a pool(table)side conversation.

the other day, i was at my college’s local bar with a vodka-cran (more cran than vodka) in one hand and a pool cue in the other when i was approached by another chapman student who told me i, to put it bluntly, sucked at pool.

i was there with my best friend brooke, who also sucks at pool i guess, and the two of us invited this boy and his friends to play pool with us since they apparently thought they were much better.

sidenote: they were.

in between rotations, i struck up a conversation with the boy who told me i sucked at pool. almost instantly, i recognized him from somewhere: maybe it was from the cafeteria, or a hazy frat party memory, or my disaster of a college orientation group…some of the earlier college memories are fuzzy.

i asked him, on a whim, if he was in my ffc 100 class freshman year. the class was big and i barely remember the other students in it, so i figured it was worth a shot. passively, he said “maybe” and we continued talking about our lives, film school endeavors, and how bad i am a pool.

after this little group had been hanging out for a bit (and absolutely running the pool table, mind you), the boy came clean to me about how we knew each other.

we were in ffc 100 together, but only for a week. he transferred to another section due to scheduling conflicts. so i was correct about one thing.

“i’m gonna be honest,” he said to me. “i thought you were really f*cking annoying in ffc 100.”

this took me aback. any human being would be. like, what the hell.

he went on.

“like, i was like, ‘i do not f*ck with that julianna chick,’ dude.”

this conversation gets better a promise.

“but now, you’re like, cool as f*ck. like, i f*ck with you.”

and to that i said, “wow, thanks.” and i meant it.

i’ve been thinking a lot about this conversation. not about how it was silly, or how it took place in a tiny little bar on a thursday night, or even the fact that this man managed to drop the f-bomb so many times in just a few short sentences, but the fact that he really put things into perspective for me without even knowing it.

and it hurt.

you see, i wasn’t hurt because this random man said that freshman me was annoying. it hurt because it made me realize the way i treated others when i was at my lowest.

and the truth is, i treated people like shit.

i apologized profusely for who i was and the way i acted my freshman year. i explained that i was in a bad headspace and that i really, really hated the person i used to be a few years ago. the boy laughed and said, “it’s not big deal, you’re cool now” before telling me it was my turn at the table.

although my reputation was recovered over a cran-vodka (because at this point, the melted ice had diluted any trace of alcohol in the overpriced beverage) and a mediocre game of pool, i can’t stop thinking about what would’ve happened if i had never talked to that kid at that bar on that thursday night. would he immediately associate my name with being the annoying, over-compensating, obnoxious girl in his ffc 100 class any time it was brought up? would he roll his eyes if we saw we were working on the same film? would he have even walked up to our pool game if he wasn’t filled with overpriced liquid courage?

i don’t know.

i don’t like to think of the person i was when i was ages 18 to 19 and a half. i hate reminding myself of my destruction, my habits, my mindset, and how unbelievable fragile and impressionable i was. and i’ve become really good about not hating myself for it, so whenever these memories stumble to the surface, i help them learn to walk as a character-building, life-lesson-learning, upright-standing moment.

however, this interaction was different. it wasn’t me reminding me of who i was. it was someone i didn’t even know telling me who they thought i was.

and that person who they thought i was, was an absolute asshole.

and i really hate that.

however, last night as i sat on the beach with brooke, i gained some perspective.

brooke and i talked about how, when we’re kids, we can be really, really mean.

“but it’s better to be a jerk when you’re a kid instead of being one when you’re older,” i said to brooke. “i wasn’t a jerk when i was a kid, but then i became one whenever i was old enough to know better.”

“but we’re all constantly growing and changing,” brooke said.

“and learning.”

and she’s right. growth isn’t a linear process. it’s something you learn by doing, and even though i’m a pretty slow learner, it’s nice to know that i’m growing regardless.

i think, starting today, i’ll stop resenting the person i was and start celebrating the person i’ve become. i’ll stop apologizing for all of the growing pains and less-than-graceful moments, and embrace them. i’ll start celebrating the strides i’ve made in terms of abolishing bad habits, discovering what i deserve, practicing kindness, and becoming the person i’ve always wanted to be.

even though i don’t like the version of myself that left such a sour taste in the mouths of so many, that’s a part of who i am because it’s the reason why i’ve become who i’ve become. and i love who i’ve become. and, in turn, i’m learning to extend that same love to the parts of myself that probably needed it the most.

and yes, if you were wondering, i lost the game of pool. pretty badly, might i add.