High School was just painful. There's just no other description for it. I was painfully lacking in self esteem and self worth, painfully aware of not being good enough, painfully intimidated by people, events and contests ... particularly the contests involving people in that age-old arena: Popularity. I was a B+ student without doing homework , minded my own business, tried not to screw up and tried not to make anybody mad and hoped everyone would like me. I probably subconsciously didn't get A's so's not to draw attention to myself.
I had one thing going for me; I was "good in Art". That didn't help my self esteem problem, or give me courage when I had to walk past "The Wall". The Wall was a retaining wall strategically placed at the front of the school next to the parking lot, so if you didn't make a really obvious dash to go around, you had to walk past The Wall. This is where all the popular kids gathered for the daily a.m. social party. For the rest of us it was a gauntlet; a march through high school hell where every fear rose painfully to the surface - are my clothes right? Are my pimples showing? Is my hair okay? Have my glasses magically changed into cool spectacles? Don't trip, don't trip, don't trip - get up the steps without tripping and just get to your locker. It didn't help when my dad bought me my first car: a White 1966 Valiant Station Wagon with push button transmission and slant six engine for $300. I had to arrive in this thing, in front of the wall. In searching for a picture, I was certain it had more fins at the time. I was surely Not Cool.
Some painful reminiscings might include when the football coach, who was very expressive with his hands, knocked me square between the eyes with his class ring leaving me with something that looked like a giant pimple upon entering the gym for a pep rally, or when, amazingly, a popular guy noticed me and took me out on a date and I got a cold - picture kleenex and blowing my nose, talking weird and looking horrible. He didn't pursue another date...thankfully. Or how about when I was changing in the girl's locker room and another popular guy was shoved down the stairs to catch me in my skivvies. I never, ever tripped arriving to, passing by or going up the stairs by The Wall - there is some mercy.
Which brings me to what I originally planned to write about. Have Blogs become another form of The Wall - a popularity contest? While out and about this a.m. catching up on other blogs and reading comments I stumbled across the equivalent of a giant pimple. This comment read something like ... I've read other XYZ blogs, but yours is the best. Ouch. I didn't realize there was a bottom or top of the heap; a contest. Naturally, as noted by the content of this post, I found myself thrust back into H.S. Land and wondered if I am not as popular - or popular at all - or maybe not as clever, or not as good as other blogs - Gosh, is that why I don't get dozens of complimentary and gratifying comments for each post I do? Maybe everyone is sitting on The Wall chortling quietly or laughing out loud to my Blog? It's - almost - painful all over again. If I get a cold write a boring Post, will I be rejected and not asked out set aside and deleted forever?
You don't have to comment, really - not for my self esteem - just count your lucky class rings you didn't drive a 1966 Valiant Station Wagon to high school in 1978 in a dusty cowtown in Arizona.