Tuesday, July 19, 2005

Better than a shark riding an elephant that has had an energy drink.

My most prized possession is one that I was born with. No, it's not my appendix. That goddamned thing hasn't done a lick of good for me. Nor is it any other organ I may possess, although I can think of a few that rank very highly in my book, and I do my best to maintain them and keep them shiny. The best way to do this is with quality rum, according to all scientific information I can find or make up.

I am in (non-romantic) love with my ego. Even as a baby, I had a swagger that was obvious. Oh sure, I gurgled and burped, but I did it with a confidence unknown to other floppy-headed infants. As I grew, so did my ego. By age 4 I was wearing a hat that said "Greatest that Ever was or will be. Far, far better than any of you slope-headed neanderthals." I was convinced that the whole purpose of Creation was to provide a cornucopia of plenty for me for eternity.

Then, an event occurred that shook the very foundations of my world. There I was, in Mrs. Levinson's kindergarten class. It had been a cool morning; brisk, with the telltale scents of fall in the air. I was dressed finely, my OshKosh overalls had been laundered the night before in preparation for my Show and Tell presentation. I had selected one of my favorite works of the time- Jaws, by Peter Benchley. A classic tale of gripping horror, I felt that it would be well-received by my schoolmates.

As the reading commenced, things seemed to be going well. Everyone's attention was focused on me, as well it should have. But then, as I continued, a curious thing happened: the children were losing focus. Here I was, a five-year old reading a novel intended for a mature audience and they were coloring on the tables, picking their noses and, to my chagrin, rocking their seats back and forth. My disgust turned to wonderment, and when I returned to my seat, my world was shattered when my classmate turned to me and called me a "nerd".

It dawned on me, then, that my ego had gotten the best of me. Later, I would realize that it had expanded too far and become that oversized "superego" that's all the rage with psychologists. With that in mind, I decided to resolve myself to becoming a more humble person. Yes, I would become renowned for humility unseen in human history. Musicians would sing of how awesomely humble I had become. Later, I realized that was also egotistical.

I managed to strike a balance. Humility towards others while never losing my sense that I could do anything if I focused my efforts. I learned that all people are capable of wonderous things, not just me. Psychologically, I was never more healthy towards my fellow man and myself.

Fortunately, it was just a phase, and now I remember just how fantastic I really am. So suck it, losers! (Kidding!)

2 Comments:

At 6:09 PM, Blogger Knows It All said...

Show and Tell is such an under-rated life-altering experience. I learned that I was an insecure child, trying to prove to the world that I was cool. So I got up there and lied my 6 year old butt off. I knew know one listened. I felt like such a piece of crap, since the teacher totally called me out later.

My parents should have helped me. But, I also learned that I have a natural comfort with getting up there and producing impromptu monologues... which I later tapped into in high school speech, and I now employ as a litigator. Still feels like BS, and I still feel like that six year old when I am doing it.

Odd how we are so much of who we are at such an early age.

 
At 4:26 AM, Blogger ChickyBabe said...

Whenever I see the words "ego", "egotistical" and "I" written by a man, I expect a little entertainment. And this post did not disappoint with the tongue in cheek approach. Nicely done, Mahd! It shows "just how fantastic (you are)!"

 

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