Tag Archives: being a teenager

July 28, 2023 · 5:39 am

Why Seeing Back To School Sales Still Upsets Me

When I was a kid, summer was a wonderful time by almost every measure.

School was out, the weather was warm, and I actually got to sleep in every morning. Even during the years when I had a summer job, it was great. I loved it and it was generally a happy time for me.

But then, at a certain point during the summer, I would tag along with my parents and siblings to the store. And eventually, we’d enter a store that had these displays advertising a “back to school” sale. Sometimes, it was as early as mid-July. There would still be a full month of summer vacation to look forward to.

But to me, it was still deeply distressing, especially when I was in middle school and high school. That was usually the point in my summer when I started looking at the calendar with dread with increasing dread. I knew that with each passing day, I was that much closer to another year of school. And for someone who hated school as much as I did, that was very upsetting.

I know it sounds melodramatic.

I know it comes off as the overblown whining of a kid who just didn’t like going to school.

Even today, kids lamenting going back to school are likely to be met with dismissive eye-rolls. We hear them complaining about going back to school and we just think they’re being weak.

They think school is so hard. They have no idea how hard the real world is. School was supposed to prepare them for that and if they struggled to deal with it, then they were in for a rude awakening when they made it to the adult world.

I get that sentiment on some levels. I’m guilty of feeling it myself whenever I hear a kid complaining about a new school year. But whenever I experience that feeling, I find myself remembering back to what it was like for me when I experienced such dread. Even now, as a full-fledged adult who has been out of school for over a decade, it still upsets me on some levels. And I really wish it didn’t.

I’m sharing this because very recently, I came across one of those big back to school sales in a store. Those displays did go away to some extent during the COVID-19 pandemic. But this year, they’re back in full force.

There are entire sections of a store dedicated to school supplies, clothes, and any accessory a kid or teenager might need. There are also these images of happy and excited kids, getting ready to go back to school. I know for a fact most kids don’t feel that way about going back to school, especially in the middle of summer vacation. I also know that for some kids, those reminders are downright triggering.

Now, I know I’ve bemoaned how much I hated high school before. I’ve also made abundantly clear that I was a uniquely miserable teenager, largely because of crap I did to myself. It may come off as melodramatic. And I don’t deny that, with the benefit of hindsight, it probably wasn’t as awful as I made it out to be.

That still doesn’t change the fact that dreading going back to school was a deeply distressing experience for me. There were times when I would just lay in bed, anxiously watch my clock radio, and endlessly lament going back to school.

I knew it was going to be miserable.

I knew I was going to needlessly stress myself out over every little thing, from getting my homework done to making new friends to dealing with how ugly I felt due to poor self-image.

My parents and siblings, to their credit, did everything they possibly could to help me. None of what I experienced is their fault in the slightest. I just had this incredibly toxic mentality about school.

On the last day of school, I was elated to just let it go and celebrate having made it through another year. But when those first back to school sales showed up, I could feel that mentality returning like a wound being re-opened. And when that first day of school finally came, I was often the most insufferably miserable person to be around.

But as bad an attitude I had, I did eventually get through it. I made it through middle school, high school, and college without that toxic mentality completely consuming me. I won’t say doing so made me stronger. If anything, it set me back for years and I still haven’t fully recovered from it. It kept me from making new friends, improving my social skills, and developing new passions.

The fact that I still experience it today, even if it’s just in bad memories, further shows how much it affected me. It may not be as bad as it was when I was younger, but just recounting how upset I got when I saw back to school sales in the middle of summer still affects me. I really wish it didn’t.

Maybe at some point in my life, I’ll be able to walk by a back to school sale display and experience those feelings. But for now, it’s something I have to deal with.

And to all those who experience similar dread whenever they’re reminded that a new school year is coming, I can only offer my empathy and understanding. But I can also offer my perspective and hope. Because if I can navigate these feelings and all the bad memories associated with them, then you can too.

Be strong.

Be resliant.

Better times will come.

But for now, just take a deep breath and enjoy the rest of your summer vacation.

Leave a comment

Filed under Current Events, Jack Fisher's Insights, psychology, rants

Tagged as , , , , , , , , , , , ,

May 21, 2023 · 9:32 am

Why High School Exams Were Harder Than Most Jobs I’ve Had

As I’m writing this, a great many school-age kids in middle school and high school are anxious for summer to begin. For many school districts in the United State, the end of the school year is in sight. It no longer seems so far away and so out of reach. I imagine many are already counting down the days until that magical moment when the final bell rings and school is out for the summer.

I know that wait can be agonizing, at times.

I have not forgotten the elation I often felt on the last day of school

But before any students get to that wondrous moment, they have one last obstacle to face. It involves the last round of standardized tests and exam. It may vary from district to district, but this is usually the time of year when most students take the SATs, AP and IP exams, or a general final exam for each class. They are often among the most difficult and stressful tests of the entire year. I haven’t forgotten how hard they were, either. And while I’ve already made my opinions on standardized testing clear, I’d like to use this moment to share another insight.

Back in high school, I took a number of AP exams during this time of year. And towards my junior and senior year, I also took final exams that often required much more studying than your standard quiz. I took many similar exams in college, but most of those varied in that they didn’t rely entirely on scantron sheets and multiple-choice tests. To date, it was those major exams towards the end of high school that ended up being the hardest test I ever took.

I vividly remember staying up late at night during the days leading up to the test, often going over page after page of notes that weren’t always well-organized. I also remember reading over textbooks again and again, but still struggling to remember key points. It resulted in many restless nights. On the nights before tests, I often laid awake in my bed, going over notes and concepts that I knew I had to remember for the exam the next day.

It was not healthy. I can’t overstate how stressful this was for me.

