Thanks to Bikurgirl for hosting #100WordWednesdays.
The high school drama teacher, Mr. Elf, decided the school would peform a modern English version of “The Canturbury Tales.” Vernon was recruited to help paint the set and he would’ve been pleased to paint the entire set alone; however, he had to share creative control with Stacy who was also a ‘so-called’ gifted artist. Much fighting occurred.
The day before the performance the extras hung the scenery. Mr. Elf was shocked to see exactly half of the set painted in a superb realistic manner while the other half was rendered using fantastic painterly strokes in the style of impressionist painters. The set was discussed enormously by the audience at all three performances and neither Vernon or Stacy will speak to each other to this day.
Why do people have trouble keeping secrets I wonder? We all have some, big or little secrets. My Mom would always say when I was younger things like: “Amanda needs to go to Kingsway” then to me ” don’t tell your Dad I went shopping.” Or she would tell me to hide the evidence of fast food when we would bring it home every once in awhile before my Dad came home. Those were tiny secrets between us.
My Dad still does this too. He will say to my Grandma, “Amanda is tired and needs to go home now” when we visit. What he means was that he wanted to go home because he was tired. I’d roll my eyes at this secret.
When I was in University two of my best friends liked the same guy, we’ll call him James. One of them started going out with James and the other would talk all about him. I hated being in the middle of this drama. It wasn’t fair to me or my other two best friends and finally the friend going out with James told the girl who liked him. She was mad at me especially because we had been friends since high school. But I was close friends with the other girl too, so I didn’t think it was fair of her to be mad at me and not my other two friends. For awhile the friend who only liked James wouldn’t talk to me. But once the friend who was dating James became engaged to him, my friend who liked James realized her error. Funny enough, the friend who became engaged to James didn’t end up marrying him. It was such a big secret at the time, this drama I felt trapped by; but now I don’t think it’s as big as I thought it was. But to tell you the truth I’m not as close of friends with the friend from high school, but the friend who didn’t marry the guy she was engaged to, is still a close friend.
Secrets are such funny things. We feel so desperate to keep them at the time, then realize it wasn’t so bad to have that secret told whether they are large or small secrets. But then there are things you never tell, no matter how long it’s been. I never told my Mom how much I actually drank when my parents had to pick me up from a pubcrawl. I said twelve high balls in two hours, it was more like eighteen high balls and half a bottle of root beer schnapps. But I was twenty-one and could handle the one day hangover. Today I’m not much of a drinker, just some wine on the weekend of a couple of drinks. But I still think my Mom would be horrified of the amount. I’m sure my Dad had more of an idea, but he never said a thing.
Secrets are strange. They can be really funny, when you wondered how can your friend like such and such a guy, what does she see? Or, that the person you were seeing and broke up with, your friends never liked. Or secrets of self-sabotage, you can see someone messing their life up the same way over and over again. But you can’t really say anything, because you don’t want to hurt their feelings. I’ve had experience with that. Sometimes you have to let people make their mistakes until they realize what they are doing. Telling them the truth can end friendships or at least add distance to them.
I have a few secrets, but I don’t like to tell, too many people have opinions. And like I said, those can be dangerous.
I use to think the whole world was alive and vibrant every Saturday night. I looked forward to the rush of excitement, the shouts of joy, the laughter, the dancing, and a few drinks (or more). I remembering going out in a big group and loving every single song they played ( because it was my favorite) and taking my poor dance moves out onto the floor with the lights, fog, and other dancers encroaching on our space made around a pile of purses. It was a soaring feeling dancing to a hypnotic beat and loving all your friends — even though there was drama of one kind or another always. I think when the drama gets too much you start to grow up and not put up with a group mentality.
That’s when you stop getting together as a group first and start living other lives outside of school. It’s when you start to develop a career, start to not just hook up but find a lasting boyfriend or girlfriend, it’s when some of your friends become parents, it’s when your friends become engaged and get married, it’s when you can’t stay hung over the entire weekend, and it’s when things start to go wrong in life.
Some friends you knew in high school or university die or get into serious accidents, mental health takes on a new meaning for you or those around you, and some parents of kids you grew up with become ill. You may stay home or have a job but things change. The glory of life is no longer yours in the same form it was in your late teens and early twenties. Glory comes sitting at the pub with a few good friends some nights. It comes in the birth of a child or seeing your best friend get married. It comes in finding the person you love and staying in together. It comes in lunch with a dear friend you haven’t seen for ages or an elderly grandparent in their 80’s or 90’s.
Drama changes from little spiteful fights between girls or brawls between guys to real life problems and issues. You feel alive for different reasons, you dance in your car on the way to work, and your packs include people of all age groups. Life changes because suddenly you’re not preparing for it, you’re in it for better or worse. Now you really are an adult with much greater responsibilities, outcomes, failures, resentments, moments of pride, vulnerabilities, and happiness.
But then some have said we never ever really leave school we just move up to different classrooms, classes, and teachers. Life is a classroom and we are always pupils. What do you think?