Mawwiage is what bwings us togetha today....(Spin Cycle)

I guess I'm a typical girl.

I have been dreaming about poofy white dresses and champagne toasts and flower combinations and first dance song selections for as long as I can remember. I've been planning the perfect wedding since I was in preschool and got married the first time.

Hell, I even have a dress picked out (from many afternoons spent with engaged friends, pouring over bridal magazines. Come on. A single girl has to find something to entertain herself, and reading stories on wedding etiquette? Not gonna cut it.)

I know what song my dad and I will dance to. I know my sister will make me cry with her maid of honor toast. I know I'm much more likely to wear flip-flops than I am to wear heels. I know I care more about having a great DJ and bar than I do about location or decorations.

The part that trips me up?

The groom.

In all my fantasies as a child, and any inkling of an dream now, there's no man in the picture. Maybe Johnny Depp (yes, in that costume...) once in a while, or Hugh Jackman (definitely minus the Wolverine claws...), but let's be honest - that's more of a wedding night fantasy ;-)

The older I get, the more I become convinced that I'll never get married. When I was eighteen, I figured it was a matter of time and within five years I'd be engaged to Mr. Perfect.

Ten years later, I'm not so optimistic.

Of course, I'm also a lot more independent. A lot more confident that if I end up alone, I'll be okay. It might not be ideal, but I know that I'll be fine whatever way my life works out.


People always say that this changes when you meet the right person. That suddenly, you'll just be ready to start your life with someone you love.

I'm definitely not there. Not even close. Even the men I've been almost sure I loved, I could never see a future together. I don't know if that says more about the relationships, or me. I hope I find that someday. But until then?

I just want the party. The dress. The dancing. All the stupid traditions.

And if I meet someone who makes me care less about the buffet and the videographer and more about the marriage? Well, I have the invitations picked out already.....

Spin Cycle: Yes, I have been married before...

The first time I got proposed to, I was four.

His name was Nick, and he was the dreamiest boy in my preschool class.

We got married one sunny day with a mutual friend presiding. He promised to always let me have the good crayons when we colored, and I swore that he could always be the blue piece in Candyland. We shared a piece of Bazooka to consummate the marriage.

Wedded bliss came easy to us. We sat next to each other during circle time, built our home together out of cardboard bricks, and he always let me use the good shovel in the sandbox. Life was perfect – we were young, and happy, and in love. Nothing could keep us apart.

Except for kindergarten. Our romance ended the way many do – time and distance were just too much.

The second time I got proposed to, it was third grade. His name was Jon, he lived down the street, and one day, we were climbing trees in the field in our subdivision, and he said, “I’m going to marry you someday.”

I told him I didn’t need a boy – that I could do anything he could do, and that I could take care of myself. Then I proved my point by climbing higher than he could in the tree, jumping down faster, and beating him back to our bikes.

He didn’t get it.

Later that day he brought me a plastic ring (the kind that you could shoot water out of) and a bouquet of daisies and dandelions.

I broke that poor boy’s heart that day.

Yes, even at the precocious age of eight, I knew that the friendship we had just wasn’t enough. I wanted more.

In the two decades since then, I’ve had several more proposals. Most joking, a couple quasi-serious, and one that left me dumbfounded.

But at the end of the day, I stand by my independent and stubborn eight-year-old self: I want more.

More than just friendship. More than just fireworks. More than security. I want it all.

Maybe I’ll never find that. Maybe I’ll just be crazy Aunt Andrea for the rest of my life. I’m okay with that. I might not be climbing trees anytime soon, but I can still take care of myself. And if there’s something I can’t do for some reason, I have the means to hire someone else to do it for me. I’m the same girl I was twenty years ago, just older and wiser and if anything, more stubborn than I was then.

But if someone gets through? If I have my first honest-to-god, serious proposal one day? If a man gets through the layers of pigheadedness and protection and still wants to spend the rest of his life with me?

That’s when the string of proposals will end. Because when I say yes (and not as a toddler), it’ll mean forever.

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 Check out other spins by visiting the lovely and amazing Jen* at Sprite's Keeper.

 *May not be an accurate photograph. SK Jen is way hotter <3

 

Spin Cycle: We've got tonight, who needs tomorrow?

Oh, prom. The poofy dresses (Looking back, I am glad I went with a more classic, simple dress. The fact that it was only $60? Even better). The bad music. The hours of hair and nail appointments. The lack of a proper date (some things never do change...).

It's hard to believe it's been ten years. It's almost enough to make me feel old. That, and the fact that I can barely remember it...I am going senile, apparently.

Things I do remember:

-Bob Seger. Our prom song was We've Got Tonight which is a song I had already loved, and still love to this day. I'm not sure that it was entirely appropriate, since it's about having a one-night stand and knowing it's not going anywhere. I don't mind the sentiment, but really? I am kind of surprised that at a school where we couldn't show bare shoulders for fear that amount of flesh would be distracting, they let that song get chosen.

