I used to have a plan. Well, it wasn't really a plan. It was more of an assumption. I assumed that life would go a certain way for me; that "things" would fall into place just as I imagined they would; that everything would be perfect and easy and lovely. That sounds like the fantasy of a spoiled, upper-class "society girl" (as my mother would say), doesn't it? Ironic. There was nothing in my childhood or adolescence that conditioned me to believe that life should be easy.
I was always loved...always supported...always respected. But there were always immense worries. Life without worry ended when I turned 10. Then, suddenly, the carelessness of childhood couldn't keep up with me. It grew heavier and heavier as I tried to pull it along with me; and, before I knew it, the cord snapped and it was left only as a memory. I worried about my father's health, my mother's happiness, my older brothers' increased responsibilities, what would happen if I got sick, how we would pay the electricity bill, how I would ever make it to college......there was always something. I suppose that in the midst of worry, the best relief I could find was in fantasizing about the way my life would be....eventually.
The concern I mentioned about making it to college was founded by financial insufficienties. When I was in the seventh grade, I visited the smalltown private college that I would one day attend. Strange as it sounds, I decided during that visit at age 12 that I was going to college there. Looking back, I know exactly how that decision was made. The life on that campus seemed the epitome of the fantasy I had already created for my future. Everyone looked so damn happy to be there. The buildings were clean and spilling over with positive activity. The grounds were primped and manicured. It was small enough to be cozy and familiar, yet large enough be exciting. I knew older kids who were going to school there, and I knew adults who were graduates. They all seemed to have it all together: pretty marriages, comfortable lives....the very things I wanted. They very things I knew I "deserved" could be found at that college. I just knew it. And....unfortunately, all this perfection came with an absorbitant price tag attached. Even at 12 years old, I realized that. So my main goal for the next six years was to earn my way there. It worked....I made the grades and got the aid I needed. And, inevitably, all those years of built-up expectations contributed to my fantasy.
When I graduated from highschool and prepared for my new journey to begin, this was the schedule I planned on seeing through: I would meet the "ONE" my freshman year (and neither of us would have the desire or the need to date anyone else), we would get engaged by the beginning of our senior year, we would marry immediately after graduating college, find fulfilling and lucrative jobs simultaneously.......babies would follow 2-3 years after.....perfection unfolding over and over and over in the same cycle I felt I had witnessed so many times.
So set was I on this schedule that I propelled myself into its pursuit my very first week at college. There was a certain swing on campus that was referred to as "the engagement swing". Actually, it was probably referred to as something entirely different, but, nonetheless, it was known for the many proposals that had taken place there. (Apparently there was an abundance of uncreative and unpassionate boys who recycled the dullness of many losers who had come before them.) My first week, I met a boy. I can see his face, but I can't even remember his name. He was baseball player. Had a cajun accent. Was significantly shorter than I. One night our walk together led us to the legendary swing. He insisted we sit on it. I found the whole experience to be incredibly romantic. He wouldn't possibly ask me to sit on the swing with him only days after our meeting if he didn't already know he wanted to marry me!!! I could hardly believe how quickly my plan was falling into place.
After that night, I think I only had several more encounters with that guy. But I wasn't disillusioned...oh, no! I could write for days about the many short-lived (and very, very, short-lived) romances I had over the next several years. I was convinced that any guy who showed an interest in me should at least be considered as the end-all, be-all of my romantic life. I guess I always feared that nothing better would come along. But the majority of the guys I chose to give a chance were remarkably the same in one way: they were boring as hell. Boring to me, anyway. Only a few ever "got" me, and I doubt I truly "got" many of them. Needless to say, I eventually accepted that my little plan might be altered by default.
I graduated college four years ago, and my life has made it clear that it is most definitely not going to follow any schedule that I may have for it. obstinate bastard. The funny thing is...I know quite a few girls whose pretty little plans did work out just as they planned. In fact, I ran into one just yesterday whom I hadn't seen in years. Many of my former classmates did, in fact, end up marrying boys they started dating freshman year. Many of them have kids. Many of them are living cliche' comfortable lives in the same town we went to college in. They have what I always thought I wanted. And, as it turns out, I truly feel sorry for them.
I've traveled. I've lived on my own....in several different cities. I've dated many men and have learned a great deal about myself (and about what I want) in the process. I've experienced hurts that both numbed and wounded me. I've healed. I've met a countless number of interesting people. I've laughed more than I've deserved to. I've held a random assortment of jobs that have fostered an impressive collection of skills and stories to tell. I've experienced God in ways that I never dreamed possible.
And none of this has happened inside the perfection I just knew awaited me.
