Your Special Snowflake Sucks

This week there was a whole spiel on the radio devoted to whether a parent should let their kids know when they suck at something. The debate was whether it was better to be honest with a child and crush their hopes and dreams early on, or to give them an inflated sense of self but avoid breaking their tiny hearts. I missed the end decision, but lordy do I hope we decided to be dream crushers.

Personally, I realized very early on in life that my mother was completely biased and I could not trust her on anything. Heck, until recently I was convinced she had invented the compliment “doe eyes” and bribed relatives/friends to say it to me. It’s only been the past few months that I realized it’s actually a real phrase. To be fair, this is the same mother that claims I’m a fast runner (I’m not), that both her children are beautiful (and she maintained this through our super awkward phases, which were super awkward and unfortunate), and that I’m a good singer (she’s tone deaf, how would she even know?).

I didn’t think my mother was purposely lying to me, but rather that she was blinded by love. I looked to my father to be a little more realistic but didn’t entirely trust him either. I started relying on friends until I realized that unless they’re pretty much your best friend in the world, they too will lie to your face about how awesome you are and you’ll end up with no real sense of your limitations.

It’s a very interesting time of life where on the one hand we’re plagued by unrealistic images and expectations, and on the other we’re told to cherish and recognize our uniqueness as being something to celebrate. But is it really?

Now some of the messaging I can agree with and in fact super love. It is fabulous to be reminded that no, I’m never going to look like Megan Fox in a bikini, but that’s okay. It’s good to know no one expects me to sing like Christina. It’s extra wonderful to find out about problems that great people had. Not that I want anyone to be depressed or an alcoholic or anything, but it helps keep their greatness in perspective (#HemingwayWasADrunk).

But I also think we go too far sometimes. We’re told that because we’re unique, everything we say/do is meaningful. I FINALLY joined the Twitter world today. I did it mostly so I can keep up on my favorite celebrity boyfriends, but I’ll probably tweet too. Why not. The whole idea of Twitter though kind of boggles my mind. From the brief amount of time I’ve spent scrolling on it, it seems like people took the most superficial parts of Facebook (selfies, posts about every little thing they do) and just constantly send that out. I suppose deep life revelations are not always simpatico with 140 character limit. But do people really want to know I’m drinking yet another frappuccino? Do they want to see my new mani every week? Do they really care about my thoughts on the #Hercules movie? Is it really meaningful just because I’m unique and I said it?

If this seems a little hypocritical from a girl that writes a blog and has totally added frappuccino pictures on Facebook… that’s because it is. I engage in this exact same behavior all the time. Even before the days of Twitter, people were doing this to a small extent with texts, and phone calls, and letter writing way back in the day. We feel the need to share the details of our life. We feel like people should care. I guess what has changed is that before, we only made that assumption of our family and close friends. Now, you use a hashtag and expect the rest of the world to retweet and follow.

What our generation has the most trouble accepting is the value of uniqueness. Yes, you are unique and that’s all well and good, but what does it really mean? Does it make your thoughts any more important than mine? No. The thing is, you’re unique because of the sum of your parts. Someone else in the world totally has your same mani. Somebody can write better than you. Someone came up with that inside joke with their friends like a decade earlier. SOMEONE WAS ALREADY ON THE MOON. There is very little you can do that is well and truly original against all the people in the world, all the spans of time. That especially goes for your little 140 character tweets. There are a finite number of unique tweets. I mean it’s a freaking huge number and we’ll probably (possibly? Most likely?) never hit it, but nonetheless it exists.

So yeah, celebrate you. Because you are awesome. Just keep in mind: you’re NO MORE AWESOME THAN ANYBODY ELSE. It is wonderful that some people find you clever/amusing/super sexy and want to follow you, but don’t expect everybody to do so, and don’t build your happiness around whether or not people care about your unique snowflakeness. They’re probably too busy with their own unique snowflakeness of being awesome.

Now I’m going to go tweet this.  

FtF: Technology is a Ruiner

It’s been a long time since I’ve done a For the Few post, mainly because I keep talking about movies that no one even cares if they’re spoiled. Road Trip technically might classify as another of those movies, but I do adore it, so to be safe let’s start with the general warning of SPOILERS AHEAD!