-My date, Phil. (Yea, I've talked about him here before). He was my default date for dances in high school, and was a pretty good one. Even if he did pull my chair out from under me so I fell down (it was to lighten a somber mood, so I didn't really mind)

-Going to Farmer Jack after prom cause nothing else was open, and stealing a 'Caution: Wet Floor' sign.

-Standing in a giant circle on the dance floor with a good chunk of my class, all singing 'Lean On Me'.

-Dancing with the guy I had a crush on for way too long, since he was really not that amazing.

-Dress shopping with my girls. I think that was actually my favorite part - all trying on dresses at David's Bridal, looking like freaking Easter eggs, but all looking gorgeous.

Annnnnd that's about it. It's funny, because prom is always built up as such a huge event, especially for girls. I remember always thinking that something would happen, something would change - like being dressed up and realizing high school was almost over would make the guy I liked realize he wanted to be with me, and we would dance all night and fall in love and live happily ever after. Instead, we danced and then awkwardly one-arm hugged each other, and went back to our respective dates. I just pictured it as being something more than it was, and once I realized that it wasn't going to be some life-changing event like it always was in movies, I guess I was a little sad. Maybe not sad, maybe that's not the right word....But I was disappointed. And maybe that's when I started to become a little more cynical - because that was when I finally realized that happy endings and fairy tales are all basically bullshit.

I still have my corsage, though. I guess I'm just a sentimental fool about some things (who keeps crap for way too long for no good reason) (I think the one on the left is from Homecoming the year before - also a dance that Phil was my date for. Boy BFFs are the best!)

With the ten-year reunion coming up (and me undecided if I'm actually going to go) I wonder if the event can possibly live up to the expectation - seeing old friends, catching up with out-of-towners, wondering who turned out better than expected and who just completely fell apart.  Facebook has kind of negated the need to do this, which is why I don't know that I'll bother. In movies, the 'cool' kids have all turned out to be losers, and the outsiders are the most successful and the happiest. But I already know that's not totally true, and I really don't need to see evidence of other people's successes when I have so many failures.

Mostly, if I go, I think I'll just, once again, end the night feeling a little bit disappointed, a little bit relieved it's over, and a little bit more certain that there are no happy endings in sight. At least not the stereotypical Hollywood ending, and while I'm not necessarily sad about that, and I am good with my life for the most part, I am a little sad that I've just stopped expecting one. I think back to me at seventeen, and how hopeful and optimistic I was about life and love (and yes, naive) and wonder how I got from there to here. And I wonder if I'll ever look at anything with that wide-eyed enthusiasm again.

I'd give anything to...

In the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make...

"We accept the love we think we deserve."

That line, from The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky, is one that has stuck with me in the decade since I first read the novel.

There's a lot of truth in the sentiment. We search for someone who makes us happy, who makes us better, who makes us complete. Sometimes, we find that person. Sometimes, that person turns out to be the opposite of who we thought they were. Sometimes they hurt us. Sometimes we let them. Sometimes we put all our energy and heart and soul and faith into a person who has done nothing to earn any of them. Sometimes we cry ourselves to sleep, wondering why we care so much, why we can't just walk away, why this "great love" has turned into something we never thought we would put up with.

I know I'm guilty of it.

There was a time when I took any scrap of affection that was carelessly tossed my way and clung to it with every part of me. When I was so love-starved that I would put up with lies and cheating and selfishness and emotional torture, just so I wouldn't be alone. When I would drive home, sobbing so hard I could barely steer the car, totally unsure what I had done that made me deserve this treatment. Wondering when I became so weak that I would stay with someone who didn't give a damn about me. Wanting to rip my own heart out, because it wasn't doing me any good anyway.

But I always stayed. I always stuck it out. I thought that I couldn't do any better. I thought that this was it. This was what my life would be like. I wasn't pretty enough, or funny enough, or smart enough to have the right to be happy, to have someone who actually loved ME. Not the doormat. Not the caregiver. ME. I got so used to being in a constant state of loneliness, even when I was sleeping next to someone. But I still never thought of leaving that. I just wanted something, even if it wasn't love. Even if it was barely involved. Even if my heart shattered over and over again, while I tried to figure out what to do to make myself better, more deserving, easier to be with...anything to make my screwed-up relationship into something more.

But then, something happened. The last straw. The time I really needed someone to be there, and he wasn't. He couldn't be bothered. There I was, crying and lost and empty, reeling from the loss of one of the most influential people in my life, and he couldn't be bothered to even come up with an "I'm sorry for your loss." I ended up going to a new friend, one I barely knew, who held me and let me cry and suddenly made me realize that I WAS worthy of being cared for, of being loved. That I was a good person, and that while I had my faults, I deserved someone who would drop everything to come pick me up when I couldn't get myself up off the floor.

That was when I knew I had to let go.

