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.

Grown Up Realizations: What the Word "Friend" Means

I have understood for a while now that the term “friend” is used pretty casually to spare feelings. It’s much easier to introduce someone as “my friend…” instead of “my acquaintance….” The problem this creates, though, is not knowing what category you honestly fall under, and if the category is mutual. It’s incredibly awkward when you realize someone views you as a close friend, and you feel like you’re only acquaintances, and it can be devastating being in the vise versa situation. I’ve been in both, and I think I’m more empathetic toward the other person now, no matter the situation. I realize now that relationships build gradually, and sometimes one person feels a bond or chemistry that the other doesn’t. That’s more of a high school realization though. That’s not what this is about.

The realization I’ve had more recently is that over time, the definition to the word “friend” changes drastically. I realize that there’s exceptions to everything and everyone’s lives are different. The following is not generally speaking, it’s mostly personal definitions.

Elementary School: Thinking back, I had several “best friends” in elementary school. Who were these girls? The girls in my class that accepted the request to play with me. If I played games with them enough times in a row, they were a friend. If I played games with them consistently for a whole school year or more...BOOM! Best friends. Boys were not included, not at first anyway, because boys were weird.

We didn’t talk about anything in our personal lives. I couldn’t have told you ten facts about these girls. Meeting some of them again in high school was mostly nostalgic. Quickly we both realized by then that the friendship was based on nothing more than extended communication and meaningless elementary school games. But that’s ok, because that’s how friends were supposed to be for the most part.

In elementary school I developed a basic understanding of what good friends did and what bad friends did. Good friends played with me no matter what, even if they thought the game was stupid. Good friends shared their dessert and traded lunches. Bad friends ignored me when I talked to them. Bad friends ditched me for someone else.

Even in late elementary school, my definition had changed a little bit. I actually had conversations with the girls I knew. We mostly talked about boys though. Boys were included in the friend circle, even though they were still mostly weird in my opinion. I think I only included the ones that had crushes on me. I never noticed that before, but it’s totally true. If a boy called me pretty (either through a note or a mutual friend because no one ever did these things face to face) then I immediately started hanging out with them at recess. Who else did I talk about with the girls? By sixth grade, good friends let you rant about cute boys, and bad friends told the cute boys you were talking about them.

Middle school: Sometimes friends are grandfathered in from elementary school so the relationship can continue to grow. A lot aren’t.

My friends in middle school were the ones I had classes with and ate lunch with. They had to be as immature I was, or else they were boring to me. I don’t know about anyone else, but laughing became a very important part of my friendships during that time. If I couldn’t laugh with a person, they were not my friend. And I laughed a lot in middle school. I blushed a lot too, actually.

In middle school, the conversations were (slightly) less about boys and more about school and how much it sucked. We talked more about our unique interests. I didn’t have any. I was interested in whatever I thought would make me cool. We mostly talked about homework, and what we did on the weekends. The friendships back then meant a little bit more, because association outside of school was more common amongst students.

I learned more about good and bad friends. Good friends didn’t tell me I was blushing (I know I’m blushing!). Good friends saw past the incredibly ugly pink, sparkly coat that I wore to school every single day that was filthy because I didn’t know coats could be washed. Oh, boys were more included my friend circle. Good boy friends had to be cute or funny, to me. Otherwise I didn’t pay attention. Wasn’t I nice?

High school: This is when everything changed. Not for me, for everyone. Suddenly, good friends could become a lot closer since problems encountered in high school could potentially be quite serious and stressful. This is when the line between acquaintances and friends became much clearer. There were a lot of people I knew all throughout middle and high school that I never considered close friends. “School friends” is what I called them. Those were classmates that I had classes with and I liked being around and talking to, but I really knew nothing about. Actually knowing the person became important in high school. Common interests were important in order to have anything to talk about.

Conversations could be about almost anything. I stopped talking about boys because I didn’t date whilst in school, so there’d be no point. Boy talks were only to pressure girls to date the boy in the conversation. My conversations were mostly with boys by junior year, because I realized I was most myself talking with them. It was weird, actually, I had a hard time having real conversations with girls. I knew they were out there, I just couldn’t find very many. I think I can name three girls now that I could regularly have somewhat serious conversations with in high school. That means we didn’t talk about ourselves, or complain, or mention anything about clothes or makeup. Our conversations were past small talk.

The things I learned about good friends in high school were mostly things I had to learn personally, not traits my good school friends already had. But they’re still important. Good friends listened and gave advice when necessary. Good friends were the voice of reason, but only when needed. Good friends were honest, yet tactful. Bad friends spread rumors. Bad friends didn’t have anything good to say about anything I did. So, pretty much, high school was when I learned the basic definition of an adult friend. Someone who’s meant to stick around, not just someone I would hang out with during school hours.

Adulthood: This is the definition that probably takes almost an entire lifetime to figure out, because it’s impossible to describe with words.

I can’t put traits in this section, because I haven’t figured out yet. But these are the friends that stick “closer than a brother,” according to Proverbs. These are the friendships that take years to develop. I haven’t lived long enough to determine my definition. I do know, though, that a good friend in adulthood is supposed to go through bad times with me, or something like that. Conversations can be deeply personal, or even confidential, but also light hearted and funny. Close friends are supposed to see me vulnerable at some point. This must be why a lot of people consider their parents or their spouse as their closest friend. Parents and spouses see everything, but stick around. Parents are obligated to care for a child, but not to be friends with them, necessarily.

