Tuesday, February 10, 2004

'Yeah, terrorist toast.'

Do you think I'm too optimistic about people, and various things?

I mean, I genuinely believe that there is good in everyone. Well, 98% of people. Whether it may be that somewhere they object to something indecent, but go around it the wrong way while abusing people on the side, whatever.

There's good somewhere.

Bullies/jerks generally, I believe, act that way because they're trying to impress their friends, and deep down they all think that and it's actually a big joke and they don't care.

I know it's naive, so shoot me.

Today, that's changed somewhat. That's why the figure is now 98% instead of 99%.

I have new glasses, I've established that they're rectangular, dark metallic blue and they have sweet metallic blue magnetic shades, right?

Good.

Okay, I love these glasses, and so I wear the shades when I'm outside of class, because I can.

Nothin' wrong with that, and no-one really cares.

Except for one in my grade.

Lachlan Close.

Remember him? He was the lovely chap that clipped my right metaphorical wing and sent me spiralling.

Because I spent the last few years on the front lawns, I've avoided him somehow.

Our year 12 'lawnie' group suddenly decided [inspired by the mateship of emu gulley] that we should pull up the stakes and stick to our own area.

It was pretty good, then I got my new shades.

Things change when something different comes along.

First of all, you have your friends instantly stealing them and trying them on, playing with the magnets and so forth. You have the quips from people you know, and don't mean anything.

[Steve saluting me and saying 'Eh! Liam! Matrix man!' ;p]

Then once the hype is over, those that feel somehow, someway, I am insulting them with my new glasses' presence.

Security people wear sunglasses to stop people from seeing where they're looking. It's just a way of inconspicuous observation, with a perfect alibi.

I'm talking to Toby, and he's facing me, with his back to Close and co. We're laughing and stuff, talking about the new RvB.

You know how you get that feeling that someone's watching you?

I look up, without inclining my head, and find Lachlan just grimacing at me.

I'm completely clueless at why, and continue talking.

Next day, today, I'm walking along behind the Graham centre, and Lachlan is coming the opposite way, towards me. I smile and nod, and he says to me;

'Nice glasses.'

I respond, 'hey, thanks-

'GIMP!'

Now, I don't know how wearing glasses makes me a 'gay inbred male prostitute', but obviously it does.

He's completely alone, no-one to impress, no-one to share a good chuckle with. He smirks, and keeps walking.

One could claim that he's doing it to make himself feel better because he feels threatened by my shaded eyes, but I seriously doubt it.

There is no cause for it, I haven't done anything wrong by him, I haven't shown myself to be a threat, or a subservient to him, and yet he continues.

Why?

I really don't know.

People believe bullies to be less intelligent, they take Ag Stud, they come from the farm. They're completely buff from all the work they do.

They're not less intelligent. They just have another field that they excell in. I myself haven't a field that I excell in that I can fall back on.

Zilch.

So why the antagonistic behaviour?

I don't condole physical violence, it doesn't help a situation. I'm not physically strong, I'm just tall with a wiry muscle structure.

My Dad is physically strong, I take after the wiry-tall-as-a-stick side of my Mum's great grand-daddy.

I could not hold myself in a fight, sure, I'd fight dirty, just to give myself an edge. I've dabbled in judo, retaining useless stuff from self-defence years and years ago from primary activities, but I've never, ever actively sought out a fight.

From a young age I just learnt or guessed that there wasn't a point to it. I knock his block off, he comes back with 'ole mate Joe, they beat the snot out of me, I harbour anger and the cycle continues.

It just isn't feasible.

Unless one of us dies, and our friends and family don't give a damn, the conflict will never be resolved.

From media, and friends [Thanks Harley ~_^] you learn things like wrist-locks. From common sense, you learn that an elbow to the throat is either going to kill them, or cause an incredible amount of pain.

A kick to the crotch at the same time will package someone's agony into a nice little bundle.

What I've also learnt is that no matter the odds, whoever gets the first hit in, is going to win 3/4 of the time.

Lachlan Close is all muscle and malice, a human wall.

If I actually wanted to beat the snot out of him, I'd have to be incredibly lucky, and willing to fight dirty.

When you are beaten up [yes, I have been, duh] bullies tend to go for the chest shots, the face shots. The former because it doesn't really show, and because the pain is fleeting, and the latter to leave a lasting reminder.

If you pit a bully against someone they want to intimidate, they'll more often than not, go for the arms and the chest.

If the someone they're fighting is actually interested in taking them out to prevent beatings in the short term, they are definitely not going to want to pussy-foot around and return the same blows.

Carpe Jugulum

They'll go for the throat.

Trust me on this.

I would.

It's incredibly hard to block a blow to the throat when you're homophobic about guys being close to you, you're arrogant enough to believe they are not going to fight back, and if you do think they'll retaliate, you'll be interested in only protecting your body.

*sigh*

So yeah. I was naive enough to belive that Close was actually complimenting my glasses, I harboured thoughts and feelings afterwards that I shouldn't have, and now I just gave you a gigantic self-pitying speil in which I whine for no reason.

It's not over folks.

I'm getting on the bus to go home, and someone calls out 'Hey, glasses boy!'

I thought it was David Ball, a friend that catches 25 with me out to highfields, so I turn round and find two year 11's, looking just slightly surprised that I was wearing a senior tie.

They recovered beautifully, however.

'Hey, those are gay glasses, poofter.'

Me, sick and tired of being polite, 'really? I never knew.' I took a step forward to one of them and said, 'so...you interested in hooking up later?'

Instant confusion, this isn't supposed to happen.

'What!? I'm not gay!'

'That makes two of us.'

I'm sick and tired of being polite, of ignoring what happens to me, sick of holding in and fostering the hurt, I'm sick of showing nothing to them.

I'm resolving to change myself. I'm not sure if the term passive aggression applies here, but it will anyway. From now on, I'm putting the ball back in their court. I use enough guile, flippancy and manic-optimistic nature in around my friends, I'm using it to put off my aggressors.

I have skills I guess, I am sick of hearing people say, 'just ignore it, Liam.' And finding myself ignoring it.

An impasse is a victory to them.

I am not, I am not, going to sit back and pretend to shrug it off. I am going to respond, confuse and be damn polite and damn eloquent about it to boot.

There are other, more sedate and interesting, things that happened today, but I don't know if anyone bothered to read past the first line anyway.

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