Since then, I've been in my fair share of rough relationships. I've been hurt, and my heart is worse for the wear. But I have made it a point to never let things get to the point where I didn't know why I was in it again. And yes, I've made some mistakes and given little pieces of myself away to some people who probably didn't deserve them, but it was always on my own terms.

And now? I'm stronger than ever. I'm more confident. I know who I am, and I know what I deserve. And I am holding out for it. Whether I find it now, or next month, or in twenty years, I'll know that, as the song goes, in the end, the love I'll take will be equal to the love I'll make.

I'll give you the best of me, but you won't see the rest of me....

So, what better way to end a blogging dry spell than by jumping into the Spin Cycle? This week, Jen over at Sprite's Keeper asked us to pick out our favorite blog, and repost that.

Well, I don't have just one. So I'm rebelling. And these aren't necessarily my favorites, but ones that have some kind of meaning to me, or tell you the most about who I am. And I'm just posting a link, and a couple lines about why you should read it. I've picked up a few new readers recently (until I disappeared for weeks, probably) so this is as good an intro to the crazy but wonderful but terrible but entertaining world of Andrea.

Here goes....

"No, those are NOT my Magnum condoms...."
One of my most popular posts - it's how several people found me, after it was featured on Good Mom/Bad Mom. Reading back over it now, I still crack up. And turn red. This story has made the rounds, including at my work. Some things can really only happen to me....

So yes, been there. Done that. Laughed about it afterwards. Sometimes for years, because some of those stories just won't die....

But until tonight, I have never know true mortification.

"Crawling in the Dark"
My struggles, living with a chronic, painful illness. It's a side of me that I try not to show all that often - who wants people knowing they have weaknesses? But to know me is to know this, so here it is.

In the three years since then, I have been to the doctor more times than I care to count. I have had more blood drawn than seems humanly possible, and spent far too much money on medication and Icy-Hot. Not quite what I imagined my life would be like at 26.
I have been lucky.

"my first spin cycle"
This is getting posted only cause it's the first, and I just saw it. The topic was 'poetry' and I was apparently feeling quite angsty. In haiku form.

bitter.
three small words break me
again, pieces in your hands.
yea, well, fuck you too
(how can i still miss you?)

"and this is why i will never settle for anything less than everything"
My parents were celebrating their 30th anniversary. Of their engagement. It reminded me how lucky I was to have them, and their example. I can't say enough good things about my parents. I love them in ridiculous amounts.

Yes, my parents are that couple....The couple that if you are a stranger walking behind them at the grocery store, you will undoubtedly notice the way that when they are walking side-by-side, their hands just automatically find each other.

"The best I can give you is the worst part of me"
This was actually what I posted for my 'worst' blog as a spin cycle last summer. And part of why I had chosen it was because I was letting my guard down - which is exactly why I'm posting it now.

I AM genuinely happy for all the people I care about, but it just reminds me of my failures. And my failures? Not something I want the world to see. In this post, it's just me, being honest, and putting my heart out there for everyone to explore. And losing my usual cover of strength and independence? Scary.

"I barely have the breath to breathe"
Another honest post. It's odd that I will say anything here, but in real life? I hide it all.

Have you ever woken up one morning and wondered where the hell you were?

I’m not talking about that sinking feeling in your stomach you get after a one-night stand,
where you literally have no idea where you are, although that is part of this--I’m talking
about that sinking feeling in your soul when you suddenly realize you have no idea how your life got to this point.

"A letter to me, age 17"
Another Spin Cycle post - this was a free spin and I got it into my head that I should write a letter to myself, ten years ago. It's a favorite because I honestly wish I could go back in time and share this with her.

You aren't getting married in the next ten years anyway, and looking back, you'll realize that you should've just slept with him and at least had your first time mean something, instead of waking up after a night of heavy drinking on an air mattress after losing it to some guy you just met. (FYI - This might still happen. In that case, there IS a house alarm, and sneaking off at 6.30am? Won't work.)

"Hell yea, I have someone I love this Valentine's Day"
Yet another Spin Cycle. Jen makes me write better, apparently :-) I love this one, because it reminds me of how far I've come.

This year though? I'm forgetting about the past. This year, I am dedicating the day to myself, and reminding myself why I love who I am. I am celebrating me, and I'm gonna buy myself some flowers, and I am going to remember that I do just fine on my own, thank you very much...

Softball + Lack of coordination = Bad idea. (Spin Cycle!)

Growing up, I was always athletic. Gymnastics, soccer, basketball, bike-riding and rollerblading for miles around the neighborhood...I loved it all. I was insanely flexible, in great shape, and had a good sense of balance (that unfortunately disappeared around the time I went from an A to a C).

That's me, in the center, back in my gymnastics days. I *think* I'm about 10 or11 here, but I could be way off.

