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Books, man. Books.
At work I'm reading Nineteen Minutes because I remember the reviews being fairly good... for a Jodi Picoult book.
I admit I've read maybe four or five of her books and as someone who read entirely too many VC Andrews books back in the day, I don't really get to bitch about formulaic writing but... yeah. Woman loves her some formula. :P Which is a shame because sometimes I think the book in question could be so much better off without being able to check off one of the ticky-boxes on her checklist for the Formula of Doom. (Like Sing You Home which had everything including the effin' kitchen sink. Pick and choose, woman. Pick and choose.)
So far I'm a little less than halfway into it, which considering it's being read at work is impressive. I'm a little wary at some of the bits of Formula rising up out of the mist but for now I'm (mostly) enjoying the ride.
That said, I find it difficult to read/watch anything dealing with school shootings without having flashbacks to a dinner I attended after Columbine. I don't remember everyone there, I just know that I had quite a few friends and friendly types, and A&C's mom was there since it was held at her house.
I want to say they'd basically come out with that checklist of things to watch out for (remember that?) in your teen or classmates, and as they went down the list the room got quieter and quieter as people stopped eating and started playing with their food nervously.
And it took me a minute to figure out why because I was still trying to suss out my feelings about something someone had said.
But then it hits me that the room is too quiet for this conversation and I look up and around the table and realize that holyfuckingshit.
Everyone is looking at me.
While, you know, trying not to look at me.
To say high school (and middle school before it) was not a pleasant experience for me would be a vast understatement of fact. I didn't have a lot of friends and probably most of my 'friends' were actually friends of friends. I think I could count the number of actual friends on one hand and still have a few fingers left over. And in high school your friends will screw you over at one point or another. It just happens. Still, it's better to have them than not have them.
Because when they're around you don't feel like people are staring quite as much. Two people blend in easier than one. When someone does that stupid *coughfatasscough* thing, it's easier to ignore when you've got someone there with you who is mostly on your side.
Thing is, you can't bend your entire schedule around someone else's, so there are classes when you're vulnerable and alone and no amount of keeping your head down will keep your ass safe. You learn to avoid the cafeteria because that's just open season when you're by yourself (and looking back, it was actually worse when I was with my friends. Go figure) and for the life of me I cannot remember a single adult in there who didn't work in the cafeteria. So you avoid that.
You avoid the courtyard whenever possible (and always at lunch) because that's where those who fit in somewhere gather. You don't go behind the buildings unless you're changing classes because that's the equivelent of walking down a dark alley at night in a slasher flick. The hallways are dangerous because of all the people and the increased odds of someone slamming into you and making you the fall guy.
We will never discuss gym.
Classes themselves are hell because you can't transfer out of them because you never let a state known for its stupidity know you're smart. They will never let you go even as everyone else in the class makes it known how much you will NEVER be welcome. (And that was day one.) Your teachers are a mixed bag. Personally I think the closest I came to having advocates were the science teacher who was fired the year after I had her (I cried because the entire time I was in that hellhole, she was the ONLY person who realized how bad things were and were going to be for me) and the other one who seemed to think I was too smart for the class. Which was just funny. The others seemed to think that the bad would just go away or didn't exist if they kept pretending it didn't, or it didn't really happen in their classes, or worse still, they kind of encouraged it because if the class is feeding on one of their own, they can't turn on the person failing to teach them a damn thing now can they?
It was an open secret among my few friends and their friends just how miserable I was. And the thing was, this was without there being any one group torturing me. It was just this school wide memo that I was to either get the cold shoulder or.... wish I was. Nothing you could really call anyone out on (outside the cafeteria where we've discussed the lack of adults) but enough of it over time will break you.
So. That in mind, we go back to the dinner where I might have pointed out that I could understand why someone would snap. Which launched the discussion in a slightly different direction, but still.
There's a reason that checklist was deemed dangerous.
Anyway, yeah. Fictionalized shootings tend to have far more sympathetic bad guys than reality (shocking, I know) but they also tend to remind me of things I'm better not remembering.
