"You're better than that."

Awhile back I spent 12 hours reading all the blogs I could find attached to Cedar Rapids.  Some of the more humorous blogs were written by angst-ridden teenagers who felt a friend had betrayed them and they had to tell the world via a blog.  I am pretty sure if I had started writing a blog when I was 16 it would have been full of entries like that.

But I'm not 16, I'm 41 42. (I had to think for a minute.)

I have written many posts about my friend below.  She has a personality that is quite remarkable in many ways.  In the past I have decided to save the post and wait until the next day to publish.  The next day I'd re-read the post and decide not to publish.  Some of the stories were really good.  In my 40-something years I've never met a person with her combination of generosity, neediness and ability to alienate.  I could easily make 10-20% of this blog about her; she's that interesting.

But I won't.

Why?  First, I don't want this blog to become a bitch session where I seek to settle scores.  Second, I don't want any of my friends to be concerned that a fight with me will turn into a blog post.

And most importantly, it's a lesson I learned in sixth grade long ago.  (I was taught the lesson in sixth grade but it didn't sink in until at least a decade later.)

There was a guy in my class named Mike.  He was bright but very socially awkward.  He didn't have many friends, but hey, neither did I so we'd often talk.  One day he really pissed me off about something I can't remember now.  I took to mocking him.  I mimicked his mannerism of pulling his t-shirt up over his nose.  I think I may have made fun of his clothes (remarkable coming from me, the kid who two years earlier wore green jeans and almost always had K-Mart sneakers.)

The ability to make caustic, demeaning comments is a trait inherent to my people and I can play the game with the best of them.  The next day I usually feel sick about it.  Self-loathing is another trait of my clan.

Anyhow, I was in the middle of ripping into Mike when my teacher called me into the hallway.  Mr. Leib was a fantastic teacher of life.  He was pretty much worshiped in my elementary.  Fearing authority I was almost in tears as I walked out.  "Am I in trouble???"

In the hall I quickly launched into a defense of why I was making fun of Mike.  Mr. Leib interrupted, "Stop.  You're better than that."  I continued defending my actions.  He put his hand on my shoulder and repeated, "You're better than that."

*****
I won't promise to not write about Gwenn because she really is fascinating.  I will try to make it as an "observation" and not a "judgement."  Am I concerned that she may find what I write?  Nah.  She's way too self-absorbed* busy with important matters to ever read this blog.

*Sometimes it is so hard not to let my bitchy side show.  I know I'll feel guilty about this line tomorrow...  Or maybe not; it is a pretty accurate observation!

Somewhere, Mr. Leib is shaking his head.