inferiority complex

It isn’t that I need people to like me. Or at least I don’t think it is. I’ve disliked more people than I can count (or remember) and I hope they dislike me too. I don’t know. Call it an inferiority complex. I think it all stems back to grade school when I was always the last kid to be picked on a team. Even the fat girls got picked before me. And it wasn’t that I was bad at sports. I could run, I usually managed to hit the ball, and even though I was usually afraid to catch the baseball (we didn’t’ have gloves, so it was bare handed) I could run out and get it like mr. mcfeely. . Hell, I might have been pretty good if someone would have let me play.

I also got picked on a lot. It started in 2nd grade when I stood up for gene st.peters against daniel gray. Gene had his problems and Daniel was just a mean kid in general. I felt bad for Gene. I knew his family was poor and that he was awkward--big ears, glasses, the works when it comes to being a target for bullys but I also knew that he wasn’t a bad kid. Oh, and Gene, I’m sorry I told you to shut up and leave me alone (that’s the nice version) that one day on the bus (but you were really bringing problems on yourself that day and I couldn’t deal with it) I have digressed…..it escalated to an all time high in the 4th grade when we had to draw our best friends and present the pictures to the class and I drew my cat. My classmates never let that one go. They meowed at me for years to come--i was even taunted about it in high school. But hey, I didn’t really have any choice-- I didn’t want to embarrass anyone because I said they were my best friend and who has a best friend that makes them cry everyday anyway? What kind of friend is that to admit to having? Not to mention it was a mighty fine drawing of my cat.

Anyway, as of late, I’m starting to feel like that kid again—off on the sidelines, waving my hands frantically (resume in hand this time around), pick me, pick me—I can run fast, hit the ball hard…that bit of desperateness eventually stopped and I just stood there and stared at the ground, waiting for the whole thing to be over, hoping the teams would be uneven so I could just go sit on the swings—because if I was unlucky enough to get out or make an error during the game, I heard about it all day. They’d even taunt me during recess (while I sat on the swings)--I had single-handedly lost the game and they didn’t want me in the first place but they had the last pick and I was the only choice. Forget about the fact that each team gets three outs per inning and I made only one of at least 9 outs. It just happened to be the last out before p.e. was over.

So the kid is back. I’m still trying to keep an optimistic outlook, but I’m still left wondering why no one has called me. What’s wrong with my application? I’m bright, high energy, and I really like teaching. Is my cover letter too long or too short? Do they not like my name? Why don’t they call me back or respond to my letters? Are my stamps bad? Did these resumes get lost? I would understand if there wasn’t a position open, but I have been applying to vacant positions listed on websites and in papers. Sing it with me now: If your paranoid and you know it clap your hands—but don’t look around, they might know that you’re onto them.

I have two appointments with temp agencies tomorrow and I’m hoping they can find a place for me before I find myself out on the swings again.