"Insert High School Title Here"

High school is all about classifications, right? I mean, if you yourself don’t have a title by sophomore year, you just won’t survive high school, simple as that. It’s almost entertaining to just sit in a high school lunchroom and look around at the different tables, each one with their different “title”. Whether you were a “Band Freak”, a “Football Douchebag” or a “Theatre Loudmouth”, almost everyone belonged to a certain group in their good ole high school years.

Let’s start with my favorite group, the “Football Douchebags”. I went to a high school that was 100% focused on football. Our team went to State twice…and won, twice. The teachers adored the football players. I would go up to my teachers to ask for help on homework, and I would have to wait minutes while the teacher had a long conversation with a football player about the game they played that Friday night. Whenever she finally realized that I was standing there needing help, she would aimlessly direct me to a page number and return to her idolizing conversation with the hunky football guy. Of course, these “Football Douchebags” were something else. They always had this attitude about them that they were “the shit”. They got out of homework assignments, got all of the attention of both teachers, students, and even the principal, and they always dated the hot girls, of course. That’s all great and all, but whenever you’re as dumb as a box of rocks, AND you are conceited and egocentric, I am not going to like you. To top it all off, our football program got all of our money, while things like our journalism classes, art classes, and speech programs got little to nothing. Needless to say, I now hate football.

What goes along great with our “Football Douchbags”? Why, our “Slutty ‘I’m so dumb’ Cheerleaders”! Like the football players, our teachers and faculty adored our cheerleaders. They walked with confidence in our hallways because they knew all the girls wanted to be them. As soon as someone joined the cheerleading team, they dyed their hair blonde. They wore their short little skirts, flirted loudly with cute boys next to my desk so as to disrupt my education, and then turned around and daily asked to copy my homework. We would all hear stories about their weekend parties where they got so drunk and had sex with a random guy on top of their mother’s Corvettes. Cheerleaders at my school were so classy. Maybe I am just bitter because I didn’t make the cheer team in the 6th grade because I didn’t have “the look” for it, but I sure did hate those cheerleaders. I might have hated them almost as much as I hated the football players, but not quite.

Next we had our “Theatre Loudmouths”. This group belonged to the kids that used to have nothing to call themselves. These were the kids that never had a group before and found their place in theatre. After they acted in their first production, the “Theatre Loudmouth” came alive. Suddenly, they went from being the shy kids to being the kids always told to be quiet in the lunchroom. They gossiped constantly, and usually only dated and hung out with people that starred in the same plays. They were overly dramatic, and you could always tell who was a theatre kid and who wasn’t just by listening to them talk. While they were most certainly annoying, I was glad that my fellow classmates found a place where they belonged.

“Gangstaaas” were another big group in our high school. You would think that this group would consist of only African Americans, but at our school, it wasn’t. The “Gangstaaas” consisted of both black and white kids that wore baggy clothes, big colorful shoes, and talked like they didn’t know how to form sentences properly. They were always so loud, and you could spot them coming. This group revolved around laughter. They loved making jokes about other people’s “mommas” and picking on each other. Whenever they laughed, they cupped their hands over their mouths and yelled “OOOOHHHHH!” before going into a fit of laughter and stomping. This was always the group that was most fun to watch. They were some funny kids.

The “Mary Janes” accounted for a pretty good portion of our class. These were the kids that...well, loved pot. I had a couple friends in this group, and they were interesting. They usually talked about pot a lot. How much they smoked last night, when they are going to smoke again, and what they did “that one time” they were so blown. In art class, instead of painting pictures of landscapes, they were drawing mushrooms. Instead of making cute friendship bracelets, they were making hemp. While I never agreed with their lifestyle, I always thought that the “Mary Janes” were the easiest to get along with. They were always so calm and happy and optimistic. Sadly, most of the “Mary Janes” of my grade have yet to go on and be more. They are still stuck at their parents, smoking pot in the basement with their friends.

“Scenie Weenies” is what my group of friends were called. During high school, we all went to local music venues to hear the local bands play. We all wore skinny jeans before they became fashionable. We wore bright colors, Chucks, and we often put random color streaks in our hair. We gauged our ears and pierced our noses. We were made fun of relentlessly until we all decided to just give it up and retire our “scene” lifestyles.

Lastly, there were the “Band Geeks”. Every high school had these. They all had one instrument they had played since grade school that they carried around with them everywhere. They were all very proud of their band accomplishments. They competed in music competitions and smiled proudly when they won their ribbons. “Band Geeks” were either whores or goody-goody. These were usually your good students as well.