My mother recently expressed her dissapointment in the fact that I'm not who I was when I started college. I'm elated by that same fact. I can imagine no greater tragedy than to be stuck exactly where I started (mentally....geographically......). My life was never meant to be easy and predictable. I'm too complex a person to be meant for a such a life. It would bore me. It would stunt my growth. It would dull my spirit. I do believe that the things I wanted eight years ago still lay ahead for me. But they don't look the way they used to. They look seasoned. They look worn. They look scarred.
They look better.
Sunday, May 01, 2005
Friday, April 29, 2005
Call me Silver Tongue A. Smooth
One of the attorneys I work with has alerted me of a very mindless, yet enjoyable, website. www.playerappreciate.com is the source of all things pimp-like. You can get info about how to do things in pimp fashion, order crunk bling, and...my favorite feature...create your very own pimp name (mine is above). My cat Bridget's new name is Sugartastic Kitty Fresh. How great is that?
Wednesday, April 27, 2005
He was always so nice to the birdies....
Earlier, my friend ambigiously poked her head up over the filing cabinet drawer in such a way that just her nose was protruding over the ledge. The fingers on each hand were wrapped over on either side of her head. I looked over at her at started giggling because it reminded me of the old Ziggy cartoons. (But my friend isn't bald, and doesn't have an exxageratedly large nose. ) Then I got all nostalgic remembering Ziggy and all the profound things he had to say about life. I miss Ziggy.
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
Healing Powder
The summer of my sophmore year in college, I worked full-time as a camp counselor at Sky Ranch in Van, Texas. My months there revolved completely around a very rigorous schedule of outdoor activities. My normal daily routine of eating, sleeping, studying, and socializing was replaced with swimming, sailing, canoeing, jet-skiing, repelling, belaying, rifle-shooting, softball hitting, horse riding, ladder climbing, and waterslide sliding (and this was just on Tuesdays and Thursdays). Needless to say, my not-so-much-in-shape-but-still-smokin-hot body had it's ass kicked up over its shoulders repeatedly while I was there.
The most painful of the afore-mentioned ass-kickings was shin splints. I developed these about a month into the summer. Having never been what you (or anyone) would call an athlete, I had never experienced such agonizing soreness in my legs. Because we counselors worked 23 hours a day, the only relief I found was in bi-daily trips to the nurse with my campers. Any kids in our cabin that were on meds had to be marched to the far side of the campus twice a day for administration of their Ritalin, Benedryl, Viagra....whatever the case was. Once arriving at the nurse's cabin, we would inevitably have to wait for 10-30 minutes while the other kids had their turns. I took advantage of these waits by putting my feet up and icing my legs with those sea blue gelly freezer pack thingys. It was 15 mintues of pure heaven.
My buddy and fellow counselor, Nate, was often at the nurse with his campers at the same time I was. During the time of my shin splints, he himself was suffering from some ongoing ailment that I can't recall. So, we would keep each other company for the random 20 second intervals when our kids weren't pulling on our hair or asking us to recite the names of all the North American Indian tribes (for which all of our cabins were named).
Most of the guys that worked at Sky Ranch carried bottles of Gold Bond powder around with them at all times. It was a bit of a camp-wide quip. You'd see it sticking out of the back of someone's swim trunks or tucked into a backpack.....flashes of that yellow label were everywhere. At the age of nineteen, I was pretty unfamiliar with the common male uses of Gold Bond. I suppose the reality of it had occurred to me at some point, but, apparently, I hadn't spent much time comtemplating the issue.
It was one day in the nurse's cabin that Nate inquired more intently than normal about my ailing shins. I reported that the ice packs helped temporarily, but I was still in pain most of the time. "Well, have you tried Gold Bond? You know that's good for shin splints, right?"
Now, I wasn't COMPLETELY naive. I was immediately suspicious. But Nate was just so convincing...so innocent and sincere in his offer to let me borrow his precious powder. "Will it really help, Nate, or are you just trying to make me look dumb?" He swore it wasn't a joke....why else would he carry a bottle of the stuff around with him all the time? Desperate for alleviation, I gave in. My legs were damp from the prespiration of the ice packs that had been resting there, and when he poured the powder on, it stuck in uneven, clumped patterns. I tried rubbing it in, to no avail. "Oh, just leave it that way", Nate urged. "It will sink in."
I walked around for the rest of the day covered in what looked like sugar cookie dough. I got some strange looks, and lots of questions, but I responded each time by holding up the bottle that Nate had let me borrow. I was aware that I looked like an idiot, and seriously considered washing off. But the funny thing was, my legs had actually started to feel notably better.