 These days? Well, the flexibility died a long time ago (hence why I bought the DVD 'Yoga for Inflexible People'). Strength? To put it nicely, I'd be able to beat a kitten in a fist fight, but not many other things. And balance? Does righting myself fast enough to not fall over when I run into walls count?

I'm a klutz. I've accepted it. I also, up until very recently (see my new blog!), am incredibly lazy. So three years ago, when I started at my current job and heard about the softball team, I surprised myself by signing up. I think part of it was knowing that it'd be a way to get to know coworkers - I had just started, and I was coming off a job where I knew and liked almost everyone. I had played a couple intramurel games before, but that had been years before, and I was fairly sure I was going to be terrible.

So before the season started, I went to a practice with a friend's different team.
It didn't go well.

 

Do you love how I'm smiling? Yes, I am magical, thank you.

Anyway, the first year went as I figured. I sucked. I was terrible. By the end of the season, I was finally able to throw the ball from home base (I always played catcher, since it was the least important position) to the pitcher. Once in a while I hit the ball. I think I even scored a couple times. 

Season 2? I got promoted. Second base became my home, and while I wasn't good, I was improving. I started going to the batting cages, and making more of an effort to not....suck. When the season ended, I was fairly consistently getting hits, and occasionally making a decent play in the infield.

And this past summer...best yet. More of the same, just improving more and more. Sure, I have my off moments, and stupid plays, and mistakes, but whatever. It's a company team, it's fun, and that's all I really care about. We were regular season champions! Go Mud Dawgs!!

And I can't wait for the season to start this year :-)

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For more sports-themed spins, pay a visit to Jen the Incredible @ Sprite's Keeper!

Hell yea, I have someone I love this Valentine's Day

It'd be so easy to be bitter this time of year. Valentine's Day, a day for lovers...A day where no matter how independent or happy you are, it just seems as though it would be easier to be with someone.

Every year, I watch all the other women at work get flowers. I hear friends talk about their plans for the holiday. I give advice to guy friends on good presents to get. And I wonder if I'll get my turn someday.

Most years, I turn Valentine's Day into a singles' night out. Get a little sloppy drunk, go out to the bars, maybe dance with a stranger. Have a couple shots, maybe exchange phone numbers and a drunken goodbye kiss, and then never hear from him again. And every year, I still have a hole inside of me, because I'm still unchosen.

This year though? I'm forgetting about the past. This year, I am dedicating the day to myself, and reminding myself why I love who I am. I am celebrating me, and I'm gonna buy myself some flowers, and I am going to remember that I do just fine on my own, thank you very much, and I would rather be alone and happy with myself on February 14 than stuck in a relationship I don't want, wasting money on a man I don't love, buying presents for a ridiculous holiday.

And dammit, it feels good.

What feels even better? Knowing that eventually, I'll meet someone who loves me as much as I do. It might take a year or twenty, but it'll happen. And even if it doesn't? I'll be just fine. Because this girl? She has faith in herself, and people she loves and who love her, and beyond that, everything else is just gravy.

So even though love can hurt, you must never give up your search for it. And if you get hurt twenty times in finding that one true, honest love, then it was worth it. There is always love in the world, and people who truly want it. The worst thing you can let happen, is to allow someone to take that belief away from you. They can hurt you, but don't let them have that also.
Unknown)

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Go visit Jen and check out other spins this week!

Happiness damn near destroys you...

The Fray has a song I absolutely love called Happiness.

One of the verses is something I've had quite a lot of experience with:

Happiness damn near destroys you
Breaks your faith to pieces on the floor
So you tell yourself, that's probably enough for now
Happiness has a violent roar

I think we all feel like that sometimes, don't we? Often it is because we're so happy, we could burst, or we're so happy, we just know something is going to come along and mess it up. As Charles Schultz said, through the mouth of Charlie Brown, "I think I'm afraid to be happy, because whenever I get too happy, something bad always happens."

The last several months, I haven't been happy. I was happy. I was thrilled with how my life was going. I finally had a grip on things. And then, suddenly, life threw me a curveball, and things got messed up, and I went to the dark place. And right now, I'm finally starting to pull myself out (with a lot of help from a lot of people).

Am I going to stop letting myself be happy? No. Am I going to be afraid to feel joy, because I'm sure sorrow will follow? No. After all, without pain, pleasure wouldn't be half as sweet. Without tears, smiles wouldn't be so beautiful. The things that don't kill us make us stronger. As a favorite Hemingway quote says, "The world breaks everyone and afterward, many are stronger at the broken places."

I'm a survivor. I can get through anything, be it a failed relationship, a disappointing grade, a moment of weakness, a complete mistake of my own making, or anything else the world throws at me. And I will feel pain, and I will be broken again. But I am confident in knowing that I'll also be myself again...and that one day, when I least expect it, without knowing how or why or from where it came, happiness will find its way back to me, and it will feel all the better for having made it through the rain.

Happiness is like the old man told me
Look for it, but you'll never find it all
But let it go, live your life and leave it
Then one day, wake up and she'll be home

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Go visit Jen and check out other spins this week!

