Wednesday, September 26, 2012

The (Incredibly Complicated) Game of Life

I may have a million diary entries and printed AOL conversations with Thomas, but I only have one note from him. ONE!

Here goes...


  • Navid didn't hit on me, but he did get me this birthday card:

  • I have a picture of me in my Donato's uniform. In it, I am - for some inexplicable reason - pretending to sleep on a couch with my friend while holding a scary mask. This is what Friday nights looked like for me when I was grounded.

Oddly enough, Donato's rendezvous proved not to be enough for Thomas (or maybe my uniform scared him away!) and he broke up with me 7 days after my only note was written. For those of you with fast math skills, that is February 13th. The day before Valentine's Day. I'm fairly certain that it was the same day I had my Solon ID photo taken - because there's really no other excuse for my appearance.

A few doodles from the days following included some dark musings...

"If I cried a river, would you build a ship and sail to me? If I smiled through my pain, would it bring you closer?"

"Sometimes you can make sense of everyone else's life but your own. Because maybe you aren't supposed to understand everything that happens to you. Maybe you can't understand something so incredibly complicated as the game of life."

"The world won't make sense until you've given up on it. Time won't stand still until you're at your worst."

"Don't depend on anything or anyone. Everything can change in a second."

"There's never a perfect time for heartbreak. You'll never be ready for the end. The end won't wait for you, warn you, speak for you, or live for you. The end doesn't arrive until the last moment you feel safe."

Suffice it to say that I was pretty upset. I received a few notes attempting to cheer me up.

  • I wonder if she intentionally wrote this note on the "self-esteem" page of the planner to help me get the hint. 
  • Apparently my mood swings weren't very subtle. 
  • Hey, I love Boston Market!

  • Well of course I get it now, this isn't the end of the world. At least I knew I got dumped this time!
  • I guess I really liked to eat if everyone is closing their notes to me with food references...

The cheering up didn't work right away, and I've got some of the archives from my attempts at being a writer/poet/songwriter to prove it. Stay tuned, but - ya know, I wouldn't depend on it.. or anyone, for that matter.

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

The Biggest MooStake

Despite executing my master plan to win Thomas back, Sophomore year was difficult for me - through nobody's fault but my own.

Details aren't necessary, so I'll just say that I made some foolish choices and ended up having an '02-'03 school year student ID from two different schools.

Following the foolish choices, my parents wrote me a letter. 

Despite being a hateful little teenager, I knew at the time that their punishment technique was pretty clever and impressive. They didn't choose to ground me for a period of time (although "for the rest of your life" would have been acceptable). Instead, they chose to suspend my social activities until I had done 30 hours of service. Thirty hours of good to make up for all of the bad. 

They put the responsibility back in my hands. So if I wanted to sit around whining about how life wasn't fair, I could. But it wouldn't get me any closer to the freedom that I thought I deserved at 15. I could have finished 30 hours of community service in two weeks if I had wanted, but instead I chose to pity myself and didn't go out for two months. 

I like to think that during those months I started to be a better person, maybe a little less selfish, maybe I'd like myself a bit more, but that's probably not true... that would come later. I did, however, realize that my parents weren't "out to get me" and they didn't want to ruin my life. I realized that they were pretty freaking smart and knew what they were doing with this whole raising-kids-thing. Through everything, they still loved me and wanted what was best for me. Even if I didn't know it at the time, in hindsight, I was (and am) extremely lucky for that.

To end on a bit of a lighter note... during my first week at school #2, I made the mistake of wearing a plaid shirt (no dress code!) and an upperclassman started mooing at me from down the hall. (Because I looked like a farmer?) I was so caught off guard that I didn't even have time to dodge her before she pushed me into a locker. Public school was rough. 

My friend Hannah drew me the following picture, being sure to include that upperclassman (Dana) on her way to milk the cows.

You'll also notice the reference to Donato's, my first "official" employer, which will be addressed in a future post.