Sometimes Girls Scouts are cruel

Sometimes, Girl Scouts is cruel,

This is ultimately the fundamental lesson here, as cookies sell, leaders shout, and the girls leave the troop to pursue other hobbies.

Sometimes cookie booths start and seem to never stop. Sometimes the girls turn into a burden instead of a friend. Sometimes orders get mixed up and it becomes a three week late order. And sometimes, the girls cry because of so much stress.

Sometimes, Girl Scouts is cruel. And always, when it is, we do the same thing. We pick each other up. We talk till me weep, we recover and bring back memories and laugh til we cry. And we go on. This is the price of being a Girl Scout. And also, arguably, the noblest honor.

Sometimes, Girl Scouts is cruel, and you have no choice but to accept that as part of the bargain called an everlasting sisterhood. And when its time to deal with it, you do.

But what if it’s always time to deal with it?

Surely some girls with their tear- streaked faces are forgiven for thinking it is always their turn, just minutes after the ruin a weekend trip to Mackinac. Surely, the rest of us searching for the remedy to her sadness, experiencing sorrow and determination from the comfort of our cots and sleeping bags, are tempted to leave the troop for the same reason.

Bad enough, Girl Scouts is expensive. Bad enough, we get made fun of by our peer for the childish sing-alongs we perform for the Daisy scouts. Bad enough, all that, yet at the end of the day, those are the things that make our troop, Troop #20473.

Sometimes, though, you have to wonder if the troop itself is crumbling to an end of our twelve year sisterhood.

Sometimes expectations are cruel

Sometimes, expectations are cruel.

That is ultimately the fundamental lesson here, as sleep is lost, relationships crumble, and ambition fades away to a faint shadow of the potential that once existed within a mind.

Sometimes grades will fall and will not stop. Sometimes notes are taken but never studied. Sometimes sleep grips at us until our essays sound more like drunken babbles than actual writing. Sometimes personal goals are forgotten. And sometimes, there’s no energy left and we slip, and sleep for days.

Sometimes, expectations are cruel. And always, when they are, we do the same thing. We rise up. We crawl out of the rubble of slightly imperfect assignments, we pull out notes taken months ago, and we study until the quadratic formula is branded into our minds. And we’re on top again. This is the price of being an outstanding student. And also, arguably, the most difficult path to take..

Sometimes, pressure is cruel, and you have no choice but to accept that as part of the bargain that is intelligence. And when it is your turn to deal with it, you do.

But what if it’s always your turn?

Surely, some drained, heavy-lidded student can be forgiven for hating herself for always having imperfect grades, just beside the student who works just as hard but can only manage a passing grade no matter how much extra credit is done or how many notes are taken. Surely, the rest of us watching from afar, experiencing anxiety and fright from the comfort of the back of the classroom, far from the teacher’s inquisitive eye, are tempted to believe the same thing.

Bad enough, the student has multiple variations of B’s. Bad enough, both their sister are exceptional athletes, and their games are always attended by both parents. Bad enough, that, although they are only a few times a year, the student’s father has never been to a parent-teacher conference. Bad enough, all that, yet at the end of the day, these are disasters that could be solved by more ambition, a little more effort, a bit more studying, a better image.

Sometimes, though, you have to wonder if the student herself is conspiring against her future.

Sometimes summer is cruel

Sometimes Summer is cruel.

That is ultimately the fundamental lesson here. As children sweat, families turn up the AC, and the dehydrated lie unclaimed under the blistering sun that once was a blanket of snow.

Sometimes the rains fall and will not stop. Sometimes the skies turn barren and will not rain. Sometimes the water rises and smacks the side of the pool like a fist. Sometimes the wind isn’t present making the heat unbearable. And sometimes, the land splits into cracks because it is so dry.

Sometimes, Summer is cruel. And always, when it is, we do the same thing. We go in our basement where it is cooler. We play cards and board games, we rehydrate and replenish, we rebuild our willingness to be out in the heat. And we go outside. This is the price of having seasons. And also, arguably, the noblest expression.

Sometimes,  Summer is cruel, and you have no choice but to accept that as part of the bargain called seasons. And when it is your turn to deal with it, you turn the thermostat down to 70 degrees.

But what if it's always 90 degrees?

Surely some hot, sweat streaked person can be understood for thinking it is always 90, just hours after the hottest nation in the Western Hemisphere saw its thermometers smashed by the mercury because it went off the scale. Surely, everyone from Alaska watching from afar experiencing frigid temperatures and frost bite from their dogsleds and snowboards, are reminded how nice they have it.

Bad enough, sports must go on. Bad enough there is a history of heat strokes and heart attacks, of being ignored by those people living in cooler nations that don’t have to go through this horrid season. Bad enough, all that, yet at the end of the day, those are disasters authored by heat, exhaustion, dehydration.

Sometimes, though, you have to wonder if the sun itself is not conspiring against this humble nation.

Sometimes war is cruel

Sometimes, wars are cruel.

They are ultimately the fundamental lesson here as guns are fired, bomb sirens ring through towns and people sit gripped with terror in the cold basements of their houses.

Sometimes soldiers are drafted very young.  Sometimes families are separated for years.  Sometimes foreign countries drop bombs on neighboring countries.  Sometimes thousands are killed on the front lines.  And sometimes a little boy and girl lose their father and will never see him again.

