Being one of those hideous people who always mixes up when they should talk and when they should keep their mouth shut, I've always wondered: What's worse, guilt or regret? When I was in 4th grade, there was this new kid called Patrick Hill, and everyone made fun of him because he would lick his lips until they and the skin around them would get all red and cracked and bleeding. People called him Godzilla Lips and were really mean to him, although he was a nice kid. I remember once, our class played 7-up and he had pushed my thumb down, and instead of smacking it down like all the other boys did, he was very gentle. After that, people started teasing me, saying he liked me, and I always acted so embarrassed, not because of him but because "someone liked me" and that always made me nervous. But I think he thought that I was grossed out by him, which wasn't true. Here's the worst part: somehow I found out his mother was an alcoholic and mistreated him. I was never nice to him. I was always too afraid of getting teased for it. And he moved away after 4th grade and I've never seen him since. For years after this, I would cry when I thought about him. It still makes me very sad now when I write this. I had the opportunity to be kind to someone who really needed kindness and I didn't do a thing because I was afraid of what people would say. That's pathetic. But then there's guilt. When I was a senior in high school, I got kicked out of class for talking back to one of my teachers. Here I had never gotten kicked out of class my whole life, and, like, a few weeks before graduation I have to do this stupid thing and embarrass myself in front of everyone. And for some reason, I felt insanely guilty after that. Because I hadn't meant to talk back -- I had been trying to make a (lame) joke, and she just got really offended. I remember that the night after this happened, I was watching "Lonesome Dove" on TV and kept thinking that what I had done was worse than killing someone, because I at least would MEAN to kill someone and I hadn't even meant to hurt this woman. (I don't know...it seemed logical at the time.) I felt SO bad. I wrote her an apology note (I'm a wizard at those!) and everything. Guilt sucks. So does regret. Regret probably more, because I think it's worse to not be nice to someone who needs kindness than to be mean to someone who does not need that meanness. (God, I write like a 10-year-old!)

Damn, that was long. Sorry. Had to relieve that burden.

You are obviously a very guilty and regretfull person, C O N G R A T U L A T I O N S!!!!!

God Spider. You remind me so much of myself. It's like you're living my life, only a few years behind. Did you ever see that note I wrote in the um Am I Normal post you started eons ago? It took me forever to type out and for some reason the next time I looked there it was all kaka. As for This...things very similer to both of those events happened to me! When I was in the sixth grade, there was a boy named Eduardo who was kinda like your Godzilla Lips, only he didn't really have any obvious flaw that people teased him for...he was just one of those kids people would target and pick on. I never said anything to him until he started expressing an interest in me, and then (just like you) I felt embaressed to be "Liked" (eh, I was a late bloomer) and joined in on the teasing. For years after I would see him around and I would feel so BAD about what I'd done I'd feel the urge to apoligize all over myself, but I was too chicken to actually say anything. That's probably one of my biggest regreats -- the way I treated Eduardo. Also in the sixth grade...I told off my french teacher. Once again being a sheep I followed the rest of the kids who for some reason, didn't like her, and I mouthed off to her on impulse. That kind of thing is really so unlike me. They suspended me from French class for three days, and when I came back I apoligized to her and (woohoo) after that I really started to dig her. I'm a freak. Anyway, I'm not really answering the question. Regreat or guilt. Aren't they really the same thing? I mean, I feel bad about both of those events I just described...I regreat them, and I feel guilty about them. I guess I don't really have an answer..I kinda just felt like commenting on how much you remind me of me.

You're right: I think they are the same thing. (I realized that when I was typing, but I was on a roll, so I didn't want to stop!) But yes, the bad feeling is practically identical in both situations. It's just the situation that's different. You have cheered me up immensely. It's nice to know that I'm not alone in not being able to get over things quickly. Speaking of which, it's neat that you ended up liking your French teacher. (I still get grumbly when I think of my history teacher.) Maybe because you were so young when you talked back to her, she was able to think you had an excuse...you were, what, eleven(?), while I was 17. No excuse there! This may be kind of personal, but seeing that you think I'm like you...may I ask if you're happy now where you are? (I was just thinking that a year from now I'll have to be finding an apartment somewhere, and a job, and a life...Yikes! Will I be a "good" adult?) If I'm your look into the past, maybe you're my look into the future?

