Dear Diary...

A couple of years ago, my dad and I had a fairly big argument about chess. Yes, of all things, it was the strategic game that caused the eruption, and it wasn't even a playful argument about winning or losing the game. Far from it. Instead, the long-winded fight was about whether or not I actually wanted to play it.

Since I was young, my dad has often mentioned (at times when I'm usually in the middle of something like reading) that we should play chess. I was smart, he said. I would be good at it. He liked it. It was fun. And I would usually shy away, especially in more recent years. As I mentioned, he usually would bring it up at inconvenient times for me, and I also think he had generated expectations that I felt put pressure on myself. So this one particular day when it was brought up, I made an off-handed comment about how I had been putting it off because I had never really intended or wanted to play in the first place.

To be honest, I don't remember the specifics of the argument because it was so irrational and became such a big deal without having many rational points. It became less about chess and more about who was right--my dad or I--about the situations when the subject of chess had been brought up and what I should have done about it. We were both stubborn and I was frustrated that the argument was not dropped quickly. Dad wanted me to see his side, but I was mostly intent on explaining why I had never wanted to play chess that I didn't fully see why he was upset.

Unfortunately, I cannot explain how we "came to an understanding" on this subject. I believe we simply became tired of arguing and were obliged to go about our day and eat dinner or something necessary like that. As much as I love my family, we are not the best at communication. However, if we were to come to an understanding, I believe it would involve recognizing that we had different viewpoints and we should try to explain them without getting so defensive next time.

The Power of Speech

Tell an anecdote from your own life about words that you'd wished you'd spoken or not spoken.  Describe the scene, and your feelings about it. Try to use your skill as a storyteller to put your blog readers into your shoes.  By the end of your story your reader should understand why you wish you could go back and have that moment again.  (Should be at least three full paragraphs.)

A little less than a week before I left for college, I attended a ballet that was put on by students from my high school. Based on my work schedule, I could only make the Sunday matinee performance, but I had learned beforehand that two of my friends from my high school would at least be there. I was relieved but a little nervous, as I had not seen most of my friends since early June, when I had made it clear that I needed some time away to move on from the intense academics of high school and the constrained social situations I was in.

The night before, as I was trying to go to sleep, I thought about a conversation I wanted to have with those two friends, explaining how I wish I hadn't been away from them and how I wished I had been invited to the get-togethers they had, even though I hadn't made much of an effort myself. Just imagining and planning the conversation made me emotional, and I knew I would probably cry.

The next morning, one of the friends who would be attending informed me of someone else who would be attending. It was my ex-boyfriend and friend. Moving on from him (and all that he represented in my mind) was the main motivating factor behind my absence from my friends, who were his friends too. I was tired of feeling guilty and trying to gain his approval. However, we had been talking lately about our college plans, so I was fine with the idea of him being at the ballet. At least, I thought I was. When I walked in and saw him with another friend who he had been chauffeuring around in his fancy car, I realized that this was a planned group thing, rather than a coincidence (his family was not there, for instance, even though his brother was in the show).

Once again, I felt there had been plans made without me, or with me as an afterthought. In conversation, he mentioned how the friend we were both waiting for always slept in because she never replied in the morning when they were trying to make plans, and in my frustration I grumbled, "Funny how none of those plans included me!" Then I walked away without elaborating before my words could do more damage.

But the damage was done. I'd said those words, and even though I had the discussion I wanted at intermission and cried as I thought I would, it didn't matter. Once again, he thought it was all about it him, and he wouldn't listen to my explanation after the play. The misinterpretation will forever remain.