Sometimes, wars are cruel.  And always, when it is, we do the same thing.  We say goodbye to family members who were drafted.  We fly across oceans to foreign lands, we write letters to loved ones about the war, we receive the terrible news about our loved one's death.  And we go on.  That's the expense of being human.  An also, arguably, the noblest expression.

Sometimes wars are cruel, and you have no choice but to accept that as part of the bargain called life.  And when it is your turn to deal with it, you do.

But what if it's always your turn?

Surely some exhausted, blood-covered soldier can be forgiven for thinking it's always his turn, just days after Pearl Harbor on the island of Oahu in Hawaii fought hard as the Japanese sent down a rain of bombs which killed many of the soldiers stationed there. Surely, the rest of us watching from afar, observing the chaos and  catastrophe from the comfort of our warm beds and our cozy La-Z-Boys, are tempted to believe the same thing.

Bad enough that the soldiers of war are forcibly overworked.  Bad enough that war has had a history of nationwide controversy and hatred, of being stood up by major powers when it wasn't being abused by them.  Bad enough, all that, yet at the end of the day, those are disasters generated by national greed, national hatred, national opinions, national resentment.

Sometimes, though, you have to wonder if wars themselves are not devising against the many, modest nations.

Sometimes the night is cruel

Sometimes, the night is cruel.

That is ultimately the fundamental lesson here, as thieves roam the streets, murderers claim their victims, and unseen creatures lurk in the shadows waiting for whatever prey they choose to devour.

Sometimes, the sounds start and they will not stop. Sometimes the night creatures moan and wail and sleep will not come.  Sometimes storms come in the dark and wreak havoc on the gentle earth.  Sometimes the moon doesn’t rise.  And sometimes, the nightmares come and tear our souls apart then leave us to the forlorn void of darkness.  

Sometimes, the night is cruel.  And always, when it is, we do the same thing.  We wait it out.  We whimper and shake, we watch for the sun to save the earth, we rebuild our spirits.  And we go on.  This is the price of living on this planet.  And also, arguably, the noblest expression.

Sometimes, the night is cruel, and you have no choice but to accept that as part of the bargain called life.  And when it is your turn to deal with it, you do.

But isn’t it always your turn?

Surely every shivering, tormented human being can be forgiven for thinking it is always their turn, just hours after the darkest night left their shaking body praying for relief from the terrors of their own mind, the endless torture.  Surely, the rest of us clinging to the day, experiencing desperation and hopelessness from the confines of our own homes, are tempted to believe the same thing.

Bad enough, humans are wretchedly fearful.  Bad enough we have a history of horrors occurring in the times without light, of murderers that slink into the houses of those sleeping who cannot save themselves.  Bad enough, all that, yet at the end of the day, these horrors are authored by human hands, by human greed, human insecurities, human exploitation of each other.

Sometimes, though, you have to wonder if the great powers above give us the night as a means of punishment for all the evils we do unto our own species.

Sometimes technology is cruel

Sometimes, Laptops and Their Technology are Cruel

That is ultimately the fundamental lesson here, as students work to fail, teachers become frustrated, and parents become aggravated, Computers can wreak havoc on our lives.

Sometimes documents don’t save. Sometimes programs won’t open. Sometimes keys get stuck. Sometimes audio just blatantly cuts out. And sometimes, computers even shut down for no apparent reason.

Sometimes, the laptops are cruel. And always, when things like this happen,  we do the same thing. We retype our documents. We shutdown and restart, we give up our computer for days to be repaired, we try and manually fix things ourselves. And we go on. This is the price of having convenient technology, at times. And also, arguably, the noblest expression.

Sometimes, laptops are cruel, and you have no choice but to accept that as part of the bargain called modern life and technology. And when it is your turn to deal with it, you do.

But what if we didn’t have Laptops? How much more difficult and time consuming would creating text documents and creative presentations be?  

Surely some older, dust-streaked Dell laptop can be forgiven for it as screen freezing up as it is already outdated and just simply isn’t compatible with the new programs we use, even if we just typed up an essay that took us hours to complete, and then is randomly deleted.. Surely, the rest of us become overwhelmed, experiencing deletion and devastation from the comfort of desk chairs and living room couches. But now is the time when we need to realise that perhaps you simply can’t rely on old technology.

Bad enough, the technology for these laptops won’t stop being updating. Bad enough, the Internet is requiring more memory of your computer to properly operate, people still ignore the obvious requirements needed to take advantage of our writing, gaming, literature and entertainment programs. Bad enough, all that, yet at the end of the day, updates and memory clogging programs, created by other human geniuses, by human intelligence, human corruption, and human economic predation, is not going to stop for you.

Sometimes, though, you have to wonder if technology programmers take into consideration that the average person isn’t as up-to-date with their laptops and desktops as they should be.

After about 2009, when Apple started to create touchscreen laptops, people didn’t realise the burden that they were getting themselves into. After about 2008, when computer companies started to commonly input high definition cameras into their laptops, consumers failed to acknowledge that these cameras required a large amount of processing space and memory to function as they should. After 2013, when Google released their Chromebooks, customers noticed that they were so poorly built that they became unreliable and also needed so much updating, the laptop didn’t sell well and now is being re-manufactured to the point where it should run programs normally and not fall apart into pieces.

This is the price of convenience at your fingertips - you can only use it for so long and will eventually have to pay a lot for updates, both physical and program wise.