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.


  1. I'm obsessed with this. And your blog.

  2. Oh so much to talk about here. Concise and to the point. Now I need to find this bitch named Dana