Vitriolic

adjective; something felt to resemble vitriol especially in caustic quality ; especially : virulence of feeling or of speech, (vi-trē-ˈä-lik)

High school was hell on earth for me.  No, I wasn't abused, no, nothing terrible happened.  Quite the contrary.  I went to a suburban school, lived in a two-parent family, had a safe and mostly happy home.

What was bad requires a rather long-winded explanation.  My old high school is located in an upscale little bedroom community.  There aren't just a few McMansions; there are many developments full of them.  It was not at all unusual for kids to be handed the keys to a brand-new car on their 16th birthdays, and I ain't talking about a basic Chevy, either.  

Besides the cars, there were the clothes.

One of my classmates went to Paris and came home with tons of new clothes; I remember the brand names because they were prominently displayed.  She had a bunch of things from Gucci, and lesser-known Naf Naf, along with uber-popular-in-the-80's Benetton.

She was the only one - so far as I know - who went to that length of going to Europe for school clothes, but at the time, the popular brands were Express, Limited, Gap, Learner New York, things like that.  (huh, the more things change, the more they stay the same, eh?)  

My family wasn't poor, but brand new clothes for my sisters and I came from K-Mart.  Often, "new" clothes came from the thrift store or as hand-me-downs from a cousin, long before vintage was cool and "re-purpose" was a buzzword.

I got teased a bunch about clothes from K-Mart, often got crap for not having the latest shoes or purses.

Kids are cruel.  Things that you would say to a 5th grade classmate would be completely beyond the pale to say to a colleague at work; "You're fat!"  "Yo, Lucy, nice generic shoes!" (said with all the sneering of a practiced snob.)

You would think that it might get better as you moved through junior high and then high school, but I don't think it did.  The terrible things that were said to me would today be taken far more seriously, as schools have been sued over bullies and school-yard taunts, but back then, it was put up or shut up time.

This was a daily barrage, not of threats, I never feared for my safety, but of nastiness and verbal attacks, with lots of vitriol.  It probably goes without saying, but I was miserable.  I felt less than worthless.  I felt ostracised.  I felt ugly, because I was told every day that I was ugly, useless, worthless, and far too smart for my own good.  Yep, even getting good grades was grounds for harassment. 

Eventually, of course, I got over it, although I didn't really develop any self-esteem until I was 20-something.  I came home from Europe with a lot more bravado, and faked it well, but inside was a different story.

I haven't thought about those days at all in a very long time.  No need to dwell on it, although I would probably take great delight in knowing that my tormentors aren't happy adults, because what goes around comes around, sucka!  Yes, yes, I know that's petty and vindictive.  Ask me if I care.

But lately, I've been thinking about those days a lot as I've gotten friend requests on Facebook from people that I don't remember all that fondly.  None of the true bullies have sent me friend requests (yet), but people who were mean little shits and wow, do they remember things just a leeetle bit differently than I do.  

Go figure.   Of course they don't remember treating me like yesterday's garbage.

Re-living those days in my head has stirred up a lot of resentment and anger that I didn't even realize I still had within me.  Maybe even a few steps beyond anger to outright rage and fury.

As an adult, I'm rather blunt.  (I hear you laughing out there!!)  I say what I really think; don't ask my opinion if you aren't ready to deal with the fact that I'm not going to lead you down the primrose path.

So there are things that I would say to these people NOW that I would have never even dreamed of saying back then.  And I find myself compiling a mental checklist of what I'd like to say, among them things like, "I hope someday that someone treats your child as cruelly as you treated me." 

Ouch.  

That's....that's....well, that's awful and evil and rude, and sadly, true.  I do hope that somewhere along the way, they come to understand that the words they threw at me daily left deep and permanent scars, and the same part of me that wishes for that knows that hurting them wouldn't hurt nearly as much as someone hurting their child.  Even though I'm not a parent, I think that's something which is instinctively understood.  Why?  Well, exhibit A is my mother; she's sweet, and nice, and not too outspoken.  But harm one of her children, and the Furies of Grecian mythology pale in comparison to what she will do.

I really don't like thinking of myself as a petty vindictive bitch.  Anger left to fester only hurts the person who is angry, it certainly is no skin off of the collective noses of the nasty brats.  But I'm having a very hard time taking a deeeeeeep breath and letting it go, as I usually can with anger.  Wounds I thought long healed are in fact still wide open.

Clearly, I'm not done with therapy yet! 

*snip*

Further proof, if any was really required, that I am out of my mind.

Despite not being into the religious part of the holiday (heck, the material part isn't all that interesting to me either) I do enjoy the holiday season for a number of reasons: people tend to be nicer in December, my birthday is in December, I love finding unique presents for my friends & family, I enjoy the orgy of cookie baking.

For many years, I've sent a ton of Christmas cards.  Since I came back home from Sweden, it has been a way to keep in at least vague touch with a worldwide network of friends.  Because many of those friends are not Christian, I've always been careful to find a message that is kind of neutral as far as mentioning Christmas/Hanukkah/Eid, but I want to at least let these people know that they're in my thoughts. 