In case you somehow missed seeing Road Trip, let’s start with the basic background. It came out in the summer of 2000 and was an instant classic with horny teenagers around the world. The movie revolves around 4 college guys that drive from Ithaca NY to Austin TX in 3 short days in order to retrieve a package mailed in error. It’s full of nudity, sex jokes, and Tom Green being insane. It spawned the need for similar movies like EuroTrip which has the classic and classy song “Scotty Doesn’t Know.” And sadly, I realized that due to all the ways technology has advanced and taken over our lives, this movie totally doesn’t work anymore. Watching the movie now requires not only suspension of belief on things like the character’s ages and the sexual willingness of beautiful college girls to hook up with short or nerdy guys, but pretty much every plot point from start to finish. Let’s explore the top 5 ways technology has absolutely ruined Road Trip.

5. The bridge scene.

So our guys start driving from NY to Texas and take a shortcut in PA. They wind up in the middle of nowhere faced with a broken bridge and no alternative way across the road. This starts a hilarious sequence that ends with a blown up car. The problem is they would never actually get to this point. There’s no way they’d be simply driving about using a map. Who uses maps these days?? At least one guy in the car would have their destination entered on some sort of GPS app. Even if they decided to not follow the suggested route, there were be some sort of indication the bridge was broken. Heck, there’d probably be some sort of little broken bridge picture on the GPS when they looked at the road. I’m not sure what that looks like, but it’d probably be cute. 

4. The missing son.

One of the guys, Kyle, has a very controlling father that becomes convinced Kyle is kidnapped. He tracks his son across the country leading up to an interesting confrontation in Austin. In reality, it wouldn’t have taken him that long to find Kyle. First of all, the guys talk Kyle into using the credit card his dad gave him for emergencies. I guarantee these days Kyle’s father would have some sort of notification tied to that credit card, and would know that Kyle wasn’t still in Ithaca long before the blown up car was found. Second, this guy is a total control freak. He would absolutely have given Kyle a cell phone, and there would certainly be a “find my phone” feature. As soon as he realized Kyle was missing he would have tried calling, and even if Kyle refused to answer (due to fear of his father), he would have used the location detection. There might still be a side story with Kyle’s parents, but it would be resolved much earlier.

3. Austin/Boston mix up.

One of the other side stories in the movie involves Beth, who slept with Josh, tracking down Josh’s girlfriend to let her know Josh was cheating on her. Hilarity ensues when she is mistakenly directed to the University of Boston instead of the University of Austin. Today, that is not in any way, shape, or form even remotely feasible. From the very first scene with Beth and Josh you can tell she is interested in him. Before they ever hooked up she would have social channel stalked the heck out of him. She’d not only know his girlfriend’s correct college, but also what she looked like, whether they were really in a relationship (as Beth thought they were broken up when she slept with Josh), but probably even know the date they got together years and years ago. Tell me I’m wrong. Go ahead, try. She probably also wouldn’t have still felt the need to go in person, as she could simply send Tiffany a little message of “oh hey, nailed the crap out of your bf the other night. #YOLO! #mybad”

2. “Cheating.”

Now again, the entire reason Beth sleeps with Josh is she thinks he’s single. To be fair, Josh kind of thinks that too. I’m not even going to comment on how this is the perfect example of guy versus girl mindset (Josh basically assumes that since Tiffany hasn’t contacted him in a few days that she’s off sleeping her way through every man in Austin and he’s free to do what he wants without you know, ever CONFIRMING THE BREAKUP. Okay, I lied, I’m commenting on this. WTF is wrong with men?? You couldn’t keep it in your pants like an extra day to maybe make sure you’re single first?) It turns out that Tiffany hasn’t been talking to Josh because her grandfather died, and they’ve been missing each other’s phone calls.

