Life Support

OK, there is a difference between being a support system for a friend in need and telling someone what to do. Sometimes the difference seems ever so slight, but I assure you that it is major. I think sometimes I fail to recognize the difference, and I can admit to that. I also realize how frustrating that can be to people, because I have been on the receiving end of that as well. I think that there is a certain line that’s crossed when someone asks for advice, and instead they get an outline by which they should live their lives. An opinion is one thing, but I think that a person should be in control of his or her own life.

Personally, I’m a very independent person. I guess it has something to do with the way that I was raised, because everyone in my family is that way. If someone tells me I can’t do something– I want to do it. If someone tells me I shouldn’t do something– I’m most likely going to. I don’t like being told what to do, and I don’t respond in a favorable fashion generally.

At the same time, I know people who can’t seem to make a decision for themselves. They are constantly asking “What should I do?”. Without an outside source of help, I am sure they would live their lives decision-less.

I guess that this blog seems a bit like a random ramble without the context, but if I were to divulge the inspiration for this blog I fear I might compromise a close friendship. I guess I am just pretentious enough to believe that I have the right to make my own decisions and to establish my own belief system. I generally don’t just accept what I’m told, I have always been that way. I like to learn it for myeslf. I like to experience things for myself, without the judgments of those around me. Advice is one thing. Telling me how to live my life is another.

Lives of the Beligerent and Inconsiderate

This blog comes out of the pure anger, resentment, frustration, and exhaustion that I feel after a night of no sleep. No, I did not stay up all night studying, partying, or lounging. I actually went to bed at the reasonable hour (for a college student) of 2 a.m. Around 4:30 am is when the incident occured. But, before telling this story, I must first give some background on the subject matter.

Last semester, I lived alone. My roommate decided not to return to school this year, and residence life never assigned me anyone else. While on Christmas break, I recieved an e-mail from our Residence Life director informing me that my new roommate would be moving in this semester. I was a little peeved, as he had not previously spoken to me about my living situation, and if he had, I could have amended myself. However, I knew the girl that would be moving in, and I knew that everything would be alright. And, it has been, she and I get along great. However, his reasoning for moving her into my apartment, was that he needed a first floor room– for medical purposes. Well, it turns out that was a lie. The girls who moved in have no medical reasons for needing a first floor room. They decided they did not like living in the suite style dormitories, because they disliked their roommates. This is strike two. Strike one was freshman year when I had contact with one of the roommates. She lived next door to a friend of mine, and they would blast their music and scream and jump around the room at odd hours of the night when other people were attempting to study. Basically, I have found these girls to be rude and inconsiderate of other people on more than one occasion.  However, they have never personally bothered me, so I could not truly be a judge of their character.

Last night, I had a strange dream. Everything seemed rather normal, until all of a sudden, I began to scream like a banshee. I tried to make sense of this in my sleep, but I had no clue what was happening. And, then I realized the screams were not my own. I slowly and sleepily opened my eyes to glance at the television, believing that perhaps I had left it on. Nope. The howling from outside continued. I assumed that it was some crazy college student attempting to be funny, and that it would stop soon. But, it didn’t. The sounds were reminiscent of an old Tarzan movie. I finally forced myself out of bed and to the door to see what hooligan would be inconsiderate enough to wake up our entire apartment complex at (i glanced at the clock) FOUR THIRTY IN THE MORNING??? If you hadn’t already realized, it was the girls who had moved into my roommates old room. I was furious. I would have given them a peice of my mind, if our campus police hadn’t already been called on them.

As I came to learn this morning, it was one of the girls’ 21st birthdays. Both girls had done quite a bit of celebrating, and they were locked out of their apartment. That’s completely understandable to me. My friends and I like to party just as much as the other sorority girls on campus. However, we have never been known to scream loud enough that we wake up people in other apartments at unreasonable hours of the morning! What kind of person do you have to be, to believe that you are so important that it is acceptable to do that? Even in an altered state, I think I would realize that other people are sleeping. Is it too much to ask for a little consideration sometimes?