Spin Cycle: Everybody's got one...

I am entirely too exhausted to actually write a good post on this. So instead, there's a quote from one of my favorite movies that seemed appropriate for this spin.

"You want free speech? Let's see you acknowledge a man whose words make your blood boil, who's standing center stage and advocating at the top of his lungs that which you would spend a lifetime opposing at the top of yours. You want to claim this land as the land of the free? Then the symbol of your country can't just be a flag; the symbol also has to be one of its citizens exercising his right to burn that flag in protest. Show me that, defend that, celebrate that in your classrooms." - The American President

And because I'm loving Aaron Sorkin today,

"Actions are immoral. Opinions are not. And I won't apologize for mine. Discussion is good, and for those of us fortunate enough to be the subject of magazine articles, it may be our responsibility from time to time to try and raise the level of debate." - Sports Night

Go visit Jen to get to some good spins, instead of this!

Spin Cycle: Success!!! A week of cleaning later, here are the after shots!

(You can see the before pictures here)

I didn't know if I would manage to get this done - and true, it isn't complete. I still have another 40 loads of laundry to do. I want to clean my bathroom. But my room is clean, and organized, and I already feel more at peace. Hopefully those of you who got stressed out just from looking at my before pictures will get rid of some tension now :-)

No captions. Just pictures. They speak for themselves!

and lastly....I LOVE my shoes.


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Spin Cycle: My life is big and messy, and so is my room (The Before)

The new semester is about to start, so I figured I would finally clean my room...(don't judge me too much - I work full-time, go to school full-time, and my time at home is spent on homework or asleep. So no, I don't have time to clean and keep things neat. And to be honest? I usually don't care!)


and do some laundry....(my bed is under there somewhere)


I think it's quite possible that Jimmy Hoffa is buried in my closet.


I love this little closet door pocket organizer. Unfortunately, lately I haven't been using it much...


This corner was where my desk was. I'm selling it on craigslist and bought a new one (better suited for my laptop), but I want to finish cleaning before I move it in. That actually isn't mess down there - it's the pile of things I'm keeping out of the 8 giant garbage bags I've already filled.


I can't wait til I get my bookcase organized again. That has made me crazier than anything else.


After pictures to come later in the week!!

So this is the New Year...and I have no resolution..

January 1.
Another new year, another list of promises for me to break by January 2.
Another year of setting myself up for disappointment.
Another year of guaranteeing failure.

Wait. What?

I hate New Year's resolutions. I always used to make them, quickly following that with breaking them (record? Three resolutions broken by 12:04am.)

This year, I am bucking that tradition. I am not making any resolutions. Instead, I will share with you my goals for the foreseeable future. This list would be the same even if it was some arbitrary date on the calendar, rather than a new year, fresh start, etc.

1 - Keep my focus. Fall semester I had a lot on my plate, personally, and I lost focus both at school and at work. I don't think my performance suffered that much, but I prefer to give 100% and I found it difficult the last few months. So I would like to learn how to tune out everything else and just power through the task at hand.

2 - Stay organized. Starting that one today with cleaning. I bought a new desk for my room that will be better suited for my laptop than the one I currently have (which means soon I will no longer be hunched over my coffee table trying to type) and I want to get that set up before school starts next week. I think I will feel a lot more sane if I can declutter and make my room somewhere I want to be.

3 - Kick ass at school. I've got two years to go and I want to graduate with honors. I know I can rock a 4.0 if I try hard enough, but I am setting a goal of graduating with a 3.6 or higher so I don't kick my own ass if I have a hard time in a class or two.

4 - Stop making so many bad choices. Helped along by the fact that I'm not drinking.

5 - Get myself back into gear. I have been slacking for far too long. I'm lethargic and lazy and I need to remember how good it feels to move. I'm not setting a goal of losing x amount of weight or going to the gym x times a week, but I need to do something to get out of a chair. It's hard with 40 hours at work and 13 credit hours of school, plus homework, but I need to start giving myself breaks and just getting up and stretching or going for a walk or something. That'll help with my RA as well, which is equally important.

6 - Don't settle for anything less than what I want. I've done that a few too many times recently, and it never ended well. Whether it's relationships, career, school, whatever, I need to remember what I want, and not try to convince myself that something else will be a good backup choice. I'm better than that.

7 - Keep my head up. I had a rough few months, but I'm working through it and I'm starting to feel like myself again. No matter what happens in the next few weeks/months/years, I just have to remember that I am a fantastic person, and I have fantastic people in my life, and no matter what the world throws at me, I have the strength to get through it. And if I somehow can't find the strength within myself, I have twenty people right next to me, ready to pick me up if I find myself at the lowest of lows again.

I think that's about it, at least for now. I'm sure I'll add to this in the next few weeks once I think of other ways I'd like to improve myself.