Even though I ended up passing and even acing some of these exams, the work I had to put in just didn’t feel worth it. And in the grand scheme of things, I don’t feel like all that studying helped me actually learn the concept. Even if I passed or aced the exam, I genuinely can’t remember any helpful knowledge coming from it.

However, this harrowing experience did have one important impact. But I wouldn’t feel it until I graduated college and started working in the real world.

Looking back on all the jobs I’ve had since college, including the ones I found really terrible, I don’t think I’ve ever been as stressed or as anxious as I was when studying or taking those tests. That’s not to say all the jobs I’ve had were easy, by comparison. They certainly weren’t. I’ve had a number of jobs over the years in which I’ve come home feeling sore, drained, and miserable. But even on my busiest days at those jobs, I still didn’t feel nearly as stressed.

And I think that’s an important perspective to share because I imagine there are a lot of young people right now worrying about what the adult world has in store for them. Their only real experience with hard work and stress comes from school. They’re constantly told by teachers, counselors, and administrators that the work their doing now is critical. And it’s meant to prepare them for the much harder work they’ll face in college or the adult world.

If someone out there has been telling you that, I’ve got an important message for you.

Unless you plan on being a doctor or lawyer or a sweatshop laborer, that’s not accurate. That’s just administrators trying to get you to work harder so that you’ll get better grades, which consequently makes them look better. The truth is never that simplistic. And you often don’t find that out until much later in life and after some significant life experience.

But even if you don’t have that experience, you can still maintain a better perspective than I ever did when I was young. I made the mistake of treating every major exam like a defining moment in my life. I genuinely believed that if I didn’t ace every test, my life would fall apart and I would fail at everything moving forward. I also believed that each passing year would get harder and harder. Eventually, I’d have to spend every waking hour studying or working, never having time to enjoy my life. Again, it was not healthy. I did real harm to my mental health by thinking that.

I eventually had to learn that both college and the adult world don’t have to be this never-ending toil of joyless rigor. Once you have some agency and guidance, you can chart your own path. Yes, you’ll still have to work. And yes, you’ll still have to struggle at times. But it’s not nearly as arduous as these exams and the teachers who give them make them out to be. In time, they will be a small sliver of a much richer life.

To date, I don’t think I’ve ever worked as hard or been as stressed out as I was when taking my high school exams from this time of year. Every job I’ve had came with challenges. But rising to those challenges never felt so tedious and arduous. On top of that, I actually got paid for that effort. That definitely took some of the stress out of it. And even in the worst jobs I’ve had, there was a general structure and logic to it all. I knew what I had to do and why. Whereas with school, it was just a matter of doing what the teachers said and getting the grades they said you needed to get.

Time, life experiences, and the benefit of hindsight has helped me see those exams for what they were. As agonizing as they were, a part of me is grateful that they hardened me to the rigors of hard work and stressful nights. Compared to my last few years of high school, every job I’ve had has been less stressful and more manageable. That helped make navigating the adult world easier in the long run.

Even so, I wouldn’t wish that kind of stress on anyone. And I sincerely hope anyone reading this who’s still in school can gain some insight from what I’ve shared.

I know it’s still so overwhelming, having the end of the school year be so close, yet having to navigate final exams.

I know it seems like your entire life revolves around school and these tests, at the moment.

I only ask that you take a step back and appreciate that these challenges will help make you stronger in the long run. You need not fear what comes next. Because if you can survive high school even slightly better than I did, then I promise you’re already strong enough to build a brighter future for yourself in the years to come.

Leave a comment

Filed under Current Events, Jack Fisher's Insights, philosophy, rants, real stories

Tagged as , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

November 5, 2021 · 5:51 am

How I Dealt With A Bully (And Why I Don’t Recommend It)

Should You Confront Your Old Bully?

Bullies suck. I think most of us can agree on that. Those who don’t probably haven’t been on the receiving end of a bully at some point in their lives. They’re the lucky ones. Most of us can’t rely on that kind of luck.

Now, before I go any further, I want to make clear that this isn’t some generic anti-bullying PSA. There are already way too many of those and even if their intentions are good, they don’t always send the right message.

That has been my experience with these campaigns. They claim to understand the dynamics of bullying. They offer a list of responses and recourses, some of which are more helpful than others. Some are downright counterproductive. They all miss one key detail.

Every bullying situation is different.

Every bully is different.

Every target of a bully is different.

The dynamics behind every instance of bullying is different.

In short, not every case of bullying plays out the same way and there’s no one proper way to deal with it. Not every bully is Biff Tannen and not every victim is George McFly. One well-placed punch isn’t going to completely rectify a situation. Just ignoring it won’t rectify it, either.

With that in mind, I’d like to share another personal story about how I dealt with a bully. It’s not nearly as dramatic as you might see in the movies, but it worked out in my favor for the most part. In fact, to say it worked out might be a bit of a stretch. You’ll understand why when you hear the details.

This incident played out when I was in the 9th grade. It was not a good time for me. I was depressed, socially awkward, and had pretty much no self-esteem. I also had a bad attitude that made me fairly unpopular and an easy target. In hindsight, I think it was only a matter of time before a bully found me.

For the sake of this story, let’s call this kid Don. He was no Biff Tannen, but he was a real asshole. This kid was my age, but he was behind the curve when it came to maturity. He and a bunch of like-minded friends liked to goof off, screw with people, and do their own thing. They weren’t exactly caricatures from 80s teen movies, but they were close.

As it just so happened, Don rode the same bus as I did. In fact, he got off at the same stop that I did. He lived less than two blocks from me. Due to that proximity, he took an interest in me. He started teasing me and asking dumb, embarrassing questions. Sometimes he did it on the bus. Sometimes he did it in the middle of a class. Whenever he did it, I hated it.

