Quality Over Quantity (FINAL)

Humans are defined by their relationships with friends, family, and members of the opposite sex. Some relationships are inherited at the moment of birth while others are born from common interests, jobs or attraction. They are partnerships that take two willing parties to make it work. When it becomes a one-sided effort, the flame that once brought the two people together suddenly goes out and the individuals move on. People come and go in life, but it is relationships that define us and help us grow into better friends, lovers and family members.

Some say you can tell a lot about a person by the people they associate with. Friends are made as the result of a bonding experience, a common interest or merely frequent contact, such as at a job or school. Many of my closest friends I have known since elementary school. Although we haven’t always attended the same school growing up, we have shared common interests such as sports, movies and music. As I become absorbed in my own life’s challenges and struggles, I know that I can always look to my friends for comfort. I have learned that friendships become stronger as two people go through trying times and difficult situations because true friends stick together and rely on each other’s relationship for support. Perhaps it is more valuable to have a few best friends than a bunch of mediocre friends. Quality is always more important than quantity when it comes to relationships.

On the day of birth, a person is brought into the arms of the two most important people in his or her life. In this instant, the child also inherits relationships with grandparents, aunts, uncles and other siblings. My family has been the backbone and support for every decision and endeavor I have embarked on. It is important to have a good relationship with family because love will always stand the test of trying times and a supportive family will be there in the toughest of situations.

As people grow older, they find comfort and look for support in relationships with people of the opposite sex. Many argue that humans, like all organisms, were put on this earth in order to reproduce. However, while searching for a lifetime companion, people develop relationships based on love, trust and attraction. In my short 20 years, I have yet to find a companion to spend the rest of my life with. However, I have learned a lot about my self and the opposite sex in every relationship I have been in. I know that true love is hard to find and takes hard work to keep alive, but a dedicated heart and lifelong relationship will last forever.

Much like dieting and exercising, relationships are important in maintaining a good healthy lifestyle. People who are engaged in supportive relationships filled with love and happiness tend to feel better about themselves and more satisfied in their daily lives. As people grow older, seemingly more important things take priority over friends, family and significant others. However, relationships with these people should be the backbone of support for every decision and endeavor in life. Family members were there from the start of life and they should be there at the end so it is important to value and treasure these important relationships.

Dating Is Confusing. No Really, It Is

If you really think about it, dating is polygamist training. When you really take a look at how and what dating is, it’s a way of practicing how not to settle down, or a loophole to avoid commitment. Sure there is the argument that dating helps you figure out what you don't want in a spouse, but if you date too long, then you begin to enjoy the notion of always having options-especially when you're in an environment that has people that meet all of your standards for potential mates.

That’s the problem with dating in college. That problem becomes all the more difficult to deal with when the girls outnumber the guys. I never had this problem before I got to this school. While I never had any issues with dating before, I also never had a ratio of this many beautiful faces, bodies, and minds available to me before either. Where most men would see this as a challenge, or paradise, I see it as a continual confusion of values.

When people are raised with the idea and principles of marriage and commitment, you only confuse those ideas when you are then taught to explore all of your options before settling down. I have always wondered why such a contradiction exists in our society. How can we teach people to look for the options, but then tell them it is wrong if they never stop looking for the options?

Even though the relationships we weather are what make us ready to be in committed, long term relationships, you can only wonder if there is a better way. The only and best example, I've ever been able to come up with, is polygamy. While I don't practice, or know anyone who does practice polygamy, I like their solution to marriage.

Polygamists actually represent what we're all taught about dating and marriage. They believe in committed marriages, but they also follow the dating principles of keeping their options. The only difference is that those dating options turn into multiple spouses. Yet if you want to see the best example of what happens when you never stop looking for the options, then take a look at any episode of “Seinfeld”.


Though this was the show about nothing, while focusing on that nothing the characters managed to do a lot of dating. From Elaine to Kramer, none of these characters could ever stay with someone long enough to resemble anything close to a relationship. Even after George and Jerry both get engaged to women they find completely adequate, they still can’t give up the idea of having options. This show illustrates perfectly why it is too risky to continue actively dating after a lifetime of options. If you really think about it, polygamists figured out the best way to stay committed. So if you ever find yourself trying to narrow down your options on whether to continue dating or marriage, try polygamy, it’s your best option.

The Strangest of Places

Life is a series of relationships we have with one another, the earliest being the mother-and-child relationship, and the last being our relationship with ourselves. Between birth and death we interact with a great number of other humans who have the ability to show us something special.

I was coming back from dropping my mother off at the airport. It was early on a Saturday morning, and Kaye (my mom) was going on another business trip. I stopped at the red light in front of the underpass and looked around. Off the shoulder was a lot filled with a five-year-old’s vision of utopia. Swing sets and jungle gyms covered about half an acre of pavement. A small boy was dragging his father to and from colorful slides and swings. It was a heartwarming sight that made my day. Somehow, I felt I had connected with them simply by witnessing their relationship in action.

This happened nearly seven years ago and I will never forget those fifteen seconds at the stoplight. I will also never meet those two people; I will never be able to thank them for bringing that small amount of pleasure to my life.

I was involved in an abusive relationship for nearly two years--blinded by what I thought was love. I was manipulated into believing I was worthless, unattractive and stupid. I was told on a regular basis I would “never find anyone better” and “no one would be attracted” to me. He was ashamed that I was mixed and not Christian. His family disapproved of our relationship. I knew this, no matter how subtle or disguised their remarks seemed. I had no self-esteem and was extremely co-dependent when he decided to end our relationship on my twentieth birthday—yes, on my f-ing birthday. I was a wreck. My feelings about him constantly shifted between love and hate for months.

Two years later I am a strong, confident and intelligent young woman. I can look back on our relationship and be happy. I am not happy about the way I was treated or the way I acted (or didn’t act). I am not happy that I stayed for so long. I am really not happy he ruined my twentieth birthday. I am happy because I now depend on myself. I am happy because I am confident. I am happy because of me, not him.

I will never have another twentieth birthday. I will never be his emotional punching bag, or anyone else’s for that matter. I will never speak to him again. I will never be able to thank him for forcing me to realize my strength.

In our lives, we form relationships with caregivers, parents, family, friends, teachers, peers, and acquaintances. While many of these relationships will result in disappointment (not in the relationship, but in the individual), each relationship has a specific lesson. Each person we encounter, however brief or distant, brings something unique and enriching to our lives, if you look at it the right way.

