I would like to note this post by Chana (and I hope the html worked there because I'm on a computer at work that has the words 'crappy computer' written on it and I have to say, it does live up to its name. This internet browser doesn't even let me get to facebook, it's so old. Er, not that I've tried going on facebook while at work. Heh). It talks about a human desire to destroy, especially if you are the type of person who likes to create.
I'd like to put my own spin to it. This is something I've felt nearly all my life.
I am the good girl. I have always been the 'good girl.' When I was little, I rarely got punished in school (okay, there was that one time in Nursery when I threw a book and got sent into the corner, but that's only because the book had been thrown at me and everyone knows that when you get a book thrown at you, you hurl it quickly back), I (nearly) always did my homework, and, most of all, I was quiet. I was shy and because of that, never talked back to the teacher, or to my counselor in camp. I listened. I lined up when we were supposed to line up, I went where I was told to go, I did what I was told to do. At that point in my life, I saw no reason to talk back, no reason to contradict, unless I wanted to push the limit and see how far I could go before I got into trouble. But while I wasn't a goody two-shoes, I saw no reason for getting in trouble if I didn't have to.
The thing is, after having the reputation of 'good girl,' it starts to get tiring. I felt as though I had stopped being interesting. Being a good girl was boring.
In either seventh or eighth grade, we'd had a layl iyun in school (when just my grade stayed back after school and we learned informally and had discussions and things, I don't remember it much) and a bus took everyone from my community home. There was one girl in my grade (not on the bus with us) who was a hypochondriac (I hope I spelled that right. Spelling was never my forte). And I mean, to the point where all of us knew it and none of us liked her for it. And I'm not sure why, but on the way home, as we passed a store selling wheelchairs, crutches, ace bandages, and other medical things, I blurted out, "Hey look, it's so-and-so's store!"
I don't know what made me do it, but suddenly, I heard cheering. The girls on the bus were applauding my nasty comment. They slapped me five and beckoned me to join them in their rambunctious joking around in the back of the bus. For once, I felt included among the obnoxious girls. I was obnoxious. And...it felt good.
The next day, I went back to being the 'good girl,' but from then on, I knew I had it inside of me to be mean, to be obnoxiuos, to be daring when it came to my behavior.
A few summers later, when I was going into tenth grade, I was in sleepaway camp and I had this strong desire to raid the entire devision. Again, I was sick of being the 'good girl.' I wanted to be bad. Luckily, I had a friend in a similar situation.
Now, you have to understand, it wasn't as though I'd never raided before. Despite being a 'good girl,' I was always rather mischievous. I did not consider my summer complete if I didn't go on at least one raid a month. I had a group of friends who I'd always go with and, of course, all the fun was in managing to get to the boys' bunks in the first place - we never actually did much when we got there (we'd usually go in and wake them all up with our flashlights and then run away when shmira [people on duty to catch campers out of bed] came along) but had an awesomely fun time sneaking around camp, hiding under bunks, that sort of thing. And we had gotten caught a few times, but never sent to the main office and I, proudly, did not tell who was with me or who I was when I was asked by a shmira person once. So yes, I was an experienced raider. But what I wanted to do that summer was something different. I wanted to do something destructive.
So my friend and I woke up early the last week of camp and toilet papered the entire campus (our division had our own campus at the end of the main camp). True, it wasn't that destructive, but it was the best we could do at the last minute when we planned the whole thing. And it felt good. I had wanted to do something like steal all the benches in the chadar ochel (dining room) but my friend pointed out that it was too much work for us and too inconvenient because then we'd not have benches, either.
The points is, I know what Chana meant in her post, and still, there is a large part of me completely and utterly sick of being thought of as 'good' all the time. I want to be bad. I want to cause mischief. I want to pull pranks and make trouble and be known as a wild daredevil. It's just that my annoying conscience gets in the way too much.