"R vs. E"

Reasons vs. Excuses.


We invent excuses when we are scared. When we are afraid the truths might catch up with us. It is not that we don't know it, because we freak out in the moments when the true reasons face us. So we make up millions and trillions of lame, cliche excuses to fill in the blanks. To protect our feelings. To protect a reputation. To keep up a screen.

I once invented an excuse. A really lame excuse for something I wanted big time. Out of pride. And fear of being vulnerable.

Last year, a group of graduate students from my school were organizing a team of the best girls to go to an international debate. In order to pick the members of the team, they created an SAT/grammar/current events test for every intersted student. I passed the test, in the top ten. But then, a more difficult stage came. All girls that passed the test had an interview with the graduate students. Then, they would pick the best.

I did my interview, and, well, it wasn't good. First, they put me a trick question about walls and paintings and practicity, and I got completely blocked and answered the most retarted thing ever. It didn't even made sense. My arguments were pathetic. Unpractical.

Then, they put me to sell a plastic bag of chips. I had to make it look delicious somehow. So, I stood up and said a few things, did as if I was eating it, put a yummy face, and was very commercial. I guess it lacked enthusiasm or maybe even character. They didn't like it either.

Then they asked me something about a presidential candidate and I had no idea.

They told be to try harder at some point. Then the worst part came when they asked me to tag myself. My answer was: amazing. I mean, that's like the most unspecific tag ever! It's like if I didn't knew myself enough to come up with something better. It was a nightmare.

The point is, I didn't get to the team. My best friend did, though. I was.. embarassed. I felt dum, stupid, inefficent, uncapable. I didn't knew what to say when they asked me if I had gotten in.

Of course I put up the whole charade of 'I don't really care, I was just curious of how an interview was' and made fun of the girls that interviewed me. But I only did it because I was so vulnerable and sad on the inside.. I felt as if I was falling appart, and I didn't want to admit it. Too much pride on the line.

So this year, well, there are going to be try-outs again. I honestly don't know what to do. I already gave everyone the excuse that I wasn't going to have enough time or whatever. And that the girls in charge hated me. Excuses. Excuses. Excuses. (The girls aren't fond of me, though. Honestly). Real reason? I'm scared I don't make the team yet again. I would definately be a looser. I mean, the girl that tries two times and doesn't get it anyways?. I know I always talk about risking it all and being fearless and expiriencing and not being scared and not caring what people say about you.. Because I am certain those are the right things to do. I know the right thing to do, is to try again even if I'm putting my pride and self confidence on the line. But I'm scared nevertheless. And not of being the looser to everyone else in school, but to being a looser to myself. I am so demanding with myself I sometimes feel really miserable. Because I am the kind of person that will tell you that failures aren't bad but never lets herself fail.

Not getting into the team for the first time felt like a punch in the gut. I can't even think about my pride's state if I try and don't achieve in round two. But then again, what if I try and get in? What if I miss my last chance?



Reasons vs. Excuses.

The final verdict?

Reasons win. Always. Even if you are the only one that knows them. Excuses won't make you feel better. Even if you end up believing them, there will always be that little voice in your head whispering the reasons. Reminding you, that you can't get away merely with excuses.

The truth never leaves us alone. Ever. Restlessly telling us what we missed by not wanting to pay attention to them, but instead focusing in looking for strategies whose purpose would be to cover and hide our failures.



The fix always leaves a mark. When you have a wound, you go to the surgeon. The surgeon puts the broken flesh back together. But even the best surgeon, leaves his mark. That little pink line. That spot in uneven color. That piece of ultra-sensitive skin.

And no matter what you do to forget, you will always remember the time when you fell down the stairs for tripping with the stilettos you left the night before in the middle of the corridor in a drunk run towards your room.
I should know. I failed and am making up excuses while dealing with the real reasons in my head.



WG