Grown Up Realizations: I'm Not Mad Anymore

I have this theory that if I didn't know how to control my emotions and didn't have an understanding as to why bad things happen, I'd be temperamental. I'd be angry a lot. Let's face it, people are infuriating. Unreasonableness and dogma is impossible to avoid, even amongst friends. I've felt it before. Everyone has, I'm sure. I think that if I didn't know how to handle other people's unreasonableness, I'd just be a fireball of rage constantly.

It used to bother me for days. It used to bother me for weeks. I guess I've always had a hard time letting things go, but problems were pretty minor in elementary and middle school. It's when I reached high school that people acted like morons and actually hurt themselves and others around them. I hated it, because I could always see it coming.

Maybe I'm being to vague. Here's an example. Once upon a time, I was a friends with a girl who loved dating. She was basically boy-crazy. She would flirt with any boy she liked, whether she was currently dating or not. Eventually, inevitably, she had boy trouble. I was still at the point in my life where I felt obligated to help others, so I gave her advice. Lots and lots of advice. It was completely reasonable, and she always agreed I was right. But she always ignored it. She would tell me she wished she could like me, since I had no boy problems whatsoever (at least, not at that time). I insisted that she could, but she still didn't listen. Then she'd get dumped or break up with a boy, and be all sad and upset. I could come in and help her grieve. Then she'd get back with the same guy a month later, insisting that he changed. Lather, rinse, repeat. We drifted. Every time I saw her, she was really nice, but always with a different guy and eventually I realized her problems weren't worth my time.

After we drifted but before I came to that reasonable conclusion, I was extremely angry. I'm not sure what I was angry at, but I was angry every time I saw her walk down the hall with a new boy. I was furious when I found out she was, at one point, dating someone who was twenty-five. Honestly, this rage was really misguided because it was never my business to begin with. I was disappointed in her, even though we weren't best friends or anything. I was angry at the fact she thought she couldn't help it. If she just accepted that having a different boyfriend every month was just who she was, maybe I wouldn't have been so upset. What bothered me so much was the fact that she kept making the same mistakes over and over again, then complaining about them. Mistakes that could have been prevented. I was so mad at her whole situation. I would talk myself into a frenzy just thinking about it. Why wouldn't she just listen to me?! I'm SO right! I know I'm right! I have no experience dating and I know more about the lies that guys tell girls than she does! I'm right I'm right I'm right! ARRRGGHHH!

Eventually, though, I got over it. It was one of the first experiences I had in "getting over" something. Given enough time, it stopped making me want to throw something. I came to the slow, gradual realization that it was her life and her decision and there was absolutely nothing I could have done to change her mind. Since I cared about her, I wouldn't even say she was being stupid. Her heart was involved, it was emotional decisions. She may have acted like she wanted logic and reason, but her heart was already made up. The heart is treacherous and desperate.

So, after that whole thing, I thought I was done. HA. Not even close. It kept happening again. And again. And again. With different friends and different scenarios. I thought I was more mature after I got over the flirty, boy-crazy girl. I wasn't. Every single time it happened, I would get really angry. School stress played a factor, obviously, but it was mostly WHY CAN'T YOU PEOPLE SEE THAT I'M RIGHT!? I would come home and spend hours talking to myself, saying things I should tell them over and over, and then never actually doing it. My whole body would become tense. I also couldn't sleep if I let myself start ranting about it shortly before bed. I'd get all fired up and have nowhere to put my angry energy.

It got pretty bad at the end of senior year. Eventually I was mad at everyone. I really wanted to escape the sea of morons I was surrounded. My friends didn't appreciate those comments, but I stopped caring. (Most) of the ones I associated with on a regular basis were pretty reasonable. The vast majority weren't.

Then I graduated. Yay! I'm all done now, right? WRONG. I don't know why I thought I would escape unreasonable people, especially since a big part of my day consists of knocking on the doors of strangers.

The unreasonable people I knew in high school still bothered me for months after graduating. Mostly because I couldn't say "I told you so" and all that. Any time I would get a chance to rant about it, I would take it. Which would make me mad again. Then I'd meet dogmatic people in the ministry and ARRGHH! People make me so ANGRY! I would never get angry to their face. It would always pop in later.

Just like everything else, though, I got over it. I don't know how or why, but when I think about all the things people did in high school that made me mad, it doesn't make me mad anymore. Even when I meet unreasonable people now, it doesn't stew in my mind for days. Something changed. I guess it's just getting older or whatever, but it's something that's made my life a whole lot easier.