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Visit Sprite's Keeper and Nanny Goats for more resolutions!

A Secret Santa surprise for one of my favorite bloggers!

As a happy participator in The Spin Cycle, I was pumped when Jen gave us our new assignment: Pick your five favorite blogs, she'd narrow it down to one, and you post about why the chosen blogger kicks forty-five kinds of ass. So, my chosen one, I hope you enjoy!!

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I first found the amazing Sal of Already Pretty courtesy of Blogtations. There was a quote on there from one of her posts that I identified with:

"As a teen, I dreamed of being a bodiless brain in a jar. A smart, artistically inclined, physically awkward young woman, I shied away from anything that made me think about myself in terms of body. I hid in my loose, formless clothes, refused makeup, and let my hair remain unruly. I looked a little like a hobo, albeit one with excellent oral hygiene."

Well, if that wasn't enough to get me hooked, the entirety of her post certainly did. If you've never read Sal before, that's a great one to get started with.

*****

I love that Sal's tagline is "Helping you recognize your own beauty, one post at a time." There are a million style blogs out there, and a million beauty blogs, but to me, Sal's stands out because she focuses so much on inner beauty and self-confidence as well. By posting a poll every couple of weeks, she forcesencourages readers to look into themselves to find something that makes them unique/makes them beautiful/makes them feel amazing/makes them who they are. I cannot tell you how much my self-image has gone up in the last year and a half of actually having to think about my body and what I love about it. One of my favorites was deciding on my five best. I loved the idea so much I stoleborrowed it on my own blog. Having to really evaluate what I love about myself? It's a lovely boost of confidence.

*****

Without Sal, I wouldn't have any idea how to dress professional but also personal for an interview, wear belts without looking like a fool, fit the business casual requirement at work in a more interesting way than my usual black pants/boring sweater, or a million other tips and ideas I've picked up from her.

*****

Besides all this, Sal is a truly great person, always leaving an encouraging comment, passing on information to readers that would be helpful, giving advice to a desperate girl trying to find a dress....She's fantastic and adorable, and I can't wait for her next Already Prettypoll so I can be discover just how much I rock, and also, how great she is at reminding me!

Happy holidays, Sal!! You're a treasure!

*****

And happy holidays to everyone else who is enjoys The Spin Cycle every week! Thanks for this fabulous idea, Jen!

Dear Santa (A Perennial Fuck-up's Christmas Wish)

Dear Santa -

I'm supposed to tell you what I want for Christmas this year.

This might be a bit unconventional, but I'll just run with it, and you let me know if you can help out.

You see, Santa, I've made some choices recently that I'm not proud of. And true, I used to be of the mindset, good or bad, they're still my choices, but lately? Lately I'm not so sure. Lately I've been having regrets. A LOT of regrets.

You know what I'm talking about, right? All of them? I don't really need to go into detail, do I?

Do I need to relive all the things I've done to disappoint people? All the ways I've hurt people? All the ways I've hurt and disappointed myself? Do I need to dig up long-buried memories and clouded glimpses of nights I barely remember myself? Do I need to look back at all the mistakes I've made? Because I can, if that'll put me back in your good graces. If I need to admit what I've done wrong, I'll do it. I'll do anything if I can just get those years back.

I'm not saying that I wouldn't miss what I've found along the way...and I'm not saying that every speed bump has sent me off-course. I've found a lot of good and learned a lot about myself and who I want to be the last several years. I'm just scared, Santa...because the girl I am is nowhere close to the woman I'd like to be. And I don't know if I'll ever get there. I've screwed up too much, I've gotten too far down the wrong path to make it back to good again.

I know you're probably thinking that running away from problems doesn't solve anything...and you're right, I can't argue with that. But I think even you'll admit that I haven't exactly been getting the easiest cards dealt to me lately. And I think you know that a lot of what I did was completely out of character. I'm not claiming temporary insanity here, but you know as well as I do that a lot of this just isn't me.

So here's my idea: Let me take it all back.

I'd really like a do-over on the last few years.

That's right. If I could go to sleep on Christmas Eve, and wake up on...oh, say New Year's Day, 2004, that would be fantastic. I think that's about the time my life started to really go off the rails. If I could just wake up that morning, and get a fresh start, I know I could get it together.

I could avoid some of those heartaches. And salvage some of those friendships. I could finish what I started instead of giving up when things got rough. I could make a choice and stick to it. I could be smarter, and stronger, and better. I could turn into the person I want to be. I could be someone that other people could count on. Someone with heart, and compassion, and motivation, instead of this cynical girl I barely recognize. I could do everything differently, and be happier now, and a better person.

Is that too much to ask, Santa? Is this possible? Could you do this for me? Because it's been too many months of just barely holding it together, and I don't know if I can take another year of this.