We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank

I once heard that any relationship is like baking a cake. You put a lot of hard work and sacrifice in it, and it still may not come out looking exactly like you wanted it to, but it always tastes good.

If I had heard that saying during some parts of my life, I would have laughed my head off at the person who said it. It's easy to be bitter about relationships, to sit on the sidelines and mock those who try to make them work. Trust me, I did it for the majority of high school and some of college. I was one of the snide people who sat through weddings and made pithy comments like, "That'll last two years before ending in a horrible divorce."

There was no real cause to my reluctance to love. I had had a perfect example of a healthy relationship while growing up. My parents were married when they were still teenagers, and to this day are happy in a marriage that is close to being half a century old. Others should be so lucky. So why was I craving something so different? Why did I idolize the middle aged men who dated the college girls, like in the movies. Why did I picture myself as one of the ones who were terrified of the thought of marriage and could barely utter the word "love"?

Before my senior year of high school I was bitter about love because I hadn't felt it yet. I was falling into the all-too-familiar trap of hating what I didn't understand. I was like an outsider looking in. Therefore, in a desperate and badly disguised attempt to hide my envy, I bashed those who claimed to be in love. After high school, I was bitter about love because I had found it, only to have it ripped away much sooner than I had planned. And by my freshman year of college I was back to my old self, hating anything to do with love.

I remember the exact second my attitude changed. I was working for a country club that was hosting a wedding on the lake. But the where doesn't matter, it's the why that counts. It dawned on me that day, while the couple was getting married at sunset by the lake, why I hated relationships. Simply put, it was the easiest way out. It's so uncomplicated to say, "I quit," and give in to depression and heartache. It was in my nature to be self-loathing about my situation of loneliness. My way of dealing with it was to just run from it and laugh at those who were in relationships. But when you are in the presence of a happy relationship built on trust, there is no denying its power.

I went back to school after that summer with a new outlook. I realized what I had been doing wrong with my relationships, and I finally understood why they had failed. I had been trying to date people who were just like me because I thought it was the safest bet, when in fact it was the furthest thing from it. If the girls I dated weren't like me, I tried to make them that way. And if that didn't work, I would simply quit.

A couple months later a girl smiled at me in Spanish class. I finally got enough courage to talk to her, only to find out that she was nothing like me. That would have been the point where I would have normally said, "I'll call you later," and never talked to her again. But time and time again I kept seeing that it was the little things, like buying me chapstick, that made our relationship work and not how much alike we were.

After two years of pleasant, trouble-free dating, all I wish I could do is tell myself five years ago some simple advice. Embrace differences, appreciate the small things, don't sweat every failed relationship, and try not to date people that are just like you; it's probably a good thing they aren't.

Dating Without Going On a Date

The puzzling aspect of dating today is that actual dates are no longer necessary for two people to be in a relationship. Most people wonder what a real date even is. The modern dating arena is primarily composed of late night rendezvous and the occasional party. I like to call myself a romantic and thrive on the tradition of taking a girl out to dinner or a movie. Yet, today these actions are taken as signs of commitment not interest.

At twenty-two, the last time I asked a girl to go on an actual date was over a year ago. Yes I see women and enjoy their company, but buying dinner and engaging in a delightful conversation has become an abnormality. Thus, the new social etiquette makes it increasingly harder to meet someone new and get to know them as a civilized person. In my experience, simply asking a girl to have a cup of coffee can be viewed as a precursor to a relationship. It seems as though the subculture of twenty-something adults emphasizes one-night stands and casual encounters.

Accordingly, I have never understood the notion of “game.” This so called “game” is apparently what gets you into a relationship today. In laymen’s terms, “game” is the approach and mannerisms you take when talking to the opposite sex. When working your game, compliments are unadvised, but casual jokes on appearances and comments are. Also, whenever possible you should lie. Lie about your age, what you do, what your future plans are, but most importantly lie about who you are. Game asks for you to create someone new, a person tailored specifically for the one you’re interested in that night. Essentially, game is how to close, but not how to get dates. Although, I must admit that occasionally I indulge myself and play this game, as it is so appropriately dubbed, yet it is not my preference.

The modern relationship is the bridge between your game and the infrequency of actual dates. Men and women are interested in each other for a one-night stand, or casual relationship, but end up with a significant other. Of course there are exceptions to the dating scene and some people embrace traditional dating methodology. New dating styles have transformed an actual date into a special and meaningful event. Thus, love still exists in the contemporary relationships but its origins are masked by lust. So, as traditional dating styles have given rise to new, casual approaches, the essence of a committed relationship has remained constant.

Into The Woods

When I was young, I asked my father, “How old do you think I’ll be when I get married?” He laughed and said, “Much, much older than you are now.” I asked why, and he replied, “Because love is very hard when you’re young.”

I never took the words of my father to heart until it was too late. Sitting here now in the twilight of my teen years, gazing back on all the emotional turmoil I’ve endured and manage daily, I wonder why I didn’t take him seriously. Or perhaps I feel that I took him too seriously and understood what I was getting into all along, but somehow felt compelled to do it anyway. My current predicaments place me in a difficult position to be reflective on the heart and another’s power over it. All I can do is consider what has happened to me and where I may be now.

I spent too much of my adolescence worshiping the idea of a relationship, placing it in some angelic light, as the only thing that could save me. So as soon as I met someone I felt a connection with—sophomore year of high school—I jumped into a relationship. It blossomed quickly into an intense and sometimes overwhelming adoration. So many sentiments and thoughts were shared at night, in the backseat of cars, in basements and bedrooms that we become each other’s only connection to feeling. She was the first person I knew whose sadness was more unbearable than my own. But she was a year older than I and went off to college, and the physical and emotional distance slowly took its toll and things fell apart for both of us.

After that ended, I became very unsure of how I felt about everything. I went to France, I came to college, and I met many different types of girls that I came to know in different ways. My frame of reference expanded and I began to think of my emotions in less absolute terms. I allowed myself a little more freedom and expression than ever before. And then I met the girl who took all the wisdom I thought I had gained from my years away from home and ran away with it.

