Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul II (44 page)

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Authors: Jack Canfield,Mark Victor Hansen,Kimberly Kirberger

BOOK: Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul II
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Page 252
What I Wish I'd Known Sooner
For the past year or two, I have devoted a section of my home page on the Internet to a list entitled "What I Wish I'd Known Sooner." Since I am seventeen, there are a lot of stupid things I do that make me wish I had already known not to do them! Anyone can add to this listI have received additions from all over the world, by people of all ages. I often add to it myself (after the fact)!
Some are lighthearted, some are serious, all are very true. Here are a few of the gems:
Don't drink grape juice while wearing a white shirt and driving to school.
Don't let your life wait for other people.
Dropping a cellular phone into a bathtub of water kinda kills the phone.
Your mother will find out if you dye your hair purple.
You haven't really lived until you've gotten a 48 on an Advanced Placement U.S. History test.
Don't ever fall in love with someone who is more than one thousand miles away from you. It usually doesn't work.
Milk crates make boring pets.

 

Page 253
If it hurts, DON'T DO IT AGAIN!
That which does not kill you will ultimately make you stronger.
Speaking in public gets easier with practice.
Don't sprint around a pool if you're trying to impersonate Jim from Huck Finn.
Ten years from now most of what we freak out about won't make any difference.
All that's gold doesn't glisten.
Zits always pop up when you really can't afford for them to pop up.
Always stay after class because that's where connections are made.
When in doubt, duck. When certain, don't bother, 'cause you're already screwed.
While driving a car through a gate, always, ALWAYS make sure the gate is open! The consequences might be fatal to your car.
If you're not living (I mean really living), you're dead already.
Never pierce your belly button in the dark.
Just because someone flirts with you incessantly doesn't necessarily mean he or she likes you.
If your calculus teacher tells you to quit talking after a test or he'll give you a zero for your test grade, he means it. Really.
Sometimes smart people can do very, very stupid things.
Being nice to people will get you far.
The one person you can truly love is often right in front of you.
Never, ever, EVER let a member of the opposite sex make you compromise your standards. Never.
Nothing is ever too good to be true (said by Michael Faraday).
If you start to like a girl, her roommate will immediately start liking you.

 

Page 254
Parents aren't around forever, and you need to treasure them while they are.
Don't take the SAT twice if you already have a good score in the first place.
Never do something if the risk is greater than the reward.
Think carefully before you act.
Dreaming and doing go hand in hand.
Life moves fast, but not so fast that you can't slow down to enjoy it.
Instead of waiting for life to get better, do something about it.
You REALLY should do what needs to be done NOW, and not later. Procrastination is the easiest way, but not the most profitable.
If your intuition is telling you not to do something, then don't. Your intuition is not stupid!
Cereal is a vital staple food for all college students. Who cares how ridiculous you look eating it at 7:30 P.M.?
If he doesn't respect you, then he's not worth any of your time.
Learn to play an electric guitar: young women really dig it.
Don't juggle knives unless you're really, really good at it.
If at first you don't succeed, try again. Then give up. No sense being ridiculous about it.
Sticking things up your nose isn't the smartest idea in the world.
You can't light fireworks in the basement and not get caught.
Hair is flammable.
Very
flammable.
Never ever trust your friend with a pair of scissors against your hair.
Dyeing hair strawberry blond that is already strawberry blond makes it turn strawberry pink.
White dogs and black pants don't mix.
God doesn't make junk!

 

Page 255
Someday you will look back on this and it will all seem funny.
You never know when you're making a memory.
The heart does heal and you will love like this againexcept that when you do, you'll deny that you ever loved like this before.
Nothing matters if you don't have loved ones to share it with. Your siblings are incredibly precious. If you don't know this now, you willtrust me!
If you can laugh at yourself, you are going to be fine.
If you allow others to laugh with you, you'll be great!
Kissing is the most fun thing. Dancing is almost as fun.
Meredith Rowe
[EDITORS' NOTE:
If you would like to contribute to this list for
Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul III
you can send an e-mail to:
[email protected].]