So let’s break this down. Does anyone even still use dorm phones? No. They would have cells, and even if they didn’t catch each other there would have been a record of all the missed calls. Most likely some texts would have been exchanged. At the very least, even if Tiffany isn’t one of those girls to post her entire life on FB, some well-meaning relative would be leaving “so sorry for your loss!” all over her wall. Josh would know his relationship status long before he ever saw Beth at the party. Beth would know his status before the party. If any “cheating” occurred, it would have been on purpose and not cause for a cross-country guilt trip.

1. The entire premise of the road trip.

Simply put, nobody mails videos anymore. Josh and Tiffany would be having regular Skype sessions instead of mailing back and forth super weird videos. Even assuming Josh went ahead and recorded something for Tiffany, it wouldn’t be then mailed in a package. It might be uploaded online, or sent in an email, but if that was the case Josh wouldn’t have any “race against the clock” to fetch the video. Either he’d have a way to take it offline immediately, or Tiffany would see it (although previews for the movie Sex Tape seem to assume otherwise, so I could be wrong on that). In addition, his friend wouldn’t accidentally upload/send it on his behalf. It would have some sort of file name, and even Rubin probably would recognize the difference between a file like “Vid for Tiffany” and “Super Sexy Times with Beth.” Okay, let’s pretend Josh is discreet for a half second and the file names weren’t clear. You can see the timestamp of the file!! Plus, in order to send the video Rubin would need access to some sort of account for Josh. You think a college guy isn’t going to be too busy trying to see/mess up as much as his friend’s stuff as possible? If not, clearly we are not friends with the same kind of people.

You see what I mean about technology being a ruiner?

That’s not to say one can’t still watch and enjoy Road Trip. There are many funny moments involving snakes and random body parts, and if nothing else it lends itself easily to drinking games.

Princess or Pixie?

Thanks to my friend Erin, I’ve recently lost hours of my life on The Oatmeal. If you’re unfamiliar, it’s a site with a lot of funny comics. My favorite though is actually a drawing summarizing the pros and cons to a pros and cons list. Considering I’m a sucker for a good list, I was highly amused. The punchline is that it’s a “clever way to rationalize a bad decision.” First I laughed about this, and then I had an existential crisis. Have all my decisions been bad? Am I incapable of making good decisions when I really take the time to think through them?? Since I’m in the midst of a big debate with myself, this was enough to throw me for a mental loop.

So here’s my current predicament: I’m seriously considering chopping my hair off. And this, for me, is a pretty big freaking deal.

Let’s have a little back story first. My hair is long. It has almost always been long(ish) since I was a kid. Now as it gets long I get antsy and want to cut it. Every few years something spurs me to actually cut it shorter (not short, shorter, that’s a significant difference), and inevitably I hate it and spend several weeks (minimum) being miserable with my new hair. Having said that, you’re probably thinking “why is this even under discussion then you flaming idiot?!” I hear you. Generally when I start getting in the mood to cut it, I distract myself with a new color, new wardrobe, or hell even planning a new tattoo is a safer bet. But generally, I cut my hair as a spur of the moment thing when the mood strikes me. This time, I’ve been debating it for about 3-4 months, and instead of making a pro vs con list, I thought I’d take a moment to really think about WHY. Why do I like my long hair so much, versus why would I want to cut it (don’t even tell me that’s the same thing as a pro & con list. I will find you, and slap you).

Here’s what this would look like on a superficial level, which in my opinion is about what I would get out of comparing pros & cons.

WHY LONG?

·       I can wash & wear.

·       I have a LOT of options: I can braid, twist, put up, straighten, etc.

·       It’s taken years to grow, so I should enjoy it while I can.

·       People like my hair.

·       It looks like princess hair.

·       There’s the possibility that I’ll have yet another emotional meltdown if I cut it short.

WHY SHORT?

·       It is freaking hot (I should probably clarify – not that short hair looks hot, but my current hair keeps me very hot in regards to temperature).

·       It currently takes a year and a half to wash.

·       At times I literally plan my life around washing my hair.

·       It takes extra money and a ton of effort to dye.

That’s all well and good, but it’s not really getting to the root of the problem. Here’s what this comparison would look like with all the deep internal stuff I would never admit to on a pro & con list:

WHY LONG?