I'm pretty sure I've been on your 'naughty' list for a while now, but if you could do me this one favor, I promise, I'll be good. I'll make the smart decisions and avoid the bad ones. I swear, Santa, I really will. Just let me forget the last several years ever happened, and go back to being twenty-one, and naive, and optimistic, and ready to take on the world.

I know I can get it right this time.

Spin Cycle Free Spin: If I knew then what I know now....(a letter to me, age 17)

Dear Andrea -

Hey you. It's your future self here.

I don't mean to spoil any surprises for you, but seriously, it's for the best. Maybe I can save you some heartache along the way. Maybe I can make a difference in both of our lives, if we're really alive at the same time in some strange parallel universe. Maybe I can change the story.

First order of business? Next year at college you're going to meet someone. You're going to fall incredibly hard for him. He is going to be crazy about you, and sweet, and sort of nerdy. He's going to have strong arms and perfect eyes and the way he kisses you will make you lightheaded and you'll think your legs are about to give out. You know how the movies talk about *fireworks*? They didn't lie. Anyway, I know you've decided you are going to save yourself for your future husband. DON'T. You aren't getting married in the next ten years anyway, and looking back, you'll realize that you should've just slept with him and at least had your first time mean something, instead of waking up after a night of heavy drinking on an air mattress after losing it to some guy you just met. (FYI - This might still happen. In that case, there IS a house alarm, and sneaking off at 6.30am? Won't work.)

Back to the first guy. He's going to break your heart. Repeatedly. Over and over and over again. At least six or seven times. The first time was understandable. And everyone deserves a second chance. But really? After that? It's okay to give up. He really wasn't the ONE. You'll finally figure that out at 26 when you see him for the first time in four years and wonder why you were so into him, and why you wasted so many years doing the back-and-forth you two were so good at. Don't be afraid to let him break your heart, but don't make the same mistake I did, and let him break YOU.

Alright, let's move on...

I know right now you're getting excited for your first year of college. You've got a plan, you've got goals, and that's great. Keep your focus! Don't screw around like I did, unless you want to be 27 and still working on your degree. Yes, I messed up. A lot. But the life lesson here? You can ALWAYS redeem yourself. I'm working on it now, but you? You still have a chance to get it right the first time. Take advantage of it.

Next thing. I know you think you're a hideous cow. Really? In a few years you are going to look back at your senior pictures and pray for that body back. I know, you think I'm crazy, but it's the truth. Of course, by the time you hit my age, you'll have settled in where you are and you'll be fairly confident no matter what (which, by the way, will serve you well where men are concerned), but for a while there, you will absolutely HATE the way you look. More than you can even imagine right now. So don't stress out, and enjoy being young and healthy and cute while you can. Own who you are. Your little imperfections make you unique.

Start saving money now. I don't mean what Dad makes you put in your IRA, I mean seriously put away some cash. You're always going to need it, and Mom and Dad won't always be able to help you out. You'll be much better off than I am if you can manage that.

Go visit the grandparents. As much as possible. I know they seem immortal now, but they don't have much time left, and after they're gone, you're going to wish you had listened harder and told them you loved them more. When Grandma K dies, you are going to be an absolute wreck. Let it happen. It'll pass, I promise. You're going to have amazing friends to pull you through.

Don't let it get you down when family members, friends, and complete strangers feel pity for you if you're still single at 20, 25, 30, 45...what's right for someone else may not be right for you. Enjoy being single, enjoy being independent, and do anything you could possibly want to do. If you want to move across the country (and you'll want to, trust me!), do it! This is the time in your life to not be tied down to anything.

You're going to make some mistakes when it comes to men. Everyone does. But don't ever let yourself lose who you are because of a man. And don't ever let a man (or anyone else, for that matter) make you feel like less than what you are. Some mornings you might look in the mirror and not recognize who you've become. You will, just look closer. She's there. That innocent, naive girl who still somehow believes in true love and soulmates and happy endings? She's there. She's just smarter, and less willing to give her heart away until someone has earned it.

You can't change other people, just yourself. And you shouldn't try to change yourself for someone else. If they can't love you the way you are, then you shouldn't waste your time.

Mom and Dad will love you even if you don't do everything the way they think you should. Don't be afraid to disappoint them because while they may give you shit, they'll stand by you when no one else will or can. I know right now you think they're ruining your life half the time, but they really are great parents, and you're a lot luckier than most.

Tell the people you care about that you love them. Every time you can. You never know when they'll be gone. You're going to lose a lot of people in the next decade, some who you never would have expected. You are going to drive around at night crying, wondering why someone was taken from you so soon. You're going to scream and throw things and spend days in bed because you don't want to live in a world where bad things happen. But then you'll start to realize that he wouldn't have wanted you to waste your days like that, and you'll start to move on, and start to feel better. And you'll start to live.

No matter how well you plan out the next ten years of your life, it will change. You can't avoid that. Don't let yourself get set on certain things you *have* to accomplish. If you do, and those things don't pan out, you could spend the next ten years trying to scrape together the rest of your life. Go with the flow, and take time to enjoy the setbacks and detours, because those can be the most beautiful parts of life.

