There is a thin line between arrogance and pride.
Both denote confidence – in our abilities, our personalities, our looks. A proud individual is someone who seemingly works hard, who has made something he or she can be proud of. An arrogant individual, however, is someone who thinks they know best. Someone who sees his or her way as the best,and sometimes only, way.
What a lot of people miss is the underlying, deeply buried, stigma that is attached to these words. I’m willing to bet that your thoughts of ‘pride’ include Soldiers, Firefighters, EMTs, laborers, and family members. Now think of arrogance. I’ll put down money that you’re thinking of an intellect. A scientist, a professor, an artist.
We as a society see physical work as more honest work.
Thinkers, problem solvers, laborers alike – we are all proud of what we strive for.
It’s that pride that toes the line of arrogance,
but it’s that same pride that spurs us on.
This week I’m feeling restless.
So far there’s been little to do in the way of school work. Everything I have to do is waiting on some sort of resource from a teacher. At work it’s the same. I’m waiting on other people. I can’t relax. There’s too much to do.
Hurry up and wait.
Starting the day with a cup of tea,
letting the warmth melt away worries.
Soft tan among swirls of steam,
providing a starter course of caffeine.
Aromas that drag me out of bed,
To begin the day with my cuppa tea.
It lets me know surely in my head
today’s a day of normalcy.
This is how I imagine living life. Surrounded by books, and having the intellect and calmness of Sherlock Holmes proportions. The fact of the matter is, I am far too immature and wrapped up in my own thoughts to ever be that observant. I am not nearly as confident.
The fact of the matter, for anyone listening, is that we all secretly know who it is that we want to be. Most of us bury that realization behind walls of society driven goals. We look in the mirror and feel a stab in the back of our hearts. Small, almost unnoticed.
Today I realize that at the age of 20, I am an adult. There are no more “when I grow up…” musings. It is time. Time to live to my own expectations. Not society’s, not my friends’, nor my family’s. Beginning today I will open that part of my mind that has locked away the person I want to be.
Guilt. It tears at the soul and pulls at the heart.
Humanity, sympathy, empathy. Swirling around, drowning my very core in sorrow and panic.
Once again I feel guilty for something I shouldn’t. Something trivial. It seems like the instant I feel like someone is mad at me I loose all confidence. Am I really this desperate for acceptance? It’s possible. Acceptance is hard to come by. Especially when you’re not the average Jane on the street.
Guilt stricken. It’s a phrase that seems to imply a sudden illness. An accurate image for the lightning strike of nausea and foreboding.
What about this time? A coworker drove a round trip of almost 3 hours due to a mess up he himself caused. I feel guilty for the miscommunication that caused him to arrive at an empty work building. Its trivial, and not even an event that I caused. Yet here I am, guilty of a conviction I’ve created in my head.
I bet they don’t realize the sincerity of how sorry I am. Honestly – I shouldn’t even be sorry.
But I am.
I’m a person of many personas, and many quirks. Ask anyone about me and you’ll likely get a different answer.
What you will see from me is no exception. As a jack of all trades, I bring you musings, logic, fiction, poetry and prose. Perhaps even a little art.
A jack of all trades, and yet a master of none.
Maybe one day I’ll prove the master.