·       Long hair is more feminine. I actually spend a lot of time questioning my femininity. I hang out with mainly men, I have yet to master makeup, I drink beer and eat junk, and I talk like my brother. In retrospect, maybe I should be doing a rant here about why it’s ridiculous that those are things I feel like I should base my femininity on, but I’m not that motivated today. Nonetheless, as a girl that’s frequently told she’s “one of the guys,” having long hair helps remind me that I am in fact a girl.

·       In high school my psychology professor told me I like to hide behind my hair. I thought he was referring to when I would literally put my head down and peek through it. However, I realized it’s more than that. I do not like my face. I don’t necessarily hate it, but I don’t like it either. When I’m having a day where it’s particularly bugging me for whatever reason, I keep my hair down. When I don’t want someone to read my emotions, I play with it. For Pete’s sake I had bangs for the last 2 years because I realized they better hid my eyes. It’s my safety blanket, and I super don’t want to give that up.

·       Without a doubt, my hair is my most complimented feature. In school, before we really learned social conventions, the other kids in my class used to play with my hair all the time (actually random people in bars still stroke it, but that’s a little creepy). When I babysat the kids would beg me to let them style it. People love the length, they love the thickness (yeah they do *insert dirty wink*), and generally no matter what color I dye it they love that too.

SO WTF SHORT??

·       In most aspects of life I am a practical person. The impracticality of my hair these days is starting to drive me mildly insane. Now in the past when my dad suggested I would find short hair more practical I disagreed because it requires styling, and I’m lazy. I’m starting to think though that if I cut it short enough that wouldn’t be an issue.

·       I’m also starting to think that far too much of my identity is tied to my hair. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but I consider it worrisome. What if I had to have short hair (or no hair) for some other reason? Why have I let it define me? Why do I put so much weight on it? What am I like when I’m not basing my worth off something stupid like having long princess hair?

·       Being brutally honest, we already know I base a lot of my decisions off what I’m told to do/not do. As a teenager I was frequently told I would end up cutting my hair short like my mother, so I have specifically avoided doing that. Same thing, when I moved to Texas everyone told me I’d cut my hair the first summer because of the heat, and I liked the idea of proving them wrong. These are actually really stupid reasons to have long hair.

·       It has been suggested a time or two that I have control issues. One of the reasons I like my hair long is that it helps pull out the curl, so it’s more wavy. One of the reasons I don’t like my hair shorter is that it does what it wants and I’d have to put effort into styling it if I don’t want it to look a little crazy. I am absolutely not agreeing that I have control issues, but it might be a good exercise for me to go with a style that let’s my hair be a little wild and out of control.

·       I like short hair on people. Yes, I also like very long hair, but I often admire short cuts and wish I had them. The only thing preventing me really was a fear that I’d do it and then hate it, and be miserable. I hate the idea of not trying something just because I’m afraid. I don’t want to get to the end of my life and realize I had long hair the entire time simply because that’s what I was comfortable with, without finding out if I liked something different. And diving even further, I hate the idea that the length of my hair can so greatly affect my happiness. If nothing else, I think having short hair would force me to confront some of my (very stupid) hangups about my looks. I’m pretty sure if I could do that I could also be more confident in myself, which would be awesome.

Now having said all of that, I don’t think I have the guts yet to try short hair. I have an appointment to “trim” my hair this weekend, so I have all week to think about this more. And maybe make more lists. Or spreadsheets.

Soccer Saves

In case you didn’t realize from all the Tim Howard memes (not that I’m complaining, I kinda want him to father my children), soccer is finally starting to be more of a “thing.” I am, of course, specifically talking about here in America. We’re a little late to the soccer bandwagon. Of course the majority of us are going to jump back off the wagon, wait four more years, and then climb back on. It’s a bit ridiculous.

Personally, I like soccer. I wish it was more popular here. I’m not saying I don’t like football, because you know I do, but I hate how much people hate on soccer. We used to go to professional soccer games when I was a kid, and I can honestly tell you I enjoyed them more than any time I’ve been talked into watching baseball, hockey, tennis, or golf. And I’m not even talking about watching on tv, but going to an event.

