THE QUEST FOR APPROVAL
THE QUEST FOR APPROVAL
I admit it, though admission is not what this is, nor is this confession, this is just this.
This is about me. Everything I write is about me, some form of broken confession, some thinly veiled autobiography, concentrating on whatever minutae happen to be obsessing me at that particular time.
I don�t need your love, or your approval. Never have, never will. When I was growing up, I, like the chosen few at my school, were those who for some strange reason, were the children of a lesser God at our school. The ugly, the poor, the uncool. I wore bad clothes, had bad skin, bad hair. I didn�t fit my body.
And so I was the one who people thought was weak, and because people thought I was weak, and thought that that made them strong, I had to be strong, because I carried others weakness for too long. I became strong, because others were weak.
I was bullied. I was attacked. Everyone did though, didn�t they? Everyone suffered like this. Nothing in the world can be as cruel as a child. Not even a President, sometimes.
Because I was picked on, bullied, assaulted, because I was poor, and had clothes, skin, and bad taste in girls, people made my life difficult. The thing that made them think they were stronger, better than me was in fact the thing that made them weaker than me.
I am over it now. Honestly. It�s so far in the past I don�t give a fuck : but it made me who I am today. Someone who does not need approval. Because my sense of self does not require validation from others. Every lover leaves in the end, and I don�t need anyone to be myself.
I didn�t need the approval of people like that : people who judge your worth by what you wear, or what your hair looks like, or how much money you have. The most important thing is who you are, what you believe, what you do. And in that respect, as William S Burroughs said, there�s only two types of peoples : Shits and Johnsons. It doesn�t take a genius to work out which ones which.
I don�t need the approval of shits. Sure, I like people to dress good, have good hair, have money, but if they don�t � that doesn�t make them a bad person. If they cheat, lie, steal, act without giving a shit � that�s what makes a bad person.
And so, criticism is easy to shrug off. Some people don�t get it. Some people�s value systems are such that their approval is meaningless. In fact, their approval could almost be a condemnation.
Sure, I�m a ethical snob. But you don�t want to hang around people who are shits do you? Not to say that the people who criticise me are, but some of them probably are, and I don�t want that kind of love.
This webpage isn�t some plea for approval, some desire for recognition, it�s where I put my stuff. Some people like it, some people don�t.
Though I must admit, and this is a confession, I really do need to get a sense of humour. Some of the other stuff here is so damn glum, and unwittily furious. Is anyone selling a sense of humour on Ebay?
� copyright Mark Reed, 1991-2003 except where indicated