Secrets, Secrets

While I was in bed this morning, waiting for the sleep that never did come, I made one of the most difficult decisions that I have ever made so far in my life: the decision to forgive and forget. And coming from someone who is very good at holding a grudge, it was a surprising choice. Hopefully I won't regret it.

The whole thing started a little less than a year ago, when I first went away to college. My roommate was trusted with a secret, but I found out that she told some of our friends this secret. That fact ended our friendship for a long time, until a few days ago, when she contacted me for the first time in months. At that time, she was willing to put everything aside, but I guess I wasn't, because we got into a big argument again, and things ended badly a second time.

But ever since that last argument I've been thinking. Yes, she betrayed my trust and hurt me a great deal. But does that mean I should throw away our friendship? When she was willing to put everything aside and start over? Maybe I'm being weak, just trying to avoid conflict, and I guess that's one way to look at it. But when I think about everything, I realize how much we went through together, and I realize that I'm not quite ready to lose that.

New Podcast

I would like to make a small announcement: I am now part of a podcast! I hope that you will all take a listen and tell me what you think. Any questions, comments, or suggestions can be sent to mimi60516@yahoo.com with something regarding "podcast" in the subject line so that it is not marked as spam. I would love to hear what you think!

I don't think that it's up on iTunes yet, but if you go to this link you can directly download the podcast to your computer.
http://theblogandpodcastofateenageguy.blogspot.com/

College Memories

So, I could be really lazy today and just post another one of my past rants and call it a night. However, there’s some stuff going on and I just feel like going off on a tangent.
Looking around everyone’s Facebook, I see notes about how they are so sad that the school year is over and that they are leaving college to go back home. It really makes me wonder what I would be feeling if I was still away. See, I started at a college away from home…

But then I relapsed. I’m not sure if it was the pressure of classes, or being away from home, but I got depressed again. VERY depressed. I spent a day with a counselor, and after crying my eyes out for three straight hours (I did not know this was possible, but it is), it was decided that I would be sent home to go to a psychiatric hospital. My parents were on a cruise at the time, so the day was filled with long-distance calls, tears, and a long car ride late at night to the hospital.

I eventually got better, and after two weeks in outpatient therapy I was allowed to return to college. But as I settled back into my routine, I realized that something had changed. The people who I had once been good friends with wouldn’t look at me anymore. I had become invisible. True, I was quieter, but whenever they came to visit our dorm I tried to interact. It was tough, but I made an effort. I may as well have stayed silent.

Finally I snapped. I asked my roommate why nobody would talk to me anymore. She explained that she had told our friends just why I had been away from school for two weeks. I couldn’t believe it. I had trusted her with that information, and she handed it out like candy. She had also told her parents and brother. According to her, she was within her rights to tell people.

Needless to say, we fought over it. After a lot of tears on my part my roommate left, and I called my parents. I had already experienced some trouble catching up, so this was yet another straw on the camel’s back. And it looked like the back might be breaking. After I calmed down enough so that my parents could understand me, I told them everything that had happened. They advised me to think about my options: get a new roommate, or withdraw for the semester and come back home. It was a tough choice.

Obviously, I ended up choosing to leave. I spoke to my RA that night, and started to pack my things. Early the next morning my dad showed up, and we miraculously fit everything into one car. We went through the withdraw process and left the campus, heading toward home.

I won’t say that I haven’t regretted that decision many times, or that I didn’t cry about it for a few weeks, or that I didn’t have many choice swears directed at my roommate from the safety of the car, and later, home. But ultimately I think I did the right thing. Catching up after two weeks’ absence in college is no easy feat. It would have been difficult for me to pass, and may have even led to another bout of depression. So it may have been all for the better.

But I still find myself wondering what would have happened if I had stayed. How many more fun days would we have had, nailing fabric to the ugly bolsters, hiding keys in our shirts, having dinner, playing my Wii, and just plain messing around? I’m sure that if I had remained in college that semester I would be sad to go. Hopefully next year I’ll be able to find out for myself.

The Original Rants

Since I'm lazy tonight, and this entire blog started with the intention of publishing my original rants, I'm going to start off with one tonight. This incident happened several years ago in my hometown, possibly in 2005 or 2006.

Once again I have found proof that society is going down the drain. Sad how these things keep popping up, isn’t it?

Unfortunately, these days you hear a lot about bombs being found and attempted terrorist attacks being foiled. I know I have heard a lot of those stories recently. But every time I heard one, while I would be sad that it happened, I never thought that it could happen to my town. I mean, come on. It’s not like I live in a major city or anything. It could never happen here...right?

Well, good old Murphy has proved me wrong, as he has a tendency to do.

On Monday a man collecting trash in our downtown area found a pipe bomb hidden under a pile of newspapers. He called the police, and within minutes the entire downtown area was evacuated. Stores were shut down. The streets were roped off. Bomb detection squads were called in. It was chaos, to say the least.

Thankfully the bomb was able to be disarmed, and no lasting harm was done. It only produced a “mild bang and an 8-foot fireball.” God only knows what would have happened if that man had never found it.

But the thing that really bothers me is what one man said in an interview with reporters for our local paper. He was the owner of a pharmacy which happened to be one of the stores that had to be shut down and evacuated. He went on and on, complaining about the inconvenience caused by having his store shut down. He said that Mondays were one of the best business days, and now he lost so much money because his store wasn’t open. “The terrorists have already won,” he said. “We get scared at every little thing like this.” Can someone please slap this man?

This wasn’t just another “little thing”. This was a pipe bomb. A bomb. God forbid that this man be concerned for the people who could have been hurt if the bomb had actually been detonated. But apparently this man doesn’t care about other people. He only cares about himself and his stupid business.

Sorry for all the money you lost, Sir. Next time I’ll just tell the idiots who made that bomb to put it in your store. Then we’ll see if you think it’s just another "little thing.”

The Beginning

Welcome to my blog, One Female’s Take on Life. It actually took me a while to decide on the title. I went back and forth between “woman” and “girl” for a terribly long time. As of this first post, I’m 19. One year ago I was legally declared an adult, and two years from now I will have finished that transition when I turn 21. But I still feel a bit in the middle. I’ve got the “teen” word in my age still, even though I’m an adult. So I settled with “female.” No matter how old I am, that will always apply.
You might be wondering why you should listen to what I have to say, and why I’m writing this blog in the first place. The answer is twofold, and the second question is the most easily explained. I was deleting files, clearing up room on my hard drive, when I cam across a file titled “Rants”. I opened it, and found about half a dozen writings intended for blogs with topics ranging from celebrities, terrorism, and candy bar wrappers. After writing another one on the spot, I decided to let my writing see the light of day.
Why should you listen to me? I don’t suppose there is any one reason. True, I’m only 19, but I have seen a lot in those years. I have cried inside an MRI machine and faced the diagnoses of epilepsy. I have been rear-ended on the highway and witnessed an attempted burglary at my own house. I have worn braces since the second grade and lived in the shadow of possible jaw surgery. I have seen the deadly edge of a knife and experienced the inside of a psychiatric hospital. I have watched a man deteriorate in a matter of months and spoken at my grandfather’s funeral. I have experienced betrayal at its worst and cried for almost three hours on end.
Is all of this true? Yes, and I could go on for even longer. Sure, some people my age have experienced more than I have, and many have experienced less. Whether you listen to me is up to you. I simply take comfort in getting my thoughts out of my head and into the world.