| bad (??) genes 09.27.02 |
| I'm listening to this electronica CD right now, to a song called "Afro Ride." What a great name! This CD is making me kind of jittery though, which is a good way to beat the post-lunch slump. The best song (and reason for buying this CD) is a song called "We Have Explosive" by Future Sound of London. Anyway, on to the bad genes. Let's be blunt. I look like I belong in high school. I'm short and I have the face of an innocent freshman schoolgirl. No exaggeration. If I dress myself up, I can pass for a college freshma--maybe--but if I'm in shorts and a t-shirt, it's hopeless. People always feel the need to take care of me, to assume that I cannot take care of myself, that I am helpless. I won't go as far as to say that I will walk around at midnight in the ghetto and would be able to pull a Michelle Yeoh if attacked, but I'm also not scared to walk around in broad daylight by myself. Yesterday on the way home from work, I was in the car with two older ladies, both probably in their 50s. One of them has kids of her own a few years younger than I am, so she knows all about raising kids and giving them independence. The other is still single and apparently, as she has been giving me rides to and from work for the past two months, she has taken on this position as my adopted mother. Yet it's not so much like the "Let me know if you need help" kind of motherly position. It is more of the "Aw, I will treat you like my little baby" attitude, which frankly, at age 24, I am too old for. The two women were asking me about which bus I would take to work after I moved and I told them I wasn't sure, but I had it all written down. They continued to discuss the different bus routes and which ones they thought were the best. The single woman said to me, "Well you wanted to move, you have to resolve this." And she said it in the tone like "It's your problem. Deal with it," like you would to someone who was complaining, where I had not said a word like that!! So I told her, "It's not a problem," in the tone of "I don't see it as a problem and I never gave the impression that it was." I think she got the message because she went on to explain that they see me as a small, abandoned girl who is all alone in another country and they need to take care of me. Yes, I know it is all out of love and I GREATLY appreciate that, but at the same time, they need to respect my age and my experience. I seem to bring out that motherly instinct in people. On more than one occasion when we had capoeira performances, afterwards, older ladies would come up to me and say, "I was soo scared for you out there! I thought you were going to get hurt, you little thing!" A swift kick to the head quiets them down. JUST KIDDING. I am not that mean...a gentle slap does the trick. ;) Even females younger than I am treat me like I am younger and want to take care of me, which is especially annoying. It doesn't help that I am more quiet here because of the langauge barrier and I think that quietness makes me seem even more helpless and timid. When I am able to speak English freely, it's weird but I feel a surge of confidence and the "real me" emerges. I know that getting around on my own in SF is different than doing the same here, yet with that experience, I can surely adapt and learn to do the same here. I have to be more alert and more cautious about things and can't be overconfident, but I am also aware of that and will not do anything stupid like stay out late and have to find my way home by bus at midnight. I may look young and na�ve but I really am not. I can act really immature and silly at times, but I also know when I have to wise up and watch my back. Just because I smile at you and give you this sweet look doesn't mean that I am all about that. I can use that to my advantage to throw people off, but it doesn't mean that I don't know what I am doing. Everyone tells me that I will thank my lucky stars for looking so young when I get old. I'm sure that will be the truth, but in the meantime, it can be very frustrating. I don't want to sound bitter and ungrateful, but I guess when it happens enough, it can get old. |
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