Me being the immature, self-loathing kid that I was, I didn’t deal with it very well. I often tried to tell him off. I cussed him out. That only seemed to encourage him. I never tried to fight him, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted.

It also helped, somewhat, that I wasn’t in good shape and would probably lose that fight. Don was no athlete, but he was bigger than me and willing to do dumb shit to win. I had no advantages, whatsoever.

I still wanted it to stop. I had enough problems in my life. I didn’t need to deal with Don and his antics. I wasn’t sure how I was going to deal with it. I got some advice from the adults in my life. They often told me to just ignore him and avoid him. If he ever laid a hand on me, then I should go to a school administrator. I didn’t want it to get to that point.

Unfortunately, ignoring Don didn’t make him stop. If anything, it encouraged him to keep doing it. He didn’t get bored. He just saw someone he could tease and get away with. That wasn’t something the anti-bullying PSAs told me.

At some point, I had to respond. Yelling at him wasn’t working. Trying to politely ask him to stop wasn’t working. This was an immature knuckle-head who wasn’t going to be reasoned with. If I was going to respond, it had to be very blunt and very effective.

It finally came to ahead one day on the bus. We were waiting to leave to go home for the day. Like he had before, Don decided to move up to my seat and start harassing me. I don’t remember what he said. I just remember he wouldn’t go away. He kept asking me these dumb question and teasing me when I didn’t respond.

He just would not stop and he would not leave. I was tempted to punch him in the face, but I knew that probably wouldn’t pan out. If I threw the first punch, then I would be blamed for everything. I may have been young, but I knew how school politics work.

Finally, I decided to respond.

I didn’t punch him.

I didn’t break something he had on him.

Instead, I just looked at him with as much hate as I could muster and I spit right in his eye.

At that moment, Don’s goofy and immature demeanor disappeared in an instant. He turned away to rub his eye. I wasn’t sure if he was crying or anything. At the time, I honestly didn’t care. I didn’t move from where I sat. I just remained where I sat, waiting for a response.

Eventually, I got it. He tried to spit at me too. He missed, only hitting my ear. After that, he left and went to the back of the bus with his friends.

That was it.

That was the end of it. Don never talked to me ever again.

Now, I do not recommend anyone do that with a bully. Spitting in someone’s eye isn’t as bad as a punch, but it still counts as assault. Had Don gone to a school administrator, he could’ve gotten me into a lot of trouble. However, he didn’t and I think I know why. He would’ve had to explain why the situation got so heated and since he instigated it, he would’ve gotten in trouble too.

Even so, I’m not proud of what I did. I didn’t feel better about myself. I doubt Don felt better, either. Had there been more witnesses or had someone reported us, it could’ve gotten much worse. At the same time, I could’ve handled that much better, even for a moody teenager.

Again, do not take this as advice for dealing with a bully. There’s a good chance it will not work out as well as it did for me. I got lucky in this case. Don’t expect to get that lucky when dealing with a bully.

Also, Don, if you’re reading this, I apologize for spitting in your eye. However, you were still a huge asshole.

Leave a comment

Filed under human nature, Jack Fisher's Insights, psychology, real stories

Tagged as , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

August 14, 2021 · 8:13 am

High School: My Experience, Perspective, and Advice

The following is a video from my YouTube Channel, Jack’s World. It’s a more personal video in that it contains some real-life experiences that I wanted to share. With schools set to open again very soon, I felt the time was right to reach out to those who are just entering high school. For me, it was a dark and sad period in my life. However, it didn’t have to be. I made it that way. As such, I want to offer some advice to others so that their experiences can be better than mine. Enjoy!

4 Comments

Filed under Jack's World, real stories, YouTube

Tagged as , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

June 29, 2021 · 5:40 am

When (And Why) NOT To Be An Optimist

In general, I’m a pretty optimistic person. I have an overall positive outlook on life and the future. I’d even go so far as to say I’m excited about what the future will bring. My posts about sex robots should be proof enough of that.

However, I wasn’t always optimistic. In fact, anyone who knew me in high school or middle school probably saw me as the antithesis of optimism. I was always so dire and bleak with my outlook. I rarely had anything good or positive to say. I put myself down all the time and tried to bring the rest of the world with it.

It was not a healthy mindset, to say the least. I’m very glad I got out of it.

At the same time, it has given me some perspective. Having been on both extremes, I know what fuels that kind of thinking. I know and understand, to some extent, what leads someone to have that mindset.

Overall, I feel like having a positive outlook is more beneficial. That’s to be expected. When you’re more hopeful and optimistic, it tends to bleed into other aspects of your life. Optimism tends to attract optimistic people and those people are generally good for you. I certainly wouldn’t have the friends I have now if I’d remained so negative.

At the same time, there is a limit to optimism. There does come a point where being optimistic can be damaging, in the long run. I’m not talking about the kind of optimism that’s outright delusional, either. I’m more referring to the kind of mindset that makes someone too oblivious to the world.

I think that’s something people do struggle with. That might be a hard thing to say in wake of a global pandemic, but even before that dampened everyone’s spirits, it was easy to get caught up in that mindset. It often goes like this.

If everything seems to be going well, then why bother changing anything?

If things stop going well, then you try to get back to that particular mentality.

If what you do doesn’t work, then you double down and try even harder.

What made you happy and hopeful worked before. Why wouldn’t it work again?

This is a mindset I can attest to. When I was in college, my overall outlook improved. I got a lot less negative about the world. I got better at making friends. I even dared to be hopeful about the future.

Then, I faced some challenges. It was often small or minor. A girl I liked didn’t like me back. A class I took didn’t go well. My favorite team starts losing or I get into a fight with my roommate. It was very stressful, but I thought just maintaining a positive outlook would help work things out.