There are people in my life now that I feel very close to, so maybe these are the best friends that everyone talks about. But I can’t know that right now. I need to grow up more first.

Now, though, I understand why best friends are rare. Because sometimes no one sticks around. That’s sad to me, but it’s on a long list of things I can’t do anything about, so I try not to think about it.

I think the only reason I’m thinking deeply about this is because I went to a funeral today. It was huge and very crowded. Everyone there cared about the person that died, obviously. But I wonder how many of the people there he would have considered to be his very close friends. I wonder if he’d be surprised by how many people came.

Sometimes I think people forget how many friends they have, because sometimes you don’t know until you need one. Then again, though, is someone really a friend if they only show they care when you’re in distress? Is someone really a good friend if they only care after you’re gone?

I don’t know. There’s so many things I have yet to find out. It’s almost as if I have to wait for something bad to happen to me, and see who shows up. I hope to look back on this post in a couple decades and see if I’ve found the answer.

Grown Up Realizations: Lasting Impressions

Once upon a time, a girl was mean to me. I don’t remember how or why, and I retaliated because I didn’t know any better, but I only remember being a victim. This was in elementary school. When I think of this girl, all I can think of is how mean she was. That’s my lasting impression of her that will not go away unless we meet again, which we likely won’t. I’m sure that this girl is very mature now, considering that she’s an adult like me. I’m sure she’s not mean anymore. But I still have the lingering impression of her that has stayed with me from elementary school. People that were rude or arrogant because they were seven, are still rude and arrogant in my mind, even though they likely aren’t anymore. They left an impression of themselves in my brain, something that won’t diminish. It fades with time, but never disappears unless I completely forget the person or my impression has a reason to change.

If I see a person I went to elementary school with walking down the street that I didn’t like, negativity is all I can think of. Then, if I see a person that I went to elementary school with that I really did like, I’m excited and want to talk to them. I realize now that they probably have no idea who I am anymore, because the impression I have is only based off of something they did once many years ago that they no longer remember.

Maybe this is just a girl thing or something. Or maybe it’s just a “me” thing. All I know is, I never remember a physical person, I remember what I felt when I was around them and how they treated me and who I think that person is. I think that’s how everyone is...I desperately hope so. Actually, never mind. I desperately hope that I’m just the crazy one, because if I’m not then I’ve been unknowingly leaving first impressions in people’s mind that I have no way of knowing about or changing.

Making a good last impression used to be a big deal to me. Since I was friends with quite a few guys in high school, I usually had zero indication of what their lasting impression of me would be. That fact used to really bother me. I don’t know why, but I think it’s because I knew that I would remember the things they said and did for quite a while, and I didn’t want to be quickly forgotten. This had me believe that guys didn’t have lasting impressions of anybody, which I considered to be a wonderful thing. I felt like an emotional girl that had the desperate need to tell her guy friends that she was going to miss them, while very few of them returned the favor. It doesn’t bother me anymore though, because I know now that being friends with girls in high school is just as confusing in regards to last impressions. High school girls tell you what they think of you, but half the time they’re lying. They’re the ones that write “let’s hang out” in your yearbook, with no intention of doing so. So the girls that seemed to like me in high school don’t make eye contact now, and the girls that I barely talked to run up to me in the supermarket. Really, then, I’m left just as uninformed with the girl’s lasting impression of me as I am with the guy’s. Sometimes I wish that the girls that barely knew me would just do the “what’s up?” nod that I get from high school boys instead of faux enthusiasm that I have to reciprocate in order to be polite.

Considering I’ve heard men and women talk about the people that made positive lasting impressions, I think that high school boys simply didn’t want to get sentimental over high school ending, and high school girls thought they were supposed to get sentimental over high school ending. The truth was, both parties were going to remember certain people for the positive or negative impact they had on them.

However, I still wondered about the impressions that I was leaving behind. This was why yearbooks were a big deal to me. My signature was my lasting impression. It had to be a good one. Around spring break, I would plan out what I was going to say in everyone’s yearbook. It couldn’t just be my name and a smiley face. It had to represent me and how I would miss that person without getting too mushy or creepy. It had to be specific. I never said “let’s hang out” because I knew I wouldn’t be able to follow through (although I may be wrong. I don’t remember now).

Some friends were easy to write for, but others (usually the guys) were more difficult because I wanted to be meaningful without giving them the wrong idea. They thought I was weird when they read my signatures, but I hoped that down the line, it would bring back pleasant memories.

I also knew I’d be signing the yearbooks of people I barely knew or didn’t particularly care for. I determined who those people would be and what I would say without pretending we were amazing friends or being completely dismissive. So when someone asked me to sign their yearbook that I didn’t anticipate, it totally threw me off. Yeah, I’m the crazy one.

It’s funny now, because I have no idea what I said in anyone’s yearbook at this point. There are some that I think I was too meaningful in, and those where I was dismissive when I shouldn’t have been. I do remember the gist of what I was going to say in a couple yearbooks I never got to sign, because those were lasting impressions I never got to make. Now I’m stuck wondering, like most people I guess.

At the same time, though, do I really want to know? If I wasn’t ignorant, I’d probably just be disappointed. Sure, there may be a couple pleasant surprises, but that wouldn’t make up for all the people that have forgotten me. I mean, I can’t expect people to remember me for that long. I’m not memorable, most people aren’t. Close friends and role models are memorable, but people are just people.

