Test Drive: Life in the Fast Lane

It's just stuff.

Our storage room in our apartment flooded, ruining J's collection of baseball/basketball (the most heartbreaking for me)/football cards, and boxes of ornaments that I bought when I worked for Hallmark. Luckily, my childhood ornaments are still at my parents.

Between the insurance headaches (having to dig what I thought would be considered trash out of a dumpster), the apartment complex fixing the hole in the ceiling when the leak originated when I specifically requested they leave it be until Friday so the insurance guy could see it, and countless other annoyances, I am ready to go on vacation.

So I am. To visit one of my closest girl friends, who I miss dearly. It couldn't come at a better time because sometimes you just need a little girl time.

I guess I was always a guys' girl in high school, which was odd since I attended a private all girls' school. Most of my girl friends had lots of platonic guy friends, and I did too. Guys were easier to talk to. Guys never got jealous, they let you borrow their clothes and didn't care when they got them back, and they were always ready to go out without spending hours on their hair, dress, and makeup.

Despite feeling more comfortable with guys, I had a core group of girl friends. We would fight, but we'd get over it. When it comes to those good solid girl friends, what's in the past is in the past. Girl friends get things that guys don't always understand, or maybe girls don't always understand what guys seem to take at face value.

Case in point:

Guy wants to spend Friday night with his friends.

Guy meaning: I want to spend Friday night with my friends.
Girl meaning: He doesn't want to spend Friday night with me.

If one of my girl friends tells me this story, I will go with the guy meaning. However, if the case in point happens to me, I automatically jump to the girl meaning. Why? Because I am a girl. And girls get that. It may be irrational, but sometimes we need irrational. We need to cry. We need to vent our frustrations with men in this meat and potatoes world by drinking girly drinks with our girl friends and spending too much money on uncomfortable shoes. We need to blow things out of proportion like losing collectibles in a storage room flood and blame it on "the man" (not our man, but that metaphorical man we tend to blame things on). We need to go to yoga, run on the treadmill, eat healthy for a week, and then buy a Reeses Peanut Butter Cup SonicBlast (which has more than half an average person's daily calorie count) and eat it in under ten minutes. Because that's what girls do.

Sometimes I think it would be much easier to be a guy. More guy friendships are made when one guy beats up another guy, and then they are best friends. If a girl hit me in the face, I'd have a restraining order on her. Guys usually don't care as much about their hair or fashion, and they don't have to worry about makeup. Guys don't talk on the phone for hours to their buddies, which would save a lot of time. Guys don't read chick lit novels or spend money of pedicures or girly drinks. Guys don't cry at Kodak commercials or during Senior Night (every year) for their alma mater's basketball team. But, you know what? I wouldn't give it up. Despite the hair removal, blisters from heels, underwire issues, and moments of emotional turmoil, I like being a girl, and I love my girl friends.

It has been seven years (and several weeks) since I walked across the stage at the Civic Auditorium in Omaha, Nebraska to accept my degree from the Midwest’s top rated private university (according to US News and World Report), Creighton University. Although I value my CU education, and still write checks to support the fine basketball team (Go Jays!), there are some things I wish I would have known then that I know now.

1. The freshman fifteen may not hit until after graduation, and then it may turn into the post-grad 40.

I wish I had gained the 15 lbs as a freshman. Then I might have been able to lose the weight when I still had a metabolism that didn’t add on five pounds after a large meal. The beer and pizza diet was completely offset by the dance every night at the clubs regime. Now if I look at a bottle of beer, it’s on my hips. If I smell the aroma of oozing, delicious mozzarella, I might as well unbutton my jeans.

2. No one cares where you got your degree, just that you got it.

I have friends who make more money than me that went to public universities. It is more important to have a well-rounded education at any school that put an Ivy League stamp on your degree. Although I value education more than anything, a Harvard-bound status either tells me that you are rich or were smart in high school, nothing about how you are in college until you prove it. Some of the most brilliant people I know were D students in high school, and they rocked the books in college. Your education is what you make of it.

