For my AP English class we needed to make a final portfolio and one of the required pieces was either a response or companion piece to something we had read during the year. I decided to model "On Being a Cripple" by Nancy Mairs, if you're interested I'm sure it's online somewhere. I took six paragraphs from the original piece and used their first and last sentences as an outline, that's the italicized parts.
The other day I was thinking of writing an essay on being a loser. I was sitting on the sofa in my living room, my mom on the other end of the couch and we were both watching The Titanic, my mom for the first time in years, on a Friday night. Both of us were in our pajamas, me in an oversized t-shirt and shorts and my mom in a floral nightgown. In between us we had a plate of crackers and a portable phone that began to ring while Leonardo DiCaprio squealed at the sight of dolphins. I answered the phone while pressing pause and was asked by the friend on the line to go out to dinner. I respectfully, but hurriedly, declined, hung up, pressed play and rejoined my mom in watching the old classic. I decided that it was high time to write the essay.
First, the matter of semantics. I am and likely always will be a loser. I do not find myself wincing at the term or feeling offended when I am called by this name. I chose the name as much as it chose me. The terms “geek” and “nerd” for awhile were also possibilities but the connotation of computer wiz and studiousness attached to them turned me off and simply there was only the name loser left. I find it interesting to call myself by this name in the presence of those who do not know me well, as it often sparks strong reactions. Primarily people deny it. “You are not a loser!” is said vehemently in protest to my self proclaimed title. I think it offends them more than it does me. But still others are unsure of what to say and only laugh, mostly in a way that says “Don’t be silly.”, but others also say, “Yeah. I know, but that’s okay.” Nevertheless, as I stand on my soapbox of loser-dom and declare my title, I am proud. As a loser, I swagger.
But, to be fair to myself, a certain amount of honesty underlies my choice. Loser is an accurate word, one which cuts to the core of who I am. To me, loser does not mean one who has lost, or one who is going nowhere in life, but rather one who, even with effort, cannot enjoy the habits of normalcy. I find myself instead enjoying much of what the majority does not. As an outed loser I admit to many things. I like to hang out with my mother while watching sappy movies. I enjoy acting in strange ways. I have fun dancing badly and in public. And sometimes I would prefer to stay home. Despite these behaviors I like to think that most people are not repulsed or annoyed by my presence. Sometimes I like to call some of those who spend reasonable amounts of time around me friends—I hope I do not assume. But while I call myself this name in honesty and in pride there are many who use the name negatively and on those who do not meet the term’s requirements. It is then that we all must realize something. Some realities do not obey the dictates of language.
Mine is one of them. Whatever you call me, I remain a loser. But when you call others wrongly by this name and change its definition, it is then that I am angry. On principal I do not believe in controlling what others think of me. Call me silly, stupid or otherwise and that is fine. But to use the word and to change its meaning is unforgivable. The manipulation of people is distasteful, but the manipulation of words is dishonest. Shakespeare’s famous phrase, “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet” is quite true, for, like me, if it were called anything other than its name it would still exist as it was. Yet let us keep in mind that if half of us were to know “rose” by the name of “rose” and the other half were to know it by the name of “sunflower” it would be insurmountably confusing. As such I would like to keep myself known as by the description of the one word: loser. It is the word I use to name myself.
There’s the rub. It is the name I have given myself and the name that I use, but it will always have adverse affects. It must, for speaking frankly always does. Once I have announced myself in this way assumptions begin. Often people believe I give myself the title as a way of setting the bar low. If I say at the beginning of an acquaintance that I am not normal then there will be no time for the other party to decide for themselves. But this is not what my name is for. It is not to dissuade others from knowing me, but rather a warning that I am what I am. In elementary school my teacher once caught me with finger-painted designs on my face and no paper to be found. During recesses I was made to stand facing the wall instead of playing with my peers. I’ve been a little cracked ever since.
I hope I helped... I can't really comment on it since I'm not so good with this kind of stuff, which is why it was more of a grammical correction more than anything...
Gender:
Points: 1647
Reviews: 57