Ramble, ramble, ramble. Look, I get it. I know that I’m a slacker. You don’t have to tell me, and I’m not in denial like parents and teachers and counselors and aunt and uncles and everyone else would like to believe. I pass my classes and plan on going to college. What more do you want? Yeah, it might be junior college. It’s still college, though. I can always marry a rich guy. Heck, rich guys need love too.
Potential is a word that really bugs me. First off, it’s three syllables. Secondly, I know that I have potential! So they seriously think that they are going to control what I do, how I do it, why I do it? No, they’re not. Plus, what person that knows they’re not reaching their “full potential” wants to hear about it? Endless lectures are the story of my life. They happen at school, at home, on the phone, in emails, everywhere. They may mean well, but it always comes across like they’re saying, “hey, you’re lazy and you can do better.” Yeah, I didn’t like the word.
Before I give you an entire earful, let me give you a little background info about myself. I’m a teenage girl in high school who, as I probably made pretty obvious, doesn’t try her hardest. It’s not that I can’t. I ace all of the homework and can sound really smart. I just don’t study and a lot of times don’t listen. Now, it may seem like I’m taking the easy way out. We’ll let me prove you wrong. It all started in junior high…
“You play sports, you sing, you act, you write and you ace school. What don’t you do?” my first boyfriend snapped, looking a little annoyed.
I hesitated, not knowing how to respond. I did get all A’s, I was on two sports teams, and I was singing and dancing in the upcoming musical. On top of that, I wrote in my free time.
“People look at us funny,” he continued. “You’re a nerd, and I’m a punk. It doesn’t match.”
“I’m not a nerd!” I protested, ripping my hand out of his. “I just like being involved. I also know nearly every other person at this school!”
“Exactly, nerd. You’re too involved in nerdy stuff.”
“How is sports nerdy?”
“That one isn’t. The singing, dancing, acting, studying, writing, planning, that all is.”
I glared at him, unsure how to reply. They were kind of nerdy, but they were my life…was I a nerd? That couldn’t be possible. Nerds didn’t know everyone.
I broke up him then and there, but I never forgot what he said. “Nerd” haunted me all day and night. Finally, after I graduated from junior high, I pledged to be different. I would not spread myself so thin, which ultimately slowly caused me to slack. The acting went first. Then the grades slowly began to decline. Finally, writing isn’t much more than an occasional outlet. My sports have improved, but not for all of that, though.
It wasn’t a total loss, though. I was hanging out with the hottest jocks and most popular people in school. So, I had been around the block a few times with the guys (if you know what I mean, eh?) and was hanging out with some of the most popular girls. Rumor was that I could even get homecoming queen the next fall if I really tried for it.
I had a doubt in the back of my head, though. Couldn’t I have been up for it anyway? Everyone knew who I was in junior high because I was involved. I felt liked. Now everyone knew who I was because I forced them to. I felt popular, but not always liked.
Anyway, I was committed to slacker. Sadly, slacker didn’t make everyone happy. Teacher meetings with me, teacher meetings with my parents, teacher meetings with me AND my parents. That was all that my life was about. How could I get around another “F” grade. How I could get around the dreaded broken record known as a lecture about life.
I didn’t want to be a slacker, and I really didn’t plan on it. I had big dreams of college and big dreams of a huge, well-known career. Something got to me, though. That thing is insecurity. So, yeah, if I could take back the conversation in junior high, I would. It only would have been another conversation, though. Really, I don’t understand how “nerds” and “smart people” do it. Then again, I haven’t seen them made fun of a lot. Normally they’re complimented for doing well. Sometimes the compliments are totally fake, but they’re still not really made fun of.
Okay, enough about other people and my questionable past. I’m a slacker, and I’m committed to it. There’s nothing wrong with cleaning up my act in junior college, right? I mean, that’s slacker turn-around school all the way. And, again, I can marry for money. Right?....right?
I mean, I didn’t mean to become a slacker. It just kind of happened…I mean, I, uh…it’s too late, anyway…right? Maybe I can..I, I don’t know…