WOW that is so special, very nicley put! Well to get back to the main topic of conversation, I have read what you wrote earlier, and I think you deserve to feel as guilty as you do. well you see I can speak from the other end of the spectrum, right through primary school (appologies I'm scottish you know different schooling system!) I was bullied, there was no obvious reason except for the fact that I had red hair. When I went into high school my mother dyed my hair brown. I didnt feel like I was my own person anymore. So I decided that I would rather be myself than live a life of being what other people want me to be. I know it may not seem like much to you all, but I was prepaired to endure being bullied, beaten up every day after school and generaly ridiculed everywhere I went, for being myself. I think that that made a me a stronger person, before I would slouch I didt carry myself properly,I never went out, and I had very low self esteem. Now I can stand up for myself, if anyone tells me something I can now stand up to then, however I did suffer alot to be where I am. well to round things up, everyone who has ever bullied teased or ignored a person, for a daft reason, should realise how much they are destroying the persons life. The peson who is the but of your jokes is a person too, a human being, nobody deserves to be treated the way i was as a child. All of the above happened when I was about 10 years old, I'm now 16 and I'm still having to see a psycologist as I have been hurt so much in the past. If even one person who reads this and starts to talk to that shy boy or girl, it will be worth it. So remember, those people have feelings too, they want to feel wanted as much as anyone else. Please, I beg you think of what I've said and remember, their human too!

You should feel guilty, but don't tear yourself up about it. The past is the past, and you can try to atone for whatever is making you feel bad by acting the right way in similar situations. I remember once way back in grade school, when our school got its first blackstudent, and kids made fun of her. I never spoke up becuase I was relieved that there was someone else taking all the heat for once. Pretty shitty of me, but at the time that's all that mattered was the respite from torment. Of course, I feel really awful about it now, and never try to let shit like that happen around again. (Of course, now I can choose my peers, unlike grade school, where you're stuck, so that shit doesn't really happen very much anymore anyway).

The main thing to remember here is that you were all CHILDREN when this happened, and lets be honest kids are mean! mean mean mean! I was teased throughout primary school... I wore glasses and I was 'smart'. I had a last name that sounded like a breakfast ceral, I didnt have a dad. I had a huge scar from a car crash. Like Sem I was relieved when some other kid came along that was picked on. I felt sorry for that kid but I didnt want the teasing to come back to me. Its a sad fact of life - but I think that now I am a lot more compassionate then if I was the kid that was never teased, or the one that all the other kids followed. With the whole regret/guilt trip I think they're kind of the same thing. But the fact that you can feel regret or guilt proves you are alive. Feeling guilty for stuff proves you have a conscience. I dont know how coherent I'm coming off here I'm tired from work but hopefully it all makes sense *L*

i was teased for having red hair, too. among other things. once, i decided to trip the guy standing in front of me in the lunchline and throw him on the ground, because this guy jamie something was looking at me and i had a crush on him and wanted to show him what a tough girl i was. so, i threw matt smith on the ground. i remember the expression that he had on his face when he looked up at me: completely confused, embarrassed, and hurt. i felt horrible. then, ms. howard grabbed my arm and made me go to the end of the lunch line, and i cried. i think that was the meanest thing i have ever done, except for once i broke up with a guy i was going out with while his jaw was wired shut. that was pretty shitty, too.