It didn’t. I won’t say it didn’t help at all. It just didn’t help as much as I’d hoped.

The same thing happened when I got anxious about my health and body image. As I’ve noted before, I did not have good health habits in my youth. I didn’t start regularly going to the gym until I was almost 30. Before then, I thought I just needed to rebuild my confidence and remain hopeful. I now know that was incredibly short-sighted.

Just having the right mindset is barely the first step. At some point, I had to make a more concerted effort. I had to work, grind, and struggle to get to where I wanted to go. If I had just stayed entirely within this positive mindset, I probably wouldn’t have gotten to where I am now, health wise. In that sense, being too positive worked against me.

This is the trap of overly positive thinking. Sometimes, if you’re too positive, you’re less inclined to put in the extra effort and make a meaningful change. Whether it’s about your health, your social life, or your politics, too much positive thinking can become an excuse to not change or do anything different.

That’s rarely healthy. That’s also why a little regular introspection can be a good thing. It’s something that’s encouraged by professionals who are far smarter than me on matters of psychology. If you need further details, check out this piece I found from Psychology Today.

Psychology Today: Positive Thinking Isn’t Always the Best Way to Go

When we suffer pain, rejection, disappointment, loss, disease, or another catastrophe, happy talk, whistling in the dark, or putting on a happy face do not work. Every cloud does not have a silver lining nor is there a pot of gold at the end of every rainbow.

Because the world is filled with all sorts of unhappy events, from not getting that dream job to losing a best friend to cancer, thinking only positive thoughts is delusional. Trying to maintain a happy face while tragedy engulfs us is unnatural, akin to trying to laugh when our hearts are breaking. Like Pagliacci, the clown who was intent upon making others laugh while tears streamed down his cheeks, we shortchange ourselves when we fail to deal with negative events and emotions.

I’ll sum this up by offering one last bit of insight.

Life isn’t easy, but it’s worth the effort. Things do generally get better and assuming the worst tends to be a self-fulfilling prophecy. However, just being positive is never enough. At some point, you have to make the effort. It’s often strenuous and frustrating, but it’s wroth doing.

Leave a comment

Filed under health, human nature, Jack Fisher's Insights, psychology

Tagged as , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

October 29, 2020 · 5:52 am

A Personal Story (And Perspective) On Daylight Savings Day

It’s that time of year again, at least if you’re in these countries. Daylight Savings day is upon us. It’s not a holiday, nor a means for major celebration. It just means that this weekend, we can all look forward to an extra hour of sleep.

Honestly, after the year we’ve all endured, an extra hour of sleep is literally the least we can hope for. I’ll gladly take it.

Now, I don’t have an opinion on daylight savings, why it’s observed, or whether we should continue observing it. That sort of contention is just not worth my time or anyone else’s. Instead, I’d like to take a moment in these last few days before we fall back to share another personal story.

It involves high school, but I promise it’s not nearly as awkward or angst-ridden as some of the others I’ve shared. This story is more an observation than a personal account and one I think is more relevant. Say what you will about teenagers and young people in this current environment. They do have issues and they’re worth highlighting.

To appreciate this story, I need to offer a little context. While I was in high school, the last week of October was uniquely difficult. It wasn’t just because the weather was getting colder, mid-terms had just wrapped up, and the holidays were still too far off to warrant excitement. Much of the difficulty, in this case, had to do with sleep.

It wasn’t so much about getting enough of it, which is a challenge in its own right, as it was about waking up. I lived in a school district where high school classes started at 7:20 a.m. If you weren’t in your first period class by that time, you were late and you could get in trouble. That might not have been an issue if you lived nearby. Unfortunately, I wasn’t that lucky.

My family lived on the boundaries of the school district. That meant I had to take the bus to school, which wasn’t too big a deal. However, in order to get to school on time, the bus had to pick me and my classmates at 6:30 a.m. to make it on time.

Now, I know some people are already rolling their eyes. We had to be at the bus stop by 6:30 in the morning. Why is that such a big deal? There are people with jobs that require they wake up even earlier.

To those people, I have a simple message.

First off, we don’t get paid to go to high school. We’re forced to, by law. Second, we were teenagers. We’re not exactly used to night shifts at the salt mines. We’re still going through puberty, trying to transition into adulthood, and dealing with plenty of awkward feelings along the way. Have some goddamn sympathy.

With that in mind, take a moment to appreciate what it’s like the week before we fall back with daylight savings. You wake up at 6:00 a.m. and it’s still nearly pitch black outside. You can still see stars in the sky. You can barely see any hint of the sun.

If you’re a functional adult who is used to early mornings, it’s no big deal. If you’re a teenager who’s several steps away from being that functional, the world is basically asking us why the hell we aren’t still sleeping. Our collective response is the same. We have no choice. This is what we have to do, by law, to get to school on time.

Make no mistake. Waking up this early and standing outside when it’s still dark out is jarring to a teenager’s mind and body. The last week of October was just the most pronounced. During the first weeks of school, you could at least depend on the sun coming up, which helped wake you up. By this time, however, you had no such benefit. It was still dark out and it stayed dark until you got to school.

This is where my story comes into play. It’s not just one particular incident on one particular day, either. For the entirety of my high school career, this sort of thing played out every year on the last week of October. If I were to catch up with my old classmates, they’d probably share the same sentiment.

It went like this.

We wake up at 5:30 a.m. to get ready for school. It’s pitch black out.

We take a shower, eat some breakfast, and gather our things. It’s still pitch black out.

We go out to the bus stop at about 6:25 a.m. It’s still pitch black out.

The bus arrives, we get on, and we settle in for the ride. It’s still pitch black out.

For the entire trip, we’re all only half-awake. Nobody talks. Nobody socializes. We just sit there, try to keep our eyes open, and get whatever sliver of rest we can before we arrive. Most of the time, the sun is just barely starting to rise when we get to school.