For a couple of days, I continued with Nate's amateur prescription. He finally approached me with a meek smile on his face. "So, how are your legs feeling?" I informed him that they were much better, thank you very much. Gently grabbing me by the elbow, choking back quiet laughter, he whispered in my ear, "Allison, Gold Bond doesn't really help shin splints."
Of course, I defensively explained that I knew the whole time that the treatment was a facade...that I was doing it just to be funny. As to whether or not he believed my guise; who knows. But at least he was kind enough to let me think he did.
Seriously, though......Gold Bond really does help shin spints.
The most painful of the afore-mentioned ass-kickings was shin splints. I developed these about a month into the summer. Having never been what you (or anyone) would call an athlete, I had never experienced such agonizing soreness in my legs. Because we counselors worked 23 hours a day, the only relief I found was in bi-daily trips to the nurse with my campers. Any kids in our cabin that were on meds had to be marched to the far side of the campus twice a day for administration of their Ritalin, Benedryl, Viagra....whatever the case was. Once arriving at the nurse's cabin, we would inevitably have to wait for 10-30 minutes while the other kids had their turns. I took advantage of these waits by putting my feet up and icing my legs with those sea blue gelly freezer pack thingys. It was 15 mintues of pure heaven.
My buddy and fellow counselor, Nate, was often at the nurse with his campers at the same time I was. During the time of my shin splints, he himself was suffering from some ongoing ailment that I can't recall. So, we would keep each other company for the random 20 second intervals when our kids weren't pulling on our hair or asking us to recite the names of all the North American Indian tribes (for which all of our cabins were named).
Most of the guys that worked at Sky Ranch carried bottles of Gold Bond powder around with them at all times. It was a bit of a camp-wide quip. You'd see it sticking out of the back of someone's swim trunks or tucked into a backpack.....flashes of that yellow label were everywhere. At the age of nineteen, I was pretty unfamiliar with the common male uses of Gold Bond. I suppose the reality of it had occurred to me at some point, but, apparently, I hadn't spent much time comtemplating the issue.
It was one day in the nurse's cabin that Nate inquired more intently than normal about my ailing shins. I reported that the ice packs helped temporarily, but I was still in pain most of the time. "Well, have you tried Gold Bond? You know that's good for shin splints, right?"
Now, I wasn't COMPLETELY naive. I was immediately suspicious. But Nate was just so convincing...so innocent and sincere in his offer to let me borrow his precious powder. "Will it really help, Nate, or are you just trying to make me look dumb?" He swore it wasn't a joke....why else would he carry a bottle of the stuff around with him all the time? Desperate for alleviation, I gave in. My legs were damp from the prespiration of the ice packs that had been resting there, and when he poured the powder on, it stuck in uneven, clumped patterns. I tried rubbing it in, to no avail. "Oh, just leave it that way", Nate urged. "It will sink in."
I walked around for the rest of the day covered in what looked like sugar cookie dough. I got some strange looks, and lots of questions, but I responded each time by holding up the bottle that Nate had let me borrow. I was aware that I looked like an idiot, and seriously considered washing off. But the funny thing was, my legs had actually started to feel notably better.
For a couple of days, I continued with Nate's amateur prescription. He finally approached me with a meek smile on his face. "So, how are your legs feeling?" I informed him that they were much better, thank you very much. Gently grabbing me by the elbow, choking back quiet laughter, he whispered in my ear, "Allison, Gold Bond doesn't really help shin splints."
Of course, I defensively explained that I knew the whole time that the treatment was a facade...that I was doing it just to be funny. As to whether or not he believed my guise; who knows. But at least he was kind enough to let me think he did.
Seriously, though......Gold Bond really does help shin spints.
Monday, April 25, 2005
From my day.....
All of the following are quotes I've encountered today. One was slightly inspirational, one was slightly thought provoking, and the other one....not so much of either. I'll let you guess which is which.
"The secret of attraction is to love yourself. Attractive people judge neither themselves nor others. They are open to gestures of love. They think about love, and express their love in every action. They know that love is not a mere sentiment, but the ultimate truth at the heart of the universe." ---Deepak Chopra, printed on the back of my Starbucks cup
"When French people swear, do they say 'Pardon my English'?" ---an email someone sent me
"I like to say that Duran Duran are my boyfriends." ---some chick on the radio
"The secret of attraction is to love yourself. Attractive people judge neither themselves nor others. They are open to gestures of love. They think about love, and express their love in every action. They know that love is not a mere sentiment, but the ultimate truth at the heart of the universe." ---Deepak Chopra, printed on the back of my Starbucks cup
"When French people swear, do they say 'Pardon my English'?" ---an email someone sent me
"I like to say that Duran Duran are my boyfriends." ---some chick on the radio
T.V. Commercials That Disturb Me:
1. The Burger King "King" with the plasticy face and the scary clownish smile. I don't understand why these people are so pleasantly suprised when this 6 foot tall nightmare appears to them first thing in the morning with greasy breakfast offerings.