3. You may not meet your future spouse in college, and that is OK.

Have fun! Discover yourself, date, and live a little. Don’t get tied down. I met my future spouse while I was in college, but we did not start dating until a few months after graduation. I was too busy having fun with all the wrong guys. I could be wrong, but I have a feeling if we would have settled down with each other before I let my hair down and dated different types of guys, I never would have realized that my type was right in front of me in the form of my best friend the whole time.

4. The dorms are the best place to live.

Readily available food on a meal plan, access to homework help, parties, hot guys, and tons of friends. I only lived in the dorms for a year, but even with all the girl drama on my floor (aka the 7^th North Army), it was a sweet deal. When I decided to get an apartment with a friend a year older than me the next year, I was faced with more grocery shopping, housework, and driving than necessary. The dorms were disguised as independence, but in reality a nice transition from home to college life.

5. Take Spanish!

I took a Spanish placement test during summer orientation, and passed it with flying colors. No required Spanish for me! If I had looked through my futuristic glasses, I would have known how valuable it would have been for me to continue to study Spanish. I have lost a lot of my Spanish, and I always encourage my students to remember that Spanish is our country’s second language, like it or not, and it is a great asset when applying for any job.

6. Some professors get off on making you miserable.

Writing “your class was a crock” (one of my senior polisci professor’s favorite phrases) on an evaluation is probably unnecessary and will only put another feather in his or her cap. Don’t sweat it, and if you decide to go into the education field, don’t repeat the pattern.

7. Some professors truly are there to help you.

College professors are much different than most high school teachers. Some faculty will be closer to your age, and although you should always maintain professional relationships, they know some of the obstacles you are going to face as a college student in and outside the classroom. After a particularly grueling break up with one of the “wrong” guys, I completely spaced off doing a theology assignment. I realized it the night before and wrote a bogus, barely researched piece about who knows what. I decided I would talk to my professor, and she was remarkably kind, letting me take an extra day to work on it after I assured her this would not happen again. And it didn’t, in her class or any other class. Empathy is hard to find, but if you are honest, you may be surprised.

Final thoughts. . .

College is an amazing experience, and although it sounds cliché, I learned more outside of the classroom than in it. Joining the newspaper staff changed my life. I made amazing friends that I still keep in touch with. I got to write about things I was passionate about like diversity on campus and local music. I also was able to go beyond my comfort zone as the assistant sports editor. Even though I don’t have an athletic bone in my body, writing about the Bluejays awakened a passion for basketball that had been tucked away since the days of Michael Jordan and World Championship Chicago Bulls. Try new things, get outside your circle, and remember . . .things are going to happen that you don’t expect.

Ed, Farrah, Michael, and Billy: You will be missed.

I have been contemplating why the death of Michael Jackson has hit me so hard. I was not moved to tears, but I was shocked. I have been watching the video tributes. (I’ve seen “Thriller” at least a dozen times in the last few days.) I’ve listened to Michael hits (and some of the more obscure tunes, like “Ben” that I had forgotten) on Rhapsody, and I have almost forgotten what Michael was like for the last decade and a half. Losing pieces of his surgically enhanced face, holding babies over balconies, allegations of child molestation that nearly killed his career, and his looming debt. The king of pop’s death reminds me that you can leave a legacy behind, even when success becomes your ultimate failure.

I will remember Michael Jackson as the innovator of the moon-walk, the pop king that bridged the racial divide, the man who lit up the sidewalk in the video of my favorite MJ song, “Billy Jean”. I will remember someone who spent his whole life in the music business, and despite his personal failures still topped the charts and gave us music that people ages 8-80 still know and love. RIP, king of pop.

Honestly, if I were Bella, I would have gone for the werewolf.