Innocent Bystanders

Here’s a scenario for you:

You’re walking down the street and you run into an old woman, screaming that her purse has been stolen. You turn the other way to see a man running down the crowded sidewalk with a bag in his hand that clearly is not his.

What do you do?

Well, I would have to say that there are 3 types of bystanders.

1. The Chaser

2. The Cell Phone User

3. The Casual Observer

The chaser is the bystander who stops whatever it is that they are doing, in order to chase down this criminal. In my opinion, this person in real life is the “doer”. They won’t stand by and watch as wrongdoings occur. They are the type to say or do something to make things right.

The cell phone user is the bystander who sees the robbery, and therefore takes out their cell phone to call the police. They won’t actually stop the events of their life to do something about it, but they will call someone who will. In real life, the “cell phone user” seem to talk a big game, but when it comes down to it, there’s no action behind their words. They don’t actually want to do something about the problem, but they don’t want you to think poorly of them for not recognizing that it is a problem.

And then, there is the casual observer, who does absolutely nothing. Though they could probably be called upon later to be a witness to the events, they either do not actually believe that the young man is wrong in stealing the purse, or they are too afraid to actually do anything about it. This irrational fear is difficult to understand, so in the end, this person ends up being resented, not only by the other bystanders, but by the victim as well.

Clearly, this scenario is metaphorical for life. I’ve been thinking about this more and more lately. I’ve even questioned my own place in the world as a bystander. So, after reading this, I really encourage readers to think hard about their own lives. What type of bystander are you?

The Things I Know

*C’s best friend has tried to commit suicide. *J thought that she might be bisexual. *H is flying halfway across the world to see his ex, because he feels he never got closure. *K was raped by her ex-boyfriend.*B’s mother got cancer when he was really young, and he constantly thinks about it. *M attempted suicide after being cheated on. *S is so self-conscious about her body that she was actually anorexic one summer. *A can’t seem to commit to a relationship after her ex died of cancer. *D has an issue with alcoholism.

I think I know more about my friends than most other people do. I have always hoped that people feel comfortable with telling me details about their lives. It wasn’t until this past week that I really realized how comfortable people are. The guys I’ve hung out with lately have started telling me some of the more intimate details of their lives. They’ve told me things that their best friends don’t even know. Some may chalk it up to “the boy code”, which I referenced before in my “Damaged goods” blog. Basically, the boy code is a term from a book I read last semester, Real Boys’ Voices. It means that according to society’s standards, there are rules and regulations that males must live by. Nothing that is culturally feminine is allowed. The stories, feelings, and fears that they share would not be acceptable to share with other guys. My friend, Kristen, is a psychology major. She told me the other day about a study that guys are more likely to have best friends that are girls, than girls are to have best guy friends. Something about that statistic seems wrong to me, but the idea behind it makes sense. Girls can talk to other girlfriends about their feelings and fears. Boys can only talk about sex and sports (Well, that’s over simplistic, but everyone gets the basic idea).

I would probably have to agree that, in part, this recent sharing of feelings can be attributed to the boy code. However, I’m not sure if that’s the sum of it all. I would have to say that also, in part, it has to do with me. I’ve been thinking a lot about this lately, and both guys and girls come to me with stories that they have never before told anyone. I think that some people just naturally have this aura about them that makes them easy to talk to. I think I may have that quality. I’m approachable. I talked to a friend about it the other day, and she agreed. I have a disarming personality.

In case anyone thinks that this blog is bragging or boasting my ‘talents’, I’d like to put your mind at ease. Sometimes this quality can be extremely emotionally draining. For Valentine’s Day, I got to talk to ex-boyfriends about their relationships. It definitely didn’t make the holiday any easier to bear. So yes, it gets a little rough sometimes. People who hardly know me tell me things they’ve never told anyone. They reveal sides of their personality that the world doesn’t get to see. Sometimes I feel that I need professional training to listen and respond to some of the things that I hear. It can get pretty scary. But, at the same time, this is a skill that I can put to good use. People feel like they can talk to me about things, which, as a future teacher, is pretty comforting. It will help me to better understand my students and to help them.