The Rabbit started her first day of summer school yesterday. We walked her over -- me, The Prince and the Rabbit, to her class, and saw many of the kidlets that had been in regular school during the year.
Most of the children though are of the group I don't know that well -- the ones with the arty mamas, the mamas with shaved heads, black clothes, emaciated frames. The ones that love to snub.
Let's get some background here though -- Although during college I followed the straight and narrow, majoring in science, a pre-med geek through and through, somewhere during my second year I "freaked out" as the rabbit would put it, and shipped myself from Cali to Gotham where I enrolled in a fairly well-known film school and yes, shaved my head, took to wearing black all the time, and became a slightly emaciated, self-described "artist." I spent my early twenties working in the "business" and thought myself somewhat cool.(Cue the snickers.)
While it didn't take an intervention to cure me (And I still wear almost only black as Mothers readers know...and yes, like to think of myself on the creative side...) I did begin to get kind of bored of this new clique having found it so easy to be absorbed just by a change of clothing, hair style, and major -- like any clique, really.
It's something I had hoped would pass by the rabbit -- after all, there are always those kids who manage to rise about the cliques -- who manage to be accepted by all groups at once. The uber kids. The ones who "don't give a shit."
Which is what I thought I was. Which is what I had hoped I was. But here I was yesterday morning, now with a full-head of hair, now wearing some color (does brown count?) trailing after the downtown doyennes with their hip black jeans, trying to smile and make small talk only to get dropped faster than a pocket-protector wearing PhD. And yes, I cared. So much for transformation.
I guess you can ship the girl to Gotham, but you can't (completely) undo the geek.
Most of the children though are of the group I don't know that well -- the ones with the arty mamas, the mamas with shaved heads, black clothes, emaciated frames. The ones that love to snub.
Let's get some background here though -- Although during college I followed the straight and narrow, majoring in science, a pre-med geek through and through, somewhere during my second year I "freaked out" as the rabbit would put it, and shipped myself from Cali to Gotham where I enrolled in a fairly well-known film school and yes, shaved my head, took to wearing black all the time, and became a slightly emaciated, self-described "artist." I spent my early twenties working in the "business" and thought myself somewhat cool.(Cue the snickers.)
While it didn't take an intervention to cure me (And I still wear almost only black as Mothers readers know...and yes, like to think of myself on the creative side...) I did begin to get kind of bored of this new clique having found it so easy to be absorbed just by a change of clothing, hair style, and major -- like any clique, really.
It's something I had hoped would pass by the rabbit -- after all, there are always those kids who manage to rise about the cliques -- who manage to be accepted by all groups at once. The uber kids. The ones who "don't give a shit."
Which is what I thought I was. Which is what I had hoped I was. But here I was yesterday morning, now with a full-head of hair, now wearing some color (does brown count?) trailing after the downtown doyennes with their hip black jeans, trying to smile and make small talk only to get dropped faster than a pocket-protector wearing PhD. And yes, I cared. So much for transformation.
I guess you can ship the girl to Gotham, but you can't (completely) undo the geek.
Comments
I joined a music group here for kids. No one talked to me for 4 months. I'd smile at people and they'd blank me. Very strange. Then one day my daughter was playing with someone else's child and I got let in. It was great and I still meet them all once a week.
You know the weird part of motherhood is being confident in yourself and doing a demanding, successful job for years, only to be relegated to that team picking embarrassment at school sports time when you have a kid and have to meet other mothers. Nothing worse than being left on the sidelines.
I hope they get their heads out of their arses and talk to you. Or a large dose of karma to them...maybe an unexplained gain of 5 pounds overnight?
I guess some people are so insecure and (let's face it, pathetic) they can't see beyond their own particular brand of uniform...