whoa.. that's the real color of your hair? i thought your hair was dyed red. damn. you've got some serious red hair. yeah, i was that only black kid and i grew up fighting most of the way through. can't say i really regret it, because it made me strong as hell. also made me kind of an asshole, but i may have been an asshole by birth anyway, so who knows. sometimes... well, most of the time, i think i'd rather have seen tim and vance noone shot dead in their young blood than see what they did to my brother when i was 6 or 7... some of the things you see and experience as a child stay with you forever.

umm.. before i pass out i should probably say that i'm sure that all of you nice people with tortured souls who have only committed minor offenses should be immediately absolved, and free your consciences from such trivial abuse. the rest of you evil bastards should burn in fucking hell. pleasant dreams.

oh fer chrissakes. am i the only one who DOESN'T feel guilty for childhood trespasses? jesus, i got beat up and taunted and when i was in 4th grade a group of 6th grade boys knocked me down and mock "did" me, and i was quiet and introverted and dream and smart and i wore long holly hobby style dresses until 2nd grade and i relentlessly beat the crap out of kids younger and smaller than i was because they picked on my still smaller and weaker little brother. kids don't have adult morals. the whole power thing is truly the key to it all. i feel vaguely guilty for not dating doug isenberg the second half of my freshman year in college since i did make out with him and i ended up going out with a guy nerdier, less attractive and with less in common with me (though he was smarter, and less fucked-up than both of us). i feel guilty for playing a gig while my guitar player was in the hospital with an exploded ovary. i feel guilty for not letting my student loan guarantors know officially that i am requesting that deferment they so kindly offered. but i don't feel shit about anything i did before i reached the age where i'd internalized adult reason and values. and i'm not especially upset with the fuckers who tortured me, either (outside of my family, and i'm in denial about how furious i am with them). i once made my little brother hump a hole in the ground so he could play barbies with me and april, and when i think about it now, it gives me the giggles. i mean, what the fuck was i thinking?

I can't imagian picking on someone because they have red hair. That's just so Gilbert Blyth. Red hair is a huge giant weakness for me, though, so what do I know? And Spider, if you wanna get personal about it, I'd have to say that I'm...relativly happy. I don't think you're that much younger than me (what're you? 19? 20? I'm 22. Not exactly in my gramdma years yet.) so I can't be That much of a glimps into your future, [g] but um...yea. Relativly happy. I wouldn't say I was really where I want to be in life, but then I don't guess that many people are. The interesting thing is, after spending way too much time sitting around doing diddlesquat, I'm actually on my way, and it makes me feel Darn good. Because I'm so shy and tend to push boys away when they start to get fresh, I usually end up alone in that area, but I know it won't be that way always, and in a way it makes me wonder if my romantic relationships will be more meaningful this way. My friends are sweet to me and understand me, and I dig 'em. I can actually say that I have a friend I feel truely Safe with, and I think that's a pretty rare thing. I just recently made an effort to Look for a job for the first time (I've had them before, but every other time they've always been handed to me, and I didn't have to make any effort at all) and since I got it, I feel darn freaking good about that! My first year of university is fini and hot Dog if I didn't do just as well as I wanted too. I feel like I'm just patting myself on the back here, but...yea. I am happy. It's the kind of happy you feel when you're waiting for christmas, as opposed to the happiness of Christmas day. I'm not there yet, but I'm happy because I know I will be eventually. The wait does drive me crazy sometimes, though. [S]

What ?????????????????

did someone say red hair?

What's so mockable about red hair? And Gee, for some reason I thought you were older than that. I'm 20 (21 on 6/12), so, um, I guess we're not too different after all. Say, did you procrastinate a lot? I'm asking because I have a 15-page paper due Monday at 9 am, and I haven't written a word of it, and I have things to do tomorrow, so it looks like I'll be up all night on Sunday, and I hate myself for being this way, and yet I never change.

to answer the original question: regret is MUCH MUCH worse than guilt. trust me on this one.

