http://americanhistory.si.edu/collections/comphist/montic/cray.htm#cr2
heard of this on a commercial and thought it might be interesting to research.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Friday, January 2, 2009
The Fake
All her life, Tigre had been the greatest actor of all time.
She acted like all the things her mother did were fine. The tantrums, poutings, and manipulations were all okay, everything was always okay.
Inside it made her mad as a hornet to continually have to placate, pretend and acquiesce.
But she did it to keep the peace. She always did whatever it took to keep the peace. Even now.
Her mother 'got' a subscription to the newspaper for Tigre. "How sweet", Tigre bemoned to herself. Tigre never read the paper, and hated the news. She had neither time nor desire to "cut coupons". Even the television program guide was useless to her. She never watched TV.
When she threw the accumulated paper pile away, her mother asked her not to do that as she wanted to keep them. Tigre, at her limit, replied, "Why? So you can pile them up for me to get rid of when you are gone?"
Tigre knew she had made a mistake. Her mother and father had come in to town to 'help' her clear out her apartment, and revamp it. They suddenly 'had' to leave, even though Tigre had mentioned not wanting to have to take both kids to the vet and had hoped they could stay and help.
Her father, always able to read her, queried before leaving, "Oh, didn't you say something about needing help with taking the cat to the vet?
Stone faced, Tigre replied with feigned nonchallance, "Aw, no, it'll be fine. I will be just fine, no big deal. I can handle it." She avoided his glance and acted pre-occupied. She knew he would read the look in her eyes. She had to fake it, yet again.
Tigre would 'handle it' all right. Just as she 'handled' everything. An only child, she was used to working things out for herself, and finding a way around anything that stood in her way. The Vet had mercy on her even though she was late from dragging three children along with her. The cat was mortified. Tigre's daughter was traumatized that the vet put that thing in the cat's behind and gave the poor kitty a shot. Tigre's son was convinced the vet was cruel, and his tag-a-long friend was observant that Tigre was not his mother, after she scolded him.
Ah, yes, 'handled' it once again. Tigre wearily plopped her overweight self into the driver's seat. She carried the cat cage inside since everyone was so dreadfully weak with hunger at 6 in the evening, and started supper.
Supper almost ready, the friend complained he had speggetti last night. "I've got peanut butter." Tigre replied with no emotion. Peanut butter and banana sandwiches 'handled' that one.
Tigre cleared out her laundry room, made room for the recently re-packed Christmas decorations. Put all in order, at least enough for the evening, and laid down on her daughter's bed. "If I stay here, she will crawl in next to me and I can go to my room after she falls asleep." That would 'handle' having her wiggly daughter poking and pushing on her all night in Tigre's bed.
It worked. Tigre dragged herself up and over the sprawled child and scooted to her room. "Out." was her command to the computer engrossed boys. They obeyed without question. Evidently, it was obvious to them this woman was, 'done' for the evening.
Tigre couldn't sleep. Yes, she was tired, but her soul needed catharsis. She would get up and write her story. Whatever it took, to 'handle' life. Yes, that is what she would do. That is what she would always do.
It occured to her she did not like always being a fake. She pretended her ex didn't continually piss her off, and let him whimfully change meetings with his children. She kept the kids completely unaware of such changes and just anounced his arrival when he finally appeared or was for sure going to meet them. She 'kept the peace' with him to the point of annoyance so her kids would at least have some sort of relationship with their father.
After living with her mother, and then her children's narcissistic father, Tigre had learned the art of 'reading' others quickly and understanding to the utmost what actions would and wouldn't work out well for her.
When Tigre's father told her that he and her mother just couldn't afford to invest any money to help her get a loan for the condo she so desperately wanted, she knew the reason. Tigre remained silent as her father began with, "Well, you know, if you and your boyfriend got married, then maybe he could help you get the place." "Mmm.", Tigre responded, "yes, well, I am not sure how that would do me any good as he is still paying on half the house from his previous marriage and has a loan out on his vehicle." She talked cheerily about this and that afterward with him and her mother, said a pleasant good-bye, got off the phone and bawled angrily into a pillow.
Tigre hated herself for not just being able to say the truth no matter what, no matter who it hurt, no matter what chaos ensued. No, she was a peacemaker, and by God in Heaven that was not so very "bless-ed". Pretender was a better word.
She 'got along', 'hung-out' with, and attended parties for people with whom she held no connection or meaningful relationship, but hey, when you are so good at 'faking' it, no one is the wiser, except of course, yourself, and friends close enough and trusted enough to share the burden with you, and empathise with your ridiculous antics and approaches to keeping your life in order.
There was one part of her very deep that she tried to fake held no sway. Yet, try as she might, it was the one thing she was still not able to 'handle'. Tigre was able to laugh, smile, love and live wonderfully, until she was alone. It was then that she could no longer be "The Fake". It was then that she would quietly blog at 12:48 in the morning and blink the tears from her blurring eyes so she could see to continue to write.
"It will be okay, no matter." Tigre told her broken soul in the dark of night. "No matter what you really want or feel. You just keep pluggin along persuing peace and keeping what happines you've got. You can and forever shall be able to 'handle' it in everyone else's eyes, just don't look into your own and you will be fine, just fine."
