Monday, June 22, 2009

Straight up

It’s been a while since I written anything. I been so busy the last few weeks of my summer session and now I’ve been lending a hand as a summer counselor. I ABSOLUTELY hate it. I thought I could tolerate children, but I’ve realized that I really cannot stand being around them. I used to think that if I managed to have a kid, I could deal with that because it my kid. My eyes, nose, etc…but this has been eye opening. Not only are they annoying, but there is nothing sweet, nor rewarding about working with them. I literally want to quit….and I would if there wasn’t a multiple relationship between my mom’s friends and the people organizing the camp. Plus, I hate to make attachments to children (even though I think we can use that term loosely with this demon seeds) and breaking them…after all the most crushing memories of my childhood was when adults would walk in and out of my life. Ah, I don’t know how long I can do this and think some serious prayer is going to be needed to get me through this.

To add insult to injury, I feel ever so uncomfortable with the staff, being that I am the oldest person there and I out of college. I feel like a larger than life loser and out of sync with what really going on. Who would have thought that I would have graduated from college in three years, just to end up working 11 months later at some summer camp for borderline retards? I feel like I’m not taken seriously and somehow I’m like….I can’t really explain it.  What makes things even worse it that I’m the only black guy there (awkward) and probably the only non Hispanic person. I feel way outside of the my cultural safety zone. Plus, I keep getting asked if I’m gay by the campers and junior counselors alike, which makes me want to kick them in the throat….It seems like if I’m not a constant dick to people, I’m not straight. Sorry, it takes a lot of energy to be a jerk all the time, just to fulfill your stereotypes….

Anyhow, I had point, which was my life sucks and this is what you come down to when the shit hits the fan. Being the nigga that shows up on a bike when all the other underage counselors drive is humiliating enough….but to have people that are trying to help with your job search think getting a master’s in mental health counseling means you love snotty nosed, bad breeded, underprivileged, crappy pants, unplanned pregnancies is just abject.