I used to put things off all the time, and then I'd end up being reallyreally sorry for it later. I still do that a lot of the time with certain things. With schoolwork, however, I'm on it the second I get home now. All of a sudden it's become too important to be to wait. I used to know this boy named George who would do nothing for two weeks and then the day of class when an essay was due, he'd belt it out in three hours with no re-writes, no spellchecks, no nothing. He wouldn't even print the sucker out till he got to the school. And it's not like he'd be Thinking about the question over those two weeks, either, because if that were it I'd be fine, but he'd usually call me the day of class and go "What was the question? I lost my sheet! Hahahaa, I'm an idiot!" Then he'd walk away with a B or a B+ and I'd just spend the next few days being mad at him and my teacher when I'd worked Hard for two weeks and only gotten about half a mark better than him. Darn, that annoys me! So...I seem old to you?

Yes, but I don't know why. I can't pinpoint anything you said that would make me think so--just a feeling. You know, my paper was due yesterday at 9am and I still haven't written it yet. Somebody slap me. I suck as a student. I'm so tired of this. God, then grad school? I just want to go to sleep. And yes, I'm feeling the old regret right about now, and it's kicking my ass.

That's funny...I *look* about 16 years old...Irrellivant information here.

You know, people always told me I looked old for my age, until I turned 19. I remember this because I was visiting some friends and their grandmother asked me what year I was in school and I said "a sophomore" and she asked, "so, do you like high school?" I assume my childish antics confused her. Besides, I have tons of grey hairs. I should use them as proof of my age, a la Holden Caulfield.

And I still haven't finished that paper of doom.

I'm 30 and have gray hairs. And they're multiplying. Like hares. EEEEEK.

I have grey hair AND I'm a week late for a paper. Do I win a prize? Do you want fries with that?

Damn, are you my doppleganger?

i shaved off all my grey hair. now i'm bald. dopplegangers are scary. but easy to blame.

zero grey hair. had some after spending a month doing bad drugs with good people, but those daze are gone. surefire way to cure the grey: eat large quantities of hot fuck. works every time.

Nate -- puleeze send PJBoy a pic of you w/yr shaved head/to post at his website in place of the old one! (Or just e-mail it to me & put me out of my misery...) You know yr old pic @ PJ's site is my current screensaver? You know this/right? Natorious, bald! I drool at the thought! hehehe...

Ummmmmmmmmm...

i don't put pictures of myself on the net anymore. you gave me plenty of good reasons as to why this isn't a good idea. as for the other stuff, you scare me.

Nate, play nice. I have made some nice art with Nate's picture and Mark's picture(s). 'Course, sites with pictures I could make totally lethal stuff with are banned by my site administrator at work. Boring. Oh well, and thus ends my collector's t-shirt idea, where I art up each of you and put you on a sorabji t-shirt for other shorabji-ites to have. Rend and rip the fabric of my fantasies without a second thought. I don't want to objectify anyone, I want to have a community aside and apart from the other communities of which I am a member. You guys are way better than those Phi Beta Kappa nerds.

i'd like to see anything you've done with my head. hopefully it is all in good taste...

i got a picture of bald deto with a vagina photoshopped on his forehead. and i'm willing to give it up to the highest bidder.

that's funny, but i think that my scan of you half-naked and blitzed on psychedilics, dancing like a wild man with a throng of topless beauties might demand a higher price. where was that beach? Goa?

that wasn't a topless beauty, you bastard. that was my mom.

oh please, stop, if I laugh at work they will finally realize I am here and then they will make me do things. I am such a sucker for "yer mom" and "my mom" references.