Nowadays, I just feel sad and feel sorry for them. I wish they could be reasonable so they don't have to get hurt in order to realize they're making a mistake. I wish they wouldn't tell me that I don't know what I'm talking about, but it's ok. Maybe I don't. Maybe they're right. Maybe it'll work out for them.

I'm not mad at them anymore. I just want them, these people I deal with on a daily basis, to be happy. And I hope it all works out for the best.

Compliments Are Awkward

Everyone likes compliments. The problem comes after the compliment is said. What is to be said in response? "Thank you" might suffice, and it usually does. However, some compliments are so large, so misplaced, or so unexpected, it's hard to know what to say.

Whether you're the giver of this large compliment or the receiver, both are awkward. For instance, a complete stranger called me beautiful once. Compliments regarding physical appearance are almost always fine. Normal even. I think it was the term "beautiful." I don't know why, but that made me uncomfortable. She was uncomfortable too, like she just realized what she said. She backed her compliment up with "...And I'm not strange!" Maybe I felt so weird about it because I felt it was an overstatement. The only reason I looked so nice was because I was in a blue dress I know I look good in. I was trying to look good that day. It would have been better to comment on the dress, which is what normally happens when I wear it. Instead of saying thank you, I just kinda giggled, and didn't say anything. Maybe I should have been more grateful or whatever, I don't know. It was just weird.

On the contrary, I can completely understand why she said that to me. I've passed by women on the street that are so gorgeous, I have to suppress my urge to say something to them. I've also met some extremely attractive male cashiers, and I know I can't say anything because it'd be weird. So I just smile and sometimes blush. I really want to tell them how good they look, in case they don't know it themselves, but I can't. It would just make both of us uncomfortable.

Then there are compliments that aren't about physical advantages. The ones in which there's no question about their sincerity. The ones that are, in my opinion, the most awkward compliments of all time if said by the wrong person at the wrong time. When someone you don't know that well tells you you're smart. When someone you just met mentions how friendly you are to others. When someone who you view as an acquaintance says they love your company. These are the ones that are the most meaningful (and most likely true), yet I usually tense up if I receive a compliment like that. "Thank you" doesn't seem good enough. I usually feel the need to compliment them back, as if I owe it to them or something. But I never have the courage to give them back, so I just regurgitate what they said to me and apply it to them, which always comes across as insincere. I'm afraid that genuine compliments of that magnitude will scare people away if I voice them too quickly.

Of course, for me the awkwardness comes from the people I don't know well. I'm comfortable giving and receiving all types of compliments from people I already feel close to. The words just come out naturally. It's not a big deal. They are simply kind words that help the friendship grow. I want to compliment them. It's necessary in a good friendship.

Sometimes, though, the weighty compliments are misplaced. For instance, someone may believe you're the smartest person on the planet, but you know for a fact you're not. But this person tells you that you are, and you cannot convince them otherwise. You're not being humble, it simply isn't true. That's really awkward, especially if they keep talking about it.

I don't think there's really a perfect answer when you receive a genuine, significant compliment about your personality or what you do well. "Thank you" always works, and always will work. When I give meaningful compliments to people, I don't expect to say anything significant back. I definitely don't want them to compliment me back, because that seems insincere (even though I do the same thing, shut up).

There's not really any conclusion or realization here. It's just a topic I find interesting. I have noticed that compliments become much more specific as you get older. Actually, so does criticism. But that's another topic entirely.

Grown Up Realizations: Who I Am And Why It Doesn't Matter

It bothered me for a while that I don’t seem to fit in anywhere. I fit in everywhere. No matter who I am with, my personality adapts. That left me to wonder who I really was, and who I was going to be. Now, as this adult thing-a-ma-jig, I don’t care anymore. I never cared, I just thought I was supposed to.

My high school wasn’t particularly cliquey, but everyone had a group for the most part. People they felt the most comfortable around. I spent my freshman and sophomore year trying to find that group with little success. The cheerleaders liked me, the jocks thought I was cool (enough), the nerds thought I was smart (enough), and the outsiders liked that I treated them as a human. I mostly ate lunch with people I knew in middle school, and we were kind of the mish mash of different personalities and interests. The group often varied from week to week because my friends would introduce us to people and we would always accept them. Basically, I hung out with the nice kids and the ones who were always left out because one of us would inevitably invite them to eat lunch with us.