2. I think this a Snapple commercial, but I can't be sure. A little girl lays on her stomach, and runs her legs in a circle around her body...up over her head. If you haven't seen it, then my description probably does nothing for you. If you have seen it, then you know what I mean. Any very unnatural movement of the human body gives me the creeps. It's exactly why I find movies such as The Ring, The Grudge, and The Exorcist(which I've never wanted to watch more than about 30 seconds of) so terrifying. Girls walking down stairs and up walls on all fours.......Ohmagod!!! I can't handle it. Another example is #3.
3. The beer commercial (can't remember which beer) in iditarod flavor where men are pulling dogsleds through the snow and the dogs are the ones riding. The men are actually running on all fours....the unnaturality thing again.
4. Big, hairy, mammoth-like SUVs.........reminds me of one of the creatures from the original Star Wars trilolgy. This one is an advertisement for driver safety. I must give it a thumbs-up for creativity because it's doubtful that anyone whould pay attention to the traditional 1980's version of encouraging responsibility behind the wheel. But these would capture the awed attention of dangerous speeders and seatbelt ignorers everywhere.
5. Classic Mr. Clean bits have been underestimated when it comes to disturbability. I know he's got the sexy pirate thing going for him, but if I saw his face appear in the bathtub I had just cleaned, I'd be more than a little concerned. It's hard to tell if the women in these commercials are more excited about their cleaning success or by the wink Cleanie gives them when they finish the job. Maybe he's not there at all....maybe they're just high on fumes. They're exasperated by the lack of their husband's appreciation for their housekeeping efforts, and the whole thing is a chemical induced fantasy about a man FINALLY noticing how good they are at what they do. It's less treacherous than having an affair.
6. Snuggle Bear. This kid is almost as creepy as Chucky. His uncontrollable giggles and michevious grin are undeniably suspicious, if you ask me. If you walk into the laundry room and your toddler is hugging a midget-sized talking bear, you should at least ask some questions. Besides...who knows where this bear has been. He rolls around in everyone's fresh laundry, and you know what his woodsy-animal hygiene must be like. I'm thinking ticks and dried mud, at best. Not what I want snuggling with my clean panties. Or my dirty ones, for that matter.
7. The toenail fungus guy on the Lamisil commercial. Everybody knows this one....he jumps under someone's toenail, and then he and all his fungi buddies have a party inside. Imagining intoxicated, gruff voiced fungi-folk dancing to Cool and the Gang and gettin it on under the corroded layers of the nail on my big toe literally makes my spine hurt. I have to change the channel when I see this one come on. If I were crazier and even more obsessive than I already am, I would seriously consider ripping all of my toenails off completey with pliers just to avoid the possibility of such gatherings occuring in the first place.
2. I think this a Snapple commercial, but I can't be sure. A little girl lays on her stomach, and runs her legs in a circle around her body...up over her head. If you haven't seen it, then my description probably does nothing for you. If you have seen it, then you know what I mean. Any very unnatural movement of the human body gives me the creeps. It's exactly why I find movies such as The Ring, The Grudge, and The Exorcist(which I've never wanted to watch more than about 30 seconds of) so terrifying. Girls walking down stairs and up walls on all fours.......Ohmagod!!! I can't handle it. Another example is #3.
3. The beer commercial (can't remember which beer) in iditarod flavor where men are pulling dogsleds through the snow and the dogs are the ones riding. The men are actually running on all fours....the unnaturality thing again.
4. Big, hairy, mammoth-like SUVs.........reminds me of one of the creatures from the original Star Wars trilolgy. This one is an advertisement for driver safety. I must give it a thumbs-up for creativity because it's doubtful that anyone whould pay attention to the traditional 1980's version of encouraging responsibility behind the wheel. But these would capture the awed attention of dangerous speeders and seatbelt ignorers everywhere.
5. Classic Mr. Clean bits have been underestimated when it comes to disturbability. I know he's got the sexy pirate thing going for him, but if I saw his face appear in the bathtub I had just cleaned, I'd be more than a little concerned. It's hard to tell if the women in these commercials are more excited about their cleaning success or by the wink Cleanie gives them when they finish the job. Maybe he's not there at all....maybe they're just high on fumes. They're exasperated by the lack of their husband's appreciation for their housekeeping efforts, and the whole thing is a chemical induced fantasy about a man FINALLY noticing how good they are at what they do. It's less treacherous than having an affair.