Rob Pattinson (AKA Edward Cullen of Twilight fame) was hit by a cab on Thursday while trying to escape a mob of fans. I immediately wondered if Rob channelled Edward, moving the with vampire-like strength as he read the minds of the teenage girls who were so attracted to his milky white skin.

I just don't see it. OK, he's got that mysterious, bedroom eyes thing going for him, but the pale skin thing isn't just for the movies. Maybe it's just that he's 23 years old, and my tastes have become more sophisticated.

This coming from the girl who puts Adam Sandler at the top of her list. You know the list, made ever-popular by Friends. You put five famous people that you could enjoy the company of without it being considered cheating. This is all in good fun, of course, because the chance of me ever meeting let alone having a chance with Sandler, Dave Matthews, Ed Norton, Ewan McGregor, or Barack Obama (I had to add him. He is the most powerful man in the free world) is slim to none. Not to mention that I think all of these men are married, and I am 100% certain I am not on their lists.

Adam Sandler, however, is my number one. He is absolutely hilarious and has that cute boy next door thing going on. Of course, Billy Madison is my all-time favorite mindless movie. I must have watched it 900 times in college. I still keep it in my Netflix Queue. I believe that Billy really saw the penguins and that the battle between shampoo and conditioner will rage on.

But, back to Ed (Cullen, not Norton). Reading about Rob (not Ed) cheating death by cab, reminded me of the moment I became an Ed (not Rob) fan in the Twilight series. I have to admit, I was not always certain of Edward's motives. Even through Breaking Dawn, I was skeptical of what he was doing with a girl like Bella. Then, I read the draft of Midnight Sun, Twilight from Edward's point of view. I now can see what makes at least Edward's character so attractive. Being able to read Edward's mind is a power that Meyer so graciously gives us in her fifth novel of the series. Stephenie Meyer, (if you are reading this), finish that book! Please! Just because some jerk leaked the novel doesn't mean you should deprive yourself and your fans from publishing your best book yet. I, as a fan who has paid good money for all of the books, appreciated her allowing me to legally read the book on her website after all was said and done, but I would loved to have a finished bound copy on my shelf!

In other Stephenie Meyer related news, I am working on a novel. How does this relate to the famous author of Twilight? She was 29 when she published her first novel, Twilight. I am 29, and although my novel has nothing to do with vampires, she has given me hope that life does not, in fact, end at 30. My thirties are on the horizon as a beginning of something fascinating and wonderful. No longer working two jobs to make ends meet, I can rediscover my passion for words beyond my classroom walls. Even if I don't make a living from it, my goal is to have a rough draft (at least) completed by the time I hit the big 3-0. It's getting closer and closer, but my first book for young adults will at least be on my own personal book shelf by 2010.

The first step is admitting you have a problem.

My name is Jen, and I am addicted to teenage girl- targeted literature. No, I am not buying Bop (Is that still around?) or Seventeen magazine to swoon over the Jonas Brothers, but I am not just talking Twilight either. Twilight Image by cityofroundrock via Flickris more than a 12-15 year-old phenomenon, thank you very much. And, if I were in that age group, I would have wanted Bella to end up with Edward in the first three books instead of Jacob. Yes, I was totally on Team Jacob as my facebook flair proclaims. Also, I never read Twilight by choice. Really, what kind of choice did I have when girls in my English class who wouldn't even read a three page reading assignment race through a 500+ page novel in less than a week? I was intrigued, and I admit, they were good.

My problem is the books that I never in a million years thought a professional, articulate, almost thirty year old woman could enjoy, and fortunately, they all come in a series, so I can keep reading and reading and reading. . .

