, “I want him out as soon as possible!”
Our son is bright, but not that bright, and I did not believe her reasoning for rushing him through his childhood was in his best interest. I’ve watched Sirena jump around when things weren’t ideal her whole life, and felt she was encouraging that same behavior in our son. For once I stood my ground and surprisingly won the argument.
Heading into that meeting, Sirena wanted me to act like it was my suggestion he skip a grade. “I work with these people,” she said, “don’t make it uncomfortable for me.” As usual I played along and just sat there as she, this principal, and this teacher friend of her’s—the real adults—decided it was in our son’s best interest for him to stick to his current grade.
My mom knew I had been dealing with this the day she challenged me to stop using the words “The World” all the time…but just couldn’t help herself. She was suggesting I stop focusing on all the problems of “The World” and focus on “My World” instead; good advice but not what I wanted to hear right then.
“I know I focus on big problems too much mom,” I wanted to tell her. “I think too much. I wish I wasn’t this way. Trust me.”
People are comfortable sharing their problems with me for some reason. I hear them so often I find myself using the words “The World” a lot.
“I say The World mom, because I don’t want to add to the list of things others are looking to blame their problems on.”
My mom tends to roll her eyes at me when I talk like that…she’s not the only one. She doesn’t read anything I write either. She says it’s because she doesn’t read, but really it’s because it makes her uncomfortable. She’s doing me a huge favor actually. I for sure will not be telling her about what’s just happened because of this stupid suicide story of mine.
“The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.”— When will I learn to shut up for good?
Removing my hands from the running water, I let them dangle over the sink. This program was my dream, and I fear it slipping right through my fingers— Should I play it safe from here on out?
Considering this question, I feel my worry transform into anger again. Making two fists I look at those eyes in the mirror before whispering two words out loud to them: “Screw that.”
You’re being pushed J … Your back’s against the wall … If they want to call you crazy … show them crazy —— What do you have to lose at this point?
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Article Title: P.A.I.N. Through Anger
Dated: Friday, October 23rd, 2020
“Just once I would love to be the guy with no fear who can stand up, and you know…kick some ass.”
—a quote from the show Modern Family; Season 1 Episode 19 titled: Game Changer
“People suck.”
If I wrote that here, and only that, would I need to say anything more? Or could I just ask you to write in your journals exactly why they suck, then drop this microphone and let you have your fun.
Facebook fed me a video the other day of this actor I like talking about how he wants to play a villain in a movie. I felt myself get annoyed at this actor I like for saying this, but as someone trying to act like a good person in this world…I get it.
With people behaving more and more awful to each other, who doesn’t dream of going out and kicking some ass once and while? To me it’s not just people that suck though…it’s everything.
I was watching the cartoon Tarzan movie with my youngest son on television the other day when right in the middle of a Phil Collins song I was telling him was my favorite part of the movie, a commercial interrupted it.
Why would they do that? Just when this song is making me feel good for half a second, I’m fed a commercial—like seriously…WTF.
Nothing irritates me more than commercials right now. We joke about companies spending so much on Superbowl commercials and laugh at actors getting paid more money than some of us will make our entire lives to be in them… But should we be laughing at this or utterly disturbed by it?
I realize a lot of jobs depend on this advertising I love to hate, but excessive wealth uses sleight of hand to hide their tricks. Do those commercials really make that company money or are those actors being paid to distract us from bigger issues?
Do more of us buy products because famous people tell us to? … Or resent those people for telling us we need things we can’t afford?
I’d be interested to hear what employees of McDonalds think. Am I the only one driven completely insane going to McDonalds right now?
I need to know how to use an app to find ways to feed my kids semi-affordably. I usually don’t and get upset with the poor person giving me food that costs more than they make in a few hours. It’s not really fast food anymore either. Have you had to wait in one those waiting lines yet? — like seriously…WTF.
If we’re lucky, a commercials might tug on our heartstrings and tell us how much a company does for charity. That’s another thing I’m finding FAF lately (frustrating as, that word Lauryn uses too much).
Everywhere you turn someone is asking us to be charitable today. Being home with Covid I got to see the many commercials fed to those that are stuck home all day because of age or some other reason.
“Donate to this or that and do something good,” those commercials tell us. “You can make a real difference for only a few dollars a day.”
Oh really? —I think hearing that— How much money did that commercial just cost you?
My kids are constantly having fundraisers for this or that. At school they turn them into fun little competitions. Win a pizza party — Win this — Win that! It drives me crazy. But it might be the most useful thing they’re learning in school right now… how to compete for charity.
Should I be saying all this stuff? I don’t care. I’m angry.
Online sports gambling will become legal in our state soon. I dread the day we start hearing those commercials everywhere. Celebrities being paid to tell us to “gamble safely” might push me over the top. On sports radio I don’t know where those commercials will fit with the number of uncomfortable erectile dysfunction commercials me and my boys hear all the time.
