Automaton

This cold is ruining my concentration. It's hard to get anything concrete done. It makes me irritable, unfocused, and sleepy. I didn't get much writing done yesterday or the day before. It's frustrating that something as simple as a sore throat can trip me up this way.

Yesterday afternoon, while I was doing yoga, the doorbell rang. Standing at the door was about a nineteen year old black man. He took one look at my expression and said,"Hey, I'm not the bad guy, I'm the good guy." I blushed three shades of purple.

The truth was that I did flash on the face of the thug who robbed me at gunpoint a couple of months ago. I felt like I'd been caught in an ugly, irredeemable thought. As a result, I felt guilty, and as a result of that result, I flirted with him and bought two magazine subscriptions so the guy could build points for a scholarship. I desperately wanted him to like me and to see that I wasn't some horrible, racist white girl.

     
The fear is that I have become, not the unique individual I had hoped to become in my youth, but rather just another generic automaton  with characteristics determined by my race, class, gender, and the psychology of my parents. I observe myself having such programmed reactions and then overcompensating. It's so disappointing.  Even my own disappointment is a adolescent cliche.