I am an analytical, sophisticated thinker capable of applying a concept, idea, or philosophy to things I read and experience. That compliment was a comment made on my term paper by my Colonial and Post-Colonial literature seminar class professor at Rutgers University. It was about George Orwell’s Burmese Days.
Other compliments I have heard are thus: that I am well-read, a good writer with poet’s rhythm, and a good egg. They all pertain to my writing, which I regard as intellectual, which means I have something to think about. Then in terms of my appearance, I have been told that I have the aura of someone famous and that I am sultry when I converse about the subject of interest, which piques my mind’s flair for sharing knowledge with like-minded people.
But some compliments are inwardly unappreciative, such as “You are so nice,” not in the least because it sounds like a superficial cliche that ignores the person’s virtue. Once you are seen as nice, you must remain nice, always smiling and being a yes girl. I’d rather be myself than a mindless servile, yes, girl.