For Better or For Worse

After a few moments of skimming one of my friend's blogs, I noticed one that stuck out. I read the short entry and found myself focusing in on one word: change.
When I think of change, my mind beings to ramble because there has been so much of it. From the latest scientific discoveries, to the latest fashion design, I've realized change can be seen anywhere and everywhere. And from the overwhelming effect of knowing about all of this change in the world, I can't help but look within. How have I changed? How have I changed others around me? Have I changed for better or worse? Did I change them for better or worse? Hopefully, the choice is "better" and not the latter, if there was any change at all.
But was there?
I know everyone changes, but have I changed a great deal or just a little?
I know I used to be quieter. I know I hardly talked. Now, I feel bad because I know I annoy people, including my mother, with my constant talking. I think I have always blamed my sister for that.
It's either one: her love of talking has rubbed off on me, unfortunately, or two: I finally learned to speak up.
When my sister and I got in blood-boiling arguements, it was always when no one was home. (Nowadays, we just usually shut the door and hope no one is bothered too much by the volume of our voices.) We would argue and I'd feel like she would just ignore anything that came out of my mouth. When I'd finally feel we'd be getting to the source of the problem, she would begin that oh-so common storming off to her room. When I'd see her begin this ritual retreating, I'd try to get to the point or say something that would force her to answer. Usually, it didn't work and she'd just slam her door in my face. Respecting her wish to end the arguement, even though I didn't want to, I would drop it.
These events where I would just leave my anger hanging caused it to build up. Finally, I refused to put up with it. When she'd slam her door in my face, I'd just freaking open it back up and yell in hers. I would speak my mind and make sure she heard me.
Sadly, even though I felt like I was finally able to "stand up" to her, I caused myself a problem: I was now talkative, and it was to a level to where I'd get on my own nerves.
During the times where my mom and I have made ice-cream, I have, and still do, frequently find that I ramble and I can see on her face that she just wished I'd shut up. At that point, I find I'm thinking the same thing (I honestly don't know how she puts up with me). Usually I declare that I figure she is thinking this, admit that I'm thinking it, too, and then try my best to talk a whole lot less.

So, yes, I have changed, but in this case, it was, for the most part, worse.