Monday, March 31, 2008

The Guilt Trip that lasts a lifetime

Just a moment ago, well now it's been about half an hour, my Dad came upstairs while I was busy facebooking (that is so a verb) my friend Theresa about how much I hate a certain teacher and said in passing, "So, you've been lying to us?" I know what I'm about to say sounds bad, and that I'm a cruel person and want my parents to suffer, blahblahblah, but I smirked. Because I knew exactly what he was talking about. Seminary. (that mormon class that I've gone to most school days for the past four years)

I don't hate anything more than getting up earlier than I have to on a school day. I don't have to be at school until 8:30! I should be able to go to be every night at midnight and get a full eight hours of sleep. BUT, NO! I have had my sleep interrupted every day at approximately 5:40 AM by my dad. Seriously, is that really necessary? He opens my door (one would think he would knock after a certain incident a few years ago, how does he know that last night wasn't the night that i started to sleep nekid? how does he know if I've got my knickers on?), turns on the light, let's Emmy out (the dog), leaves my door open, proceeds to walk by my door about 23984729 times saying, "TIME TO GET UP!" OR "TIME FOR SEMINARY!", each time a little louder, a slight aggitation in his voice, until i get up - go to the bathroom and proceed to pretend that I'm relieving myself when really I'm catching a few more Z's.

And everyday, I leave. I might go, I might not. The 'rents don't know. They just assume such, because, where else do i have to go? Nowhere. And they would be right. I don't go anywhere, except maybe Panera for the occasionaly bagel, or the gym, but mostly I just drive and listen to my music - and make sure I'm back by seven.

I've been pretending to go to avoid the argument. I'm not generally a passive person, in fact I'm quite the opposite, but when it comes to things religious, no matter how trivial, I just assume avoid it completely to keep the peace. And, eventually they will find out, be disappointed and feel that they have failed and that there is nothing they can do anymore. In layman's terms, I've won my battle.

So, going back to my dad's comment. I didn't lie. I simply left every morning. They were the one's assuming that i was going to seminary, I never actually said, "I'm going to seminary." But then, of course those that feel the need to be technical will point out that this was a "white lie," a lie by omission, that I did this with the intention of being deceitful. They would be right, but I've never been one to stick to technicalities.

Here's the deal about this whole Mormon Thing, as I call it. I don't hate the Church. I don't hate the people (well, not most of them anyway) I simply have a difference of opinion, and wish to leave it at that. I've tried explaining myself to everyone, multiple times, but it's useless and it's a waste of everyone's time. I just wish that my parents wouldn't down themselves so much or feel that they've somehow failed me as a parent because I didn't end up how I was supposed to.

Unfortunately, my parents will make me feel guilty about this for the rest of my life. For example, "You'll be the first Pittman not to graduate from seminary." I will also be the first Pittman to function a bit better because I will be waking up at least an hour later and therefore putting myself in a better mood for many, many, days in the near and distant future. I will also be sick less. I will also be putting this precious time to good use, for things such as sleep, catching some Z's, catching more Z's, occasionally waking up that early anyway to do homework, eating breakfast, sleeping, and getting enough sleep. (One would think that my dad would understand how important sleep is considering his admiration for it)

My parents don't say or do things directly to make their kids feel bad. Ever. And anyone who knows my family should know. My parents go out of their way. They ask us to read the scriptures, even those of us who haven't been to church in ten years, when it's obvious we don't want to be there. Or they'll ask us to say the prayer when our friends are over. Or ask us to help them with the dinner they're making for that family in the ward whose mother is sick, and isn't it so nice that our church has that type of community? that we know we can rely on one another? isn't it great? Well, Mom, no It's not because I don't know her, or her husband...he's the tall guy with the brown hair that he...or her kids, nor do I care. I'm sorry, but I DON'T KNOW THEM! Why aren't they're friends helping them? we are their friends... no, no we're not. I am not thier friend. I didn't even know who they were until today...

And it goes on for awhile like that.