I know it’s not the most harrowing story about high school, but it does stand out and it wouldn’t be at all possible without daylight savings. It’s because of that time shift that it’s still so dark out in the morning on that final week leading up to it. An adult may see that as a trivial detail, but from the perspective of tired teenage minds, I assure you it isn’t.

I try to forget a lot of things from that time in my life. I’ll never forget those early morning bus rides on the last week of October. They always had this strange, ominous feel to them. Setting aside the ambience, the impact it had on me and the rest of my classmates was distinct.

Being out at that bus stop when it was still so dark and riding to school before the sun came up just put everyone in a drowsy, lethargic mood. Riding to school in that environment wasn’t just quiet. It was dead silent at time.

Nobody said a word.

Nobody talked, socialized, or screwed around.

It was just too dark and we were all too tired. You think packing a bunch of teenagers in a bus is bound to create something rowdy and decadent? Well, when it’s that dark out and that early in the morning, you don’t have to worry. When you’re still tired, you’re not going to have the energy.

Now, that did change to an extent the following week. Once we set the clocks back, there’s usually daylight outside when we go to the bus stop. That does make a difference. In fact, it makes a big difference. There’s even some science behind it.

I was still a miserable high school student, but at least it easier to stay awake when the sun was out. I also noticed that once we had some sunlight, people talked and socialized more on the bus. It was just less depressing overall. Being less tired will have that effect.

In hindsight, I’m amazed that we all functioned as well as we did in those conditions. The science is also catching up to the sentiment. More and more people are uncovering the negative effects of having high school start so early. Teenagers may be immature and dumb at times, but they’re still human. If they don’t get enough sleep, they’re not going to function well.

A lack of sleep has all sorts of negative impacts. Add the rigors of adolescence to the mix and you’re just going to make both much worse. It’s something I find myself contemplating every year in the days leading up to daylight savings.

We have a lot of problems in this world and teenagers have a lot to deal with. Nobody can do much of anything if they’re too tired or sleep deprived.

1 Comment

Filed under Current Events, Jack Fisher's Insights, real stories

Tagged as , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

May 9, 2020 · 10:00 am

Another Awesome Story About My Awesome Mom On Mother’s Day Eve

Tomorrow is Mother’s Day. For some people, it’s just one of those Hallmark Holidays that requires that you purchase a card, make a phone call, and watch a few cheesy 1-800-Flowers ad. For those lucky enough to have an awesome mom like mine, it’s more than that.

I’ve said it before on multiple occasions. I’ll keep finding other ways to say it until the entire internet hears it.

My mom is awesome.

That is not in dispute. That’s just an objective fact on par with math and gravity. I knew that when I was still a kid. I know that now as a full-grown adult. With each passing year, I come to appreciate my mother’s awesome more and more. That makes celebrating Mother’s Day extra special.

For a mom like mine, a card just won’t cut it. Even during a pandemic, I’m going to find a way to go the extra mile to show my mom how much I love and appreciate her. As part of that effort, I’d like to share another personal story that further proves my mom’s greatness. If this doesn’t get the point across, then you’re just being difficult.

This particular story is small in scope, but incredibly revealing with respect to the kind of person my mother is. I don’t know if she’ll remember this. I know she reads this site every now and then. I hope she does because for me, it’s one of those powerful memories that has only gotten more meaningful with time.

The setting of this story is simple, but still requires a bit of context. It occurred when I was in my late teens. It was the middle of summer and I was home from college. For me, that didn’t just mean sitting around all day, waiting for the fall semester to begin. I worked during the summers. I was also expected to do chores on the weekends. One of them involved mowing the lawn.

Now, that was one of my least favorite chores and my mom knew that. I still did it, but was rarely thrilled about it. I need to establish that before I lay out what happened. It matters with respect to how this ordeal played out.

It occurred on a Saturday morning. I was downstairs in the basement, watching TV and working on my laptop, as I often did. Then, my mother comes walking down the stairs and she’s not in a good mood. It has nothing to do with what I or any of my siblings did. She’s just miserable, restless, and tense, as people can get for no apparent reason.

While in that mood, she tells me to mow the lawn and she’s not nice about it. She doesn’t ask me to do it. She doesn’t even say, please. She just tells me to do it in a crass, callous way that is not typical of my mother. It shows just how bad a mood she was in that day.

Naturally, I don’t react with much enthusiasm. I groan and roll my eyes, but it’s not just because I hate mowing the lawn. That’s not how anyone wants to be told to do something. My mother senses this, as I’m not subtle about it. Not surprisingly, goes off and tell me not to give her any attitude.

Then, in a response I honestly didn’t think much about, I tell her, in so many words, that she could’ve at least said please. She also could’ve been less rude about it. I even threw in a comment about how she’d taught me to be courteous and polite all my life. I don’t remember exactly what I said because, like I said, I didn’t give much thought to my response. A part of me still dreaded my mother’s response.

What happened next is a further testament to my mother’s character. Almost immediately, her crummy mood changed. She put her hand up, shook her head, and apologized. She acknowledged that she was rude and in the wrong. I instinctively accepted that apology. I still agreed to mow the lawn later that day and I did.

What stands out so much about that moment was how much humility my mother showed in that moment. I’m her son and she’s the parent. Usually, the dynamic is reversed. It’s the parent who’s supposed to call the child out when they’re being rude or impolite. When the roles are flipped, it doesn’t go the same way.

My mother was well within her right, as a parent, to just brush off my comment. She was also within her right to pile onto it and call me an asshole for daring to call her out like that. She could’ve just said, “I can talk to you however I want because I’m your mom. That’s that.” Instead, she chose the more respectable path.

