Friday, March 16, 2012

Who Were (Are) You?

I was the kind of kid that parents liked. Please, thank you. I was not smarmy or sassy or sulky or sad. I never pinched my friends' little brothers or said ew, I won't eat that. I followed the rules, don't, do, so I didn't and I did. You get the picture.

Even later, when we drank. At 15, 16, 19 and beyond. I had (or have) a nice face, a round face, the kind of face that people trust, or at least don't think too much about, so even then, in the kitchen of a friend's house at midnight, drunk or high or both, even then the parents liked me as they wondered if we were drunk, maybe even wished I would rub off on their kid because my eyes did not cut. Even then, drunk or high or both, I followed the rules, ish, the rules being that I had to play the role of a stupid teenager making bad decisions, but also that I had to be good. And I was (or am) good.
A few years ago, three jobs back, everyone had to undergo personality profiling, something like Meyers and Briggs but not. I came out as a Dominant Introvert, which I guess is true, yeah, I can see that, but what I really remember is that you were either a rebel or a follower, and I came out as a follower.

A follower. Nobody wants to be a follower. I mean, no way, right? I'm totally a rebel! I remember thinking, see? I'm rebelling against being told I'm a follower! Fuck that! Only I didn't say that out loud because, well. Yeah.

There are certain things that I love about getting older. I can buy whatever I want at the grocery store. I don't have to pretend to like roller coasters anymore. I enjoy staying home on a Saturday night. Big, white, cotton underwear. And more and more this: I am a follower. There, I said it. I like rules. Balancing my bank account. I like mailing back my Netflix as soon as I'm done and wearing sensible flats so I can actually walk. I am the deer in the coveralls, the bunny with the smocking, and even if I would've had a huge crush on the cat wearing the vest, I still wouldn't date him; the raccoon with the striped shirt is more my style.

Anyway, I love this artwork by Angela Rossi, and I hope you do, too.

Say hi to your parents for me.
xo,
S

3 comments:

Lacey said...

I was you, basically. You described me exactly! But, in the end, I ended up marrying the cat wearing the vest and he was so different from how he was in high school. Crazy how life works out.

Anonymous said...

I was (am) a rule follower but had (have) an old soul wild side. Can you see who I married? He's the very handsome billy goat wearing a tie. You don't see him? Oh, turn to the faculty page. There he is!

ZDub said...

Fuck, I'm the giraffe in the overalls. I taught my friends to roll joints.

Troy calls overalls "ovies". I secretly hope he always does.