Hard to finish school readings

I find books about death a bit useless. In those moments I say that there is no need for philosophy. Why would anyone try to pick out a problem? and to a certain extent a bit narcissistic since all you do is talk and talk and talk about what you think is right based on your mind's logic. Which, not to be hypocrite is pretty much what I, myself do 99% of the time. Anyways, books about death, I hate it, I hate to talk about death, and death in general is the thing that we all encounter but I figured that it's individualized. Novels where death plays a role I also hate. Orphans, boys who lost their dad and Camus’s opening sentence of “my mom died '' bring an awful feeling in me. It’s almost as if my soul shivers, and childhood fears come rushing back.

So far, I’ve managed to avoid books like these. In my hometown, I could ask my teachers for different assignments. But now, as I grow up, I realize there’s no longer that safety net. Despite studying in schools that tried to prepare me for life, real life is quite different. The biggest difference is that my ability to argue and prove a point isn’t as strong as it was in school. In real life, there’s no teacher to stop someone from cutting you off in a conversation. You must build in some callus on how to go on about the world you live in. you eventually learn how to filter people. In a way abilities like this make you feel like an adult. like you can navigate through society. You go out and you never get over the fact when someone cuts you off in a conversation. Soon people realize your mood is turning. The feeling of being noticed, just as you wished is great, because in reality you have filtered people. it feels like a grown up.

In real life, you can’t fully speak your mind. Once you leave school, you realize that politics is far more polarized than you could have imagined. With the sassy personality school instilled in you, you decide to put the “open-minded” ideology into practice. You actually talk to people who think differently than you, and surprisingly, they are more receptive than those who preach open-mindedness. Leaving high school is similar to transitioning from 6th to 7th grade—when you stop hating boys and actually become friends with them. It’s a bit scary at first, but you find that they’re not all gross and that they let you vent more than any other girl ever will. You learn to navigate your male friendships, accepting that their testosterone is a monster of its own. But if you find the factor that brings you together and make it shine brighter, it can overshadow any hormonal issues, keeping your friendship safe. Even when they try to be politically correct, they still offend a significant portion of the population. However, your male friends show you how you should be treated as a woman. In a way, learning about political polarization and exploring different perspectives is like becoming friends with a guy.

What I’m trying to say is that today in my driver’s ed class, the instructor got mad at me for no reason. I wanted to discuss my mistake, but I didn’t know how to build a case for why I took my foot off the clutch pedal too quickly. Every argument I came up with in my head didn’t fit their claims. And when I could make a point, I was cut off by the instructor and his boss. The “debate” started with the instructor introducing his boss with a tone that said, “talk to The Man.” It felt like their words just floated past me. I turned to “The Boss,” trying to hide my eye rolls. In real life, I feel powerless, unable to express myself as I could in a classroom.

I can’t deny that calling my grandfather to make everything fair and square sounds appealing, since my strong facial expressions aren’t well received in conversations with men. They seem to prefer calm and peaceful discussions. But i end up looking spoiled if i do so, and I probably am. I dare to say that school has spoiled me quite a bit by allowing me to do things my way too often. I learned to navigate society in my mind, observing and making sense of everything. Yet, I struggle with real-life conflicts. What am I going to do when my college summer reading turns out to be “The Boy in the Striped Pajamas”? That book is so sad.