I very recently broke up with a girl named Liza whom I dated for a little over a year. She changed me in many strange ways that I still have a hard time articulating to myself or anyone. We are very close, and could never consider the prospect of severing all communication, but it’s always hard to talk to someone you once shared a certain affection with. All ordinary conversation, of even the friendliest nature, feels colder than it should.

At this point, I think I’ve put my heart into some things more than anyone my age should. I’m a hyper-emotional, sensitive, passionate person by nature, and I’ve lived many years dragged in untamed directions by my heartstrings and now feel lost about many things because of it. Maybe that’s a normal feeling and I should find reassurance and bliss in my confusion. Maybe I should try listening to my father.

best friends

Best friends stick together through everything. They are always supposed to be there for you when your boyfriend breaks up with you, or you have a death in the family, or even if you just need a shoulder to cry on. That's how my best friend and I were from the time we met in seventh grade until just the past few years. The most memorable times of our friendship were throughout middle and high school.

We were inseparable. No matter where you saw one, you saw the other. We would spend the every weekend together either at my house or hers or else camping at the lake with my family. In eighth grade we were even out with the flu the same week. No one believed we were both sick but we both had doctor's notes. We had even planned to be each other's maid of honor when we got married. Those years were some of the best ever and I will never forget them. But, as some relationships do, our friendship began to drift apart.

Usually when high school friends go away to different colleges their relationships do suffer. But we both came to UNCW and lived together in Belk. Our boyfriends even lived together. But her top priority was to join a sorority and that was something that has never hit my to-do list. She joined and gained approximately 60 new friends so there wasn't much time left for her old ones.

We would still occasionally to do things together and we both still referred to each other as "my best friend." It wasn't until she graduated from UNCW and moved back home that we almost completely lost touch. She has been back to Wilmington on several occasions but has only bothered to meet up with me on one of those, and I almost think that was completely accidental. She always seems to call me and say that she wants to hang out, but when I put forth the effort, she never comes through. I haven't talked to her in 2 and 1/2 months since the last time she never showed up. I never even got a call to tell me what happened. But regardless of the way things are now, she was my best friend and we do have some really crazy and fun memories together.

I no longer call her my best friend, she's just known as my best friend from high school. She will not be my maid of honor and probably not even a bridesmaid at my wedding, but she will get an invitation, and maybe one day we will have a closer friendship than we have right now. Either way, we had some great times together and they will never be forgotten.

Just Like "The Wonder Years"

Upon telling my friend John that I was supposed to be writing a blog about relationships, he put his hand on my shoulder and gave me a look that implied he was about to wax poetic. “Dude, girls are like hand grenades.” He spoke, took his hand back and walked away.

With no insight I sat down and flipped on the TV. There I saw the relationship that I need--the type of relationship that has been lacking in my life as it pertains to females. I need a girl like Winnie Cooper.

Winnie Cooper lived down the street, which both literally and metaphorically makes her the girl next door. Her friendship with Kevin Arnold was forged when Winnie returned an overthrown ball to him. From that moment Kevin and Winnie became linked. This shows how kind she is, that she is willing to give Kevin his ball back.

Winnie Cooper was always cute. Even as her and Kevin entered middle school and she had those beautifully fifties rimmed glasses, she was still cute. Her innocence of her own beauty even made her more so. She couldn’t understand the sudden infatuation that boys had with her, but I could. Then as she got older and got into contacts, we all saw Winnie become this gorgeous girl that was now unattainable.

Winnie Cooper dealt with Kevin Arnold. For those who don’t know, Kevin Arnold was a smart-ass, and at times could be rather obnoxious. He could also even cross-over into the area of mean. One time when he was hurt by something that his brother, Wayne, did he took it out on Winnie, and she being the compassionate, loving, soft-hearted girl she was, forgave him.

Winnie Cooper had a Joe Cocker theme song. If I had a theme song I’m pretty sure it would be by Neil Diamond or Michael Bolton.

Winnie Cooper accepted Paul. Paul was Kevin’s best friend, and was perhaps the most nerdish person in the world. I have a few friends that I would consider cool, but my best friend is perhaps one of the nerdiest people I’ve ever met. He and I often find ourselves debating which Star Wars movie is superior (obviously The Empire Strikes Back.)

Winnie Cooper has played the field. All throughout their relationship Winnie and Kevin would break up, then get back together. This isn’t healthy, of course, but at least she knows what else is out there. I need a girl who knows what she wants, and I am what she wants, much like how Winnie sometimes wanted Kevin.

Winnie Cooper is smart and can hold a conversation. Winnie Cooper went to college and never had a problem talking with people. Winnie could start a conversation, could end a conversation, and could even switch around the entire flow of the conversation with a quick smile and a smart comment.

Winnie Cooper is the manifestation of everything I look for in a girl. Someone who is smart, beautiful, friendly, the girl next door, and knows what she wants. A girl who wouldn’t mind joining the never ending debate over which Star Wars movie is the best, or even a girl who watches The Wonder Years and remembers every good thing about that show and Winnie Cooper.

Perhaps if I focused a little less of Winnie Cooper and fictionlized people, I could find something worth spending money on.

Cheers

I've always believed that people come into our lives for a reason. Whether it's a friendship, relationship with a parent, or love interest, those people do set a standard for what we do or do not expect in future relationships.

I think the relationships that people build in their lives start from the way they're raised. Being taught by my parents to value honesty, love, and good communication has made me settle for nothing less. I realize the importance of not taking another individual for granted, meaning it's important to appreciate the friendships and the love others share with me every day.

It's not common to hear today of a marriage that has lasted 25 years. Last July my parents were proud to say they were celebrating their 25th wedding anniversary. Knowing they've been together that long and being able to see through their actions that they are still very much in love makes me believe it's still possible for anyone to have that today. It seems that today's society settles for relationships that don't benefit either person involved.

People find security in the financial status of a loved one instead of focusing on the love between them. Why is it that so many individuals are moving in together before they get married? Have they not opened their eyes to the others who are doing the same? It does not work out. I think it's because they're not committed by marriage and consequently see that as a way to get out of the relationship rather than working through the issues. This goes back to valuing honesty and good communication. A relationship does not exist if either is lacking.

I've seen more friendships fizzling because of betrayal and dishonesty. You're never supposed to get involved with an ex of your friends, right? That's what I was always told. It's been an unwritten rule for years that seems to have faded over time.

