Advanced Essay #1: Adjusting

My dog is wild. I never had a pet so unwilling to cooperate with anyone before. She’s still a puppy though, so it's fine…That is what I would say if she was still here. My dad had gave away my dog and I didn't know how to feel about it when she left. My dad did this with my last dog, my cat, my other cat, and my fish. I guess I should've been really used to it by then but, I wasn't. I guess it was just her time to go. Should I have been happy? I mean, I wouldn't have to take her on walks or clean up after her anymore. But, at the same time I was really gonna miss that innocent pitter-patter of paws running towards me when I came home. All I did was sit in my basement and stare at where she would've been. I would be staring at that empty spot wondering about all the loud barking she'd be making if she were here.

“This sucks,” I thought quietly to myself as I stared at her giant dog pen that she used to play in. I was sitting on the couch, holding a pillow instead of a dog. This specific pillow has been in my house for about three years now. In all honesty it’s jumped around the house quite a bit. It feels like a home I’ve never been in yet, but at the same time it feels like I’ve been there so many times. The back of the pillow is plain and boring, but the other side gives more to the story. There are flowers and vines that encase it, the plain brown side looks dull, but feels smooth much like silky sand on California beaches. It radiates Las Vegas and encompases something beautiful, while at the same time distracting you from something that feels uncomfortable.

I felt uncomfortable and out of place. I felt like a pillow, indecisive, confused, and my thoughts were really counterintuitive at the time. Why couldn't I get over it like everyone else?

“This really sucks.” I stared blankly at the red wall in my warm basement for a couple seconds and I decided to think about all the reasons why I don’t have a dog anymore. I had originally thought that this was because we weren’t well equipped with everything to take care of her, but, that wasn’t true. My family could afford everything, it’s just that we as a unit couldn’t give her the attention she needed. We weren’t compatible. I didn’t like the feeling of change, I still don’t like the feeling of change, even if change has happened in my life so many times before. Accepting something different with no compromise is a hard thing to do. But I did, I realized that keeping this dog would only be damaging to her. My family couldn’t handle the stress of having a dog and our flexibility played a big part in that.

Why is it that nobody can swim directly up in a very deep body of water without being crushed? Well, because of adaptability and water pressure. Nitrogen gas bubbles would expand and kill you, or at least leave you paralyzed. Just as swimming directly up in deep water is dangerous, so is not being flexible enough to handle change. By slowly swimming up and allowing your body to adjust, you have a better chance at surviving. On my first day of fifth grade I was put in a new school. This was the third time I had transferred schools and I knew shouldn't have gotten attached to my old friends because I had anticipated switching schools again. All my old friends were ripped out of my life and I was pushed into this whirlpool of stress and confusion. My first day consisted of me not really saying much. I was unknowingly seated next to my future best friends, but all of my conversations weren't exactly great.

“Hi, what's your name?”

“My names Tylier.”

“Oh, that's cool, my name is…”

“Oh cool.”

I could never hold good conversations, but these strangers gave me a chance. Soon, I had slowly adjusted to this new school, I had found better friends, and I had found myself doing much better in this new school. At first glance change into the unknown is scary. However, I found that embracing the unknown works best. For me, sudden changes have dictated my life, and I was happy that even with these unexpected changes I was able to adjust, move on, and stop lingering in the past.