Drugs Are Bad, Mmkay?

So I just got done watching this show on A&E called “Beyond Scared Straight.” There have been a thousand like it – some troubled, Maury-style teenagers get sent to a prison for a day in the hope that they’ll be so terrified¬† of the people there that they stop acting up. On this episode, about seven or eight girls were sent over for an assortment of problems like underage drinking, smoking, drugs, fighting, stealing, and gang-related violence/activity. The oldest was 17, and the youngest was 13. It sort of makes me think about what I was doing between 13 and 17.

Because it sure as hell wasn’t any of that.

When I was 13 years old, I hated myself and was scared of my own shadow. I felt like everyone in school around me was somehow better than me, somehow prettier and more worthy of friendship and attention, and the harder I tried to be cool, the more pathetic I appeared. In retrospect, I realize that they didn’t see me as an ugly, lame nerd at all – that was just me. The pretty, popular girls only looked at me funny because I was trying so hard to be something I obviously wasn’t. I remember crying one time, surrounded by all those girls, trying to explain to them how it worked: they were popular, and I was a loser.

They tried hard to understand, but it’s obvious to me now that they clearly had no idea what I was talking about. They genuinely didn’t see it that way, and they were right. If I was a loser, it was because I was putting down who I really was and was instead trying to reach some bizarre ideal that was not only unattainable, but undesirable.

Thanks, girls. If I ever run into any of you again, I hope we can talk like normal human beings.

But if I had continued on that road, trying to be cool or whatever, I undoubtedly would have ended up a drunk, cracked out loser. I mean, I was a stressed young lady. I had all these preconceived notions and ideas about what I was supposed to be and to be honest, I have no idea where they came from. I think I made them up. I don’t know why I felt that way.

I never tried a drug in my life, though, never got drunk at a party, never shoplifted and never got in a fight. I wasn’t trying super hard to be a ‘good girl.’ I just kept to myself so much, where would I even GET drugs? What party would I ever be ballsy enough to go to? What the hell is important enough for me to steal and if I don’t have many friends, how many ENEMIES can I have? Say what you want about being a loner, but if I weren’t, I bet I would have done some of those things. I have no problem with occasional recreational marijuana use, and a party on the weekends or what-have-you, as long as you’re smart.

But if I had been more social when I was 13, and gone to those parties, done those drugs? I bet it would have gotten out of hand. I would have done anything for people to like me. Being a loner saved my ass.

I remember going into high school in the same sorry state I spent middle school in. 13 years old going on 14, I was still scared of the popular people (for the record, I sort of picked and chose who was ‘popular’, as there weren’t really any set parameters regarding the title) and when people were mean to me, I crumpled up like a water bottle in a pressure chamber.

Then 10th grade came.

I wish I knew what caused it, but to this day it seems completely random. I went into school in 10th grade with a completely different personality. I won’t name names, but let me tell you about this chick Claire.

She was in my choir class and she was a class-act ho. She dyed her hair so much it crinkled when she walked and was constantly dripping dollar store makeup, followed by a posse of two clones so she looked like Draco Malfoy after a bad sex change. She was AWFUL to me. She knew that I’d cry (don’t feed the trolls!) so she kept doing it. It was pretty terrible. My entire Freshman year was spent hating that chick and not having the guts to do anything about it.

In tenth grade I was in Choir again, same people, including Claire, Crabbe, and Goyle. So I’m sitting against the wall with my friend, laughing about something or other, and Clairebear comes up to me, one hand on her hip like she just had it replaced, her lips all pouty as if she spent so much time waving her skinny butt in front of breeding males that they got stuck that way, and made some mean comment to me. I don’t even remember what she said, but it was clearly some cruel thing meant to upset me. I looked over at my friend and stared at her for about fifteen seconds. Slow smiles spread over our faces, until all at once, we burst into a paroxysm of laughter.

I remember Claire staring at us like we were total loons, then realizing that we were laughing at HER. She turned beet red and walked away. She never talked to me again.

That year, I was suddenly confident. I was a nerd and I loved it. I didn’t wear makeup but that was cool. I had dorks for friends but I loved them too, and most of all, I didn’t give two shits what those chicks over there thought of me. It happened almost literally overnight. If there was any chance, any at all, that I’d turn into some drug-addicted shoplifting alcoholic, it ended with the beginning of 10th grade.

Am I perfect? No! I’m still neurotic beyond words, I still have issues and second-guess myself and I’m still scared of a lot of things. But I’m at least functional now, which is nice. I’ve always been late to the party – I only listen to bands after they’re not cool anymore, I wait for movies to go to OnDemand, and I figure out the joke ten seconds after everyone else. I guess it took me a little longer to grow a spine, too. So, knowing that, I know that no matter what issues I have to face, I’ll face them… eventually.

Having failed enormously at not eating meat and exercising yesterday (notice how I didn’t update the exercise section?) I plan on starting today! I did not eat any meat today, which isn’t very hard for me. As for the exercise, I started out on Wii fit by getting my weight taken as well as what they call a ‘Wii Fit Age,’ an almost randomly assigned number that attempts to pinpoint how old you are based on your fitness level.

I’m apparently 23.

I also weight 170 lbs – ugh! Oh well, I’ll just have to fix it. Off to start my exercises – wish me luck!

