My parents are watching a movie. It’s in Mandarin, but movies in other languages always seem so much more meaningful. Seriously. Anyways, a boy was caned in front of the school at assembly. All the students were made to sit, cross-legged, to watch. He let out an understandable cry of pain at each of the three strokes. The students, the girls, the boys, the first grader’s, the leavers, they all winced and half of them looked away. Do you know what I said, to ruin the moment?
"Oh toughen up."
I would have rather been him. Why?
To prove to myself that I can handle the pain.
To prove to others that I can handle the pain.
To receive the sympathy from those students that they gave it to him. That’s why.
In other news, Mr Kosovich has always wanted us to be tough. To be men, not some "gutless wonders" off the street. We are Trinity boys, and we will show our damn pride in our school, our country and our religion. And our sport, too. So we should be men, we should be tough and callous, because we take pain like men take pain; without complaint, without tears, and without weakness. Doesn’t that sound just a little thick-skinned and cold hearted? Perhaps. Of course it’s not to say men are heartless, but it just seems to deaden emotions to make life simpler, more sporty and of course more manly. Then again, is it better to be "piss-weak"? To take offence as a jest, and yet to smile at a newborn chick? No man would ever dream of calling something (other than a hot girl) cute, but I would. I’m one of "those sensitive people who all go, aww that poor penguin" when it gets knocked over by its peer.
So tough or soft? Strong or weak? They both have their advantages, but I think the answer is both. To be able to be strong when you need to bite the bullet, and to be gentle when you see that fluffy little newborn penguin. I’m not strong, physically or otherwise. I don’t know how to be. But I am willing to get caned for some reason. I’m willing to take a punch to the face, or have someone bite me. Not that they usually do, mind. What is wrong with me?
PS: Lit homework continues. I could work on it all night and only get half done. Ahh beloved literature. How you rob me of my maths.