Yesterday I told you that I started this blog in order to keep myself from compromising on my own morality, and to make sure that I'm not failing myself or those I love. I told you that I wanted to track down my own pattern. Well, I guess I need to give you some background, then. In order for this to have any clarity, you need to know who I am, and you need to know the major people in my life. I also need to make a page for my process of morality, but frankly I'm still sort of working on that.
So, today I'll just write about myself, tomorrow I'll tell you the other characters in my life. After that, the first day of post-break school on Monday, I'll start a daily "this is the shit that happened" blog. Basically, this is going to be boring as hell.
I am a female, and I live in the northern U.S. I'm a Senior in high-school, and in the top 5% of my class. I take a lot of A.P. classes, and over all do well in school, with a solid though awkward social life.
I was home-schooled early in life, but not for religious reasons. My parents simply didn't see any advantage in public school until later in life. I basically had no education, as my parents taught me to read, add, and subtract and little else. They took my to the library every weekend, where I rapidly consumed the entire Science Section, most of the YA literature, and more then half of the manga out of nothing but my own interest.
I was supposed to start school in 6th grade, but we had a large number of deaths over a four-year period that made this impossible. When I was twelve, I was taken to one of what they call "learning centers", which caters to the developmentally disabled, the screw ups, and depressed over achievers who are constantly pushed by their parents to succeed and usually hate their own lives. I would be thirteen when I started school, and my parents were seeking advisement as to weather I should go into 7th or eighth grade, my birthday falling on the day school closes.
When I started my "Center Education", I had an 11th grade reading skill, 4th grade writing skill, and 2nd grade math skill. At this point, it was clear that there would by a major struggle for me to be ready for a formal education, and The Center workers were advising to put me in 7th grade and to continue my Center education in order to help me deal with the rigor of public education. For one reason or another, they never tested me in science, though based on my natural love for the topic I'm guessing I would have done well enough. By the end of my 3 month course at The Center, I was ready for 8th grade to everyone's amazement. I only went back to The Center once, to drop off my first report card that held nothing but high A's.
Starting school was, academically, very easy for me. Socially, it wasn't much of a struggle either, though I even now carry myself with a large amount of awkwardness. I remember this one boy taunting me by repeatedly chanting "You have no friends", and turning to him and responding, "Well, no shit, Sherlock. I just got here.". He quite after that.
Someday I might tell you the tales of how I met and obtained my best friends, but that will be a while. Probably when I have nothing else to talk about. What you should know is that I found it much similar to talk to teachers then my peers. This is due, I believe, to my being an only child and living in the middle of nowhere.
For the first month or so of school, I was a table wanderer, welcome everywhere but never quite fitting in. I quickly found three tables and groups of people I was prone to, but I always choose to waste 10 minutes of my lunch sitting by people I barely knew merely for the new experience before seeking refuge with the people - who though mostly were not my friends - didn't make me want to kill everyone within a twelve foot radius. Not everyone.
It was quickly established that I had no talent or interest in sports, something that made going out with friends difficult in middle school. I did consider joining the basketball team merely because I did happen to enjoy playing that particular game, and still do, but I sucked and having to show up for practice every day didn't interest me.
High-school was when I really started becoming a real human. I had enough friends to never be completely alone in a class, and quickly made many new ones with people outside of my grade. I discovered that lacrosse was something that I enjoyed and could actually do well in, but since my school didn't have a team, nothing came of it.
I did find theater, however, and that activity and the people who participate in it are mine. I am also highly protective of both band and choir, but that is ironic for a few reasons. Firstly, the two clans are arch rivals, more or less hating each-other in every way imaginable. Students who are present in both classes tend to show a slight personality disorder, happily badmouthing whatever group that they don't happen to be with at a the moment and only showing their true alliances when they are forced to choose to preform with one or the other during school concerts. Secondly, I don't participate in either activity, finding my own voice to be abhorrent and having never learned to play an instrument.
When it comes to a home life, I am the product of two currently happily married people. My mother is the dominant body in the relationship, and she is almost doubtlessly the reason why my father ever moved out of his own parents basement. When I was young, my father working as an HVAC repair man was almost never present. When I did see him, he was either exhausted or the entire household was on edge due to a almost complete lack of income. At some point he moved jobs, repeatedly, and during a slow period he happened to be low man on the totem pole and got laid off, and ultimately fired when the service he was working for rolled over. So, he started his own business, and ran it for about three days before getting offered a government contracting job. He works four ten hour days, and I see him far more often that when he was working between 5-7 0-20 hour days.
