Well no, I think you’re right to worry about it:
I find it difficult to deal with praise because there is something irritating about pleasure. being told that I am special or good at doing things right, this tensions me. I’m imagining those little rubber hemispheres we played with as kids. the ones whose poles you pushed in and partways inverted, and then waited for the nipple-shape you’d made to flip back into a dome as it flew off the table. it’s fun to be fucked with like that, but like anything that springs you, the tautness dissipates and the irritation at being unable to live up to our transient pleasures takes its place.
and anyway, it’s a grave mistake to think that praise aimed at what you’ve done strikes anything close to the person who did it. the arrow always sails far over our heads, on its way to the work. and feeling better about yourself for being told you’ve done something ‘good’ is a little like running up to where the arrow fell, sticking it in your chest and shouting ‘You got me!’
In high school I gave a speech to my grade that was meant to be about how I would be a good school captain but instead I got up said “I’m pretty good” and walked off the stage.I did not want to be school captain.
anyone here fuck around with cute things?