I really wish that I went to one of those churches where everyone magically appears for an hour and then launches out the front door as soon as the service was over. Instead, everyone knows who I am, that I'm a Pittman, that I did not go to mutual this past week, or to the dance last night. They know everything, and for awhile, I was okay with it, I know how to deal, but really, should I have to? Should I have to do something just to maintain the peace? Should I have to pretend to like people I can't stand? Should I have to make friendly conversation with someone who likes my dress, and thinks I'm pretty, but is thinking "what a skank" in their heads? I know this by the looks I receive, by the hushed comments relayed as I pass a group of gossips - gossips who believe in being kind, and non-judgemental, and are just so humbled - bullshit.

I hate having people that I don't want or choose to know, know who I am, who I'm related to, where I live, etc. I didn't invite these people into my life, and somehow they feel it's their right to ask me what grades i got on my report card, or mention that Johnny told them that "Amanda sleeps in seminary."

Mind you, because of my upbringing I have my closest friends, some church-going, and some not, others just go for the food.

I hope that when I have kids of my own, I'll remember this, and I won't (to quote a church hymn) "force the human mind."

And so, Amanda the last hope, has done it once again, she's disappointed the people that love her most. But for the record, she didn't do it on purpose and she does feel bad that they're hurt and she hopes that one day they'll stop beating themselves up about it.

Friday, March 14, 2008


So he's my boyfriend.

I haven't written in awhile, and I began writing a post about him at some point, but got inturrupted...

Anyway, so I decided that 11:40 on a Friday was a good time to post.

Just so that you have the facts, I did not plan him. In fact, he messed up my plans...jerk. I had planned on spending the entirety of my senior/freshman years not being "tied down," "doing the relationship thing," "wasting time," etc. That was all true of my first semester this year, the Marco happened.

He's three years older than me, 6'2" and some sort of computer geek in the Army. He just got stationed in Korea, for a year. He's not in the Middle East, of that I'm very glad, and it'd be ideal to have him here, but apparently I can't have everything.

I've had a lot of people ask me if we're going to stick out through this year, or why don't I just date him when he gets back, etc. And the answer to all of those questions is that I met him now, we fell in love now, and I don't want to see other people. My being in a relationship will in no way keep me from "getting the full college experience." It won't keep me from meeting people or limit me in any way.

For those that know me best, I think they would agree that they didn't think this would happen, especially now, and that it's even good for me. Not that I'm reckless, but I've certainly poo-pooed relationships in the past. I'm starting to realize what it means to be "young and stupid." I'm okay with that. I'm okay with that label. I assure you though, it's not "puppy love."

How do I know?

That's a loaded question. We've only been together a couple months and already he's seen me at my worst. I've been sick a lot, and he's right there making sure I'm okay. He's a gentleman, even if my mom thinks he didn't get me anything for V-day. He knows all those little things that drive me crazy. He's seen me cry, a lot. He doesn't get uncomfortable, or think that it's awkward, he does all in his capacity to listen, understand, and make me smile.

After we said "the L word," I told my mom and she told my brother Joseph (the one in Spain). His response was that he (Marco) just wanted to get in my pants. I won't elaborate on why that's the furthest thing from the truth, just know that I know it is. I think it's cute that Joe said that, he's such an ass.

Marco listens to my dad's endless war/military stories, and actually enjoys them (or so he says). My parents and everyone he's met likes him. MY DAD LIKES A BOY THAT I LIKE! He's horrible at Connect Four, and the fact that he'll play board games with me/my family/his little sister is wonderful. He likes my writing and encourages me to write more, and more importantly he understands it and appreciates my thoughts on life. I may be a little quirky (or a lot, whatever) and he's down with all those little things.
He is a pro napper. We are pro nappers together. Napping is one activity we can enjoy anytime, anywhere and have a fabulous time. We are also avid Scrabblers.

He's in Korea and I get excited when I see that we're online at the same time. I get it, a whole year of checking my inbox and arranging phone-calls.

My parents always wanted me to marry a return missionary, I suppose a soldier will have to do.