 

Page 256

 

Page 257

 

Page 258
My Most Embarrassing Moment
[AUTHOR'S NOTE TO HER MOM AND DAD:
I'm sorry you have to find out about this at the same time all of America does. I never told anyone
.]
Honor student, tennis team player, Spanish Club president. Sunday school teacher assistant, Swing Choir piano accompanist. Although these publicly recognized accomplishments of my teenage years went on to influence my life in many ways, there was one particular group activity I participated in that had an even greater impact on me: Mustard Gang Member.
The fall of 1977 found me enrolled as a freshman in the school system I had attended since kindergarten. My student file over the last ten years could be summed up with positive comments such as ''consistently above average," "enjoys extracurricular activities" and "cooperates with teachers and fellow classmates." No suspensions. No detentions. Basically, a model student. However, within a total time period of approximately one hour, this trademark behavior would fly right out the window (at the speed of sound).

 

Page 259
Three of my lifelong girlfriendswho would fall under a fairly close ditto description of that abovecaught up to me after school on a Friday afternoon. One of them had just received her driver's license and was going cruising in a nearby town to celebrate. She asked if I would like to come along. (Rhetorical question.) The final bell was sounding as we piled into an older model Dodge Charger on its last leg of life. Regardless of its condition, it had a full tank of gas and the ability to get us from Point A to Point B.
Within minutes of leaving the school parking lot, we were on the open highway. As I look back now, that highway was pretty significant. It not only separated two towns, it separated those of us in the car from the people who knew us and the people who didn't. We became daring.
When the novelty of just driving around wore off, someone suggested it might be fun to squirt mustard on parked cars as we drove past them. (
Author's sensible reaction twenty years later: WHAT?!
) A unanimous agreement must have followed, because all four of us stood beside each other in the checkout line where the bottle of mustard was ultimately purchased.
Loading back into the car, each of our faces looked as though we couldn't believe what we were doing. We couldn't. Four kids, four clean records.
Lost time was about to be made up for
.
We decided that the person sitting by the passenger's side window would be the Designated Squirter, while the others in the car would be responsible for choosing the target ahead. Since I was cowardly, trying to hide in a corner of the backseat, I thought this sounded swell. Feeling my guilt would be somewhat lessened if I didn't actually
touch
the mustard bottle, I thought. I was off the hook. A nervous sigh of relief was escaping me until the words

 

Page 260
"and we'll pull over every other block and switch seats so it will be fair." Hook re-inserted.
The "talk" in the car proved to be more productive than the "action" as the first and second girls took their turn in the passenger seat, both chickening out at the last second, squealing, ''I can't!" Before I knew it, the car had stalled and it was me who was climbing in beside the driver. Sliding my sweaty palms up and down the bottle's sides, the target was being pointed out to me, loudly and with demanding encouragement. The attack was to be launched on a little red Volkswagen up ahead, fast approaching. "Do it! Do it! Do it!" my friends chanted. . . . 
And I almost did
. But, as was the case with the girls before, feathers grew from within me and we soon sped past the car, leaving it as solid red as it had been when first spotted.
Since the driver couldn't take a respective turn as the shooter, we headed for home, the mischief supposedly ended. Just when we were nearing the highway, we passed two girls jogging, their hands moving up and down in front of them. Still looking for trouble, we interpreted their innocent actions. "Hey! They just gave us the finger!" And of course, if we had been needlessly insulted, they certainly would have to pay. Simple as that.
Within seconds, they were jogging into a Kmart parking lot. . . . And we were right behind them. Jumping out of the car, we ran toward our unsuspecting prey yelling, "Get 'em!" We did. Well,
I
did. After all, there was only one bottle, and it was my turn. Silently, they just stood there.
My hearing must have been the last of my senses to fail, for the car door did not slam shut behind me without the words from one of these mustard-covered strangers ringing in my ears: "That wasn't very funny, Rochelle." Clear words. Echoing words. Rochelle. Rochelle. Rochelle. Not only had I just left two people covered with mustard back in a parking lot, but at least one of them wasn't a stranger.

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