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.

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.

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.

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.