“You need to develop a thick skin” is the remark that came, after I told of having been thrown in a writer’s block because of a nasty personal remark at a writers’ workshop, one that had nothing to do with my writing. I understand the metaphor, but for some of us the solution may just be to avoid contact with the infection. Let me open up a new metaphor for it. I have had the unpleasant experience of a few skin infections, triggered in different ways under various circumstances, but the one thing a doctor doesn’t tell you is that you should thicken your skin. Some doctors are nice and caring enough to give you advice on prevention, and yes, you will freak out when a bee comes flying straight into your bike helmet and sting you, because the thick skin can be pierced anyway, but the other elements of an infection aren’t there anyway. The simpler prevention of keeping bacteria away, and keeping it from dwelling and developing on you, actually works. You learn …
a crash landing and another
It may have been a frequent occurrence for such a sign to be erected. It may be a good idea to insert the warning in shoe boxes, for there are cracks in many floors. Yet the purpose of high heels is to be noticed. It is a high risk endeavour.
Think: the ghost in Amadeus, Salieri trying to haunt Mozart With the image of the father Demanding excellence. Some believe it is good To require To judge To reprimand To beat And what did you get, at the end? Resentment. So, you ask, is Laissez Faire Any better? Is the writer without angst Not a writer? Is the army without the dehumanizing good at winning wars? And yet Whose war was it When the voice said In a celebratory tone To go ahead With the rope The wobbly chair Whose war was to be won? Yours, an odd war In which the other, The different, Isn’t deserving of a life.