Apart from love relationships, nothing can break a bond between true friendships. My best friend, whom I've known since freshman year of high school, is someone who I don't see very often today. She and I can go for months at a time without speaking, but then meet up, talk, and realize we haven't missed a beat. Nothing has changed. The friendship is still as strong today as it was in high school. That can be credited to the communication we have with one another. It's known that I'm always here for her anytime she needs to talk, laugh, or cry. In return, she is always there for me. Not once have we ever taken the other for granted. We've always been honest and open with one another. That's how all relationships should be.

Because my parents have been my best friends and have taught me the importance of family, love, and friendships and what it takes to maintain them, I have become extremely selfless in life. Giving more to others than they give to me makes me feel better about my days. Knowing that I can make someone's day just by lending an ear or giving a hug is all I need to have a good day myself. It would be wonderful if everyone valued relationships and realized that the people they encounter in life will be affected by them in some way. Next time you walk by someone who looks like they're down in the dumps, give a little smile and say hello. After all, it could be the beginning of a new relationship.

Sweat a Little

Relationships are hard work. No matter whom they are with: boys, girls, family members or co-workers--I have learned from all the relationships I have been a part of that none are easy. People make you mad and you have to learn to deal with it if it is worth having them in your life.

The relationships that are the most complicated and take the most work are dating relationships. Boys are complicated to girls, and girls analyze everything. I think the reason why boy-girl relationships usually take so much work to be successful is because boys and girls are so different and they both have expectations of the other.

From experience, it doesn’t matter how much you are meant for each other it is hard work. I dated my roommate but our relationship did not have a fair chance because we felt married at 21. No one deserves to feel like this if they aren’t ready for that commitment. Even if you don’t live together those same expectations of a boy/girlfriend are there. Each person involved has an idea of how they want a relationship to be, how arguments should be handled, what they value, etc. This is why communication is so important to working hard and making a dating relationship work.

I have had friends come and ask for advice about what to do in their relationship. A common question to ask is whether they have talked to the other person about it or not. Most of the time they haven't and it would clear up a lot if they would. You have to remember when you are in a relationship that your boy/girlfriend will have no idea what you are thinking unless you tell them.

A lot of our expectations come from movies and TV that make love seem like this amazing thing instead of real life. Love is real, but there are bad times and good times. People think it is supposed to be all smiles but that’s not real love. It takes some pushing and pulling. You’re going to argue and sometimes not like that person but its all about the process of learning them and loving them. Just because you argue or aren't getting a long does not mean you should end the relationship. It takes some compromising and work to keep your relationship healthy.

You also have to remember that when you argue it is hard to not be stubborn and let your pride down. Pride gets in the way of a lot of relationships everyday. I know that personally I have a lot of pride. I know that I am right when I am arguing then a day later I'll rethink everything and give in. This is a downfall and mistake I make. It is important for me to realize this and work on it in my next relationship. Love should always win over pride.

Relationships, no matter what circumstance, take hard work to be successful. However, both people have to work at it. If it the effort is one-sided then there is anger and frustration that builds up and then it ends up no one is working on it. It has to be rewarding enough for both people to want to work at it and there has to be a future, meaning and importance to the relationship. Relationships can be very successful we just have to be willing to be the sweat and blood in it to get there.

Friends with Benefits

An old fashioned dating relationship that consists of courting first is virtually non-existent in our culture. Today, many of the younger generation have partnerships that are labeled as FWBs (Friends with Benefits). Friends with benefits are characterized as two people who are physically attracted to each other in the aspect of having a sexual partnership. In FWB situations there is little emotion shared between the two people.

It still remains true that anytime you have a sexual connection with someone, there is some emotion involved. The little emotional attachment shared at that moment is not taken seriously enough by either person to develop a long-term relationship. Relationships are built on trust, honesty, security, and spending quality time together. Some of those aspects are not shared in an FWB situation. In most FWB cases, honesty is the only thing that concerns the two friends. The type of honesty referred to in an FWB is sexual honesty. The friends usually and should only exchange their past and present sexual history for the purpose of making sure that neither partner has any sexually transmitted diseases. If one partner has any reason to doubt the other’s honesty they can request certain STD tests are done for their personal safety. If the partner refuses to get the test done, it is presumed that they are guilty of withholding important information and are subject to dismissal from the current FWB situation.

By being able to have a sexual life together, the two friends involved show some emotion towards each other. The Friends with Benefits lifestyle can lead to a relationship in some cases, only if both people agree to have a relationship. In some FWB cases jealously can come into play when one friend, usually the woman, becomes too emotionally attached. Jealously in an FWB situation is the biggest negative aspect of being involved in that type of partnership. If jealously comes into play there aren’t many positive aspects of an FWB situation. Jealously takes away from the most important positive aspect, which is being able to rely on one another for sex and nothing more. When jealously is added to the picture, it is emotionally draining for the jealous partner to just have sex, then get up and leave which the task at hand in any FWB situation unless the partners have agreed to more.

An example of an FWB situation gone badly would be the NASA employee who from Texas to Florida with a space diaper on, in an attempt to do serious bodily harm to her romantic rival. The NASA employee was under the impression that she and the man involved were more than just Friends with Benefits. When she let her emotions get the best of her, eventually they triggered some serious jealously which in turn caused her to become furious at the other woman and go a little over the edge in an attempt to get the revenge that she believed she deserved.

In any FWB partnership, the concept of cheating should never come into play. The friends in the situation are not committed to each other; they are only supposed to be sex partners. Being sex partners requires minimal conversation and technically the partners only need to talk to each other to arrange a meeting place for the task at hand unless a place has already been previously determined. FWBs are not for those that become emotionally attached easily, like me to a partner, which is why I do not agree with this type of partnership.

Faults and Attributes

Relationships are fragile.

Many categories of relationships exist: friend, lover, soul mate, and relative are a few examples. Whatever type of relationship you are involved in—a large amount of work that goes into keeping that relationship healthy and whole.

A wrong statement, a forgotten birthday, or an inappropriate comment can destroy years of trust and reliability in an instant. Accepting individuals as humans who make mistakes is often hard and requires more effort than people are willing to exert. Communication, understanding and acceptance are key when providing a strong foundation for successful relationships.

