ZT

When I was a teenager, my patience level was practically nil; we called it "Zero Tolerance," ZT for short. Thankfully I've mellowed out since my teen years, and things that used to bother me don't anymore, or at least not as much. I'm markedly more laid back at twenty-one than I was at fifteen. So what's funny is that what I have the most ZT for is stupid teenager antics, those teenagers being the age I was when my ZT peaked.

Last night I went with the family to my brother, John's, spring choral concert. I was really excited to see him perform, and he was excellent, but all of the whooping and cat calls from barely pubuscent students just about drove me out of my mind. Behind where we were sitting, standing in one of the entrances to the auditorium was this group of boys (I'm not sure if they were in high school or not--I'm thinking not?); they were loud, obnoxious, and sported vile heads of dreadlocks. They would clap really loud and much longer than everyone else and yelled things into the crowd. My ZT levels spiked significantly. And I can't forget to mention the senior in the choir who refused to put on a '70s costume and wore an "I'm from the future" sign instead or the twenty-five minute awards ceremony when it was already 9:15 or the sloppy layabout sixteen-year-old boys who thought that their long, stringy, unwashed hair was cool.

I loved watching my little brother perform--he makes me smile, and I love him dearly. But the longer and longer I'm out of high school, the more and more glad I am that I never have to go back. Ever.