She acted like all the things her mother did were fine. The tantrums, poutings, and manipulations were all okay, everything was always okay.
Inside it made her mad as a hornet to continually have to placate, pretend and acquiesce.
But she did it to keep the peace. She always did whatever it took to keep the peace. Even now.
Her mother 'got' a subscription to the newspaper for Tigre. "How sweet", Tigre bemoned to herself. Tigre never read the paper, and hated the news. She had neither time nor desire to "cut coupons". Even the television program guide was useless to her. She never watched TV.
When she threw the accumulated paper pile away, her mother asked her not to do that as she wanted to keep them. Tigre, at her limit, replied, "Why? So you can pile them up for me to get rid of when you are gone?"
Tigre knew she had made a mistake. Her mother and father had come in to town to 'help' her clear out her apartment, and revamp it. They suddenly 'had' to leave, even though Tigre had mentioned not wanting to have to take both kids to the vet and had hoped they could stay and help.
Her father, always able to read her, queried before leaving, "Oh, didn't you say something about needing help with taking the cat to the vet?
Stone faced, Tigre replied with feigned nonchallance, "Aw, no, it'll be fine. I will be just fine, no big deal. I can handle it." She avoided his glance and acted pre-occupied. She knew he would read the look in her eyes. She had to fake it, yet again.
Tigre would 'handle it' all right. Just as she 'handled' everything. An only child, she was used to working things out for herself, and finding a way around anything that stood in her way. The Vet had mercy on her even though she was late from dragging three children along with her. The cat was mortified. Tigre's daughter was traumatized that the vet put that thing in the cat's behind and gave the poor kitty a shot. Tigre's son was convinced the vet was cruel, and his tag-a-long friend was observant that Tigre was not his mother, after she scolded him.
Ah, yes, 'handled' it once again. Tigre wearily plopped her overweight self into the driver's seat. She carried the cat cage inside since everyone was so dreadfully weak with hunger at 6 in the evening, and started supper.
Supper almost ready, the friend complained he had speggetti last night. "I've got peanut butter." Tigre replied with no emotion. Peanut butter and banana sandwiches 'handled' that one.
Tigre cleared out her laundry room, made room for the recently re-packed Christmas decorations. Put all in order, at least enough for the evening, and laid down on her daughter's bed. "If I stay here, she will crawl in next to me and I can go to my room after she falls asleep." That would 'handle' having her wiggly daughter poking and pushing on her all night in Tigre's bed.
It worked. Tigre dragged herself up and over the sprawled child and scooted to her room. "Out." was her command to the computer engrossed boys. They obeyed without question. Evidently, it was obvious to them this woman was, 'done' for the evening.
Tigre couldn't sleep. Yes, she was tired, but her soul needed catharsis. She would get up and write her story. Whatever it took, to 'handle' life. Yes, that is what she would do. That is what she would always do.
It occured to her she did not like always being a fake. She pretended her ex didn't continually piss her off, and let him whimfully change meetings with his children. She kept the kids completely unaware of such changes and just anounced his arrival when he finally appeared or was for sure going to meet them. She 'kept the peace' with him to the point of annoyance so her kids would at least have some sort of relationship with their father.
After living with her mother, and then her children's narcissistic father, Tigre had learned the art of 'reading' others quickly and understanding to the utmost what actions would and wouldn't work out well for her.
When Tigre's father told her that he and her mother just couldn't afford to invest any money to help her get a loan for the condo she so desperately wanted, she knew the reason. Tigre remained silent as her father began with, "Well, you know, if you and your boyfriend got married, then maybe he could help you get the place." "Mmm.", Tigre responded, "yes, well, I am not sure how that would do me any good as he is still paying on half the house from his previous marriage and has a loan out on his vehicle." She talked cheerily about this and that afterward with him and her mother, said a pleasant good-bye, got off the phone and bawled angrily into a pillow.
Tigre hated herself for not just being able to say the truth no matter what, no matter who it hurt, no matter what chaos ensued. No, she was a peacemaker, and by God in Heaven that was not so very "bless-ed". Pretender was a better word.
She 'got along', 'hung-out' with, and attended parties for people with whom she held no connection or meaningful relationship, but hey, when you are so good at 'faking' it, no one is the wiser, except of course, yourself, and friends close enough and trusted enough to share the burden with you, and empathise with your ridiculous antics and approaches to keeping your life in order.
There was one part of her very deep that she tried to fake held no sway. Yet, try as she might, it was the one thing she was still not able to 'handle'. Tigre was able to laugh, smile, love and live wonderfully, until she was alone. It was then that she could no longer be "The Fake". It was then that she would quietly blog at 12:48 in the morning and blink the tears from her blurring eyes so she could see to continue to write.
"It will be okay, no matter." Tigre told her broken soul in the dark of night. "No matter what you really want or feel. You just keep pluggin along persuing peace and keeping what happines you've got. You can and forever shall be able to 'handle' it in everyone else's eyes, just don't look into your own and you will be fine, just fine."
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