This reminds me of a time during sophomore year, when I saw a guy outside of school who just looked at me and said, “Hey, I know you!” I had absolutely no idea who he was. We had no classes together. He said he recognized me from the hall. I found out later we had a mutual friend as well, but I still was surprised. This was before I had acquired my Portal hoodie (the usual reason why people at school would recognize me), so I didn’t know why he remembered me. I almost felt bad I didn’t recognize him, even though I shouldn’t have. I doubt that I left a lasting impression in this guy’s mind or anything, but it still makes the point that sometimes the impressions aren’t mutual, and that’s to be expected.

All that I can do, then, is hope to be remembered. However, I matured a lot in high school. Maybe I should hope to be forgotten, because the person I am now is a lot different than the person I was four years ago. And by “different” I mean “immature” and “annoying.” Most everyone else was the same in their freshman year though, so I guess that doesn’t matter much. I guess I shouldn’t hope for anything, because the first and last impression someone has of me is something I can’t change. It is the way it is.

I’ll probably just be remembered as that nerd who liked Portal and talked too much. Hey, that’s accurate enough for me!

Graduation: It Happened, Move On

Graduation isn’t the end, it’s the beginning. I’ve heard and contemplated this so many times, that the meaning was lost. By the time it was almost graduation time, that phrase still circled my head, but it never really hit me until afterward.

As noted by my other post regarding senior year, I was already determined not to become too nostalgic or sentimental at the end of the year, and I succeeded. Sure, signing everyone’s yearbook was a little sad, especially for the people I literally had no way of contacting after the year was over, but I got over it. I actually felt sympathy for the couple friends I had that were taking graduation much too seriously. They were almost lamenting over the fact they may not see me again, and even got angry when I wasn’t sad. This was noted in my previous senior post, but it bears repeating since this irritation got a lot worse as the school year came to a close.

Another great thing about graduating is the production of good cake.

Overall, I was immensely excited and really wanted to get out. Although I love my friends and all my classes this year (most of the time), as the day grew closer, I became more antsy, as did everyone else. The hallway discussions of seniors often included the statement, “I just want to get out of here” which may or may not have had some obscenities interjected in there. We were all anxious, we were all in anticipation. Some of us were excited. 

I asked a lot of my friends if they were excited, before and immediately after graduation. Most of the girls said yes, most of the guys said no. I found this interesting. Excitement must only happen amongst the male gender when they kill everyone in their path during a video game. I’ve seen it. When I observe the guys playing Halo, it’s very loud and very hilarious watching them get mad for someone killing them, even though that’s the point of the game. Graduation produced more of a “meh” response. Most of the ones I talked to just wanted to get out. Even graduation produces different emotions between boys and girls, and no I will not refer to our demographic as men and women. We are legally men and women. Nothing in our minds and words imply anything of the sort.

Because the schedules were different practically every day, I must have said goodbye to my friends at least five times. I was always skeptical as to whether I would ever see them again, but I usually did anyway. But that was ok. The guys I hung out with were tolerant of my slight (slight) sentimentality and my insistence on writing more than just my name in their yearbook.

Oh..and presents! Graduating means getting presents!

The crossover assembly was very nice, and not as sad as I expected. My picture appeared only once in the Senior Slideshow (thank goodness). It was the day of my last serpentine and  I was being silly, and I’m usually not silly in pictures. It was weird seeing, because I hadn’t seen the picture since it was taken. My friend took the picture, and she submitted it. Still, it was a nice slideshow. The baby and primary school pictures were all very cute.

What was funny about the assembly that I particularly wanted to note was how they kept going on about how “special” this senior class was because we were the first freshmen in 25 years, and we get to witness this huge remodel of the school, and we won “Most School Spirited” two years in a row. That made me curious. What do they say to the other senior classes? Are all of them really all that great? But that’s the only thing that really stuck with me from the assembly, even though I’m supposed to remember this year of my life for a long time. I won’t. I’ll remember stress, mistakes, and maybe some friends I had. And the stabbing. That’s it. 

On the last day of my AP Lit class, it hit me that I wasn’t going to have this class anymore. It would be much more difficult to find people who enjoy Crime and Punishment as much as I do. Sure, I could friend my teacher on Facebook, but that isn’t the same. I know very few people who have read the books I have, and I don’t want that to sound conceited. I long to find those people! I want to start a Classic Literature book club but I have neither time nor the willing people. Usually, when I discuss the books I read, I either get people who have heard of it but haven’t read it or I get the look that screams “You read that?!” Only in my AP Lit class could I extensively analyze Brave New World (review here) and have people really listen to it. So, what saddened me most about leaving the class was not the fact the class was over, but now I had to make an effort to find people with similar interests. My close friends will gladly listen to me ramble on about the parallel between Lazarus and Raskolnikov. But that’s not really a discussion. But I’m over that now. I just hope that being away from AP Lit doesn't influence me to stop reading these types of books. 

The last day of school (which, for seniors, consisted of the crossover assembly, acquiring graduation tickets and going home) was full of last minute yearbook signing, hugs, and laughs and anticipation. Everyone looked happy, even though we were leaving. I suppose, technically, there was still the Senior Breakfast and the Senior Picnic, but I didn’t want to go to either of those. I had already said goodbye and had my closure, and I didn’t see any reason to make the goodbyes any harder. Besides, the Senior Picnic was at a water park, and I suspected it was going to rain that day. It did.

