Sunday, April 10, 2011

I'm Really, Really Sorry Minus One.

Last night, a friend remarked how different my life is now from where it was when he met me 10 years ago. Last night's post about dinner for the household made him recall that when he and I met I was not caring for a husband and multiple odd pets; we were both working at a small and understaffed theatre company which we loved but required many exhaustive late nights of labor. No one who does this has time to focus on themselves let alone other living things.

This led to mention of a Puppet Costume I made for one of our plays. And then he reminds me that we had a Puppet Designer, and I was not her. I was picking up someone else's slack. It happens. But I did not handle it gracefully. In fact I did her job and then made her cry. He didn't mention it to make me feel bad, he was just pointing out how tired we all were. That's when a second friend mentioned a girl I made cry back when we were teenagers. At this point I realized I'd made a fucking career making people cry. Over really Stupid Shit. And I am Ashamed. There's never a need to make another person feel so small.

That's when the first friend reminded me of the Prop Master I made cry on September 11, 2001.

As a usual Costumer she had never made Props for a play before, but the Director, her good friend, felt so bad about not believing in her skills enough to hire her as the Costumer that she hired her to do Props - a job always assumed to be an Easy Throw Away by anyone who's never tried it. And it's actually a Very Non Throw Away Hard job to do. So now this sad excuse for a Prop Master was Stressed. It's a Very, Very Fucking Hard job. Anyway, she knew the Director and I were not seeing eye to eye on the design direction of the play, and I think she chose the Very Worst Moment to show me that she was the Good Child while I was not, and she decided to take some frustration out on me. And she tried to make me feel small. You would not like me if you tried to make me feel small. Especially on September 11, 2001. 

We lived in Chicago, but everyone knew I was from Manhattan. On 9/10 I told her I'd have 6 screens built and ready for her to paint the next day, but the next day Bin Laden took down our Twin Towers and I instead spent that day trying to phone my family and friends and build screens. I did not have all 6 screens built and ready, I believe I had 3. And she was upset. Poor thing would now be half a day behind on a 30 minute project she couldn't handle. I'm sure she was behind to begin with because she didn't know how to do the job, but I now made her more behind. Pobre chica.

I don't remember one single thing she said to me that day. I don't really remember what I said back to her either, but I do recall how I swelled with anger and vitriol for a stupid woman who hadn't thought for One Second to be gentile with everyone she might come across that day. I do recall the realization that on this day, at this moment, all that mattered to her was an attempt to belittle me, and I must tell you, I don't let people do that. I have spent most of my life being a Hard Ass Bitch with anyone who tried because I was only 5 foot 2, or because I am a woman, or because I was a 5 foot 2 woman who made a living using power tools. I remember her Moment, but I don't remember if I let her finish it or not. I just remember a crowd forming around us. And I remembering telling her what was on my mind. And I remember walking away from her. Don't remember if I got to see the tears or if I was only informed of them.

I spent 40 years being a terrible sort of person, and for that I am truly sorry. I sucked a big Bag of Dicks and can only apologize, one by one, to each and every person I ever belittled. But that Bitch had it coming, and I will NEVER feel bad about that one. Cunt. Fucking cunt.


You are the result of 4 billion years of evolutionary success.
Fucking act like it.

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