Peer @ MindSay 
pressure
We're poor.
I stopped going to Starbucks today.
I hate my mom, she's being such a bitch about it.
I hate my dad, he can't just swallow his pride and tell us to stop spending.
I have 4 cavities that cost us about 800 dollars. My mom said that we could have spent all that on clothes but she's lying. When we go to the mall, I can't spend over 80 bucks. And after that, we don't go to the mall until like, next year. I HATE THISSSSSS. I hate how I'm going to go to 8th grade where all these stupid bitches and bastards spend money on cool stuff and thats all they think about. I hate how I'm going to be a loser in 8th grade. I hate how I'm even thinking this when I should be concentrating on school work! I hate that invisible ring of peer pressure. If only a few people wore Abercrombie, do you even think I would step foot in that store????? This is only a minor reason why I would love to move to Middle Earth :)
Hello everyone,
I have this very close cousin of mine that is 16 years old. She is already a senior in high school. Last summer she spent the summer with me. She had such high goals in life. She hardly drank maybe once in a while. She never did any drugs. When it came down to it she was a perfect kid. She moved back with her mom in lansing and thing had turned for the worse. She is going to school hung over and drunk, doing drugs she can't even name and sleeping around with people. She is failing her classes and dropped her honor classes. She can't tell me because she knows exactly what I will say. She tells everyone else about it. I called her last night and I told her I know and how disappointed in her I was. I told her that I don't want her to turn out like me. Well I got off the phone with her and she was crying. Which made me feel like crap but hey sometimes that needs to be said. She just called me telling me about her party that she is going to have and all the people that she just started hanging with are going to be there. I don't know what I am going to do. I am so close to going to her mom but I don't want her to lose trust in me. At the same tome she won't listen to me. I am so confused. HELP PLEASE!!! I need advise!
Ev'ry little trait, however small
Makes my very flesh begin to crawl
With simple utter loathing
There's a strange exhilaration
In such total detestation
It's so pure and strong!
Though I do admit it came on fast
Still I do believe that it can last
And I will be loathing
Loathing you
My whole life long!"
An explination for the title and song, yes...Well, I got called into Mrs Weeks (the counsellor) today. First thought: I have a helpee. Then I thought: Shit, I got called in for counselling again.
I wasn't too far off with either guess. Mrs Weeks wanted to tell me that there would be an alumni peer helper: Pat.
Hahahaha. When you thought life couldn't get more interesting, just, wow.
So he won't be at this upcoming meeting, but he was at the last one (which I thankfully skipped at the last minute) and will be at all the others. So, ya, he's an "asset" to the peer helpers with his experience. Well, not in MY experience with him, but we'll just overlook that.
She asked how I "felt" about that. I hate it when they ask me how I FEEL, it's such a pointless question. I told her I wasn't bothered, per say, by him being a peer helper alumni.
My real issue, I told her, is with how he acts. He is such a great guy, I wouldn never deny that he is kind and caring at heart. However, he's put on a cold, distant, "proffesional" Navy man persona.
He's become the ideal peer helper by definition in that he is completely detached himself from his emotions, or he atleast tries to do so.
She agreed with me and asked me why he did so. I believe he doesn't want to hurt people and, more importantly, doesn't want to be hurt. He was hurt by the rejection of the Naval Academy and, dar I say it?, by my self destructive habits.
I think he did blame himself for that, or blame himself for not being able to help me so much. I wasn't the first self-destructive girl he knew, and I know how deeply it got to him and hurt him. He never really dealt with it, he even told me that.
Haha, don't worry. This isn't me just being egotistical for the sake of it, this is just my casual observation after him saying he wanted "to move on." What's funny about THAT is he didn't say he wanted ME to move on (as I already had) and he didn't talk to me in ages. This leads me to conclude that he hadn't moved on and something about me stuck with him.
So ya, this will be a very interesting year. I told Mrs Weeks some of the above stuff (a spark notes version more like), and she agreed. I told her that he's stopped listening to me, but she might have more of an impact. All she said was "You've planted a seed in my head" and asked me if there might be a reason why he's still hanging around Saint Lawrence.
Guess Mr. Navy boy can't "move on."
*cough* As I was.
I thought I was over it. This chair thing. But it hit me again at a recent Chamber of Commerce meeting.
You see, my regular seat was taken. I was a few minutes late and wham!, someome took it right out from under me. Years of therapy down the toilet, all because of a futile game of non-musical chairs at the Chamber. I had succumbed once again to a malady known as "Peer Chair Pressure."
Never hear of it? Well, I'll let my good friend Dr. Hiram S. Burnshocker of Uclob University in Peoria, Ill., explain it to you. Yes, this is the same Dr. Burnshocker who discovered that the major cause of teenage pregnancy was teenagers. I met him the last time I went through chair aversion therapy and he guided me though it. I remember as if it was just yesterday. . .
"The P.C.P. (Peer Chair Pressure) Plague is a somewhat common sociological disease which manifests itself at large social gatherings," he told me during our first meeting.
"You see, it all begins with a room full of chairs. It can be at a movie house, a classroom, a party -- even a Chamber meeting. As people begin to assemble in the room, the number of available chairs dwindles correspondingly. The more people, the less chairs. Subsequently, there is more pressure on newcomers to seize a chair . . . to assure themselves a spot. Those with chronic P.C.P. have been know to sit in the same place at a party for five hours straight for fear of losing their seat. On the subconscious level, this translates into their inner struggle to be a cog in the gears of life. Not having a chair is to fail in life . . . a very dangerous situation indeed."
"What do you mean dangerous doctor?" I asked.
"It's very hard to explain, you misguided waif. Come, I'll show you."
Dr. Burnshocker led me down a dimly lit corridor lined with steel doors. We went past four of them, then stopped at the fifth. Burnshocker opened the door. The room was desolate, save the poor soul who inhabited it.
"This is George," he whispered. "He arrived at a party late and couldn't find a chair to sit in. He looked everywhere -- the kitchen, the bedrooms, the bathroom -- no chair. He finally snapped of P.C.P. Don't say the word chair or we'll love him for sure."
"What should I call it," I asked.
"Around George here, it's a 'Four Legged Posterior Receptacle.'"
The next cell we visited was crowded with chairs, stacked as high as the ceiling. There was hardly any room left to breathe, let alone sit.
"This is Judy. She's going through shock treatment right now," Dr. Burnshocker replied. "We're going to force her to deal with the stark realities of a chair oriented society."
As we walked away, I couldn't hold my tongue any longer. "I don't care if this is research or not," I said, temporarily taking leave of my senses. "It's cruel and inhumane punishment!"
Suddenly, there was a rumble, a scream, then silence. By the time we had unlocked and unlatched the door to Judy's cell, she was dead. Crushed by the very chairs she feared during her short life. . .
"Well what do you have to say for yourself now, doctor?"
"As we sociologists say, 'Chair today, Gone tomorrow.'"
