Realization #1

A thought occurred to me recently, one that later made me reflect deep reflective reflections. I have a natural instinct to promote, even if what I'm promoting is not something I believe. Is my internal being an undercover used car salesman bursting to be released from years of repression? No. But I do yearn to represent an entity and convince my subject, and myself, that what I represent is the best.

The epiphany came to me during parents weekend at Camp Stand-By-And-Clean-Up-Pee, a chance for families with a child with disabilities to vacation together. This particular time, it included a first-time family scoping out the scene to determine if the camp was a suitable place for their child. Before I continue, let me briefly review my sentiments towards camp. It's very harshly run, to a point that it becomes counterproductive. The director is a misanthropic rule stickler that makes counselor's lives a living hell and disgruntles some camper's families as well. Regardless of how much better the camp could be operated, it has a monopoly on disabled children, as the parents need it for their own sanity, and as bad as they feel dropping their kid off in the old Soviet Union, they really have little choice. So I've felt like Kim Jong Il's servant for the past 6 weeks. This past weekend, I was assigned to chill out with the inquiring parents' child with down syndrome and autism. I did my duties, took him when they needed a break, and for the most part didn't totally mind the experience, except, of course, whenever camp director Voldemort came around the corner. By the end, I'd established a repoire with the family. Here's where my salesman alter ego took over. I ended up explaining the great camp atmosphere, undying attentiveness of counselors, and overall safety at camp. Is this what I believe? No. Did I say it anyways? Yes. Why?

It's as if the words tumbled subconsciously from my mouth. I couldn't help it, it sounded so right. The other critical part of the interaction: I initiated the sales pitch. I felt compelled to go out of my way to explain that sending their child here was the correct move. It's like there's a competitive streak that I can't eliminate from my nature. I want to win mother fucker, and hitting the targets with some well placed compassion and coersion would bring me home the bacon. Got em hook, line and sinker.

But in reality, I think the pitch stemmed from some sense of obligation to where I work. I wasn't going to badmouth the place in front of the family, but I could have said nothing. A pride welled up in me at that moment that I couldn't fend off. It resulted in me pouring a fresh glass of maple syrup on the camp to make it delicious and sweet. It's lame, because it was fake. At the same time, I wanted them to be conscious-free when they dropped their priceless little ball of life off at our door, as they inevitably would do. So, in a way, what I said was as much for their benefit as mine, a relief to know that I'm not as slimy as I thought I was.

Or maybe I'm brainwashed, because I've given the same pitch about Americorps NCCC, a program that also has good intentions and does a poor job of accomplishing them. It seems like their is a disconnect between how I feel when I am promoting and when I am working for what I'm promoting. Working for it makes me hate it, but telling others about it makes me believe that what I'm saying is true. Whether it's just me or the general population, it's scary to think about. Talk about a vicious cycle.

Do we all like saying what sounds right more than what is the actual truth?

(Ok, ending a blog with a question really makes it sound like a Sex In the City episode. Speaking of, gotta see that second movie. Samantha single again? I think yes. Let's go girl!)

(I actually saw the first movie while holed up in downtown Alpaugh (a valentines day thing, the girls made me watch it, I promise). I couldn't believe what I was watching. It was like being forced to sit and listen to that person who tells stories that drag on and on and on, with no pauses to allow for a hasty escape. So you're stuck in the middle of it, your mind wandering and all you hope for is a quick pause to excuse yourself that never comes.)