Short Bits

We moved a lot when I was a kid. Starting new schools so often, I learned how to function in a highly ambiguous setting, where all is unknown; it's a valuable skill, although generally not one learned at such a young age. It's been invaluable to me now, though, on the many occasions when I'm confronted by aspects of Mr. Fresh Hell's culture that in the beginning appear so foreign and incomprehensible, occasions when I automatically feel the tension of those long ago school days.

Among other things, as the new kid I learned how fun it can be to re-invent oneself. None of the other kids had known me from the sandbox - I could be or do or say practically anything without fear of contradiction. It wasn't necessarily lying, but more along the lines of presenting myself in the best possible light. And of course, in the beginning the grass on the other side of the fence was awfully new, and awfully green.

My glory in this self rejuvenation was probably not very healthy for an already bookish dreamy child prone to imaginative flights of fancy.

From a self-improvement standpoint, the constant moves ostensibly gave me a chance to turn over a new leaf quite often. But did I? Not really.

Here's the secret I found: more often than not, the grass is often disappointingly just grass, no greener or better than anywhere else, and while I could physically move from place to place I always carried the baggage of my self.