Graduation was almost unreal. Nothing spectacular happened, but it was weird being in a place that seemed so far off for so long. I got my diploma and blah blah blah. I said some last minute goodbyes to people and was so exhausted by that point, I wasn’t even excited anymore. I wanted to get out of there, and fast. So I came home and fell asleep until 8 or 9 at night. I didn’t eat dinner or anything. My body was almost at collapsing point and I was pretty grouchy. I feel bad now, because my parents were proud of me and wanted to go out to dinner, but I was exhausted and irritated, that I didn’t want to do anything at all. We settled for KFC. I wonder how I’ll be on my wedding day. I wonder if I’ll be so tired by the reception that I wouldn’t want to dance with my new husband and just want to sleep on the floor until everyone went home.

Now, I have way too much free time to know what to do with. I have yet to find a job, and have yet to obtain my license, and I can’t really start my life until I have both of those things. But until now, I had forgotten how long the days are and how slow time goes when you have nothing to do. I was hoping to get some more reading done…but I’ve been too lethargic to do anything. I’m still in the process of reading six or so books. My main goal is to finish Fahrenheit 451. This, I think, will be my last dystopian book that I read. They’re all the same. The main ones that were considered original in the era they were written are 1984, Brave New World, and Fahrenheit 451. After that, dystopian novels are predictable and cliché. If there’s one I’m missing, let me know. But those three are the ones everyone talks about. I got many books as graduation presents, so I should be set for a while, in regards to reading. But I can never keep away. I checked out more books today and I had to use my mom’s card because mine has been blocked for a while now. I have yet to read the books I checked out on my card, but I think I’ll return them anyway. Mystery isn’t really my thing, although the Agatha Christie book I did read was very good. Just not C&P good. Besides, I want to read The Jungle next.

My high school experience hasn’t been a very significant one in regards to my peers. Frankly, I wasn’t popular enough to be remembered by a lot of people, and I doubt I’ll remember a lot of the friends I had after several years. All I’ll know is that I embraced nerdiness, and surrounded myself with nerdy people (mostly guys) when I was a senior. By that time though, I’ll probably mush junior and senior year together. I’ll probably remember all the stupid things I did, and not enough of the cool things I did. I might remember that I refused to act fully silly and weird around anyone but Hayley, because I have always had this phobia (yes, an irrational fear) of looking stupid around people smarter/cooler/better than me. I considered most of my friends cooler than me. And many of them were smarter than me because they had embraced nerdiness long before I had. I’ll probably remember how I hated sitting in the back of the Sno-Isle bus, and how stressful Sno-Isle was my senior year. But these nostalgic moments (especially after I’m pretty much settled down) will more than likely be few and far between. High school is supposed to be a faded memory because there’s so much you have to do after graduation. Being well known in high school doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll become your definition of “successful” when you’re older. Vice versa applies as well. Saying you went to high school with a celebrity isn’t as cool as it sounds because, chances are, you hardly remember them at all.

Of course, I want everyone I went to high school with (including those who have yet to graduate) to have happy lives. Just, please don’t take it personally if I unfriend you on Facebook after a couple months or years. You probably wouldn’t remember me if we weren’t friends of Facebook, and there’s really no reason to remember me anyway. You have better things to think about than high school, and as do I. So please, do not think I’m doing this because you have offended me in some way or I think you are no longer suitable for friendship of the Facebook kind. I am only moving on from the past, as you should be.

Best wishes.

It's Been A Good Run

Our family is taking a break from Arabic. We're going back to a close-by English Kingdom Hall now. It's just been getting to expensive. Taking a forty minute drive three times a week was too much. But it's been a good four years.

Our last meeting in our previous hall was on Tuesday. We didn't make a big announcement or anything, we just went around and told our friends. News spread quickly. It wasn't announced from the platform and there was no party by request. It's better that way. Everyone said they would miss us, and the feeling was very mutual. In the car on the drive to the meeting, I was actually excited to be going back to English. But as soon as my dad said our last meeting was that night, that changed. I still believe this is the best decision, as do our friends and the rest of the family. My excitement, though, turned to sadness. I didn't cry, but there was a tightness in my chest the whole meeting. I was eager to spread the news, but at the same time I didn't want to. I just wanted to hug all my friends without them knowing I wasn't coming back for awhile and let them know how well they were doing. Then vanish.

That, of course, didn't happen. I only told three people directly, I was approached by most everyone else in the group. I think there's a couple people that weren't told because they weren't at the meeting that night or they left too early. Hopefully those people got the goodbye email my dad sent out. I'm sure they'll figure it out. Any people missing from the Arabic group is noticed.

Anyway, it was an interesting goodbye. It was sad, but it was also full of smiles. People understood why we were taking a break from Arabic. I'm trying really hard not to say "leaving" because we aren't leaving at all. If we can afford to go to the conventions in the summer, then we will. We'll definitely visit. And we could come back, we just don't know. Finally, we had to walk out the door. I walked extra slow, trying to take it all in. We were at that hall for a year, and it was an amazing year. The door closed. We left the parking lot. And that was that.

Taking Arabic was so good for us. We've met friends that we'll forever have. We've expanded our ministry. We were able to travel more as a family. Those accomplishments will never be regretted. It's amazing how learning this language has changed all of us. I've been slowly (very slowly) maturing around adults who care enough to tell me when to shut up, and when I've said the wrong thing. There's too many people that are my age who literally have no one to guide them through life. I know that my parents are excellent at guiding me, but you can never have too many role models, right? Hopefully when I visit, they'll be able to see the "Adult Me." Because, let's face it, everyone's seen enough of "Teen Me."