For acceptance and understanding to occur good communication must exist between people. Partners who hide their feelings or dismiss those of their significant other create "trouble in paradise." Relationships of all types have been torn apart because of lies and deceit. Small lies such as "No, I love spending time with your parents," or "I love it when you hug me constantly" cause slow but painful damage to relationships. What starts out as a desire to please your partner eventually corrupts happiness and leaves feelings of maltreatment and misuse.

If I sound like I know what I'm talking about it's because I have encountered bad communication among family, friends, and romantic interest. The inability of others to realize that every person has a unique character is infuriating. When people try to pigeon-hole their partners into being just like themselves they create discord and unpleasant situations.

For example, there are individuals who like being in close proximity to others and enjoy invading people's space. I am not one of these people and get grumpy when my space is invaded. This situation has created problems between myself and others because I did not demonstrate good communication skills. Simply saying "I don't like it when you do that," would have eliminated the problem allowing those people to accept that I don't like being touched and providing me with the personal space I desire. By not doing this I created a tense situation because those persons did not understand why I was upset with them.

Having faults is part of being human. Relationships would run smoother if everyone spent less time trying to hide or change their failings. Good communication requires that individuals be as honest about their shortcomings as they are about their talents. When I started dating my boyfriend we decided we would be honest with each other and share both faults and attributes.

He learned I love 80's music and have an addiction to reading in addition to hating having my personal space invaded, and living in a sloppy house. I learned that he loves comics and cooking, hates talking on the phone and cleaning house. Instead of trying to change to please the other person we accepted who we are and presented both faults and attributes at the start of the relationship. This paved the way for acceptance and understanding to prevail.

Now if only I could learn to use this tactic with my friends and family.

Our Handicap

My brother Lee was fourteen years old when he died. His death was not an accident nor did any of us expect him to live long. He was born severely mentally retarded. Lee suffered from a disability called introverted duplication of the #15 chromosome which basically means he was born with two extra chromosomes.

After I was born, he stopped being able to talk and walk and had seizures almost daily. His mobility in his wheelchair was limited and I never got to have a conversation with him. Our relationship was distant, but he was my brother.

When I was younger and growing up I had very little interest in Lee. He was embarrassing to me as a child. I remember one night I had a friend over for dinner. As we began to eat our spaghetti dinner at the table, all of a sudden Lee’s head dropped into his plate splattering tomato sauce all over my friend and me. He had a drop attack seizure. I was so embarrassed I swore to myself never to have any friends over again.

Unless I locked my bedroom door when I went to school, Lee would wonder into my room and flip through my books leaving drool smothering pages that smelled like a mix of hydrogen peroxide and dirty dippers. I made Mom clean them because I thought it was too gross to touch. I guess it was just spit.

When I was in the third grade, my mom and dad decided to send Lee to a home in Nashville, Tennessee. His disabilities grew worse as he aged and with two other children to look after, my mom and dad just couldn’t give my other brother and me the attention we needed. Since we had extended family in Nashville, Merci Homes, the full-time care facility was a good way for my parents to free their time.

We went to visit Lee every year on his birthday, April 23rd, on Christmas and basically any other time that we could get away. The four of us sat with Lee. We played patty-cake with him a lot because it made him laugh and fed him Dr. Pepper, his favorite drink, through a straw. He died there, in the care of Merci Homes without any of his family around him. I was ten years old.

Lee played a big part in shaping who I am today. Without him in my life I would not be half the woman I am now. He taught me patience. He taught me how to be grateful for what I have. He taught me to laugh at the simple things in life. He taught me to live my life to the fullest. He taught me to be greatful for things in life.

I have a great respect for people, which I think is rare. I get to know people for who they are because I know that appearances lie. I’m compassionate and understanding. I know that life is not perfect and I know that I can survive its imperfections. I'm sympatheic towards people who share my circumstance. I'm no longer embarrsed about having had a mentally retarded brother. He is a unique part of me and my life that I have learned over the years to accept and am greatful for. Lee taught me these things not through his words, but with his life and his influences will never leave me.

Complement, not complete

I have to remind myself to let my friends learn from their mistakes, instead of making decisions for them. It isn’t easy watching someone you’ve known all 18 years of her life become more of a burden than a friend, a person completely dependent on another. When she won’t listen to any advice, the only thing you can do is catch her when she falls.

I would have easily called her my best friend at one point. In fact, we made the decision to move to Wilmington and live together because we were certain we’d be able to get along under the same roof. And we did. Too bad it didn’t last very long.

She was young and away from protective parents for the first time in her life. Unfortunately, instead of keeping her mind focused on what we came down here for, college, she became interested in something completely different – boys. It wasn’t long before she realized we had more dating possibilities here than we did at home and the first few to give her attention she latched onto.

Then she met him. I didn’t like him; I didn’t like what he’d done to her, but she refused to listen when I tried to offer words of wisdom. My best friend was no longer someone I recognized, but someone who had become so completely consumed by another human being that she began to do things she would never have done otherwise. The late-night conversations we used to have stopped when she secluded herself in her room with her cell phone for hours. The shopping sprees we couldn’t afford but we went on anyway ended because she and her boyfriend became inseparable within a short period of time. I knew what it was like – young love – the first one that really steals your heart and makes you sure you’d spend the rest of your life with him despite the odds; I’d been there, done that – but nothing I said carried any weight. She was an adult by her standards and was determined to live her life the way she wanted to.

As their relationship progressed, she became more helpless. They were fighting (and by fighting, I mean screaming at each other) because a phone call went unreturned. If she finally got up the courage to speak her mind and hang up (which any pissed off female should have the right to do) she’d always answer the next 15 times he’d call back. Visits to see him didn’t last an afternoon; they lasted all week until she finally stopped coming home. I lost my roommate and my best friend all at the same time to her new boyfriend.

Having been in a similar situation, I knew this wasn’t going to end well for anyone. She got into trouble with the law, he eventually got tired of toying with her, and his family was tired of her mooching off their income. Thankfully, she realized what I’d been trying so desperately to tell her: You don’t need someone to complete you; you need someone that will complement you. It broke my heart to watch such a great girl fall the way she did, but she walked away with scars that taught her what not to do.

I Put My Trust in...Me

We’re surrounded by relationships on a daily basis but it’s our relationship with ourselves that determines what all of the rest of those relationships will be like. We have relationships with our parents, our family, our friends, our acquaintances, and even strangers. The single thing that makes these relationships similar is trust. Trust is really all that any one relationship has in common with any other relationship. In order to have a good relationship with someone, you have to trust them. In order to trust someone else, you have to trust yourself.

