B-E- A-G-G R-E-S-S-I-V-E!
There might be more, but I wasn't actually a cheerleader. I was in flag corps, and I remember this cheer because the drummers (who sat behind us in the bleachers) would test their drunkenness by seeing if they could get all the letters out in the right order. The drummers were the only ones drinking, and we all thought they were hot, so nobody turned them in. Anyway, I should have been saying it to myself all these many months of rolling.
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When I was in 10th grade, I was cast as one of the 12 Angry Jurors (you know, the co-ed version of 12 Angry Men). I was the one with tickets and the desire to get the heck out of there and no interest in seeing justice done. I smiled and giggled, like I always do. Then one day before rehearsal, the director told me I looked like I had gained weight. I smiled at her and told her I was wearing long underwear under my jeans. She tried to insult me a few more times, and it just wouldn't take. She finally gave up and told me she was trying to make me mad, so that I would sound mad on stage. At that point, she was pretty mad herself at my inability to be mad. Apparently, I had been picked because my voice was low enough that I could manage to sound pissed off easily. I just wasn't cooperating. With good acting, I managed to pull it off in the end. I never even had to forgive my director because I never got mad at her.
Today, I was aggressive. I wasn't angry, and I wasn't acting. It was more like the way I grew up and realized that even though my parents weren't telling me to do the dishes, I really ought to do them anyway. I didn't HAVE to yank my arm out of there, but I really ought to. And, much the same way that I enjoy a clean kitchen, I really enjoy not getting squashed or tapped all the time. I think I like this aggressive thing.