5 Things I Don’t Miss At All
Clearly I enjoy making lists. You would think my insane habit of making funny, ridiculous lists would translate to, I don’t know, actual to-do lists and I would, I don’t know, actually do those things. Well, that’s definitely not the case. I just come up with weird factoids about myself in my head and decide to write them down for my own amusement.
So earlier I was thinking about things from my past. It all comes down to one thing: I’m rereading the Harry Potter series again (…I know, right?) and it makes me all nostalgic-like. I was thinking about things I used to love, but now loathe; my old taste in music, and how awful it was; and of course, past relationSHITS that shall remain in the darkest, deepest corners of my mind. I’m not INSANE, people! I’m not going to lay all that out for you!
So inevitably, I was left with 5 things from my past that I absolutely do not miss, not even a little bit, not even at all.
1. Trying to learn to whistle
I spent a large chunk of my childhood trying to whistle. My dad can’t sing for shit, but he sure does whistle a lot. I grew up listening to The Rolling Stones on a constant loop, so I heard my dad whistling the high notes from “Gimme Shelter” like a million times. I think people forget that not everyone can whistle, so they take the art form for granted. Because if I tell someone I can’t, they look at me all incredulously and make me prove it. Sure, random stranger, let me put my lips together, make no noise, and spit all over the place. Thanks for the reminder.
I spent hours upon hours trying to teach myself to whistle. “Put your tongue up on the roof your mouth!” they said. “Push the air out in a very specific, but totally unspecific way!” they said. NOTHING WORKS FOR ME. IT’S NOT GOING TO HAPPEN.
So no, I do not miss trying to teach myself something that is completely useless. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I will never whistle. I will never know the feeling and I will never hear that elusive sound escape my lips. But trying and failing my entire life has taught me an important lesson: some of us can do things and some of us can’t. There are things in life that I will strive for and DO, and things that I will strive for and FAIL at. We all have our strengths. Mine, apparently, are strictly elsewhere. But it is a freeing feeling, if you think about it.
2. Being forced to read books
You know how as children, our parents used reverse psychology when they wanted us to do/not do something? Or the idea that if you TELL someone to do something, they won’t, and if you tell them NOT to do something, they’ll want to do it so much more? I think for most people, that’s something you grow out of.
For me? Not so much.
Since first grade, I have been told my teachers and professors what I have to read. We’re given reading lists and syllabi, filled with books, articles and webpages that are required reading to pass a grade or class. That shit sucks, y’all. I loathe being told what to do and I especially loathe being told what words to wrap my brain around.
I’ve been an avid reader my entire life. I love getting engulfed in a story or reading peoples’ thoughts/views online. If someone had merely suggested that I read The Scarlet Letter in 10th grade, I may have done just that. I could’ve bought a copy, read it at my leisure, and discussed it in random conversations. But the second I was told it was on a reading list, I wanted to stab that book with a basilisk fang, Chamber of Secrets-style. The same goes for every single Bronte novel. Does that make me a heathen? Probably. But I’ll work my way towards those books, eventually I’m sure. That’s not to say that I’ve actively hated every book I’ve ever been required to read, but I’m sure I dragged my feet and bitched about it the entire time… as is my way.
I’m just a brat who hates authority. Suck it, Marian English Department! (…JK, I guess.)
3. Sharing a bathroom with a boy
It should come as no surprise that boys are disgusting. And it should also come as no surprise that sharing a bathroom with one is fucking terrible. I don’t suggest it ever. In fact, if I ever get married and my husband thinks we can get by in a bathroom with one sink, I’ll be like
Am I right, ladies? Hell to the no.
I lived with numerous boys in college and every single one of them were as nice as could be. I truly love them all. (Mr. Bananarama, I’m especially looking at you here!)
But there’s just something to be said for having your own bathroom and knowing that anything in the trash can, any spare hair on the floor, came directly from you. You know where it’s been.
So yeah, I definitely like living alone and I definitely don’t miss coming home to a steamy bathroom where a guy just showered with Old Spice body wash and shaved his face in the sink. And if you’re really curious, I just threw up in my mouth.
I live in Los Angeles. We have like 4,000 highways and interstates, each with about twelve lanes. I’m fine with it. I don’t mind driving and the traffic doesn’t really bother me that often.
But if you even mention I-80, or the stretch between Omaha and Lincoln, I will have the sudden urge to throw myself off a bridge.
I’ve gotten a few speeding tickets in my day and every one of them came from this stupid stretch of interstate. God forbid I drive a few miles over the speed limit while rocking out to 90s R&B hits. SUE ME. I was never unsafe! I was never negligent with passengers in the car! I didn’t text or do anything dangerous! But of course the few times I happened to go over the speed limit or think it was 75 and not 65, BAM I’m pulled over. Thinking about it still seriously bothers me.
I do not miss I-80. I do not miss driving back and forth from Omaha to Lincoln. I do not miss the Nebraska State Patrol. I do not miss looking at nothing while I drive that twisty, turny highway. And lastly, I definitely do not miss feeling like a bad driver. Because I’m a fucking great driver and I tell myself these things to get through the day. Obvs.
5. Pretending to like pretentious/obscure bands
My cousin Ben (Chip‘s brother, ironically enough), back in high school, had a pretty eclectic taste in music. I’d meet him at this one ridiculous coffee house in downtown Omaha and we’d talk incessantly about random indie bands. I, naturally, pretended to know each and every one he mentioned. Because as any adolescent girl will tell you, fitting in and “being in the know” was necessary and absolute.
One day he asked me if I would like him to make me “a few CDs” to have for my car. DUH, you never pass up free mix CDs for your car! So I was like, “Sure cuz, make me a few.” Lo and behold, he comes waltzing in the next day with no less than 20 CDs. He had written the band names on each one in Sharpie (as one does) and of course they were all named like, My Left Shoe and No Child Left Behind. There was something about a Blue Fish, or a Red Skate, or some other pretentious douche bag band name (no offense, Benjamin). I maybe listened to one of them. I couldn’t bring myself, in my alone time, to pretend to like this music when I so clearly just wanted to watch old Disney Channel Concerts.
It’s with age and wisdom that I’ve come to realize one thing: I like what I like. I don’t care if my music is lame or stupid. I don’t mind telling people what’s on my iPhone. You can glance at my DVD collection and scoff all you want. Because guess what, everyone! We’re officially past the high school/college stage of giving a shit about what people think… and it is awesome. I just don’t miss having to explain any of my choices.
Okay so those are 5 things I don’t miss at all.
What do you not miss?