The relationships I have with my family and my friends are very different. I love each person in my life in a different and complicated way--but I love them. I couldn't do that, I couldn't attempt that if I didn't trust them. And the reason I trust them is because deep down I know that I can trust them. I trust that I'm right about them.

If you can’t trust in your decisions and your beliefs, then how can you trust that you’ve made the right decision about another person? You can’t. So how is it that we’re able to hit and miss so often and still bounce back and try again? Shouldn’t those failures have already taught us that we are trusting the wrong people? Not necessarily.

I trust myself but I have been hurt. I have trusted the wrong people and made bad decisions--decisions that have changed who I am and my outlook on life. But despite that, despite all the pain I've caused myself, I still believe I trust the right people...at least 95% of the time. I'm just a little more careful now than I used to be.

In order to trust yourself completely you have to give yourself room for error. You have to understand that you aren’t going to get it on the mark every time you throw the dart. This is especially applicable when talking about the opposite sex and our relationships with them. It’s human nature to seek companionship from another person. One of the most important decisions of our lives is choosing our life partner, our mate. Theoretically, that person is going to be the one person in our lives that is constant and forever, so it’s pretty important that we don’t take that decision too lightly.

At almost twenty-two I find myself at a point in my life where one of the more important things on my “to do” list is finding someone to share my life with. Trusting that you will hit the bulls-eye every time is setting yourself up to constantly fall short. Who would trust someone that made them constantly fail? I have made mistakes. I have made bad decisions. My trust has been so battered at times, that I should never have trusted my own judgment again. But I have. How is it that I can do that? Easy. I trust that I will fail.

I trust that I will not succeed—I will fail. But when I fail, I trust that I will learn from it and I will make a better decision next time. That’s why my relationship with myself is a strong one. That’s why, even though I have been hurt as a result of my decisions, I can try again and trust that this time I chose right.

And when I place that trust in myself, I am able to place trust in the people around me. It’s hard sometimes, but we each learn how to choose the people we trust. We each have different criteria for handing out our trust because each of our experiences has taught us different ways to judge the people we meet.

For instance. just because someone is a liar doesn't mean they can't be trusted at all. I have a couple friends that are liars--but they're still good people and I still trust them. I trust that they'd never intentionally hurt me--they just don't always tell the truth.

The people around us are trusted in different ways and to different degrees based on the relationship we’re trying to build. One thing is for certain though. Knowing and trusting the relationship you’ve built with yourself is the strongest foundation you can have for a happy life.

Good things come in threes

They say all good things come in threes. I believe this is specially the case when it comes to siblings. My mom is the middle of three sisters, my father was the baby of three brothers, and I, like my dad am the baby, but of three sisters. I have always sorry for lone children who can only recollect on outings with their parents and maybe a few crazy extended family members. There are those who have only one sibling, and they usually experience a tight bond with each other. Then there are those who have many siblings, like my cousins Piotrek, Adrian, Marcin, Oktawian, Sandro, and Daria. From what I've seen they often pair off, or they don't form any bonds with each other at all. But those who are three--we have something special.

I didn't always know this. When I was in elementary school and both of my sisters were going through those troublesome teenage years, I felt a little bit left out. My best friend at the time was Ashley and she had one sibling, a twin sister named Nicole. Feeling jealous, I would often try to take Nicole's place, figuring that since we both had blonde hair and almost the same name, it would really work out. I used to make Ashley dress up in matching clothes and we'd both wear pony-tails, and then we'd go to the mall and walk about hand in hand, telling everybody passing by, "We're twins!" Unfortunately for me, Ashley would only play along with the charade for about ten minutes, since she hated being a real twin, much less being my fake twin. Instead I resorted to watching Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen movies, begging my parents to adopt a little girl that looked just like me. Sad, I know.

When was turned 13, my parents and I moved up to North Carolina, leaving my sisters Dominika and Marta to fend for themselves back in South Carolina as college students. Strangely, this is when I first started to really bond with my real sisters. Missing both them and the city, my parents would drive me down to visit them a few times a month, where I would alternate between both of their places.

Dominika was living downtown near the university, where she was a double major in business and marketing, as well as the class president. When she wasn't studying, she was working at one of her two jobs, practicing for her ballet shows, painting, making projects, or working out. She lived in a bellman-guarded high-rise and her apartment was always pristine. When she would leave me alone it was understood that I could only play certain games on her computer, watch certain movies on the television, and that under no condition could I rummage through her things. For fun, she would take me to her Polish and Norwegian friends' houses so that they could drink wine and eat cheese while discussing politics, while I would stare at the ceiling sipping on juice. Sometimes she took me with her to work at The Limited, and I would stand around and watch her sell things. Sometimes she would even buy clothes for me with her discount; usually, those clothes were the same black and white sweaters and khaki pants she had, only one size smaller.

Marta lived across town, but she may as well lived on the other side of the world. She definitely suffered from the "middle-child syndrome" and was the complete opposite of my oldest sister. When she went to class, or rather, when she skipped class to do better things, she would light an incense in her messy apartment and leave me be. Looking through her stuff, I always found interesting things like birth control, small white papers for wrapping things in, a small box where she kept some sort of plant seeds (for gardening, I presumed), letters from ex-boyfriends, dead-head t-shirts, and books about anarchsim. For fun, she would dress me up in a loose-fitting blouse, a flowing hippie skirt and Birkenstocks, and take me to the downtown bars. As we danced around with her friends to jam bands, they all egged me on while I downed my first liquor shots. At 13, it was Marta who welcomed me to my teenage years with a bang.

My first years as a teenager only marked the beginning of my developing relationships with my already adult sisters, who are today helping me to become an adult. I'm glad that I have both of them to learn from, rather than from only one or too many siblings. Dominika and Marta are like yin and yang for me, offering me two extreme perspectives on everything. From Dominika, I realized that I love to study, I'm a hard worker, and I like mellow and depressing music like Tori Amos and Sigur Ros. I enjoy drinking wine and eating cheese with international friends while being pretentious as hell. From Marta I learned how to relax and enjoy life with the cheapest beer I can find, the beautiful music of Bob Dylan and Jimi Hendrix, and the smell of sandalwood incense. Most importantly, I've learned from her the ability to say "live and let live" when I'm getting too high-strung. And now that I have learned what I can from both of them, as well as what I've learned on my own, we can all grow up together and share what we know, creating the perfect balance.