She showed that she practiced the values she preached to me and my siblings. She holds herself to the same standard that she holds me. When she’s wrong or rude, she owns up to it. She takes responsibility and apologizes, just as she would expect of me if I were in that position. It was a small gesture, but I gained a whole new level of respect for my mother that day.

I know more than a few people whose parents take full advantage of their authority. To them, respect is not earned from a child. It’s a given, even when it’s not reciprocated. There are instances when that’s necessary, but this wasn’t one of them. My mother was self-aware enough to recognize that and set a better example. Since then, I’ve done my best to meet those standards.

There are so many other wonderful stories that I could share about my mother. Some are more elaborate than others. This one is small by comparison, but it’s those kinds of stories that help you really appreciate the kind of person someone is. My mother is wonderful in so many ways. This is just one of them. It’s part of what makes Mother’s Day worth celebrating.

To my awesome mom, I love you with all my heart.

Happy Mother’s Day!

2 Comments

Filed under Jack Fisher's Insights, Uplifting Stories

Tagged as , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

April 28, 2020 · 5:57 am

The Moment I Knew Puberty Began For Me

In life, there are certain moments when you know you’ve reached a certain milestone. Sometimes, it’s obvious. From the first time you drive a car to the first time you kiss someone who isn’t your mother, they stand out in your memory. It’s not always pleasant. Some moments are more awkward than others, but they mark a major change in your life.

Going through puberty is one of those things that generates more awkward moments than most. I challenge anyone to recount their transformation from kid to adult without at least one part being awkward. I’ve shared a few stories from my youth, some being a lot more awkward than others. I can laugh about them now, but they marked critical points in my life that have only become more relevant as I’ve gotten older.

For most of us, there’s no one single point when we know we’ve entered puberty. You don’t just wake up one day and know that you’re a teenager now. All those crazy mental and physical changes don’t happen all at once. If they did, few of us would survive the process with our sanity intact.

That said, there are some moments that, in hindsight, mark a particular point in your life when you realize that this transformation has become. You’ve crossed the point of no return. You’re becoming a teenager now. Eventually, you’ll become an adult. It can be daunting, but it’s a part of life.

In that spirit, I’d like to share a particular moment that still stands out to me after all these years. It’s a moment in which I realized that I wasn’t a kid anymore. Puberty has begun and there’s no going back. At that moment, it was just a strange realization that I discounted. However, over time, it became a turning point.

It happened while I was in the fifth grade. It was late spring. We had just come back from Spring Break. The weather had finally gotten nice enough to enjoy recess without heavy jackets. At the time, I didn’t think much of it. I was just glad I could stop dressing in layers.

On this particular day, though, it was very humid. Coming back from recess, everyone was a lot sweatier than usual. Being kids, we didn’t care. We were just glad to get outside and away from book reports. I don’t remember much else about what happened that day, but I can vividly recall what happened the moment we returned to class.

As soon as we sat down at our tests and my teacher got to the front of the room, she made an impromptu announcement that will forever echo in my memory.

“You all, stink.”

I swear I’m not paraphrasing. That’s exactly what my teacher told us. She was an credibly blunt, straightforward woman. She didn’t mince words and this was one instance in which they couldn’t be sugarcoated.

She took a good five minutes of class time to give an impromptu lecture on how much we smell. She wasn’t polite about it. She just said in every possible way that we really smell and we need to start using deodorant. Past teachers have told us we smelled before, but never like this. It was the first time in which I became mindful of body odor.

I was really taken aback by this, as were plenty of classmates. Keep in mind, we’re all just 5th graders. We still see ourselves as kids and not teenagers. Some were more mature than others, but we were still kids at heart. I certainly felt that way. After this, however, that changed.

When I left class that day, it started to sink in. I was going through puberty. At that point, I knew what it was. I’d taken a health class. My parents also told me about it, too. I just didn’t think it would happen for another couple years. When I looked in the mirror, I still saw a kid. Now, I took note of some very real changes.

Body odor was just one. At the same time, I started noticing acne and body hair. It was very subtle. It didn’t happen all at once, but after that day, I became much more aware of it. By the time I got to middle school, I couldn’t deny it anymore. I was a teenager at that point. That fateful day in the 5th grade was just the first time I realized it.

I’ve come to appreciate that moment more and more over the years. I still had many difficulties, as most kids do when they become teenagers. Some were more manageable than others. I probably could’ve handled it better, in hindsight. However, it’s still remarkable to think that it all began with that one fateful day.

Do you have a day like that? Is there one particular moment in which you realized puberty had begun for you? If so, please share it in the comments.

4 Comments

Filed under health, Jack Fisher's Insights, men's issues

Tagged as , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

December 5, 2019 · 6:05 am

Torn Between Childhood And Adulthood: The Journey Of Bobby Hill

mjphkd8z03611

The greatness of a TV show is often measured in how endearing the characters are. Whether it has dramatic themes like “Mad Men” and “Breaking Bad” or over-the-top comedy like “It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia,” TV shows thrive and fail by the strength of their characters.

A show like “King of the Hill” is a good example of this and not just because it has plenty of great characters. The personalities and stories of characters like Hank Hill, Boomhauer, and Luanne are all endearing in their own unique way. I’ve even gone out of my way to praise Hank Hill on multiple occasions for his work ethic and his unique approach to masculinity.

However, “King of the Hill” is unique in the sheer range of characters it offers, with respect to likability. Characters like Bill Dautrieve and Khan Souphanousinphone have definite flaws, but do plenty to warrant respect. Peggy Hill is a textbook narcissist, but still does plenty to balance it out. Dale Gribble is a paranoid idiot, but he’s still a loyal friend and just fun to be around.

