Resurrection

Day three of my sentence. I met some more people today. It think my initial reaction was wrong. The people here are humble at the base, but they've been wronged and they're just trying to cope.

The people in my room seem mixed between being cynical and healing. They speak positively notwithstanding negative circumstances. What I prematurely and erroneously judged to be uncouth behavior is simply some of their defensive mechanisms to being here. Of course some are calloused and bitter, while others are bright-eyed and cheerful.

I have come to learn that a lot of the decorations, such as the school posters on the walls, and the books on the bookshelf are the personal effects of people who have been here a long time. It makes sense to try to humanize an otherwise cold and cruel environment. I agree that it could be worse, but that would be so much more unwarranted than is already the case now.

There's a lot of curious personality development present here. I observe some people having close personal conversations, such as talking about pending divorces and mistresses. It makes me wonder why more close personal relationships do not exist in professional settings.

It's amazing to me that this place is as undressed as it is without the additions the reassigned teachers have put here. I'm not surprised to learn, I suppose, that it wasn't in much of a nice condition before. It seems to me that the culture contained within the walls of this place is much like that contained between the borders of this nation. I think I'm beginning to understand why I was developing a sarcastic and cynical attitude when I first moved to this country; because that is what was most prevalent around me and to what people responded most. Since then I've learned that it is a weakness, at least for me, and a lower form of communication, while sincerity as more valuable and demonstrative of personal integrity and authenticity.

Yet I cannot help but feel at a loss when I enter the room quietly in the morning, and am greeted with wait I presume is supposed to be a joke, "Geez, why don't you try to make a little less noise when you come in?" Tim probably said that because I enter silently, in contrast to how chuck enters - with a a burst and lots of chatter. I just act according to what I see; people minding their own business and so I just want to leave it that way and not cause any disturbance. Yet in my effort to not draw any attention to myself, I have done just that. Perhaps that is also what has happened to me at work.

At work I've tried to maintain a quiet disposition, but that was not well-received in my first year. I was told to come out of my shell and join the others. I appreciated the gesture, but I felt uncomfortable and out of place. Why did they leave the foreign teachers alone, but not me? I ought to be grateful for the camaraderie, but I didn't feel so. The foreign teachers understand why I didn't enjoy eating alone or in front of others, as they didn't engage in such practices either. It's not polite or showing good manners. It's part of our upbringing and culture, and our own personal schema. We don't mind that others practice different habits, we just want our own to be equally respected. Instead, I was being told to rewrite my schema. I tried to fit in, to go to the pub with them after work, and join in the socializing, but all to often I didn't feel comfortable in the gossip, and was cajoled for not drinking. I didn't judge others harshly for consuming alcohol, and wasn't desiring for them to change their behaviors. I just wanted to be accepted for my own preferences. However, I'd had sufficient experiences to tell me that people don't understand that I can't drink due to being reminded of how my father used to drink and then beat my mother and sister and I in his inebriation, before my mother was able to successfully divorce him and escape his harmfulness. She didn't win any prize of child-support or alimony, but she did gain freedom and her own self-respect and dignity. The smell of alcohol on my own breath re-surges those terrible times. I don't want to risk that same nature in my own being. I want to always have control over my faculties. I don't want to have to tell stories of foolish and regretful things that I've done because I was careless. Instead, I prefer to emulate the father of one of my best friends, who I've heard say he doesn't live his life with regrets. What a noble and honorable thing to be able to say. I believe that's true not because I think he chooses not to regret certain acts and decisions, but because he hasn't any acts or decisions to regret, having lived a clean life. That's the type of life I want to live, free of shame and guilt.

And that's partly why I'm feeling tortured here, because I'm feeling undue and unjust shame and guilt placed on me.