The family member they don't include in my tax forms

Relationships seem to be getting more difficult and complicated as I get older. Many of them are wonderful and strong, but it seems that there is more to fight about and more complex issues to handle than who gets to be black in a game of checkers. But there is one stable relationship in my life that doesn't get complicated. My dog and I only fight when I'm not letting her play with the other dogs on the street.

It is true that K.C. cannot hold a conventional conversation with me but that doesn’t mean that we can’t understand each other. Clearly, I don’t understand why she feels the urge to eat frogs, rabbits, and the many small dogs in our neighborhood and I’m quite sure she doesn’t understand what my attachment is to the shiny thing often beeping and being held up to my head, but we manage the most important thing, love.

K.C. is the daughter of a dog my family had to give away when we moved. In exchange for our pedigree Chow, Hope, the breeder offered us our pick of her litter, when we were settled and ready for a pet again. When we moved into our new house, we picked K.C. out from amongst the other fluffy, bumbling puppies, all of which were “blue” (gray) like their mother.

K.C. is getting pretty old now, almost ten. Two and a half years ago, my parents moved again. I moved into both my college dorm room and my “home” room in the same week. K.C. no longer had the same yard and fence and she too had to adjust to a different life. When I was home I would take her for extra long walks or sneak her extra treats and she would sit or lay with me around the house. This was our way of helping each other cope with our new home.

I have always maintained that I am her favorite of my three family members and myself. They all argued with me until the move.

K.C. struggles with stairs after injuring the cartilage in one leg and weakening the other because of compensation. She is also a generally “outside” dog and gets fidgety after long periods indoors. Most of the time she doesn’t really go upstairs and she only stays in for a couple of hours in the evening. If I am home she’ll often stay in through the evening and then come upstairs with me at night to sleep in my room.

She is fearful of strangers but if I am there, meeting new people is some how less scary and she is calmer. If I go outside with her she will make sure to sit on my foot and lean on my leg while I pet her before she goes back to rolling around in the grass and examining the freshly laid pine straw.

Sometimes I think I’m crazy, but I honestly believe that she knows when I’m leaving to go back to college. Perhaps I only imagine it, but I believe I see her eyes get a little sadder and her tail wag a little slower. I love my family dearly, but in general it is my dog I miss the most. I cannot talk to her on the phone or leave her a comment on her Myspace. I also know that her life probably will not go on a for lot longer. So, I hug and pet her as often as I can, I take her for long walks around the neighborhood and do my best to keep her from eating small animals.

I Want to be Just Like Mommy

We don't look alike, and any outsider would think we were just a random pair. With chocolate eyes, black hair and tan skin my mother is the polar opposite to my fair skin, blond hair and blue eyes. But she and I, as we like to say, are soul mates.

As long as I can remember my mother and I have been frenemies. Best friends at times, sharing everything, laughing and crying together, loving one another with no end. On the other side of the spectrum we have been enemies, arguing over boys, grades, and how I should spend my money. Although our relationship does have its ups and downs I know my mother is definitely a woman I can trust and count on completely.

My mother has never had a job, she always openly admits she went to school to get her "Mrs. Degree." She and my dad decided that my mom could stay home to raise the children and he would make the living. Having been born on Long Island, my mother eagerly welcomed the idea of becoming a Southern stay-at-home mom.

She took me to school every morning and was there to pick me up in the afternoons. When I was younger I didn't realize how lucky my two sisters and I were to have a mother that was always around. When other children in our classes were going to after school programs or daycare, we were at home spending quality time with mommy.

When I was twelve my mom got pregnant and was having twins, a boy and a girl. I was ecstatic. I already had two younger sisters, and now there would be two more little ones for me to help my parents raise. In all the fuss and excitement over the twins arrival, no one in my family stopped to notice my mother's decline in health.

The day she went into labor, October 7, 1998, she also went into congestive heart failure caused by hyperthyroidism: a condition in which the female hormone-producing gland works over-time. She was rushed to Duke Hospital where she had emergency open heart surgery to remove the six liters of fluid surrounding her tired, dying, enlarged heart.

After her surgery she went through a radiation treatment to kill her thyroid. The process took only one day, but she had to stay at Duke Hospital for two months to be monitored. At the beginning of every day during those two months I was told my mom probably wouldn’t live to see the next, but she kept pushing through, and miraculously made it through alive.

She lost 45 pounds during this ordeal, enough to make her weigh an astonishing 90 pounds, right after giving birth to twins. When she was brought back home her once long, thick black hair had begun falling out in patches. She, physically, was a completely different woman, but a smile never left her face.

Over time my mom began to gain her strength back, and when the twins were six months old she was able to hold them without anyone standing by for support. She was slowly but surely getting back to her old self. Now eight years later, my mom is once again the healthy and happy mother I grew up with.

I talk to my mom every day, and our relationship is stronger than ever. She has shown me all the things I want to be when I have children. I admire her so much for having the strength to endure all she has gone through with a smile on her face. I know it can be scary or even depressing for young girls think that one day they’ll grow up to “be their mother." But for me, there isn’t anything better to aspire up to be.

Camo and Blaze Orange

Maybe my childhood obsession with the movie Bambi deters my interest from hunting. Last October, I was assured by my father that getting my hunting license wouldn’t mean I’d have to harm an innocent deer, but it would be an opportunity to spend time with him and learn how to properly shoot a gun.

When my dad asked me if I’d like to go with him and my brother, I said, “Sure, why not? It could be fun.” I guess I thought I’d gain a different perspective on the sport of hunting. In a way I felt like I’d learn more about the interests my father had during his childhood. He was born and raised in Virginia so hunting was something he, his brother, and father would do to spend time together. It was now something he wanted to share with me and my brother. The difference between my brother and me is that he is actually interested in shooting my precious Bambi and her parents.

A hunting license is required by the state of North Carolina and the Division of Wildlife Enforcement to obtain a hunting license, if you wish to legally shoot or purchase certain guns. That entails a minimum of ten hours, usually split into two days, of educational lectures, practice skeet shooting, and passing a test.

