Maybe Life's Like Coffee--An Acquired Taste

So, I picked up the latest Sarah Dessen book last week, Along for the Ride. I'm a huge fan of her writing, and I've read all her books. Along for the Ride is really fantastic, diving into deeper issues with the cover of surface teenager-isms. One of the major themes was the notion of change, and whether people are truly capable of it.

For instance, if you hate dogs now, will you ever love them in the future? If you don't want kids now, can that change when you meet the right person? Or is your personality set in stone, with your truest desires and passions unchangeable and unmovable?

In my own way, I know that I've changed. Significantly. I'm not the same person I was four, five, or six years ago. Maybe it has to do with the fact that I'm only twenty years old, and I'm expected to flip-flop.

But maybe I'm not the norm.

I defied the odds when I stuck with my initial college major. I still don't like Cooler Ranch Doritos or green beans. I still love books and new school supplies. My hair color has fluctuated slightly, alternating between lighter browns and reds, but I still refuse to become a blonde.

Reading some old diary entries, and I mean old, I realized with horror how young and foolish I was. As I glanced back into the thought-processes of an 11-15 year-old, parts of me cringed in embarrassment. Did I really do that? Did I really say that? Was I really that dramatic?

I want to run up to everyone I knew during those years (and maybe one specific person in particular, whose name was written waaaaay too many times in that diary) and defend the person I am now, showcasing how different I truly am. I'm not that same little girl who seemed to have no idea what social norms were. I'm not that dramatic anymore; in fact, I'm level-headed almost to a fault. My life no longer revolves around getting that one boy to finally notice me.

I'm so different. I've changed. Right around the time I turned sixteen, I started to realize that the girl who wrote those diary entries wasn't me anymore. I grew up quickly and developed what I consider my real personality. Parts of that little girl are still with me: the sensitivity, the heart, the drive to succeed. But they've matured as I did. And I can't really say I'm the same person.

So maybe change is possible. It may not be earth-shattering, and not everyone may see it. I think about all the people who will be left with the memory of me at that age, and I have to stop wishing I could rectify that image. Even though reading some of those entries made me a little queasy, I saw that those events and feelings are the foundations for who I am today. I can't, and won't, apologize for being young and silly. I won't apologize for being all-too-obvious with my crush. I won't apologize for feeling what I felt. Was it dumb? Yes. But at the time, it was me.

As people and things come in and out of our lives, I do believe they change us. Loss has left me quite a different person, as have new experiences. Hell, maybe I'll even try a green bean.