ANNOYANCES

There are many things that just tick me off. Things that people do and say at times just have a way of sending me over the edge. It is sometimes hard to understand why people do what they do and then think that it is okay. A lot of people are good at standing up for themselves whenever people do something to make them angry. They can cuss, scream, and argue until things are worked out and justice is served. Me, on the other hand, I am a pushover. Even when I’m so angry that I think I might explode, I let people get away with what they do because I hate confronting them and making them even more upset. When I do end up confronting them, I am always super nice and relaxed about it, which almost always makes it worse because the problem hardly ever ceases. Yep, life sure is full of those little annoyances that have the capability to drive you crazy. The best place to realize these annoyances? College!
It drives me insane whenever people can’t take care of themselves, especially here at college. If you don’t know how to live with people, don’t live with them. Don’t leave your stuff everywhere if you know your roommate hates it. Don’t listen to people’s conversations that they are having in the other room and then comment on them. It makes people feel rather uncomfortable when they come out of their room after a phone conversation and the first thing they hear from you is “Oh, you’re going with Amy to Dairy Queen? I’m coming”.
Which brings me to my next point in this ongoing list: don’t invite yourself everywhere; when you invite yourself everywhere, it makes people not want to invite you anywhere. Don’t tell your roommates all the details of your…womanhood. Yes, we are all girls, but that business is more of a private matter. Don’t laugh obnoxiously at Saturday Night Live at 2 a.m. whenever everyone is trying to sleep. I know you cannot help how you laugh, but dear God, please, keep it down. Don’t ask for everyone else’s food if you are not willing to share your own. I’m not a greedy person, but I’m not just going to feed you for the rest of my life either.
Don’t bring over creepy random guys with greasy hair that you just met that night at the Loft to spend the night on the couch. It alarms us a little bit when we come home to guys we don’t know snoozing on our couch while you are shut away in your room on the computer. It also might be a good idea to not bring over friends that steal. Especially when you learned how they stole firsthand, by you missing 60 dollars. Why should I have to hide my money in my own room? One last thing…please, please, PLEASE, for the love of all that is holy, do no leave your puke sitting in a bucket on your bed for hours. When I walk in at midnight and find this bucket from 3 p.m. sitting there with all the contents still intact, it makes me want to kill someone.
You know, after dealing with all of that, you would think that we would hate that roommate. We don’t, or at least, we didn’t. I was still dedicated to being nice to her. She, on the other hand, decided to play a game of teeter-totter with us and go from being nice to being really mean. That’s another thing that really gets under my skin is when people take advantage of nice people. Whenever they know that they can get away with anything because that particular person is just so nice that you know they will get over everything with time. I have always been the person taken advantage of. I was always the person people would ditch when they had better plans, and I was always the friend to not get angry whenever this happened. People are constantly taking their anger out on me because they know that I will deal with it. Particularly, with one of my old roommates, I have this problem. All four of us dealt with a lot, and to be honest, she did not deserve people to be nice to her.

I Want a Daughter

A majority of women grow up dreaming of having children at some point. They think of what their children will look like, how they will spoil them, and all of the fun times they will have with their future children. When it comes time for these women to actually have kids, there are these expectations in the back of their minds on what their experience will be like. I think that when my mother had me, her first daughter, she definitely expected me to be the daughter she had always imagined. This holds true even today. Ever since June 28th, 1991, I will always be a daughter. Oh, what a joy it is.
I want a daughter. I want a little princess that will always be sweet to me. I want a cute little girl with dark hair that I can put in cute little ponytails and bows. I want to dress her up in pink dresses and hear her say in her baby voice “I wuv you, Mommy.” I want to take her to the park and get lots of compliments on how cute my daughter is. I want people to be jealous that their kids aren’t as cute as mine. I want my daughter to be polite and nice to strangers, but also be smart enough to not follow them to her car. I want people to “ooh” and “aah” at every little thing she does. I want her to run into my room every morning just to snuggle with me. I want her to have tea parties with me and want to play house. I want her to love her daddy, but favor me. I want to hate whenever she has to grow up a little more and start school.
When my daughter starts kindergarten, I want to receive notes home from her teachers about how sweet my little girl is in class. I want to her to be shy with her classmates, but very nice to them. I want her to get citizen of the month frequently. I want to see all pluses on her report card. I want her to come to me after school and ask for help on her homework. I want her to grow and learn and dream, but I want her to be my little girl forever. I want to be in charge of all of her class parties. I want all of the kids to know that I am her cool mom that comes in to help the school whenever I can. I want her to have lots of friends over for sleepovers so I can bake for them and be like their second mom. I want my daughter to do what she wants. If she wants to play sports, I want her to play sports. If she wants to be in dance class, I will sign her up. If she wants to just be a nerd and read all of the time, I will buy her books. But whatever she decides to do growing up, I want her to succeed.
It’s going to be tough having a daughter in middle school, but I know she can do it. She is going to go through puberty, get her first period, buy her first bra, and experience her first boy pains. My daughter is going to go through a lot during middle school, but she sure as hell is going to get through it the right way. Instead of experimenting with drugs, alcohol, and boys in middle school like a lot of girls seem to do, she is going to be Momma’s good girl. She will always be the goody-goody of her class, because her mother would expect nothing less. When she does mess up, she is going to tell me, because her conscious couldn’t stand not telling her mom things. Middle school is going to be hard for my daughter, but she will succeed, I’m sure.
High school is going to be the roughest, but we can do it. My daughter is going to make good grades without me even hounding her about homework. In fact, I won’t even have to ask her how classes are going, because I know she can handle it. Somehow, without me pushing her, I will still be receiving report cards in the mail full of As and Bs. I will be so proud that my daughter has taken the responsibility upon herself to do well in school and succeed. Now, of course, my daughter will be dealing with normal high school temptations. I expect that she won’t participate in any of them, but I know that is unrealistic. She may try drinking, she may try smoking, she may even have sex with boys, but as long as she comes to her senses at some point and realizes what is worth it in life and what isn’t, I will be proud of her. I will be angry the first time I find out she drank, but she will tell me she realizes now how stupid it was and that she won’t do it again. I will hug her and love her for being honest. When she tells me she needs birth control, I may or may not be disappointed, but we will have a talk and she will make that decision on her own. My daughter is going to have her share of hard times in high school, but she will turn out like the accomplished, sweet, and amazing young lady I always expected she will be.
Having a daughter is going to be rough. There are going to be so many ups and downs. Growing up, dating, high school…it’s going to be a long road. But hopefully, with some careful guidance and knowing that she has a support system behind her, she will turn out like the daughter I always wanted. I want a daughter, so bad.