6. Snuggle Bear. This kid is almost as creepy as Chucky. His uncontrollable giggles and michevious grin are undeniably suspicious, if you ask me. If you walk into the laundry room and your toddler is hugging a midget-sized talking bear, you should at least ask some questions. Besides...who knows where this bear has been. He rolls around in everyone's fresh laundry, and you know what his woodsy-animal hygiene must be like. I'm thinking ticks and dried mud, at best. Not what I want snuggling with my clean panties. Or my dirty ones, for that matter.
7. The toenail fungus guy on the Lamisil commercial. Everybody knows this one....he jumps under someone's toenail, and then he and all his fungi buddies have a party inside. Imagining intoxicated, gruff voiced fungi-folk dancing to Cool and the Gang and gettin it on under the corroded layers of the nail on my big toe literally makes my spine hurt. I have to change the channel when I see this one come on. If I were crazier and even more obsessive than I already am, I would seriously consider ripping all of my toenails off completey with pliers just to avoid the possibility of such gatherings occuring in the first place.
Sunday, April 24, 2005
A Good Cause
My friends Allison and Laurie Conway are participating in the Breast Cancer 3-Day. This is an organized, fund-raising, 60 mile walk taking place over three days. They are walking in honor of their aunt Judy, a breast cancer survivor, and of my close friend and co-worker, Kristi Kidwell. (Unfortunately, Kristi did not survive her battle. She passed away in December.) I know that many of you have been affected by breast cancer, so I thought you might be interested in hearing more about this event. I have pasted a message from Allison below:
This year, I'll be participating in a very special event called the Breast Cancer 3-Day.
I'll walk 60 miles over the course of three days with thousands of other women and men. The net proceeds will support breast cancer research, education, screening and treatment through the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation and the National Philanthropic Trust Breast Cancer Fund.
I've agreed to raise at least $2,100 in donations. I've set my personal goal at $2,500. So I need your help. Would you please consider making a donation of $60? (That $1 for each mile I'll be walking.) Please take a look at the donation form through the link below and designate the amount that's right for you.
According to the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation, approximately 200,000 American women will be diagnosed with breast cancer this year, and nearly 40,000 will die from the disease. Just a statistic until you put faces and names to it. In the last few years one of those women diagnosed was my Aunt Judy and one of those to die was my roomate's co-worker, Kristi Kidwell. They're why I'm walking so far. To do something bold about breast cancer. I hope that you'll share this incredible adventure with me -- by supporting me in my fundraising efforts.
Thank you in advance for your generosity! Please feel free to forward this to anyone you know who would be interested in donating. Also, if you know anyone in the Dallas area who would like to walk, have them contact me at conway_allison@hotmail.com or join my team using the link below. Thanks again!
Sincerely,
Allison Conway
To visit Allison's donation web-page, and for information about the women they are walking in honor of, click on this link: http://www.the3day.org/faf/r.asp?t=4&i=61807&u=61807-72409230&e=275048095
This year, I'll be participating in a very special event called the Breast Cancer 3-Day.
I'll walk 60 miles over the course of three days with thousands of other women and men. The net proceeds will support breast cancer research, education, screening and treatment through the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation and the National Philanthropic Trust Breast Cancer Fund.
I've agreed to raise at least $2,100 in donations. I've set my personal goal at $2,500. So I need your help. Would you please consider making a donation of $60? (That $1 for each mile I'll be walking.) Please take a look at the donation form through the link below and designate the amount that's right for you.
According to the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation, approximately 200,000 American women will be diagnosed with breast cancer this year, and nearly 40,000 will die from the disease. Just a statistic until you put faces and names to it. In the last few years one of those women diagnosed was my Aunt Judy and one of those to die was my roomate's co-worker, Kristi Kidwell. They're why I'm walking so far. To do something bold about breast cancer. I hope that you'll share this incredible adventure with me -- by supporting me in my fundraising efforts.
Thank you in advance for your generosity! Please feel free to forward this to anyone you know who would be interested in donating. Also, if you know anyone in the Dallas area who would like to walk, have them contact me at conway_allison@hotmail.com or join my team using the link below. Thanks again!
Sincerely,
Allison Conway
To visit Allison's donation web-page, and for information about the women they are walking in honor of, click on this link: http://www.the3day.org/faf/r.asp?t=4&i=61807&u=61807-72409230&e=275048095
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