Tag: memoir

I was a kick ass kid.

On By rantandrave3In Uncategorized, writing1 Comment

I don’t like serious things. I’m a sarcastic person at heart. Sarcasm covers up real emotions that I avoid like the plague. The avoidance stems from that same fear of getting close to people. So I add in sarcasm and then it seems like I’m a real person and not a complete sociopathic asshole. It’s either that or the person is one of my best friends, in which case they already know all of this shit from figuring it out on their own.

I wasn’t always afraid of standing out though. Hell when I was a kid I was in the dolphin show at Sea World. The grown up version of me hates this, because I feel so bad for those animals. I’ve seen Blackfish. But a part of me is still so proud of myself, because I wasn’t just in the show.

I asked to be in the show.

My family was vacationing in California, visiting my uncle on the L.A.P.D. We saw the whale show where they had people up on the stage (I hate myself for having enjoyed that show so much). So when we moved on to the dolphin show I told my mom I wanted to be on the stage. She told me to ask.

Well little me accepted that challenge and walked my little chubby legs towards the first person I saw with a uniform on. I placed the best and cutest little girl smile on my face and asked to be in the show. She asked her manager, and BAM! I was in the show.

I stood up on the stage and fed Dolly the dolphin, but just being ballsy wasn’t the only difference from the young version of me to the current one. I trusted people too. People I didn’t even know. The trainer that had that giant microphone strapped onto her face looking like a nineties Madonna meets Steve Irwin (may he rest in peace) told me at one point to jump into the water. According to her Dolly the dolphin would catch me.

I guess the other children they brought up there were too scared to jump, but Madonna/Steve hadn’t met me yet! She counted down from three into that microphone, her voice echoing over the giant pool to the people in the stands, and when she got to one I launched myself in the galoshes that were made for an adult, off of the stage. There is a picture somewhere of the trainer catching my small body midair. My mother almost had a heart attack from where she was standing on the stage. I didn’t care, Dolly was going to catch me and after that I was famous for a day!

I was fearless.

So where did that change? Where did that freedom that I once had change into panic attacks, too much booze, and a fear of getting too close to people? When the hell did the little girl who jumped into the dolphin tank become average?

I think she would be upset with me. If I could talk to the four year old version of me I’m not sure whether or not she’d like me.

That’s an even sadder realization. When you don’t even like you.

@C. O’Connor, 2018

R.B.F. (Resting Bitch Face)

On By rantandrave3In Rants, UncategorizedLeave a comment

I’m not the hero. I don’t think I am the villain. Hell, I’m pretty positive that were my life made into a movie I wouldn’t even be the main character. I’d be that random person standing in the background. Everyone around me would have reactions on their faces to whatever is going on. I wouldn’t. My face would be blank. My face is always, and has always, been blank. I’ve heard about it since I was a kid.

One of my earlier memories goes to a time when I was in second or third grade. It was the end of the school day with the excitement  of freedom coursing through the student body. I was leaning against the wall in the middle of my class’ line. I think it was the summer, close to the end of the school year. (I have no idea why, and I’m probably lying. It just feels right.)

I can see a blob of colors from kid’s clothes across the hall. I can hear the high pitched thrum of children’s voices overlapping. I don’t remember what I was doing in line, or whether or not I was talking to someone. I do remember the teacher I had in the first grade walking up to me. I do remember her telling me to smile. I do not remember my answer, but I kept thinking, why is she asking me? I wasn’t the only one not smiling. I wasn’t the only kid not looking happy.

So why did she ask me? Why single me out? I didn’t understand then. It took me years to hear the saving phrase that would explain the countless comments I’ve received throughout my life. It explained all of the looks, all of the are you okays?, the you look like you’re about to kill sombodys, and the are you depresseds? 

The phrase is Resting Bitch Face. I don’t know when I first heard it, but it has become a part of my life, my daily life. No I’m not depressed, at least not at this moment in my life. No I’m not going to kill someone. I don’t want to go to jail. And don’t even get me started on whether or not I’m okay.

©C. O’Connor, 2016