Beginning Again

It's christmas break, having ended my 5th semester in college, and I've spent 95% of my time since then in my house. Most of my friends are at least an hour away and I am, to my detriment, without a driver's license. I didn't have it taken from me. I still have my permit, which I have renewed 3 times. I'm still afraid to drive, still afraid that I'm sure to end up in a wreck where I kill everyone and injure myself beyond repair, causing my family to pay money they don't have to those I took loved ones from. Now, is this a rational fear? Well, remotely.

Historically, I lost 3 friends within a week of each other to separate accidents. I was 15. These same accidents have, however, not impeded my little brother. He is a fantastic driver, which also makes me think that I have to make up for all the good driving in this family by being a distinctly poor one. The balance must be restored, no?

I have left myself without a license and left myself without a means to really escape my home. Undoubtedly, if I did drive and had a car, I would be out and about every day. I'd be the inconsiderate human that would dig my carbon footprint into the environment, just driving from boredom. I'd frequent shops I may/ may not buy anything from and I would surprise my friends, even those that live an hour out from me. Oh, how green the grass on the other side of my fear.

The Brilliant Fall of Sisters

Statistically, I am not 100% sure how many of the girls in the US grew up all the while being called the “smart girl.” I’m left to wonder how many of us there are and how many of us ever actually felt as though we were the “smart girl.” I hope beyond any hope that we’ve all been proven wrong before and that we’ve all had someone that beat our ass in the arena of common sense. I hope there have been times that we were only the smart girl because we knew that we had to learn, rather than because we were right.

When I was in eighth grade, I remember attending an all girl’s school and I remember the day they handed out sheets to fill out for superlatives in the coming year-book. I remember the majority of my class mates selecting me as Einstein’s daughter, though somehow I was elected “most likely to become the first female president.” That was without a doubt my favorite year of my adolescence. It was my favorite probably because I was so often respected for what everyone else seemed to classify as “brilliance” rather than picked last for a team as I watched the boy I had a crush on choose a complete ditz to talk to.

I remember that year with all my sisters and that year was well spent, though I failed out of the school that same year. I remember the friendships that I forged there and it still surprises me that there were so many girls that saw me as bright and intelligent when I could so easily say the same and moreso about any one of them.

It's an absolute folly that the smart girl is THE smart girl, and no moreso than the folly that the smart girl has to be the one that's right all the time.