Our first English meeting was today. My two closest friends are there, and it was glorious knowing that I'll see them on a regular basis once again. Also, there's girls my age in this hall, which will be nice considering I spend a lot of time with guys at school. I mean, sometimes I just want to talk about hair. It was a happy new beginning.

Learning Arabic was the best decision our family has ever made. It's just time to move on for now. The group will never leave our hearts or minds, and we will keep in touch. We love them after all.

May Jehovah continue to bless them.

Senior Year: First Month-ish

All right, I admit. The only reason I've been blogging for three days in a row is because I'm sick and have nothing else to do. Surprisingly, TV does get boring after awhile. But here is an update on school so far (stuff I didn't mention on my other post).

First of all, I got an A- on my summer assignment!! Woot! I am so proud of myself because I worked really hard on it. I love AP Lit so much. It's my favorite class this year. Sorry, Sno-Isle. It's been a good run, but constantly working in groups is not really my thing. We can still be friends though, right? Sno-Isle?

Oh well. Today I learned that our project in Sno-Isle is due Monday, which is a huge relief. My group didn't make much progress today. In all honesty though, it's not like I'm the shining beacon of responsibility and I always get things done. Today would have been a slack-off day, especially since Snohomish leaves early. An hour early to be exact. The important thing is that we finish, and I'm fairly certain we will. Come on, though, it's only the second project of the year, I'm sure we'll get better. No, my teacher (Tory) is not the type to force us to stay in one group all year, I choose to stay with them. Why? Well, it's definitely not their work ethic. Haha. I stay with them because I would get bored rather quickly if all we did was work. When I get a real job, sarcasm will probably be scarce, so I'm savoring it while I can. If you ask them why they're staying in the group, though, I honestly have no idea what they'll say. It's not because of me, I know that. Actually, if any one of us left the group, none of us would stop them. I mean, they're a bunch of guys and that means it's all logic and no emotion. I might miss them if they leave the group, but I'm the emotion. Just ask, they'll tell you. So I think it's the whole group that makes everyone stick together. Wow, that sounds incredibly cheesy, but what other reason is there? None of them are reading this (probably) and they aren't about to stop me randomly and say "Let me tell you all the things that make this group so amazing and why we haven't abandoned you." That's my job. I constantly tell them how great they're doing. Or how not so great they're doing. I don't know why, because it's not like it helps them any. But as team leader I'd feel weird if I was "that team leader" who constantly told everyone how bad they were doing and that all the work they did wasn't good enough. But I also don't want to be "that team leader" who literally sits there silently without giving any instruction. Wait...I've actually done that. But that was because of my cold and I was incredibly exhausted. I know, I know, I'm making excuses, but I seriously don't want to do that again. I've discovered that if I'm not working, they don't progress as well, just because it is a group effort after all.

The nice thing about working with guys in this age group is that none of them start bugging me about not working unless they're teasing me. Trust me, I've heard some girls (including me) get really mad about that one person on their group who didn't do anything. Heck, I've ranted about this group to my friends. But after working with them for a little bit, I realized that none of them actually want to fail. None of them actually like seeing me flip out on them either (which I have done three or four times. Not recently though). There have been people who enjoy seeing me flip out. If these guys were like that, I would dislike them all. Me being mad is amusing (because it's so unlike me), but they aren't trying to make me mad, which I appreciate. It's not just any group after all. It's my group.

Ok, now I'm sounding to much like a mom (that happens quite often, no joke) so I'm going try not to think about the last day of senior year when it hits me I'll never see them again. I'm dreading that day. I'm not going to cry, that's a fact. First of all, I've never cried at school before (except in 4th grade when I had a really bad ear infection). Secondly, a lot of my friends are guys, and not only do none of them want to see me get emotional, but they aren't going to be emotional. Nothing. Zilch. I'm starting to see why so many romantic relationships don't work out in high school because girls don't realize that just because guys don't act as happy as the girl does in the relationship, it doesn't mean the guy doesn't care. Boys and girls are different. But I have girlish tendencies too. Somewhere in the back of my head are my emotions telling me that if a guy friend doesn't scream "I'll miss you!" on the brink of tears directly to me, then maybe he doesn't actually care. Of course that isn't true. But those are consistent thoughts that go through my head on the last day of school. "Are they going to miss me at all?" And if they say they'll miss me, that never works because they have to be all emotional about, like we're dating or something. Realistically, if one of them did do that to me, it'd be weird and awkward and I'd question our relationship throughout the year (we were just friends, right?).

Sometimes I hate being a girl that loves people so much. It takes me longer to get over things. So I'll have to force myself to not keep in contact with any of my friends (except Hayley and a couple exceptions) because if I don't the "drifting apart" will take too long, which always makes it worse. It's high school. You're supposed to make friends you'll never see again. But imagine if we were launched into a workplace right away and had never had a close friend before. We would either make the wrong ones because we don't know what we like, or isolate ourselves and be lonely the rest of our lives. I'm pathetic, I know. I've already started planning out what I want to say in other people's yearbooks. It's the first month of school.

"And here on the left, you'll see First Street, the home of our popular antique shops and shows. Wait...what's that? Oh, it's Michaela being nostalgic again. GO HOME!"

 "But...but I don't want to! I'll never see them again!"

"You graduated twenty years ago! Get off the street corner! You look ridiculous."

"I want to go back! Let me go back!"

"Oh no. Quick! Someone grab the time machine before she gets to it first!"