With so many commercials telling us something could be wrong, is it natural for us to think something must be?
In moderation gambling is fine. My friend for example. He’s a hard worker and those scratch tickets provide him a chance to dream. But he’ll be the first to tell you how expensive dreaming can be.
Let me tell you a secret.
The legalization of sports gambling is a threat to the overall well-being of society because of something we addicts learn to be aware more than most: resentments.
If you want the world adding to their ever-increasing list of people to hate, watch what happens when they start gambling on each and every element of sports. People will blame their bad luck on individuals and then resent them for it——I’ll bet on it.
“THE WORLD IS FALLING APART BECAUSE OF RESENTMENTS!”
I wrote this in my journal the night of that Tarzan commercial. That was Monday and earlier that day Principal Sam had criticized me for sharing that suicide story with you last week. Don’t let anyone fool you—being criticized is the worst! As an adult I’m supposed to be able to handle it…but I’m not very good at it.
Maybe me being angry when that commercial came on resulted in my epiphany about resentments? … Was there maybe something good that came from my anger?
Principal Sam’s criticism that day had me looking to vent when I sat down to write this article for you. I hope you don’t mind. I’ll be done shortly.
It’s become an US verse THEM world today. Where the US is often just ME and the THEM is EVERYONE and EVERYTHING. We are angry and want to be heard— We are being pushed down and want our fair share— We want our shot because it’s our time now.
To fight for change we go on long rants, like this, to make sure we are doing our part to make it happen or to at least make sure people know we are pissed.
But is any of it really working?
For homework go watch the movie Idiocracy later. You don’t need to watch the whole thing, whatever your distracted minds can handle should be enough. That movie was made in 2005. People knew then most of humanity would be content as spectators or critics or agitators. People knew much much earlier than that, trust me.
Or you could just watch an inappropriately honest episode of South Park or Family Guy. I’m not the only one who knows the truth about what’s going on. Everybody is itching to disagree or argue today. Spewing, oozing, and bleeding frustration. Yes, people say positive things: “You can be anyone you want to be in this life.” But who really believes that crap?
Have you ever felt like this world hates you only to later wonder if it’s just you that hates the world? … I have … I do.
Mean is entertaining, so mean is everywhere. Stupid is funny, so stupid is everywhere. Hate is engaging, so hate is everywhere. Love is boring, so love seems to be nowhere. Or part of a commercial meant to sell me something.
All of this upsets me more than you can possibly imagine. In a world so divided how did I ever expect to be a voice that could unite people.
Even if I could convince people I was good person trying to make things better, would they even care? Nope—Absolutely not—No way. I’d have more success offering tips on how to survive this hate-filled world instead. Let me offer you a quick three:
Tip one.
Every person you meet is a masterful genius in the art of disappointing you, manipulating you, and letting you down.
Tip two.
Lies are always amusing, revenge is always rewarding, and betrayal is always inevitable.
Tip three.
Trust no one, believe in nothing, depend only on yourself.
A lot of people reading those tips would give me a big hug for understanding how the world really works.
“Kindness is a weakness.” — “No one is grateful.” — “Everyone is entitled… they won’t even wave when you stop to let them cross the street.”
They’d want me to remind you of those realities as well.
I was never built to be a person that could bring people together anyway. I walk around scared of how my words are interpreted every day of my life. When I do talk I end up offending someone and when people talk to me I feel attacked. It’s all so stupid. I see a world so easily hurt yet so easily hurtful.
How do we fix this? Truly, I have no clue. It’s unfixable. The world is broken. Give up.
As your teacher, I know what I’m supposed to say when I see people acting poorly. “Hurt people hurt people.” Or “No one bad is ever truly bad.” But having to tell myself this countless times a day, day after day, has exhausted me.
Here’s where I’m supposed to tell you that everything happens for a reason, but the truth is that’s some goofy bs people who can’t face the truth tell themselves. We’re told to have faith, but what is faith anyway? Maybe faith is simply stupidity by a different name? Or maybe it’s a mental illness like I’ve heard people say it is?
It’s all so clear to me now: People want to be entertained and sedated; not united or transformed or awakened.
Today you win. I’m done believing in good. People are awful. They’ve always been awful… and they’ll always be awful.
“People suck!” (Mic Drop)
WEEKLY QUESTION FOR REFLECTION:
Do you believe anger can be a motivator? More specifically, do you believe something good can come out of being angry? Use an example from your own life to explain your reasoning in your journals.
The Teacher’s Playlist:
Mirror by Lil Wayne (feat. Bruno Mars)
“I see you’re not satisfied.”
(End of Chapter 10)
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Recovery High School 