In the past I've not been a particularly forgiving person overall. Outwardly, sure. But inwardly there was always something in me that held onto grudges. I still remember people who have caused me issues, who have hurt me. And there was some part of me that said they shouldn't be forgiven unless they try to make amends, unless they repent, for lack of a better work. To forgive, in my mind, was to lessen the crime. Was to say their crime didn't matter, when it did.
I may have relayed this story before on the blog, but it's one I tell a lot, and it fits. I ran into an old high school friend on the GO Train once. He and I were both slight social outcasts. Not complete by any measure, but not fully in the inner circle. Both of us were taunted at some points. He gained acceptance later on, but for me, for most of these folks, I was taunted til quite late in high school.
When we met he told me one of those taunters was having a party, and that I should come, all the people would be there. I demurred, simply saying I didn't really have much to say to these people. He insisted, saying it wasn't like that anymore, no one was elitist or rude or mean.
I said no, though, still. I couldn't just pretend all that crap didn't happen. I couldn't just pretend these people were okay, that they should be able to sleep at night for the crap they pulled, that it was all okay and we were all friends now and the things they said to me and did to me were just boyish pranks. They were bullies. They don't get salvation, they don't get forgiveness. If they can sleep at night, it is stolen sleep, sleep they do not deserve. I wanted them to rot. To remember their crimes and to be haunted for the rest of their (hopefully short) days.
That anger in me, which reared its head there, scares me a little. And I'm working at letting it go. At smiling and making polite conversation when I run into these former bullies. At congratulating them on their successes, and sharing my own.
As with many things in my life, I'm trying to be more zen about it. To not hold onto that anger, as it serves nothing. I've made efforts with people who previously I said I never would, to try and put that anger behind, to forgive them the slights, even though they hadn't sought this. I think it's better for me. I think it's better for a lot of things, really.
Ever since BiSC I've felt a little freer in many ways. I've felt more confident in myself, and more ready to embrace the things I'm interested in. This was a trend before BiSC, but BiSC kind of kicked it into overdrive. I've felt less worried about negative comments, about anyone finding fault with my actions or interests, and just diving into them.
Today, for example, I went and bought a bow tie and a pocket square. Why? I had some time, and I've been embracing the prep a bit. I like dressing up a little fancy, I like that kind of culture. The idea that you dress up for the airport. That you wear a blazer even when you don't have to, just cause.
And what's more, it seems that people tend to respond to the real me. I got encouragement from Klutzy and tons of positive comments on my idea to dress a little outlandishly. And, to be frank, I feel good. A little out there, but, like…I am a little out there. I'm a little weird, a little crazy, a little frantic when you get me going.
So, time to embrace that, I'd say.
And for the record? I bought two bow ties, not just one. And I love it.
Since BiSC I find myself suddenly having a great deal of travel plans. I'll be either on a plane or entertaining a visitor roughly every two weeks for most of the summer. I'll be seeing airports a lot.
Today was one of the first times I went to an airport and found myself not too happy. Most of this is my own fault. I brought a carry-on I have to actually carry as opposed to one with wheels (correcting that for next time). I got here insanely early, which in ways I'm glad for, but it also means I've had more than a few hours to kill. I'm nervous, too. Excited in that wonderful way that almost crosses the emotional border into scared.
But I find myself kind of hating this airport. As much as I'm excited, I'm excited for the end of this journey, to be in Chicago, for Klutzy.
I'm trying to quietly recapture the wonder and excitement I felt the last time I was in an airport. The feeling of hope, of newness. Of possibility. Because really that's what an airport is about. In an airport you're often going on an adventure, or coming home from one. Both events are a little sad, and a lot happy.
A lot of things have gone wrong today. Things are insanely busy and stressful at work.
But there is no place I'd rather be right now. Yes, if I could leave straight for Chicago from my house, that would be lovely, but being here means I get to go to Chicago. I get to see Klutzy. And that will make everything okay, for a little while.
At the end of this, in far too short a time, I'll be in this airport again. And in two weeks it'll be a different one, and I'll see more people I love.
In the next few months I'll spend more time in airports than I have in my 28 years previous combined. And I know that I must, must maintain my love of them. I must see the benefits, the unique experience, the potential of them. Yes, there will be stomach aches, things to carry, little things going wrong, and rushing, rushing, rushing.
But at the end there will be Klutzy. There will be other friends. There will be adventures to have, new experiences, new wonders to share. My credit card hates me right now, but I'll recover. And there is not a doubt in my mind that this is worth it.
I am so fucking excited for my life right now. As crazy as it may be, for the first time in my life, I'm comfortable being uncomfortable. And that'd be worth it at 10x the price.
Plus, you know, Klutzy.