Spring Forward

Twice in the last two days I've gotten calls from my niece about her classes. She's not asked questions or for help, but she's wanted to share her triumphs with me: a B on a paper for her English class and a 105% on a practice exam, which she is sure will translate into an A on the actual exam (that she took today). It's nice to hear her crow about her work, yes, but there is something wrong, too. Oh, I don't mean that there's something wrong with her or with her taking a few short seconds to celebrate some success. I mean that there's something wrong with me, of course.

My first instinct, when she tells me happily about her good grade in English, is to say something like, "That's good, but I'm a little suspicious that you're halfway through the semester and the teacher has only had you write one paper." When she tells me that her chemistry exam went well, I want to say, "I'm glad it was easier for you this time, but I guess we'll have to wait and see what your actual grade is, won't we?"

At the same time I seem to be acting in ways that crush her optimism, I also find my own cynicism crushed by the fact that when she called to tell me about her super high grade on the practice exam, she said, "Auntie, we got a 105 on our practice exam." The "we" and the "our" kill me. She was including me in her achievement and I'm not happy about that because I want her to be selfish, as selfish those students--as those people--who push everything out of their way to succeed. Yes, it's a horrible thing to wish on somebody, but my niece is too nice, too kind, and I want her to be selfish about her successes.

It is sick, but those people are the kind who fail upward because they're too stupid to see that they're failing and they're experts at working the system. Is that sick? Yes, it is. But anymore, those selfish people are the kind that succeed, aren't they?

I'm only being the very slightest bit facetious about this. Only the barest, most unavoidable amount of facetiousness is being exhibited here.

Pure Narcissism

I'm the first person to admit to the narcissistic motivation behind blogging. Sure, why not? I like me--probably more than anyone else I know likes me--and I dislike me just as much. (And I feel that way about most people. And most things.)

Here's the problem today and consequently with everything else in the world:

Me.

It's springtime and all the demons are waking up again. They sleep for a long time and then they wake up and climb into my head and they're so heavy. They're like cicadas. Some of them even look like cicadas. They dig themselves out and they screech in the trees and they sour my dreams.

One of the biggest demons is The Thinner Demon, the demon who convinced me this week that even though my clothes are looser and I feel and look better, I am still a failure because the scale says that I am two pounds heavier. Doesn't matter that I have my period and those two pounds are probably water weight. Doesn't matter that I hit the gym four times last week. Doesn't matter that I stuck to my diet. Two pounds have been added to the plus column and that is enough to awaken the The Thinner Demon and her twin sister The Demon of External Validation.

Ugh. I don't want to weird you out by talking about the demons. Because those demon sisters? Are the tip of the iceberg.

There's all this cross-chatter in my head now and I feel like I'm being squeezed out of my own head to make room for the demons.

I kind of hate spring.