Today I was more aligned with the former, but trying to optimistically tilt to the latter.
I almost always follow the same routine. As much as I cry out for the new and novel and frequently ponder whether "routine" is merely a half-step from "rut", at the core I am a creature of habit.
So this morning I got dressed, applied some half-assed lip gloss and mascara, packed my purse with pencils, a camera, grammar worksheets and a novel, and took myself out for pancakes.
Being a silent pancake-eating observer across the street from one of the biggest high schools in the city is a very interesting way to spend an hour and a half. While I
Because what is more fun on a sunny Friday morning in May than eating pancakes on the secret garden patio of a greasy spoon and playing Harriet the Spy?!
Teenage drama ensued. Grad related, friend related, drama drama drama.
Having been a teenage girl and experienced my own fair share of teenage grad drama once upon a time, I felt compelled to offer my wisdom.
But as an unemployed 25 year old with bags under my eyes so large that I had to pay an extra fee to have them shipped, I shut up.
But even so, I can share that wisdom with you.
1. No one is ever going to remember the exact specific details of your graduation attire. I am positive that NO ONE cared that my dress was a strapless Alfred Angelo Watermelon - pink on one side with a red backing to really punch up that colour -- Taffeta number with moroccan inspired beading. It was pink, people. End of story.
2. Any post-grad after party you attend will be full of whiny, insolent teenage girl drama. Live with it.
3. If you truly don't like someone, don't be their friend. I understand this is difficult, particularly if you live in a small small town, but you go to one of the biggest high schools I've ever encountered in my life. Suck it up, buttercup, or break it off. You're a few short months from college or Uni anyway. You'll see those people step off an elevator for a business meeting in a decade and won't remember their names, having only the vaguest recollection of knowing them from a previous life. This is the natural order of things. Accept it and lose less sleep over it, and I guarantee that the bags under mine eyes will not be reflected on your perfect (minus those few acne spots which DON'T GO AWAY MAGICALLY WHEN YOU FINISH HIGH SCHOOL, LYING DERMATOLOGISTS AND TEEN MAGAZINE!), unlined adolescent face.
4. And one for the management: It is unwise to sit at a table in your dining establishment with the rest of your patrons and loudly discuss the number of sanctions you received from the last visit by the Health Inspector.
No, no, I'm fine, thanks. Don't bother with boxing up those remaining flapjacks. I'm positively stuffed.