The judgment

Keira McGinty, Reporter

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Sometimes I think I look for things to be angry at. 

I can’t remember the last time I was able to enjoy something completely normally. Recently, casually consuming media has come easier to me, which is a big achievement for someone who lives vicariously through fiction. Still, I choose to  passionately rant about the iffy representation in a show I watched in the background.

When I got a new phone earlier this year, I ordered a case online. The case I chose to get was a tarot card, because I am occasionally known to be a haphazard goth (emphasis on haphazard. I do not pass as a goth), without thinking much about the fact that the card I chose was “The Judgement.” I chose the card because I liked the visual the best, though later remembered someone screaming about how judgmental the looks I gave them when I saw them do something weird on multiple occasions. This was funny to me. I kept the case. 

A few weeks ago, I started working on becoming mindful, and balancing my logic (left) and emotion (right) mind to create a wise mind. One of the first rules of this is being non-judgmental. When I heard that, I looked at my case and said nothing. I later realized that while I was probably not the most judgmental person I know, the vast majority of my thoughts are judgement. Funnily enough, the thoughts going through my mind when I looked at the person I give “judgmental looks” to aren’t judgmental. They aren’t even there. My judgmental face is just my confused face. 

I’m trying to be less judgmental. I’m keeping my case on, because I think it’s pretty, but I am trying. At the very least, acknowledging what thoughts are judgmental. And trying to avoid looking through JK Rowling’s twitter, but again, I think I look for things to be angry at. I probably like being angry. 

There’s probably a deeper meaning to that that a psychologist could analyze, like I can’t find happiness so I substitute it with anger, or that it’s some weird trauma response, but at the moment I’m a teenager who is pissed that the creator of her favorite fictional character of all time is kind of awful. (I probably could have guessed that with the name “Cho Chang” when I was a child, but I digress).

 I’ll probably continue to complain about Joanne for the rest of my life, even if I do manage to become some wise mindful spirit. For now, though, I’m just a teenager with a phone case to expose me right off the bat.