There are also a few characters who are just assholes most of the time. While the show goes out of its way to balance everyone to some extent, there’s only so much you can do with characters like Cotton Hill and Buck Strickland. I could say a lot about those two, in terms of how they impact the themes of the show, but I’d like to focus on a character who has confounded me over the years.

Confounded, yet entertained.

Of all the colorful characters that make “King of the Hill” one of my favorite shows of all time, Bobby Hill is the one I’m most conflicted about. I’ve always had mixed feelings about him. I can watch one episode where I have no sympathy for him, but in the very next, he’ll come off as one of the most respectable characters in Arlen.

Some of that might have to do with me, as a viewer. When I started watching this show, I was younger and had a lot more in common with Bobby. We were both overwhelmed by the prospect of growing up. We often felt beleaguered by school, adults, and puberty. I related to him a lot more than I did with the adults in the show.

Then, as I re-watched those same episodes as an adult, I saw Bobby in a different light. I had a hard time sympathizing with his struggles in certain episodes. At times, he came off as some immature kid trying desperately to avoid responsibility and hard work. In one episode, he became a full-fledged panhandler.

At the same time, Bobby had moments where he genuinely shined. While I would argue that the series finale was his finest hour and the culmination of his growth, he also had other moments in which he stepped up to do something awesome. He was, in my opinion, the most confounding characters in the entire show.

Now, after having watched and re-watched every episode of “King of the Hill,” while also having the benefit of my own personal growth, I feel like I can appreciate Bobby’s character in a new way. In terms of the bigger picture, Bobby Hill represents an important theme in the show. Specifically, his story revolves around someone torn between adulthood and childhood.

While “King of the Hill” has many themes, Bobby’s were often tied to his youth and that youth was often the catalyst for his misadventures. When the show begins, he’s 11-year-old. By the time it ends, he’s 13-years-old. These are some formative years in a boy’s life and the show takes full advantage of that.

In the first several seasons, Bobby definitely carries himself as a kid. His behavior is distinctly childlike, from using his dad’s golf clubs to hit dog shit to taking part in a camping trip in which he accidentally kills an endangered animal. Then, over the course of the show, his stories evolve. He starts getting interested in girls and sees the effects of puberty on his best friend. At times, he’s more than a little overwhelmed.

In some cases, he wants to be an adult. He even enjoys the maturity and status that comes with it. In others, he actively avoids it, clinging to his childhood and the carefree innocence that it entails. Granted, there are times when he just wants to be lazy. At one point, he states outright that he prefers taking baths because he doesn’t like standing for so long.

However, there are plenty of other instances in which he sees the rigors of adulthood and doesn’t find it the least bit appealing. It doesn’t help that he’s had some very unpleasant experiences with the adult world, which includes one in which he ran out onto a racetrack because of an asshole boss. After an experience like that, who wouldn’t long for the more sheltered life of childhood?

To some extent, it’s not entirely Bobby’s fault that the adult world is so overwhelming. His laziness doesn’t help, but there are times when Hank’s uptight parenting skills actively contribute to the problem. The only reason he had that aforementioned job at a racetrack was because Hank tried to teach him a lesson about hard work and it taught him the wrong lesson, entirely.

On top of that, Peggy often babies him in ways that reinforce how much easier and carefree it is to be a child. Whether it’s cutting his hair or giving him one of Hank’s old trophies, she often makes childhood feel a lot easier and safer, albeit indirectly. Bobby gets so many mixed messages throughout the show that it’s easy to see why he’s often so conflicted.

Like most themes in “King of the Hill,” the nature of the conflicts fluctuate. There is a sense of progression for certain characters, but there’s also a general consistency over the course of the show. Joseph and Luanne are very different by the final season when compared to the first season, but Bobby’s journey is left somewhat ambiguous.

By the end of the show, he finds a skill and a passion that he wants to pursue. In the same way Hank has a passion for propane and propane accessories, Bobby discovers a passion for grading the quality of steaks. It’s a passion that requires both hard work and a level of maturity the likes of which he hasn’t pursued before. It also makes for a powerful moment when he and his dad finally get to share in a mutual interest.

At the same time, he still carries himself like a kid. Even within that final episode, he gets overwhelmed by the pressure placed on him by other adults. While he managed to overcome the pressure, there’s still a sense that he’s not entirely ready for the adult world. At the very least, he’s not quite as reluctant to pursue it.

Bobby Hill’s journey, struggling between childhood and adulthood, is just one among many compelling plots in “King of the Hill.” His journey has many setbacks and absurdities, but it still feels real and relatable. For an animated show that includes eccentric characters in fictitious settings, it’s quite an achievement.

Hank Hill often says his boy ain’t right. On some levels, that might be true. In the grand scheme of things, however, the show demonstrated that Bobby Hill was as right as he needed to be when struggling between childhood and adulthood.

Leave a comment

Filed under King of the Hill, psychology, television

Tagged as , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

February 12, 2019 · 5:56 am

Lessons From My First (Failed) Crush

teen-crush-love

Being a teenager sucks. Unless you’re a star athlete, an attractive cheerleader, or the child of a filthy rich celebrity, there’s a high probability that you’ll be overwhelmed by the experience. Some people handle it better than others. I can say without question that I was not one of those people. If I were to get a grade on how I handled being a teenager, I probably would’ve gotten a C-minus at best.

As rough as it can be, you can learn a thing or two during your teenage years and I’m not just referring to the awkward changes that come with puberty. We don’t have much choice in how our bodies mature with age, but we do have a choice in how we handle the harsh lessons that come our way. In the interest of sharing some personal insights, which I’ve done before, I’d to revisit a lesson I learned about love.