See, it's funny because we don't have tour guides in Snohomish. The town is much too small and boring. But I still love this town, and this state for that matter. What can I say, I'm a sucker for rain. But I'll blog about rain later. That post will be much shorter, I promise.

Wait..I just realized this was supposed to be about school. I get on the topic of Sno-Isle and it all goes haywire. Great.

"Hello. My name is Michaela...and I am nostalgic..."

"Hi Michaela..."

I should consider joining NA (Nostalgics Anonymous). There's quite a confusion because NA already stands for Not Applicable. Not many people know about it.

Anyway, I need to leave before I become a hot nostalgic mess and this blog post becomes really long.

Oh wait...

Senior Year: First day

No, I'm not going to do a day by day analysis of senior year. But I think that one day I might want to look back on this and wonder what I did on the first day of senior year. So here it goes.

First of all, I strained my throat before I even got on the bus to go to Sno-Isle. I had coffee that morning, which doesn't affect me as much as it used to, but with all the excitement added to the caffeine, I was really hyper. The morning was full of hugs and story-telling. I don't think there's a single person I said hi to that I didn't hug. I was screaming so many people's names, I was so excited. Another reason I was happy was because I had switched buses. My old bus changed routes, so now I ride a much less crowded bus. There's someone I know too, so I found someone to sit next to.

Unfortunately, my Sno-Isle bus driver changed. I liked my old one, and I really wanted to know how her summer was. But that's ok. Anyway, everyone piled onto the first bus, which was crammed and really hot due to all the body heat. One of the people who make sure everyone gets to Sno-Isle told us that the second bus was on its way. Me and several other people I knew got off and all sat together on the second bus.

The bus ride was more nostalgic than anything. The conversation was mostly video-game related, and since I only play Portal 2 (and I haven't in a long time because I've been so busy) I was uninterested. I did talk a little bit though. It's unlike a caffeinated me to be quiet for two seconds.

Then we reached Sno-Isle. Ahh, Sno-Isle. My old classroom was transferred into the DigiPen class, and the DigiPen classroom was turned into the math support room. I thought it would be saddening, but it wasn't really. I have some regrets about taking Computer and Web Programming. I have nothing against the people in my class who might be reading this (all three of you), but I didn't learn anything in that class at all. It was all pointless field trips and talking about nothing. If I hadn't taken Sno-Isle at all, I probably would have learned more. Anyway, that's a whole other rant that I shouldn't get into while my former Sno-Isle classmates are reading.

One benefit of taking CWP, I guess, was the fact that I already knew someone in the class from last year. Well, I knew three in total, but the other two people were from my school, so of course I'd know them. So I sat next to the former classmate, who immediately began helping everyone. If someone turns around and asks aloud, "How do you do this?" then he will usually jump on it. Unless he's listening to music. Or talking to someone he likes better.

CSN (Computer Servers/Networking) sounds like it will be very beneficial. We took a pre-test to see how much we know. I failed miserably (35%), which is good, because I want to learn all that terminology. I'm really looking forward to it. I was the only girl in the class, but there's supposed to be two more. I hope so. Even though I enjoy talking with guys, I occasionally desire some estrogen. Sometimes I want to talk about my hair, or someone's cute outfit. I'm hoping the girls aren't complete nerds who don't care about anything girly. I'd miss talking about that eventually.

By lunchtime my throat was dry and strained, and I was really hot. My friends ate outside but everyone was kinda uncomfortable from the heat. But I discovered something. I make good pumpkin cheesecake. The two people (and me) that tried it really liked it. I wanted to share it with more people, but I think it will be hard to transfer. I'm thinking I'll made it and bring a few slices worth, and then give it to some friends. So that was a success. Now I want to open a bake shop. Ha, ha. Yeah right. Computers before cookies. And writing before w-...um...what's a dessert that starts with W? Whipped cream? Ok, writing before whipping. Wait...that doesn't sound like a reference to baking.

Let's move on. Government was fine. My teacher is one that most kids don't like, but if you get on his good side, then you'll be fine. I'm not so sure about me. This is a political class (the one I didn't want). I'm politically neutral. This might cause problems with assignments later. But I'll just bring it to his attention ASAP and hopefully I won't fail.

AP Literature and Composition was really funny, mostly because of the Alpacas in the hallway. That's right, alpacas. Don't ask. Animal science needed them for some reason. The entire hallway of E building (the newest extension to D building) smelled like a barn. The two fluffy Alpacas were literally five feet or so from my English classroom. My teacher had the door open, and when he started introducing himself, one of them would go "Mehhh." It was hilarious. The funniest part was that they kept making that noise every time my teacher finished his sentence. The Alpacas were like punctuation.

Modern Fiction was the only class with my friend Hayley (see other blog posts for references to her), but she decided to switch out after today. We read books with adult content, and she didn't feel comfortable reading a book with a child rape in it. That's ok though. I'll see her in the mornings (if her bus isn't late like it was today) and at Friday lunch. And I'll call her all the time.

And then came the assembly. The "Class of 2012" in uncovered (literally) and all the seniors scream their hearts out. That was fun too. But I still did not do the dance the cheerleaders did. But the guys in the first three rows of our section took care of that. I should have filmed it, but my phone had gum on it (don't ask about that either). Then there was the unnecessary school spirit stuff. And the principal told everyone to vote so our class wins the "Most School Spirit" award. Yeah..I'm not doing that. I will gladly scream because I am proud to be a senior. But I will not act like my school is better than everyone elses, because it isn't. That's my least favorite thing about school.