UPDATE: *huff… puff… wheeze… gulp water…* In retrospect, maybe an hour a day was a bit much for me! I managed a half hour, so let’s just do that until I’m more comfortable? Okay? Okay. *faints*


A Gauntlet on the Ground

That’s it – the gauntlet has been tossed, the challenge issued. These are the rules of engagement!

The first is that I must blog every day for thirty days. I blatantly ripped this idea off from my sister, so I hope she doesn’t think I’m a dork now! The fact is that her blog is really cool and fun and interesting, and I’ve tried to be JUST LIKE my sister since I was old enough to know that the giant NIN posted on her bedroom wall was a band. So, like a good little sister, I’m ripping off her idea to see if blogging helps me in the way it’s clearly helping her.

It can be about something mind-bogglingly deep or about nothing, but I MUST blog. I need to learn that it’s okay to put myself out there, and that I don’t need to be ashamed of my feelings or of other people finding out who I am.

One big problem with me (and the reason I never kept a blog before, or a diary back in the pre-blog days) is that I destroy everything I write that isn’t fiction. For some reason, I’ll read what I wrote and find it absurd or foolish and be so ashamed of how stupid I was, I’ll destroy it forever. Not this time – the blog not only has to stay intact, but I’m posting links to it on my Facebook.

That is the first part of the challenge – no, the Challenge – and it’s starting today. Thirty days of delicious blog.

The second is the hard part! I know, blogging every day for a month sounds bad enough, right? No? Well, trust me, it’s bad. But the second part of the Challenge requires me to exercise on my Wii Fit for an HOUR every day – and post my results! Nothing holds you accountable like teh ebil ppls of teh interwebz, right? The fact is, I’m not ashamed of my weight and I don’t care what the world thinks – it’s just a situation to be dealt with.

Subsection A of the second part of the Challenge is that I may not eat any meat except for seafood for thirty days! What?! No meat?! I need to eat healthier, and nomming on a chicken leg isn’t helping me. I don’t eat much meat anyway (I’m more of a cheese person), but I might as well cut it out all together. Who knows? Maybe I’ll stick with it and be more aware and stuff.

The reason this is going in the blog is because if I post it on the internet, I HAVE to do it. Now everyone will expect me to follow through, and it will be EMBARASSING if I fail at it. So suck it up, grow some balls, and get working! Don’t lose your motivation and screw up a good thing yet AGAIN. (I’m talking to myself, there.)

Anyway, here are today’s stats:

Foodstuffs:

I went to the store and bought $25 worth of fruit and miso/udon noodles, which isn’t a lot. I was very proud of myself for starting my first vegetarian day, and gaily dug into the fridge for my leftover baked potato soup. By the way, try Archer Farms Baked Potato soup! It’s epicness! Unless, of course, you’re vegetarian, because I realized after eating it all that it has little bits of bacon in it.

I failed on the first day!

I won’t be too hard on myself, and will just be more careful! For those who ARE veggie-huggers, try Archer Farms Cheddar Broccoli soup. I like it better than the potato, and it doesn’t take as long to make.

Exercise: Haven’t done it yet! Expect an update this evening.


Gray Walls, Black Borders

Welcome to my cave!

I live in a little cubby-hole of gray walls and charcoal trim. There’s a loft bed with a cluttered desk under it, covered with candles, jewelry, dystopian fiction, video game disks without cases, and highlighters.¬† In the corner there’s a TV and on a shelf two betta fish swim idly in their bowls, flaring at each other angrily as they pass one another. It would seem a little dark in the room if it weren’t for the hideous pink carpet, trampled down by eight years worth of feet so what must have once been plush and comfy now looks like a cotton candy stand gone horribly wrong.

I hate that damn carpet.

The cave doesn’t see many guests. I spend most of the hours in my day hiding in the shadowy recess my loft bed creates, typing away here on my computer. I’ve always liked to be alone – I don’t much like being forced to go out and ‘have fun’ (Insert air quotes here! Fun for you isn’t fun for me!) because my fun is nerd fun – internet memes, Tosh.0, English-subbed anime on the internet, and copious amounts of video games.

If you want to know anything about me, you can learn most of it from my cave.¬† Is this starting to sound like an emo blog? I don’t mean for it to. In all, I’m pretty cheery! I have FUN living in my cave by myself – not fake, denial fun, but real fun! I just like being by myself and the way I am in general. I wasn’t always that way, so if we’re counting, I’m ahead.

This isn’t to say I’m worry-free, of course.

I struggle with the same basic things every day. My weight and my health has been a recent concern, which I’ll elaborate on later. My enormous desire to learn new and interesting things vs. my fear of going out and actually DOING it. My relationship issues and strange inability to actually care for another human being in a romantic way. My solitary nature, and whether or not that’s okay or normal. My vague interest in whether or not I should care what other people think about said solitary nature.

Most of all, though, it’s my struggle for a sense of purpose. I don’t know what I want to do with my life. I know what interests me, what I love, but I don’t know what to do as a career, how to stay motivated, and how to deal with the anxiety disorder that’s plagued me since my young teen years. I live with my parents and I haven’t gotten far on the college circuit. I want to have a career, move on with my life, and generally make the people I care about proud, but right now I don’t know what I want and my biggest stressor of all is just that – the fear that I’ll never go anywhere, never do anything, and that people will think I’m a big waste.

So there you have it! I laid it all out. I think a lot of things every day, and I’m going to put it all down right here! Think I’ve got enough blog material? I do.

All that said, I hereby announce that I am taking the challenge! What is the challenge, you ask? Well, tune in next time…