My mom is currently and normally stay-at-home, though she has and can work a verity of jobs. Though she's never managed to get a college degree of any sort (my father went to trade school) she has work many form of veterinary work, mostly due to my late grandparents on my father's side, and has done a fair amount of emergency medical. Mostly, she tries to keep the bills paid and our crazy relatives from damaging themselves.
I consider both of my parents very intelligent. I never remember them literally treating me like a kid when it comes to communication or "dumbing down" concepts. They always presented logical and reasonable arguments to me in order to get me to behave, and always gave me at least some amount of respect. I never did what I was told to, but what I was asked to, and throughout my entire childhood both parents only report one "temper tantrum" or fit of disobedience.
This was when I wanted to push the shopping cart in the mall, but ran into an old lady so my parents wouldn't let me. I cried and screamed and did the normal thing that kids that age do, while my mother ignored me, sat down, and started reading her book. At some-point she told me that if I could calm down and clean myself up, that we could visit the fish in the pet section, but that I really couldn't push the cart anymore because I was being a pest and annoying, potentially even hurting people. Reportedly I calmed down quickly, and the rest of the day passed on cheerfully.
I cannot personally say anything for that story, I don't remember the incident, but over all it sounds very plausible. I remember that when I was starting to discover what is sometimes referred to as a "potty mouth" by other families, that my parents sat me down and explained that it was simply words that some people didn't like, and that as words they weren't inherently bad or good, but that if I used them at my age that Society would think that I had bad parents. They asked me as a personal favor not to use the language even when I was really mad, though they would understand if I did. After that, I literally DID NOT SWEAR until I was about 10 or 11, an economically hard time for my family when my mother literally gave me shit for my birthday.
The word shit. I didn't ask for it, she just came up to me and asked me what my favorite swear word was. I responded "Shit", and she laughed at me and asked why. I said that I liked it because it was stronger than "Crap", strong enough to actually get someones attention if you were mad at them, but mild enough to be used in nearly any situation. It could be used to convey displeasure about a situation, so commiserate, and was also a very useful expletive for after you had stubbed your toe. So, she said that I really wasn't getting much for my birthday, and asked if having that word without even a glance from her in any situation would make me happy. I said yes, and still didn't say it that often.
When I got the word shit, I might as well have gotten all the rest of the fowl language as well. I never got any form of distaste from anyone for my use of bad language, likely because I have a fairly good sense for when it's acceptable. In fact, I have very fowl language in my own mind and with people I feel comfortable with, and a deep seated love for profanity. Yet I still get occasional glances for swearing, not because the people I'm around object, but because they "never thought I'd say something like that". Generally, I view this as a right of passage between being one of my acquaintances to being one of my friends.
I do not swear AT people very much, though. And if I am swearing at you, it likely means that I am pissed. I also tend not to yell. Raise my voice so people can hear me, yes, but I like debate, and to settle disagreements as peacefully as possible. That I can think of, I have gotten out of control approximately three times, twice with my mother and once with a boy in my class who kept making sexiest remakes and saying that he was going to go out and kill himself a, to paraphrase, homosexual.
I told him that while he had never done anything to directly affect me in an adverse manor, and in fact had helped me with various little tasks a time or two, that I currently was struggling not to want to see him dead in a ditch. I ended with, "have a good day, drive safely". I apologized the next day for telling him to go die, but said that he highly offended me and that he might want to watch what he says, considering that he was saying this while sitting beside a out bisexual, two gay guys, and that making death threat in school in general is pretty likely to get him expelled or suspended. To his credit, he does seem to have laid off.
I could tell you that I love cooking, horror movies, and list of a long ramble about my favorite video-games, but this is already a long enough post. I don't think I really got across what I meant to when I wanted to tell you about myself, but I think that be reading this you can judge for yourself. I'm sorry if I offend you, but I'm sure that you'd offend me if you wrote a long ramble as honestly as possible through your own biased view.
I know I like myself and see myself as far more reasonable then I should, but I'm working on it.
One thing that I feel the need to mention is that I due tend to cry a lot. I hate it, and I try to hide it, and I try not to as much as possible. I love self control and self sufficiency, and I am not very good at it.
Well, have a good day, Society. Drive safely, if you're driving.
Chow,
~`Ellen
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