The classes aren’t offered frequently so we had to apply. After our confirmation, we attended classes on two different days in Durham. I thought I was going to walk into a room of about twenty people, all of whom looked like they were dressed and ready to go out into the woods. I assumed they would not only look like rednecks but would also sound like them. Something along the lines of, “Hey ya’ll. How you doin’? Raydie to go huntin’?” as they were spitting dip into empty Mt. Dew bottles.

To my surprise, I didn’t feel displaced. Instead of seeing this and an array of camouflage, I walked into a large room, nearly 50 people. Most of them were sitting in pairs, father and son or daughter, and some were by themselves, including a lot of Northerners and business men.

The lectures are quite boring for anyone who has common sense, but for someone who is foreign to the laws and regulations for hunting and the basic safety precautions that must be taken, I can understand why they’re taught like we were in elementary school. We learned the basics, like wearing blaze orange is required and must be seen 360°, deer see all white, and camouflage can be worn during bow season because the distance from shooting to the target is less compared to riffle shooting. Afterwards we had to practice hands on.

We learned safety precautions and how to shoot a rifle, and then we had to practice with either a 12 gauge or 22 gauge shotgun. I looked to my dad for guidance. He said the 12 gauge is more powerful and that I might want to start with the lesser. Just as a child disobeys his parents, I went against my dad’s recommendation. “Give me the 12 gauge.” If I was out there to learn and get my license, I wasn’t going to hold back.

We moved down a line of different targets and practiced skeet shooting. We aimed for the clay disks as the machine propelled them into the air. I fired my shots. I felt empowered. Call it luck or call it skill, but I busted the second disk on my third shot. The instructors who were teaching us critiqued all the participants to insure they were holding the guns properly, no unsteady hands.

The final phase of our time was of course the test. Passing the test got us a piece of paper that confirmed we were eligible to get a hunting license. I would think they would issue the official license themselves but no, we had to go to either Dick’s Sporting Goods or Wal-Mart with our paper of gold to get it.

Not only did I learn about hunting, I gained the upper hand to a lot of men. When I’m married, have children, and my daughter begins to date, I could be the one sitting outside on the porch and cleaning out my shotgun when she brings home the boyfriend. That sounds far more intimidating than the husband doing so. I plan to keep my secret, that I have a hunting license and I know how to shoot a gun. Except, now it’s not a secret to everyone I know. One thing is certain, I still think of Bambi when I think about hunting. I hope she trails on and lives a long life.

Watching the Weight Watchers

Uncomfortable is the single word I can think of to describe the Weight Watchers meeting I was sitting in on Saturday afternoon. For a program geared towards making heavy people feel more at ease and able to discuss their problems with food, this was a surprise. The chairs we sat in were lined in four neat rows, but several of them were wobbly and pre-historic-looking. The room we were in was dank and the walls were a dull eggshell color. I arrived early, and for the first ten minutes I sat by myself in the corner seat on the back row. Ten minutes before the meeting was supposed to start a heavy-set Hispanic woman sat down next to me and had to catch her balance because the chair rocked forward dangerously. She quickly moved the chairs around and turned back to look at me with a grin.

“That’s all I need today, to break another chair.”

I smiled back even though I wasn’t sure how to take her carefree attitude about being fat. Personally, it would horrify me to physically break a chair, or even lose my balance and fall out of one in public.

Her name was Liz and she was forty-nine years old. She was the mother of twin boys, both recently graduated from college. She’d caught her husband cheating on her six months ago and due to the upcoming wedding of one of her sons, had decided it was her priority to look better than her husband’s girlfriend for the ceremony in August. She had started at 334 pounds and was currently at 271 pounds. I learned all of this within the first five minutes of meeting Liz, before any of the other “watchees” arrived for the meeting.

As more people showed up I began to see a pattern. They would usually test a chair before they sat in it and then they’d pretend to be busy staring at their weight watcher’s diaries until Liz addressed them. Then, upon being invited into the conversation, they would make a few comments about what a moron Liz’s ex-husband was, and how their mother-in-law was coming in the morning and they just knew she’d expect fried chicken on her first night there—a big dilemma for someone on weight watchers.

When the woman running the meeting, Tammy, arrived (ten minutes late) Liz muttered under her breath.

“Oh it’s her,” she looked at me, “We don’t like her, she never sets the scale right.”

Tammy was indeed adjusting the dial on her scale and getting her folder together. I drew a heart on my notepad and waited for her to begin the meeting, now fifteen minutes late. The first order of business was to introduce yourself if you were a first-time attendee. I didn’t make any moves to do so, but Liz put a hand on my shoulder.

“This is Genna, she’s graduating from UNCW in May and this is her first meeting.”

I cringed and gave a nervous laugh. Everyone was looking at me. Tammy nodded.

“Okay, anyone else,” she paused, “Well, then let’s jump on the scale first today, then we’ll talk about a few things.”

As most of the people approached the scale, they fidgeted nervously with their hair or jewelry. Not Liz though. Liz got on the scale fearlessly.

“268,” Tammy said in a board voice, “Good work, Liz.”

Liz sat down next to me again, “It’s really 265. She puts the scale up 3 pounds like we can’t see the numbers ourselves—your turn.”

I looked at her dumbly before I realized I was supposed to get on the scale next—something I had expected newcomers to have to do, but not anticipated because I’d considered myself an observer. I considered walking past the scale and out of the room but decided against it because my purse strap was caught around one of the legs of Liz’s chair. I stepped on that scale and every person in that room knew how much I weighed ten seconds later. I was mortified, even though I’d lost forty pounds since starting my own private program in January.

After everyone was weighed, Tammy went over several new recipes in the weight watcher program, gave some healthier alternatives for snacking, and told everyone to have a nice Easter; she’d be out of town next weekend. As the room started to disperse Liz nudged me.

“Next weekend will be better. Jean will be here. She’s good.”

I’m at a loss as to what to say about this experience. I thought having a support group in a weight loss program would be a helpful thing, but apparently this is not so in every case. I’m sure that all weight watcher meetings aren’t as unhelpful as this one was, but I can’t say I’m in a hurry to find out. Liz was the only person in that room that seemed comfortable with the situation and for all of her support for her peers, the only thing she got in return was a “good work” from Tammy.

Needless to say, I think that the majority of this (eight person) group was as uncomfortable as I was, and I definitely wish Liz the best, but won’t be seeing her anytime soon.