Apparently, that wasn’t good enough for me. I noticed other lunch tables that had other kids I liked to talk to. I wanted to sit with them sometimes. But I didn’t want to split loyalties, so I didn’t. I would walk by and talk to them, but they never invited me to sit with them or anything. After a while I made friends with some kids who always ate lunch alone or with their significant other, so I made an effort to talk to them too. By junior year, lunch became very stressful because I wanted to talk to everyone I thought was cool and wanted to get to know better, which was hard to do in half an hour. Then people who actually wanted to be friends got confused as to why I didn’t eat lunch with them as much anymore. It was very confusing. I table-hopped a lot, trying to fit in with someone the best.

I went to Sno-Isle my junior year, though. That meant I only went to my high school for three class periods. The rest was spent in one classroom. So I became closer to the ones that I rode the bus with and the ones that were in my year-long classes. It was around that time I thought I fit best in the nerd group. At long last! I had found where I belonged!

Or so I thought. The thing with most of my nerdy friends is that they have always been nerds and spent their whole lives doing nerdy things, like playing video games and reading fantasy literature. I didn’t. I read books, but not the ones they did. I didn’t particularly care for video games except Portal, which was probably why I embraced it so tightly. It was the only genuine interest I had that helped me relate to these nerdy, sarcastic boys. They all liked me ok, because I would research what they liked to talk about (i.e. a video game I’d never play) so I could contribute. Besides, out of all the groups I adapted to fit into, I felt most comfortable here. They were sarcastic, but incredibly smart and logical, and that was awesome. As high school boys are, though, they were also incredibly immature and dirty-minded. I didn’t mind at the time.

Senior year was, I think, when I was the strongest and most mature, which kind of goes without saying. In Sno-Isle I always worked with the same group, and I found out that I was always my team’s leader for some reason. I’d always thought of myself as more of a follower, but I’d need to take charge or else nothing would get done. For some reason, these nerdy, sarcastic boys listened to me. If they were really slacking, I would baby them until they straightened out. Or if they were trying their best and hated it, I would empathize, because I felt the same way. That worked with them. My adaptation skills actually came in handy. By the end of the year, we were the group that got the most done, despite our teacher having a brain hemorrhage and being absent the majority of the school year. Of course, I don’t take credit for all of it or anything, because I wasn’t technically the team leader. Another classmate of mine always wanted to be it, because he thought he was good at it. I let him take the title and when he would break under stress and snap at our teammates, I would calm him down and give everyone their jobs according to how much work they’re capable of doing. I hated almost every second of it due to stress and my own procrastination, but I learned a lot about myself and where I fit best.

By the end of the year, I took a step back and looked at all the friends I made. They were all nerdy people, but it’s not like I seeked them out because they were nerds and I was one too. It just happened. I guess it was a nerd group, but it didn’t feel like it. It didn’t even feel like a group. There were at least two groups that would sit next to each other that I hopped back and forth between. Then there were some individuals who would just pop in once a week or so. Almost everyone had other groups of friends that they were closer to who I wouldn’t hang out with. Most of us drifted apart, inevitably. Nobody (with the exception of Hayley) really thought of me as their buddy or close friend. And the feeling was mutual. They were just cool people I liked to talk to, and I really liked it. It was the perfect group. There was no commitment behind it or anything, it was just a casual friendship. I think that’s how high school friends should be, at least for me. It made it a lot less sad when I graduated, let me tell you. The only thing that made me genuinely sad was the fact that my AP Lit class was over.

Then I started wondering if I really was a nerd, because I related to so few. I liked the idea of a nerd being someone who is unironically enthusiastic about something that they care about. But that just makes the athlete a sports-nerd and the girly girl a makeup-nerd. That completely changes the stereotype. I struggled to place what I was.

Finally, I came to the adult conclusion. Adults. Don’t. Care. I don’t know any adults that go around telling people about how much of a nerd they are or how preppy they are. Who cares!? Just be you. It doesn’t need a label attached to it. There’s more important things to do.

It doesn’t matter that I feel the most comfortable around sarcastic adults who are significantly older than me. It doesn’t make me anything, nerd or otherwise. It really doesn’t matter, never did. It only appeared to matter in high school. I’m simply a person. There’s not a specific group I fit perfectly into, there’s just people that I enjoy being around more than others. Those people tend to have similar traits. That’s all.

And one of these days I’ll find someone who likes to discuss books as much as I do. Then my so-called quest will be complete.