1. The Princess Diaries- I started reading Mia Thermopolis' diaries (by the lovely Meg Cabot) long before Anne Hathaway starred in the Disney flick. I just finished Forever Princess in one day (approximately 400 pages). Oh, and I have a life, a stepson, a husband, and two dogs to take care of and amuse me. However, I had to know what was going to happen with Mia, Michael, and all the characters that Cabot has written so well over the course of the series. And now "Mia" has written a romance novel, Ransom My Heart! I am putting it on my summer reading list!
2. Gossip Girl- Let me be clear. Very few of my 8th graders read this series (although they watch it on the CW.) I started reading these books while I was student teaching five years ago. Gossip Girl novels are like Page Six or the National Enquirer stretched into 200 pages. I could not wait to see which song title Cecily von Ziegesar would choose for the title of her next book. Then Blair, Serena, Nate and Co. graduated. I tried to continue with Jenny's adventures in The It Girl series, but it just wasn't the same without Dan, Vanessa, and Chuck. Now, I am continuing the tradition with the next generations of GG, The Carlyles, the story of the triplets taking the New York social scene by storm. I am enjoying book number three, but I am not sure if the Avery, Baby, and Owen will live up to the original cast.
3. The Clique- This is the story of Claire, thrust into a wCover of The Cliqueorld of snobby junior high wannabes. Massie, Dylan, Alicia, and Kristen's stories are nothing out of Austen. They are simple, elementary stories, and at times, I want to slap the bratty girls. But, I keep reading. I have to know if Claire will finally be the alpha that dethrones bratty (yet at times likable) Massie. Lisi Harrison does a great job of keeping me hooked by coming out with book after book of cleverly titled best sellers.

Step two is believing that a power greater than myself can restore me to sanity. As with any addiction, however, I have to be honest. I am not sure I want to recover. Bring on the chick lit for the teen set. Is it really such a bad thing to feel thirteen again?

It is hard to believe that a man I was friends with for so long would turn out to be my husband as well as the father of my amazing stepson and our two girls. (Dogs are kids too!)

One year ago today, I married my best friend on Seven Mile Beach in Negril, Jamaica. I wore a white with pink flowers sundress, he wore a button down linen shirt and khaki pants. He was dripping with sweat; I was dripping with tears, but it was the best moment of my life. I think he would agree. (Except maybe the birth of his son, C. I'll give him that.)

We celebrated by eating at a local Jamaican restaurant last night. C. tagged along as we enjoyed our jerked chicken and daiquiris. (No rum for C.) Today, we paid tribute to our marriage by doing laundry and playing soccer in the park. (Well, my athletic boys played, I watched, and the girls destroyed the soccer ball thinking it was a rolling game of fetch.)

Something like 50% of marriages end in divorce in the first few years. But, as Barney on How I Met Your Mother tells us, 88% of all statistics are made up. (Or it could be 75% or 60%. Who knows? They are made up!) Whatever the true numbers are, it seems like the spouses that survive are best friends. J. makes me laugh until I cry, can cook better than any gourmet chef, will call me out when I am being a bit of a beyotch, and seems to read my mind whether it's what I want for dinner or knowing I need to be alone and read a book.

As we celebrate our first year of wedded bliss, the phrase "for better or worse" comes to mind. I know there have been some rough times, but this really has been the best year of my life. I cannot wait to continue the journey with my partner in life.

My motto in life has always been "test drive it". I figure why not, right? Easier said than done. With age comes caution, and more often than not lately I have been perhaps a little too weary of taking risks.

Thirty has become this huge looming number for me.
30: Living in an apartment
30: Childless
30: Virtually unpublished
30: Pounds overweight

You get the picture. Honestly, I am not scared to turn 30. I am scared that if I keep proceeding with too much trepidation, that I could become one of those "Smug Married" half-whits Bridget Jones writes about in her diary.

I could be my mother, (but, really, is that such a bad thing)?

Life is risky though. Posting your thoughts on the internet for anyone to read (potential agents, publishers, hint-hint, nudge-nudge), thinking about bringing kids into this crazy, screwed-up world, teaching other people's children, traveling across the country or the world. Is it worth it? Hell, yes. I am ready to embrace 30 with all its ups and downs. I am ready to shut the hell up and hit the gas.