Anyway, overall I had a really good day and I'm glad to be back in school. I probably won't be saying that for long, but as of right now, I don't care.

SENIORS FTW!

Could someone please stop time? I'd like to get off.

As people ask me what grade I'm going to be in next year, I consistently tell them I'm going to be a senior. Then it just suddenly hit me that I'm going to be a senior.

Excuse me? Wasn't I just entering middle school a week ago? Wasn't I a 13-year-old who thought everything revolved around her and that she was so awesome just yesterday? Wait, wait. Slow down!! I'm in the prime in life! Adults constantly tell me to savor it because it won't last forever, and I tried. But I failed. Mostly because I thought "savoring" meant to spend endless hours on YouTube and not do homework until the morning it was due.

How am I supposed to savor life when time passes so quickly?

We've all heard this story. Every time we hear it, we might think "Yeah, you're right. I'm going to live life to the fullest and be all I can be! I'm going to learn an instrument, a foriegn language, and make more friends!" But then, of course, we have other things to think about. Everyone, even the guy with no arms and legs who gives speeches at schools, takes life for granted. No matter how often we're told not to, it's impossible to constantly think about every blessing we have. If we did that, we'd never get anything done.

So, what can we do? I say, take time to "count your blessings" every once in awhile. It's good to think about how good we have it. Try not to think about how people who are starving think we have it worse off because they talk to their families every day and appreciate life more. Try not to think about how no matter how good you are at something, there's always someone better than you. Try not to..ok, maybe this isn't the best thing to do.

Maybe we should focus on making good memories instead. Because everyone smiles sometimes, no matter the circumstances. Even emos smile, or did smile, at one point. Just, um, try not to get Alzheimer's Disease and forget it all. Wait..ok...this isn't working.

Never mind, forget it. No matter what I say, you'll complain. You'll complain a lot. You know what? I will too. I feel like it's my responsibility to complain, especially being a woman and all. This won't make time move any slower, but it's better than crying over how good I have it.

So let's do it! Let's all complain our hearts out and procrastinate like there's always a tomorrow! Time will thank us! Maybe.

Look Squidward, Money!

All I think about at a time like this is Spongebob. How sad is that?

This week I started my first real job. Minus the tax deduction. I still think it counts because it isn't for family or anything. It's for my parents' massage therapist. What I have to do is record financial information in a program called Quickbook...or Quicknote. Something like that. It's pretty simple, I only work a couple times a wekk for about an hour or so, and I get paid eight bucks an hour. And when you're my age without a car, that's a lot. I mean, I feel like I'll start bragging after awhile.

"No please, allow me to pay for your coffee."

On the first real day of the job, I had a pretty good day. Despite the fact people seem to never look for pedestrians anymore. It's really irritating. But, I walked down to this little coffee place that's connected to Snohomish Fitness and ordered an Italian Soda. If you've never had one, they are amazing. So I started talking to the cashier about my job. Hey, cut me some slack, I was bursting with excitement. It's like when you find out you're pregnant and you want to tell everyone you see that you're going to have a baby. Not that I've been pregnant before. I'm starting to regret this analogy. Anyway.

I'm going on about my job and when the cashier hands me my drink she says, "It's on me, congrats on your new job." Double score for that. I mean, first day on my first real job and I don't have to pay for my Italian Soda?? What's next? Raining chocolate?

"Chocolate is falling from the sky! It is getting in my eye! Time for some more chocolate pie! My oh my oh my oh...my...."

After a long week (not really, I started on Tuesday and only worked for five minutes on Thursday) I arrive at my job to get my paycheck. My paycheck. Paycheck. This is all new to me. I didn't think I'd be saying these things until I was at least eighteen. Actually, I thought I was going to get paid in cash, but then she prints a check and signs it.

"This is a real check? That I deposit? And I can spend? What do I do?!"

With the lovely features on the internet I was able to deposit it online.

"That's the total in my checking account? Really? What do I do now?!"

This means I have even more things to ramble on about. I can't ramble on about how much I hate work, but these things are, but are not limited to:

• Things I See Walking to Work
• How Much I HATE it When People Don't Look Before I Cross the Street
• Interesting Coffee Shop Experiences
• How Many Times I Almost Get Hit By a Car
• Paychecks
• How Stupid People Are for Not Looking for Pedestrians
• How Many Hours I Worked That Week
• People That Have to Slam on Their Breaks in the Middle of the Intersection Because They Didn't See Me and How Much I Hate That

And so it goes. You may see a recurring theme here. We all make mistakes, yes. But seriously, watch for people crossing the street.

Because how can I try to sound more important than I am by saying I have a job when you hit me with your car? Now, that would just ruin everyone's weekend.

Congratulations! Your Nerdy Points Have Been Increased by 10%

When I tell people I'm a geek and/or nerd (yes, there is a difference), they won't believe me unless I was previously talking about something computer or Star Wars related. Now I have a badge of nerdiness plastered on my face: glasses.

Most teenagers I encountered when I announced when I was getting glasses were pretty happy for me, like I was. Glasses are cool, and now I'll finally be able to see properly. However, most adults I told felt sorry for me. When I told them I was excited to get them, they looked at me and said, "Why?" And to that I answer, "Why not?"

