When I was 12, I became important. I became important because my 6th grade teacher, decided to pay attention to me for the first time in my early schooling years. She noticed that I had special talents and asked after me from my former teachers who had nothing nice to say. Being the victim of xenophobia and general hatred from my teachers, it was comforting to FINALLY have a person pay close attention to my progress and personally mentor me into the smart person I had no idea I was.
When I went to high school, my level of importance grew, I became academically confident. The books were my best friends and the company of studying ensured my place in the first to third step of the pedestal of academia until I reached my 10th yr of school. My formerly very supportive head mistress begun to use associated reverse psychology on me (and I must say, I fall pray to suggestion easily) to continuously pry at my poor performance in school. Which I did not have but firmly believed I did, no thanks to her. I was not doing so badly, my class teacher, a rather irate Ghanaian took care to continuous push my performance in school reminding me that he had faith in my abilities, instead of ‘to have faith in my abilities, but hey…I wont judge’ while the other local flora of teachers abated my efforts by continuously pointing at my flaws. Finally having graduated the 10th year with 8 good As’ and a D in art, a subject I excelled in no thanks to my art teacher with no prior art experience…feeling like a failure because my good grades were not enough to earn me a merit. In retrospect, no one in my new class could understand why I did not earn one when they with their litter of grades spanning the entire array sat with Merit trophies.
Fast forward to my career. I have applied twice to the Washington Mandela scholarships for leadership development in business. But I do not make the cut. I do not make the cut because there is nothing compelling about my story, I did not rise from the dirt against all odds, I have not made any community development projects, I have not solicited funding for orphans or under privileged children or worked for government. The long and short of it is that again, I am not important enough to be placed on the social pedestal of importance.
Again I need someone to take notice. I must first make it very apparent to someone out there looking out for me that indeed I am working hard and that I am good at what I do so that this person can then co promote me, mentor me and showcase me give me a name and put me out there so that EVERYONE can now notice me and want that professional association so that I can NOW say, I have made it.
Publicity is the currency of success. And we are all prostitutes for it. I am just tired of having my very existence be the byproduct of some other persons opinion of me. Its aggravating and stupid to think that after all my education, in the end social acceptance and popularity is directly and entirely related to my success. I must now kiss ass to get paid. Disgusting. But alas, its the truth. To be president, one must be known and ‘loved’ by the public, one must be a public figure by association or otherwise. And since I cannot buy my place in society (yet) I must work at kissing ass.
Well step 2: Kiss ass and get rich, leggo!
