Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Post #100!


So this - this - is my one hundredth post. I wanted to make it grandiose. I can't make confetti fall from my blog, though. I don't have a giveaway to do. I wish I could send you all a cupcake, but I don't know how well cupcakes would ship in the mail. (Plus, I'm not that domestic.) Instead I will introduce myself in the form of a choppy, clumsy story. Just in case you've only recently began reading or if you need a refresher on who I am. This isn't all of me, but it's a start.

I was born in 1989. I barely made it as an '80s baby, but don't worry - I got to experience the '90s. My little sister was born in '91, and I called her "Baby" for awhile after she was born. I was the flower girl for my cousin when I was three-ish. When I was four I wore red cowboy boots with everything. And when I went to kindergarten I began wearing Tasmanian Devil (Taz - from Looney Tunes) Converse with everything. My mom wanted to divorce my dad when I was five. When she announced the news to my sister and me, all I said was: "But who will mow the lawn?" I was five, you know. Divorce to a five year old means nothing. It doesn't hurt. The divorce didn't go through, though, and mom and dad tried to work it out. My childhood was filled with piano lessons, softball, basketball, gymnastics, and Gargoyles. Yeah, sure, we had Barbies, but my sister and I usually played with Gargoyles. We never stayed inside and watched TV/movies. We were always outside. My childhood neighborhood had at least one kid in every house, so summer evenings were spent with our neighborhood friends going on adventures, building clubhouses in trees, and rolling sticky hedge apples down the slope of our neighborhood street. In school I was terrible at math. In fourth grade I had to miss a class Valentine's Day party because I didn't complete a math assignment and I lied about turning it. (This is when my struggle with math began. Age 9.) However, I loved to read. I remember going to a wedding shower when I was 10 and having the woman serving punch - who happened to be my elementary school's librarian - telling me with a wink that the only way I could have a glass of punch is if I returned all my library books. I always checked out the maximum number of books and read them as quickly as possible, but I was awful at returning them. Even though mom and dad were trying to work it out, I feel like my mom mostly raised me. Dad usually lived in an apartment across town. As an 11 year old, I decided my dad had a lot of secrets. So mom raised us. She bought the groceries. She would play "Bitch" by Meredith Brooks in the car, but she always took us to church. And we faked some things. We went on a couple of vacations. Mom would make us the best potato soup on earth. And at Christmastime, she made the green Christmas tree cookies, which we devoured as soon as they came out of the oven. Once she took my little sister and I out of summer camp/daycare to take us to the grand opening of Old Navy. She did everything to make my sister and I happy. And we were very happy. And then 2001 came. My uncle - who I felt super close to - passed away. My parents finally got a divorce. (Their marriage couldn't be fixed.) And it hurt. I barely cried. I understood it this time and it hurt. I got a puppy. She was a Beagle. It wasn't because my parents got a divorce. It was just a "Your dad hates dogs and he no longer lives here so now we can get a puppy" thing, I think. Months later mom lost her job. I was in junior high; I wore skate shoes, took guitar lessons, and cursed every other word. In 9th grade I did something that I really regretted until recently, when I decided to let the regret drift from my chest. Anyway. Mom got a new job and met a great man. My grandma passed away and it was very sad. High school was fine. I played softball, I was on the student council as the parliamentarian, and I had some really amazing friends. I wasn't popular and I wasn't a geek. In fact, I think I was a nobody. Mom married the man I told you all that she met (and I got three new step-sisters!), I developed a love for journalism, and I couldn't pass algebra. I listened to Weezer constantly. It took me forever to get a decent score on the SAT and I didn't start driving until I was almost 17. Prom was kind-of a joke. I vacationed to California, New York, South Carolina, Florida, and Mexico. I graduated high school with an average GPA and I didn't really care if I went to college or not. All I wanted to do was travel. The night of my 18th birthday (a balmy summer evening) I smoked a cigar just because. The following August of 2007 I moved three hours away to a different state for college. I cried all night the first night I was there. Then I made friends, joined the university's activity board, and declared a journalism major. I developed an obsession with coffee and Diet Coke. I met boyfriend M. I went to a million sporting events and explored my new college-town. My grandfather - Papa - passed away in spring of 2008 and I cried really hard. I changed my major to hotel and restaurant administration. Spring of 2009 I was diagnosed with PCOS. In the summer of 2009 I traveled to Europe with my dad and sister. In December of 2009, one of my best friends married the love of her life. March of 2010: traveled to Destin, Florida with my roommates, boyfriend M, and a couple other friends for spring break. This past summer I did an internship, turned 21, and went on vacation to Michigan. It was - for reasons I won't say - the hardest summer of my life. This fall I have taken the most difficult classes I've ever been enrolled in. At times I wanted to throw my hands up and quit, but I'm so close to finishing. One more year. Of course, in my twenty-one years so far, I've also performed in talent shows, gone to the zoo, had my first kiss, gone to concerts, written poetry, gone to plays, jumped off bluffs at the lake, and all the other events that make up the fabric of my life. I am still pathetic when it comes to math, I still love to read - really bury myself in a book, and I could eat five bowls of mom's potato soup this very instant. Every single thing that has happened in my life has molded me, made me who I am. I am - nevertheless - finding how what "who I am" means. But I know some of the things I want. I know post-college I want to live in Denver, Colorado or Washington, D.C. - just for a little bit. I know I want to hang maps on the wall and put globes on the mantle. I know I want to dance to Etta James and Zooey Deschanel at my wedding. I know I want to paint in the living room with M, curl up next to him every night in a bedroom that has tiny white lights hanging on the walls, and I want to make him mom's green Christmas tree cookies. I know I want to write for a newspaper and sell homemade greeting cards. I know I want my kids to have the incredible childhood I had. (And I know I want to name them June and Benjamin. Yes, I love the movie Benny and Joon.) I know I don't ever want to get a divorce. And I know I want to travel somewhere new as much as I can afford to. I'm still learning who I am, but I know I am someone who is strong and bold because of everything I have experienced - the good, the bad, and the trying times. I am very fortunate. I definitely believe - despite the worst times - that I am blessed and have had an exquisite life so far.

Thank you so much for reading. I started this blog as a little journal to share a small piece of my world. I hope you have enjoyed the journey so far, and I hope you will continue to come along with me. I am really excited to continue living a brilliant, beautiful life. I'm excited for next month, next year, and of course - the next 100 posts.

*I apologize, but I don't have the source for the photo above. Anybody know where it's from?

2 comments:

  1. oh god! we have some similar stuffs. i'm born in 1989, totally lame in math, love to read, and i'm a communication-journalism major student.

    you're a brave person to share this. it's beautiful in it's own way.

    ReplyDelete