I tend to like physical change. Not bad change, like getting leprosy or having a giant burn on my face. Just interesting change. Like, if my eye color decided to change on me or if I were to get my hair chopped off, I'd be pretty excited. The only exception is braces, because braces cause much physical pain and get in the way more often than not. And though I really like my long hair, if it were to get cut short again like it is in my current profile picture, I wouldn't be that upset. It's kind of hard to explain why I was so excited to get glasses, but I was. Trying to explain this is like explaining why I watched the entire game of Portal 2 on YouTube before actually playing the whole thing myself. I just like things that way. Don't judge. ;)

Anyway, first impressions are good. They are bent way over my ears, like at a ninety-degree angle pretty much, which is a little weird, but whatever. They aren't supposed to come off easy anyway. I still can't get over how I look in them, but considering it's only been about twenty minutes since I got them, that feeling should pass soon. It's almost overwhelming how everything looks now. When I first put them on I thought, "So this is what everything's supposed to look like!" I was pretty giddy. Until I saw myself in the mirror, then I thought "Wow...I look...different." I think they look good, just different.

So far so good. Want to see what I look like in them? No? Then don't scroll down.

I look more like a librarian. Or a geek. Both are good things.

There I am. The new me. Or something like that.

Summer Time! ...Almost

I am having a hard time believing that the school year is coming to its end. Usually, this wouldn't be a big deal, but the fact that so many of my friends are seniors and that I'm graduating next year kind of makes it a deal of the big kind.

But first on the agenda of summer related activities is: Sun! Yes, the sun is out! The big yellow ball in the sky is paying Washington a visit. For how long? About four days. That's about as good as it gets over here. Lack of sun pretty much ruins any summer plans I have. True, many of my summer plans involve TV, the Internet, and talking on the phone, but it'd be much nicer to look out the window and comment on the gorgeous day outside while I'm browsing YouTube. Although, I wouldn't mind sitting outside reading once in awhile.

It's actually interesting to sit and remember how I viewed summer when I was still in elementary school. Back then, school lacked much homework, and I actually had fun there. Summer was always viewed with high hopes because it involved spending time with good friends of mine. A couple weeks before school ended, I'd be spending my free-time calling up these friends, making plans to spend the night at their house or something along those lines. I would think "How many sleepovers can I go to this year?" about every June.

Then things changed, as they always do, around middle school. My mindset didn't change, but my friends did. They became busier with life and didn't have time to have me over as much. I used to think that I was the one left behind, but I realize that I had become busy too. It was around this time I took up learning another language and had dedicated more and more time to that. There was still a desire to spend time with friends burning in my head, and I would sometimes. There may be one sleepover. That should have been enough. But I was disappointed, nonetheless.

High school is where my viewpoint on life changes the most. And even though this happened early in high school, I'll be lectured if I write in past tense, so I won't. These are the years that actually matter. These are the years that actually will help me acquire skills for future jobs. This means a lot of work. Hence, summer is always too far away. Even at the end of the year, when summer is less than a month away, all people can talk about is how it should start tomorrow. The end of the year is when all the final projects and exams are, so even though summer gets closer by the day, so does stress. Everyone (well, seniors mostly) are concerned about getting their grades up. I've even seen people concerned about grades when they have straight A's, because they're so worried they'll bomb the exam and no longer have their straight A's. Actually, the only students I've seen that aren't concerned about their final grades are the ones who are failing and don't care anymore. I've always found that funny. I'm not particularly pressured about constantly having all A's, but I still want to graduate. I still want good grades. I've never really been able to understand people who don't care about their grades at all. Like, they are literally failing every class and they act like that doesn't matter. But I digress.

Although summer is viewed with much happiness, there's always the sad part that people cling to as well. I know plenty of seniors this year, more than I've known any other year, so I'm going to be a little sad they're leaving. But, really, it's not like I have no way of contacting anyone I would want to keep in touch with. Despite this, I'll no doubt feel some sadness after the seniors are gone. It's going to be strangely quiet without the seven or so seniors in my Sno-Isle class. It's going to be even quieter on the bus since pretty much everyone I talk to there is a senior. Then, of course, I'll be going on and on with my friends about how quickly time passes and how excited we all are to be seniors next year. It all seems so silly now, but that's exactly what's going to happen.

I've never been a big fan of recollecting things, because it always makes me so sad. But summer seems to be known for just that. Even in elementary school, kids always say stuff like, "Remember that funny thing that happened at the beginning of the year?" or "Remember how shy I was the first day of school?" Then, in middle school, the buzz around the halls is things like, "Remember that super creepy guy that, like, was, like, obviously hitting on me on, like, the first day of school? Yeah, that was, like, so weird." or "OMG remember how long your hair was at the beginning of the year? It's, like, so weird now because I can't even picture you with it anymore!" Finally, in high school, it seems people are slightly more sentimental so they stay stuff such as, "I'm going to miss you so much! I remember when we met at lunch and you did that thing and I knew we were going to be friends forever!" or "Oh my gosh! Text me every day, ok? We totally need to hang out next month or whatever. I'll see you later! *hugs*"

This usually results in me becoming down at the start of summer. Not really down, because I'm still pumped by the fact I have no homework or anything. But in the back of my head I still miss all the friends I made. Then one of them calls me or texts me and I'm all right. Then, slowly, I get used to the summer routine. I start getting used to sleeping in, not having homework, and the sunshine (hopefully. I've stopped trusting Washington).

Then, right around that time, school starts again.

Those are my thoughts on summer. Even though summer has yet to come, I wanted to get this down now before my mind becomes nostalgic and sentimental. Then I'd just keep going. "And then in sixth grade...don't even get me started..." Yeah. I doubt anyone would read that. So, let's name this my summer post and call it good.