Perspective

During high school I received detention only once. We had been given an assignment to write a story evoking “atmosphere”. I wrote about being on the beach, in the steamy heat, seeing the nipples of a beautiful girl poking out inside her bathing suit, toying with the straw of her drink with her tongue, and getting a hard on. It wasn’t a brilliant piece of writing, but it was a breakthrough in opening up a new horizon. My teacher called it “smut” and told me I could re-write it in detention.
That day my mother was volunteering in the school kitchen. When I went in to get my free pie my mother, who had heard about my creative endeavor, gave me a stern speech about how bad I was. Whatever. I had to wait for my free pie to cook, so I was forced to hang around the kitchen with my unfriendly Mum (who, in all fairness, has always been a much better person than myself). One by one the other teachers came in to get their food, and each one patted me on the back saying my story was being passed around the staff room and they all thought the whole thing was hilarious. By the time my lunch was finally ready, my mother was singing a different tune, something like “That’s my boy, he’s a little wild, but we still love him.”
I learned an important lesson that day. Sometimes it’s not exactly what you do, it’s how it’s presented. People are malleable, weak. Don’t accept another man’s truth, follow your own; the definition of right or wrong is up to you.