Last weekend when I was home visiting the folks I found an essay I wrote sometime in my youth. Perhaps it was in the early years of grade school. The treatise is titled “What I think of myself”. I suppose it was my first attempt at self-examination and introspection. I don’t know why Mother saved it but I’m glad she did for the composition gives me a look-see at how I thought about myself.
Now what on earth did I mean by seeing myself as “a little pill”? In dictionary.com the definition of a pill (besides the obvious) is something unpleasant that has to be endured or a tiresomely disagreeable person. Dear me dear me. I sense I am still somewhat a pill; others would be the better judge than I on this one.
I still try to be kind to animals and people, especially the mustelids.
I am pleased to report whenever I learn something I still ‘stak’ with it – especially to prescriptive grammar and proper spelling.
For the list of character traits: I think I kept being kind, nice, funny, helpful, not mean, happy, and smart – at least most of the time. I didn’t turn out oppatames or hanson, as these features don’t exist. I surmise I meant was optimistic and handsome which I shall grade as ‘fell short of expectations’.
The emotional post-script seems tangential and simply not true. While I never participated in Devil’s Night I was fascinated and excited by the event. The word ‘hate’ is highlighted; this reflects a bit of hysterical rancor, often seen in those who “protest too much” or turn out late in life to be drama queens. I am saying nothing more on the matter.
I got a ‘very good’ grade for it, though if I had been my teacher I would have written some words and critique on the essay’s poor spelling, inconsistent use of punctuation, and rambling sentence structure. Perhaps I would have added a small comment about listing merely the positives without any negatives.
Maybe it is good thing I didn’t become a grade school teacher.