As the years have gone by, the list has changed, grown, expanded, and it now encompasses more than 70 names, in 4 countries.

People, this is insane.

I worked on the cards this week, and while it isn't an ordeal, it is a lot of work.  I cheat by NOT addressing the invitations by hand; you can't read my handwriting anyway, so what's the point? Usually, I order cards in August-ish, they get here in October-ish, and I send them out over Thanksgiving weekend.  When I order cards, I have them printed with a message from DH and I, and have our return address imprinted on the envelopes.  This year, sometime around April, I stumbled across a bunch of Product (Red) Christmas cards at a Hallmark store that were 90% off.  I bought all they had, figuring it was far cheaper than what I normally did and since I was working on commission at the time, it seemed like a good idea.

Amazingly, when it came time to send out holiday greetings, I actually remembered that I'd already bought cards, and was even able to find them in our storage room.  Wonder of wonders.  I could not find my pre-printed return address labels, but that's OK, I made more.  

I use a mail-merge to print out labels for the cards, and once this was done, they sat around for a few days until I got to them.  When I started slapping labels on the envelopes, there were more than a few names that made me stop and go, "huh?!".  These are people that I used to work with years and years ago, or old high school friends that I have not actually spoken to in years, or even in one case, the children (well, adult children, but still) of old neighbors of my parents.  Come on!  This is patently silly.

DH refuses to have anything to do with the holiday card insanity; he won't even sign the ones addressed to *his* family.  It is a fight I'm not interested in having, so I just leave him out of it.  But he always asks if I've remembered to send out cards to a few old friends of his and a business contact or two.  Yes, they're still on the list.  When I was going over the list with him, there were one or two people that he raised his eyebrows over; again, people we have not actually spoken to in years.

So in my infinite wisdom, I've decided that this is the last year for more than about 20 people on that list.  People I still talk to, fine, they're staying.  Relatives; well, can't leave out so much as a single cousin or there would be hell to pay, so they're staying too.  People that I have some semblance of a relationship with, even if it is just inside the computer, they're staying.  Old co-workers from 4 jobs ago: gone.  High school friends whose parents still live in town but they never bother to call when they're around: gone.  People that I sent cards to out of a sense of obligation (i.e., I sent one to their best friend, so I should send one to them, too) also: gone.  People that I send cards to that I don't actually like: gone.  

Wow, that was liberating!  Sad, too, but incredibly freeing.  

Crazy 8s

A meme of sorts.

Eight things I like about the winter:

1. With a blanket of new snow, the whole world looks a little cleaner.

2. I am more grateful in the winter that I have a roof over my head and a functioning furnace.

3. I get to wear the pretty scarves I've knitted.

4. Skiing!

5. Dressing in layers.

6. I get the urge to bake gingerbread as soon as the temperature drops.

7. Things outside tend to be quieter; no birds waking me up hours before sunrise, no crickets chirping long into the night.

8. Boots!  I love my high-heeled boots!

Eight things I despise about the winter:

1.  It is frigging bloody freezing.

2. Snowplows piling up mountains of snow along sidewalks.

3. The people who clear snow from my development do a crappy job, and every year I am afraid they are going to kill plants that they pile tons of snow on top of.

4. My skin gets so incredibly dry.

5. Chapped lips.

6. Cold toes.

7. Hazardous roads.  Not because they're snow-covered and slippery (although they are) but because people manage to forget how to drive in the snow in the time period between April and November.

8. Limited daylight/grey skies.

Since tagging people with memes is obnoxious, I'm not insisting that specific people do the crazy 8s.  But should you be inclined, knock yourself out!

I feel like making a list.

So I shall. A list of things I'd like to do, or see, or be. Not an all-inclusive list, nor an extensive one.

Yet another OCD listitation.
(in no particular order)

1. Go to Australia
2. Go to India
3. Get my yoga certification.
4. Lose another 20 pounds.
5. Get rid of my migraines, once and for all.
6. See my two sisters more than a few times a year.
7. Learn to speak French.
8. Vastly improve my German speaking/reading/writing abilities.
9. Live somewhere that I can see the sun more than once or twice a month.
10.Learn to speak Spanish
11. Learn how to weave, on a huge loom that there is no room for in my house.
12. Learn how to spin wool into yarn, because I need another hobby. Obviously.
13. Meet Sera Gamble. Just once, is that too much to ask from life? And have her think that I'm very cool and a great writer.
14. Ski Banff.
15. Learn to ride a motorcycle. Or, I should say, how to DRIVE a motorcycle, I know how to ride one.
16. Go to culinary school and learn how to make amazing elaborate pastry and desserts.
17. Read Braille. (Don't ask me why. I don't know.)
18. Learn sign language.
19. Skydive. I think I'd get over my fear of heights.
20. Learn to fly/get a pilot's license, for small airplanes.
21. Have nice handwriting.
22. Finish my book.
23. Get my book published.
24. Age with style and grace. Someday far, far, far into the future.
25. Have much whiter teeth. ('S a vanity thing. I'm vain. I know.)


There are a few majors that I've left off the list. I'm sure you can supply one or two without me being detailed.

And you? What's on yours?