I am digging up this thread......with my regretful story. Although I think it highly circumstantial as to whether guilt or regret is worse. I find the two are often inseperable. Eitherway, here is my story of regret..... My parents divorced when I was 3. He was a diagnosed paranoid schizo As I grew older, the every-other-weekend visits with my Dad became once a month and subsequently once every 2 months. When I was 14 I was moved against my will to NC with my Mom and step-dad. I finished out high school and college there. I was there for a total of 6 years. I saw my Dad once over those 6 years and spoke with him on the phone maybe three times. He was getting progressively worse. More suicide attempts, being picked up by the police aimlessly wandering in bad neighborhoods, fell down stairs doped up on his medication. Not tomention he was further crucified by his bible thumpin parents who instilled christian GUILT in him. He feared them more than god, not to mention they had control over his money (i.e. social security and disability checks which only covered a total of 4 months hospitalization per year, he needed that 365 days) So one day he flipped. He picked up and drove to LA, he came to California because of the more liberal social security laws and disability practices, or so he said anyway. He was able to be in a halfway type house for much cheaper and it wasn't as strict or regimented as the mental hospital. By this time, I had met my wife-to-be, we left NC and moved back to Atlanta. I finally tracked him down one evening and wanted to call him. We were about to go to Paris and I knew I was going to propose. I felt a sense of fatherly son love that I wanted share with him. When he answered th phone, my heart stopped, he teared up, I did as well. It had been so long. Where to begin, what to say. My father was a gentle, loving and very affectionate man. I just wanted to wrap my arms around him and sit in his lap and drink coffee with him like i did when I was so young. I told him about miss waffleboy-to-be (hopefully) and he was happy. I was back in Atlanta and I wanted to see him, but unless he was coming back or I was going out there (two remote possibilities at that time) the idea of us seeing each other was more distant than ever. After our conversation, 2 weeks later,on a night with similar lighting, mood and even the same smells coming from the kitchen (at least in my mind anyway) I got a phone call from my mother saying he had died, that he had killed himself with pills and booze. My regret? Not seeing him in so many years, no talking to him in so long, not helping him. He felt we(my siblings) hated him, he felt he let us down, that he was a horrible father. My regret is that I feel had I called him the following and week and the next week, he may not have wanted to do what he did. To hear my voice every other week, he might have had hope. I regretted not talking with him nad visiting him MORE when I was in Atlanta all those years I was in school. I regret not being apart of his life. If I had he might have felt that I DID love him, that he did contribute to my character in more ways then he knew, and I only KNOW NOW because of what I am told by the rest of the family as I am have become an adult. Strangely enough, 2 days after the funeral, in the middle of the night I was awakened by the phone. However, what is truely strange is the nature of the dream I was having. I was having a dream that my dad was calling to say good bye. It was strange, I was on the phone, yet he was right there so I could hug him. But in the dream is was all about the goodbye. I awoke to the phone ringing at 3am, in a state of fear, confusion and sleepyness, I told her to not answer, to let the machine pick it up. There was no message, *69 could not trace it, and all of my friends swore they didn't call me for any reason at that hour. Coincidence or not, it's a event I take seriously. Anyway thats my regret, and obviously from the length of this post and the sincerity in my tone, I can tell you that after several years it still hurts tremendously. So I have to agree with Margret, that childhood cruelty is something that I think we ALL experience AND dole out. I am no exception. anyway, it's time to go, i need a drink

maybe your dad wanted to die, and it was a big relief for him. i know you won't be able to prevent yourself from feeling bad about the turn of events, but you did what you could at that young age. don't kick yourself too hard over it. you let him know you loved him before he died, i'm sure that meant a lot to him.

possibly, thats what i tossed and turned about for months. I have tried making myself feel better witht he logic that maybe that on phone call had put his conciosu to ease and he could die knowin that his life wasn't a total failure. Certainly, I am not so selfish as to deny anyone the right to die, but at the same time, if he "want" to die, he might have been skewed by his illness or better yet, he wanted to die because he felt he was so so so so alone and that his family had abandoned him, which I feel we did. We were too comfortable to be bothered. We didn't know what to do. We had seen so much drama over the years. Either route is speculation, i try to stay focused on what I do or don't do...eh...anyway....fuck it. I feel better mentioning it, it's been over a year since the topic cam up and this thread sorta reminded me of it.