Stereotyping

Stereotypes are a part of everyday life, whether we realize it or not. People subconsciously make conceptions about others based on race, gender, or even style. It’s just the way our minds have become programmed over the years. Being a teenage girl, I’m sure there have been times that I have been stereotyped in situation where I didn’t even realize it. There are several examples, however, of times when people close to me have been stereotyped for various reasons.
There are a lot of stereotypes about older people. People think they can’t hear, they aren’t capable of doing things for themselves, and basically, that they are incompetent. My Nana is 72 years old, and there have been many times when I was with her that people would treat her differently, especially at stores. I found that when my grandma would ask the clerks questions about certain items, they would suddenly start talking at a very slow pace. They would repeat things several times, and put things in very childish terms. My Nana would just wink at me while they were talking, because she knew what they were doing. I think that a lot of times, people are just used to seeing the older people that have a hard time hearing and comprehending things, so they automatically think they are all like that. I must say, I am probably guilty of doing the same. When I worked fast food, I had a lot of older people that couldn’t hear what I was saying, so I started talking to them like they were children. It’s just become normal to think that way about older people.
Another example of stereotyping would be my friend from middle school, Justus. He was mixed, and adopted, and had a great family. At school, people always just figured he was like the rest of the black guys. They figured he smoked, drank, and walked the streets. He also lived in Howell Park, which is considered a “rough” neighborhood. He was very different from the other guys at school though. He rapped, but not the type of rap everyone thought. Justus is a proud Christian, and he was in a Christian rap group with his brothers. I never knew any of this until later. I always kind of put him in the “black guy” stereotype like everyone else. I was at a Christian concert my freshman year, and I walked outside to see Justus handing out cds. I thought it was odd that he was outside of a Christian concert handing out rap cds, but I took one anyways. When I put it in my cd player, the lyrics were extremely positive and uplifting. I was surprised, and I also felt pretty bad that I always stereotyped Justus to be a bad kid when he really wasn’t.
My boyfriend has also been stereotyped many times because of his appearance. There is a group of guys around town that have gauges, tattoos, and they play in a band. Generally, they are considered to be bad. People think that they all drink, smoke pot, and party all of the time. While it is true that a lot of them do, they aren’t all like that. My boyfriend is “above the influence”. He has never drank alcohol or smoked a cigarette in his life, and he prides himself on that. People are always surprised to hear that Jake doesn’t participate in that type of lifestyle. They see his tattoos and gauges and automatically stereotype him as a partying lowlife when, really, he is the exact opposite.
Another stereotype I have witnessed is about a girl I went to high school with. She had been dating the same guy for about six years, and he was in the army. As soon as she graduated, they got married and she moved in with him. Several months later, she announced that she was pregnant. Even though her baby was conceived a couple months after she married, she still dealt with people thinking that she conceived her baby out of wedlock. She was gossiped about a lot among people in our grade. Even when girls get pregnant outside of marriage, they are given the stereotype of being a whore, even if that is not necessarily the case. I know several girls that had babies in high school with the same person they lost their virginities to, and a lot of them are still with those people today.
Whether it be concerning race, gender, age, or circumstances, stereotyping is something most people do everyday. Subconsciously, you make judgments about people before you really know them. Is it right? Of course not, but it’s life. Stereotyping is part of everyday life.