I'm going to need something fluffy after this, I think.
I admit I've read maybe four or five of her books and as someone who read entirely too many VC Andrews books back in the day, I don't really get to bitch about formulaic writing but... yeah. Woman loves her some formula. :P Which is a shame because sometimes I think the book in question could be so much better off without being able to check off one of the ticky-boxes on her checklist for the Formula of Doom. (Like Sing You Home which had everything including the effin' kitchen sink. Pick and choose, woman. Pick and choose.)
So far I'm a little less than halfway into it, which considering it's being read at work is impressive. I'm a little wary at some of the bits of Formula rising up out of the mist but for now I'm (mostly) enjoying the ride.
That said, I find it difficult to read/watch anything dealing with school shootings without having flashbacks to a dinner I attended after Columbine. I don't remember everyone there, I just know that I had quite a few friends and friendly types, and A&C's mom was there since it was held at her house.
I want to say they'd basically come out with that checklist of things to watch out for (remember that?) in your teen or classmates, and as they went down the list the room got quieter and quieter as people stopped eating and started playing with their food nervously.
And it took me a minute to figure out why because I was still trying to suss out my feelings about something someone had said.
But then it hits me that the room is too quiet for this conversation and I look up and around the table and realize that holyfuckingshit.
Everyone is looking at me.
While, you know, trying not to look at me.
To say high school (and middle school before it) was not a pleasant experience for me would be a vast understatement of fact. I didn't have a lot of friends and probably most of my 'friends' were actually friends of friends. I think I could count the number of actual friends on one hand and still have a few fingers left over. And in high school your friends will screw you over at one point or another. It just happens. Still, it's better to have them than not have them.
Because when they're around you don't feel like people are staring quite as much. Two people blend in easier than one. When someone does that stupid *coughfatasscough* thing, it's easier to ignore when you've got someone there with you who is mostly on your side.
Thing is, you can't bend your entire schedule around someone else's, so there are classes when you're vulnerable and alone and no amount of keeping your head down will keep your ass safe. You learn to avoid the cafeteria because that's just open season when you're by yourself (and looking back, it was actually worse when I was with my friends. Go figure) and for the life of me I cannot remember a single adult in there who didn't work in the cafeteria. So you avoid that.
You avoid the courtyard whenever possible (and always at lunch) because that's where those who fit in somewhere gather. You don't go behind the buildings unless you're changing classes because that's the equivelent of walking down a dark alley at night in a slasher flick. The hallways are dangerous because of all the people and the increased odds of someone slamming into you and making you the fall guy.
We will never discuss gym.
Classes themselves are hell because you can't transfer out of them because you never let a state known for its stupidity know you're smart. They will never let you go even as everyone else in the class makes it known how much you will NEVER be welcome. (And that was day one.) Your teachers are a mixed bag. Personally I think the closest I came to having advocates were the science teacher who was fired the year after I had her (I cried because the entire time I was in that hellhole, she was the ONLY person who realized how bad things were and were going to be for me) and the other one who seemed to think I was too smart for the class. Which was just funny. The others seemed to think that the bad would just go away or didn't exist if they kept pretending it didn't, or it didn't really happen in their classes, or worse still, they kind of encouraged it because if the class is feeding on one of their own, they can't turn on the person failing to teach them a damn thing now can they?
It was an open secret among my few friends and their friends just how miserable I was. And the thing was, this was without there being any one group torturing me. It was just this school wide memo that I was to either get the cold shoulder or.... wish I was. Nothing you could really call anyone out on (outside the cafeteria where we've discussed the lack of adults) but enough of it over time will break you.
So. That in mind, we go back to the dinner where I might have pointed out that I could understand why someone would snap. Which launched the discussion in a slightly different direction, but still.
There's a reason that checklist was deemed dangerous.
Anyway, yeah. Fictionalized shootings tend to have far more sympathetic bad guys than reality (shocking, I know) but they also tend to remind me of things I'm better not remembering.
I'm going to need something fluffy after this, I think.