Jesus, Waffles, you sure know how to bring on the tears. That is so sad. You should be glaf you got back in touch with him for the brief moment. My father was a raving alcoholic. I remember very few happy times with him. As an adult, I had nothing to do with him. Then he died. Five years ago yesterday. 10 days later my grandmother's oldest sister died. At the time, her death hit me much harder. In retrospect, I feel equal loss. In reading your post, I remembered the anniversary. I must go to the Cemetary tomorrow. As to your dream, I had something earily similar happen. My father's last remaining aunt died in June. She was 93. 1 week before she passed I drove up to NJ to see her with my god-mother, my aunt's daughter. My god-mother had not seen her and it was known she was dying. It was the single most emotional day of my 30 years. I had never knowingly said goodbye to someone I cared for, for the last time. While she was so old, she was at the same time young. Vibrant in her hate for Bill Clinton. She got on my case constantly for supporting him. She had the best laugh. Well when I walked in that room and saw her after a 200 mile drive, I just about fainted. She was just a shell. She could not talk, and couldn't hold her water glass up. My god-mother, who is a nurse, was great. She comforted her and talked to her. I stood like a manequin in the corner fighting back tears. My god-mother left the room and asked me to sit with her. My aunt, all of a sudden grabbed my hand and said with perfect clarity, "you've lost weight haven't you Jimmy?" I smiled brightly and said that I had. She told me I looked great. I told her I finally had come over to her side and did not any longer like Bill Clinton. She looked at me with those eyes, and went back to her dazed state. We drove 4.5 hours and stayed there all of about 40 minutes. She was just so week. When it came time to say goodbye, I kissed her on the cheek very fast and touched her hand and said good bye, and dashed out of the room. I could not let her see me break down. The trip back was better than going up. We talked about my aunt, and I did not break down. She died exactly one week later in her sleep. At her wake, I was asked to be a pall bearer which I had never done before. It was and will remain one of the biggest honors of my life. Carrying her to her final resting place. I saw her at Christmastime too. A picture was taken of the two of us, which I received a copy of. After she died I looked and looked for that picture -- I had the negative too. I just could not find it, and was heartsick. About 3 weeks ago I had this dream. I walked into this room. There at a table sat my aunt facing me, with the brightest smile on her face. My god-mother sat with her back to me. I walked over to my aunt, kissed her on the cheek, and said "goodbye." I then woke up from my dream. I got ready for work, went downstairs. On the kitchen table was the picture and the negatives. My mother had found them alongside the washing machine in the basement just before I came downstairs. I didn't have a good long cry about my aunt, until just now, writing this. It's taken me like a half-hour to get through this. Thanks for helping me to grieve, Waffles. I hope you've found peace, or will do so, soon. *hugs* P.S. Forgive the typos. I cannot re-read this.

uh......your welcome.....(biting nails)....uh..I think........WOW.....hmmm...not sure........... what to say...... did you get drunk with your firends and have a true Irish wake like I did? It was the best, we had a keg, some kick ass hummus, and chips with homemade salsa, and some kook brought a crock pot of swedish meatballs All my friends brought ME the drugs, or at least they all shared, and we listened to the record collection I inherited from my pop, I learned more about him from that record collection that i ever.......dig it, I got two Pfunk records, 4 dylan, 7 dave brubeck, etta james, barry white, ellington, ray charles, burt bacarach (spell?) for those special evenings, mongo santamaria and dozens more. plus i got a his 18 inch color tv with remote. i was IN like spaghetti

Waffles. No not really. Just a church repast after the interment. It was nice though. I need to tie one on VERY soon though. Let me know if you ever make it back to D.C.

Oh my God,this is so wierd.The last couple of nights before my Dad died he was so bad off that he ended up dying in the V.A. hospital.The night that he died,around two a.m.I dreamed he came and told me goodby,he told me he would always love me and watch over me,then the phone rang and my Aunt Dare came upstairs to tell me that he died,but I already Knew it.Everybody hurts....