But I’m not here to trash your favorite sport; I’m here to talk about soccer. Back in the day I used to play a little. I don’t really remember why I started playing. With ballet, for example, I specifically remember dying to be a ballerina. Trumpet was an attempt to escape piano lessons since my parents insisted on being musical. But soccer? No idea. It might have been a decision by my parents to give my brother and me some social skills since we were homeschooled at that point. It might have been us asking to play. It doesn’t really matter; the end result was I LOVED IT.

We used to play all year round in various leagues. Winter was the worst simply because it sucked playing indoors, but I’d bet my poor parents appreciated the respite from sitting in the heat all day long. I’m pretty sure at some point I even did some soccer camp thing that involved practicing for literally hours every day for weeks, and I loved that too.

Maybe I needed different glasses...

Still, there were a few things I didn’t like about soccer. I never was very good at hitting the ball with my head. Generally, when I tried, I managed to knock off my glasses. Try being in the middle of a game and having a Velma moment – it sucks. Once I even managed to knock myself out. No brain damage (says me), but I distinctly remember waking up and trying to figure out why I was on the ground and what was happening. I stopped trying to head bunt it for awhile after that.

Another thing that sucked – they generally made us rotate positions. This did nothing but piss me off. Especially when they made me play goalie. The entire reason I like soccer is that my hand-eye coordination is crap. So yeah, let’s put me in the goal to catch/block balls flying at my face. Brilliant. Luckily this didn’t happen too often (lucky both for my team, and for my stress levels), but one of my coaches was very insistent on me playing forward somewhat regularly. This made absolutely no sense to me. I liked playing defense. Why make me play offense when you know I hate it (and trust me, I made sure everyone knew my feelings on the matter)??

One of my biggest life regrets is that I stopped playing soccer. I’ve mentioned before that quitting is one of my worst habits. Soccer is a little odd in that I actually rather support the reasoning behind why I quit. It stopped being fun, and I think you should do what you enjoy. But it wasn’t because of the game itself, but because of people’s reactions to it.

He was adorable, but crazy

If you think I’m crazy, talk to my brother about soccer. It’s getting to almost 20 years since we played, and he will still go on a rant about that championship game they lost because “the refs were bribed.” Seriously, he was a little 8 or 9 year old running around SCREAMING because he was convinced the refs were working for the other team. The sad thing is there were a LOT of people like that. Not my parents, thankfully, but other parents on the team, parents from the other teams, even the other players would all go bat-shit crazy about things. I didn’t like it. While I personally wasn’t getting yelled at too much, I started playing in constant fear that if I did make mistakes, someone would flip out about it.

My coworkers and I were comparing soccer stories as we watched the USA match, and one of the nicest guys there told us about one of his last games as a kid when the other team’s families kept yelling to “take out that little fat boy!” (him being the fact boy). That’s awful, and that’s not even the worst example I could come up with. We can pretend words don’t hurt all we want, but they do, and when you’re a child they shape your perception of yourself. Is it so surprising that he quit that year?

So I understand why I quit, but on the other hand I really wish that I had stuck it out for two main reasons.

1. People are jerks. While it’s appalling that we treat our children this way and I am in no way excusing the behavior, we have to learn to expect it. By continuing to quit activities when they turned stressful and had too many expectations, I merely learned to avoid stress and negativity, not how to actually deal with it. This is why I had no good stress busting habits until in my 20s. 

2. I like how I felt when I played soccer. In a word, I felt empowered. You may not believe this (no one ever does), but I was a defensive TANK. I once managed to even knock my coach down when he tried to get past me. Clearly, it didn’t happen. I was a very aggressive player on defense. I was confident on the field at an age where I otherwise felt awkward and ridiculous. I miss that feeling.

And that is the main moral to this otherwise rambling post. When I think about quitting soccer, I still understand my reasons, but I am ashamed that I let people take away my joy without at least trying to work through it. Don’t give up on what really makes you happy. But don’t expect it to always be easy either. Sometimes we need some growing pain to actually, you know, grow.