Newsflash: High school is over. They can't send you back. It's time to act like a grown-up.
Sorry about the lecture. It is mostly directed at myself. I know that I'm being immature when I use the word "grown-up". But I've been through a few things recently that reminded me to act my age, not my shoe size, maybe we should do the whirl...
Oops. Song from high school. Those probably aren't quite the lyrics, either. I was LITERALLY brought back to high school from hauling out an old yearbook. One of my co-workers graduated in my class, and she hadn't seen it years. She had kind of a rough time, got pregnant as a junior and felt shunned the rest of the time. So I brought it in for her to look at.
Of course, I previewed it first. Because apparently I was a mean girl! Most shocking to myself, I drew an "A" on the collar of a younger girl. You know, for "Adulteress". (I'm surprised Literal Teenage Liz didn't find a red pen to draw it....) It wasn't even anyone I remember, let alone remember being mean to me, which might have been forgivable.
But it's really not forgivable. I can respect that not everyone has to like each other. But I want to stop judging. Put down the red pen. I want to be able to say, Huh, that's interesting.
So, the preview showed that I was a jerk, but at least I hadn't marked up my co-worker's photo (unlike the Junior yearbook, where I had helpfully pointed out in blue Bic that the way the top of her hair poufed it made it her look like a Conehead. I actually remember feeling ashamed of that at the time, since I have known her since 5th grade). We pointed out some people that were mean to us (forgive!), we remembered some bad hair, we laughed, we cried, we rubbed bitter salt on ourselves, we got kind of evasive, and then I took the book back home where it should (must!) stay.
Sorry about the lecture. It is mostly directed at myself. I know that I'm being immature when I use the word "grown-up". But I've been through a few things recently that reminded me to act my age, not my shoe size, maybe we should do the whirl...
Oops. Song from high school. Those probably aren't quite the lyrics, either. I was LITERALLY brought back to high school from hauling out an old yearbook. One of my co-workers graduated in my class, and she hadn't seen it years. She had kind of a rough time, got pregnant as a junior and felt shunned the rest of the time. So I brought it in for her to look at.
Of course, I previewed it first. Because apparently I was a mean girl! Most shocking to myself, I drew an "A" on the collar of a younger girl. You know, for "Adulteress". (I'm surprised Literal Teenage Liz didn't find a red pen to draw it....) It wasn't even anyone I remember, let alone remember being mean to me, which might have been forgivable.
But it's really not forgivable. I can respect that not everyone has to like each other. But I want to stop judging. Put down the red pen. I want to be able to say, Huh, that's interesting.
So, the preview showed that I was a jerk, but at least I hadn't marked up my co-worker's photo (unlike the Junior yearbook, where I had helpfully pointed out in blue Bic that the way the top of her hair poufed it made it her look like a Conehead. I actually remember feeling ashamed of that at the time, since I have known her since 5th grade). We pointed out some people that were mean to us (forgive!), we remembered some bad hair, we laughed, we cried, we rubbed bitter salt on ourselves, we got kind of evasive, and then I took the book back home where it should (must!) stay.
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