With Valentine’s Day just around the corner, I think it’s fitting. Those lucky enough to have a special someone to spend the day with probably had to endure plenty of hardship to achieve what they had. I’m not afraid to admit that I envy those people. However, seeing as how I am such a romance fan, I’m not bitter. Why else would I spend so much time writing sexy novels and sexy short stories?

That said, there’s a difference between being a fan of romance and actually pursuing it. That was part of the lesson I learned with this particular incident. It occurred right around the time I started high school, which was already plenty miserable for me. I’ve already gone on record as saying how much I hated high school and those first few years were some of the worst.

There were, however, a select few reasons that made high school worth going to back then. One of those reasons was the first girl I ever had a serious crush on. It’s almost as corny as it sounds, but I won’t apologize for it. I was a lonely, miserable teenager who was just starting to develop a terrible acne problem that would plague me for the next five years. I wanted to connect with someone.

On top of that, I was a closeted romance fan. I genuinely wanted to seek the kind of love that I saw in comics, TV shows, and movies. I wanted to be part of my own love story and when I saw this girl, I felt like she could be part of that. I know that sounds like the musings of a love-sick teenage boy who listened to one too many boy bands, but that’s how I felt.

I still remember the first, last, and middle name of my first crush. Out of respect, I won’t share it. For the sake of keeping this story coherent, I’ll call her Angela. Without getting too descriptive, I’ll just say she was cute in a way that would always brighten your day. It doesn’t matter if you lost a fight, failed a mid-term, and got detention. One smile from Angela was enough to make everything in your world feel right.

I know that’s melodramatic. Again, I was a goddamn teenager who had read too many comics and watched too many movies with romantic sub-plots. That’s just how my brain was wired and the added effects of male hormones didn’t help. All I knew was that I had a crush on this girl. What I didn’t know was how to act on it.

This is where I learned a couple critical lessons. The first, and most obvious, realization I had was that my social skills sucked. It’s not just that I was socially awkward. My conversation skills for people outside my immediate family were awful. I struggled to get a conversation going. I struggled even more to keep it going. If I talked long enough, I would often say something stupid.

One time, I was sitting next to this girl in a science class and I just blurted out that I tried cat food once. I don’t know how or why I admitted that. It wasn’t even true. All I know was the girl just looked at me weird for the rest of the day and I honestly don’t blame her.

I already knew this about myself before I met Angela. As a result, I avoided talking to her at first. We initially met when we got paired up for an English assignment. I thought we got along well. I managed to work with her and not say anything too stupid. While I did learn she had a boyfriend at the time, she actually told me that it was not going well and they were definitely breaking up.

At the time, I thought that was a sign that maybe we had something. Looking back on it, I’m pretty sure she was just venting about her own personal issues. I just happened to be there to listen at the time. In my warped teenage brain, though, that was proof that I wanted to pursue this girl. I just didn’t know how and that’s when I learned a few more harsh lessons.

Chief among them was that if you’re really interested in someone, you have to be mindful of how you show that interest. If you’re not careful, it can come off as creepy and pathetic. For me, I don’t think I was creepy, but I was definitely pathetic and no woman finds that attractive.

I know because it took me almost a year after meeting her to make a move. I’d shared a few classes with her. She knew my name and I knew hers. I’d been friendly with her and she’d even been friendly with me a few times, but I was so shy and awkward that I really didn’t give her a reason to see me as more than just a casual acquaintance.

To make matters worse, my way of telling her I had a crush on her didn’t involve a difficult, face-to-face conversation. It involved me leaving a folded-up note in her locker with my email address written on it. Yes, I knew exactly where her locker was. I also took the time to slip it in when nobody else was there to see me. I admit that’s both creepy and a little pathetic.

For that reason, and probably others I’ll never know, she didn’t respond. I didn’t hear back from her and, at the time, that was genuinely heartbreaking. It ended making me more reserved and more socially awkward. High school was bad enough with hormones, homework, and acne. My first crush wanting nothing to do with me only made it worse.

That’s not to say I never heard from Angela again. About two years later, shortly after she moved away, I actually got an email from her. However, it did not lead to the epic love story I had hoped. It was a very short, very messy email. She just said that she got the note and thanked me for it. I told her who I was and she said she remembered me, but not much else came from it.

While not romantic, it still taught me one final lesson that ended up being the most important. When it comes to looking for love, you can’t go about it as though it’s story in a novel or movie. Love in the real world doesn’t work like that, especially with awkward teenagers. You actually have to work on talking to people, building connections with them, and giving them reasons to love you.

I never gave Angela enough reasons. I never even showed her that I was someone worth loving. I’d worked under the assumption that if I were just a nice, caring guy that the girl of my dreams would fall for me. That may work in cheesy sitcoms, but not in real life high school.

Some of these lessons took a long time to appreciate. It wasn’t until after college that I could look back on my experience with Angela with a more balanced perspective. I honestly wish it hadn’t taken so long. My social skills are still behind the curve. I feel like I held myself back for years, in terms of being a romantically desirable man, and I’m still trying to catch up.

While I’m in a much better place now than I was back in high school, I’m glad I went through that difficult experience of my first failed crush. Even though it took me way too long to learn from that failure, it offered insights that are more useful today than it ever was during my awkward teen years.

In terms of a first crush, I like to think I got lucky with Angela. She was sweet, caring, and understanding. She didn’t judge me for my social ineptitude or my terrible acne. I don’t blame her for not feeling the same way about me as I did about her. I just wish I’d handled it better.

One day, I believe I’ll find someone who will be as attracted to me as I am to her. When that day comes, I’ll be ready and that’s thanks in part to the lessons I learned by having a crush on Angela. While I doubt I’ll ever see her again, I’ll always be grateful to what she taught me about what it means to craft romance in the real world.

1 Comment

Filed under Jack Fisher's Insights, romance, sex in society

Tagged as , , , , , , , , , , , , ,