Maybe this won't make a bit of difference. Maybe my life now is how it was meant to be. Maybe no matter what you do in the next ten years, we'll be right here, at this same place, writing this same letter.

I don't want to discourage you. I just want us to have a chance at something different. Something better.

But if this doesn't work? If this is what life is? Well, you can look forward to being strong. Stronger than you thought you could be. You'll be independent, and fearless. You'll have learned from (most of) the mistakes in your past, and have grown up and be smarter for it. You'll have a drive to succeed and a never-say-die attitude. You'll have the best friends and family in the world, and you'll be happy. Sure, you have your issues, but overall? You know who you are and you're loving it. And that's the big life lesson here, teenage Andrea: Your life will be as good as your attitude allows. Enjoy it.

Love,
Future Andrea

(By the way, your boobs finally grew. And didn't stop. And now it hurts to run. And walk down stairs. So, thanks for wishing for those every day since you were twelve. Bitch.)

The best I can give you is the worst part of me....

I can take care of myself. I can. I'm fiercely independent, and have no problem being alone. But recently, as I see more and more friends getting engaged, getting married, getting pregnant...growing up...it reminds me that however successful I am professionally, my personal life has never been anything but a mess. Normally I don't mind...I know my life will work out how it's supposed to, and I've never been one to mind being single (and fabulous!) but the sudden influx of happy news from every other person I know has started to wear on me. I AM genuinely happy for all the people I care about, but it just reminds me of my failures. And my failures? Not something I want the world to see. In this post, it's just me, being honest, and putting my heart out there for everyone to explore. And losing my usual cover of strength and independence? Scary.

And that...that is why this post from last autumn is my worst post. Because re-reading it now, I can feel exactly how I felt then...and I realize that with all the hopeful promise of every new man I've met since then, or budding relationships, or imagined spark that flew, nothing has changed since then.

i made a promise to my heart to never let a soul inside.... (10/12/08)

the thing about me is that i'm not a forward person. i find it very difficult to just come out and say things face-to-face. i need a computer screen or a cell phone or a piece of paper to get anything out in a semi-eloquent way.

this factor of my personality is generally what leads to heartache for me. i've grown accustomed to coming in second place. i live life well as a runner-up on so many things, and the last couple years have really shown that to me.

in my head i know that i should just take the bull by the horns, jump in head first, etc. but the rest of me is terrified of the result. i fear making things awkward, and getting hurt more in the process. but is it easier to stand idly by and watch what i want slip through my fingers, or actually take the leap, get shot down, but at least know?

the awful part of me - the wildly insecure and still slightly timid part of me - expected something like this to happen. i've never known anything close to a happy ending before, so why would i think that all of a sudden life and love would just fall perfectly into place? it's a road i've been down many, many times, and maybe part of the problem is that i never fully invest myself in something, because a giant piece of me remains convinced it'll end badly.

i've been an optimist for years. glass half-full, see the rainbow through the rain, sunshine is only a cloudy day away.....but somehow, the positive outlook never gets around to my love life. in that area, i am a cynical, realistic pessimist. with the soul of a romantic. no wonder i always am disappointed so badly.

it's getting late and i'm getting no comfort out of words tonight, which is a change from the norm. i'm going to finish my glass of wine and go to bed, and hope that when i wake up tomorrow i'll have magically gained some perspective.

but i'm not counting on it.

The Best of Me....(Spin Cycle, part 2)

This second part of this week's Spin was again, pretty easy to come up with, especially since RA has been affecting me a lot the last couple of weeks. I've been having some pretty awful flares, and besides making me tired and cranky, I'm overemotional from lack of sleep and frustration. This is something I almost want to have printed out and ready to hand to people so they can understand what I'm dealing with daily, and in some cases, cut me a little slack.

Crawling in the dark...(Life with RA) (11/12/08)

I was diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis in 2005, when I was 22. I had gone into my primary physician complaining of lethargy and body aches, figuring I had some kind of virus, and after a course of antibiotics I’d be back to my old self. My doctor did some blood work, and found that my sedimentation rate was high, which suggested inflammation. She referred me to a rheumatologist, concerned that my symptoms could be a sign of either Rheumatoid Arthritis (RA) or Lupus, and I set up an appointment for a few weeks later.
My initial appointment was spent answering A LOT of questions about when I had the most pain, what different conditions, when I felt most tired, where the pain was worst, and on and on. I also got a lot of blood work done, and had x-rays taken of my chest, wrists, fingers, and knees. By the end of the appointment, my doctor thought that I showed symptoms of RA, and started me on 200mg daily of Celebrex, a non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drug (NSAID). I scheduled a follow-up for a month later, a few days after my 23rd birthday.
In the three years since then, I have been to the doctor more times than I care to count. I have had more blood drawn than seems humanly possible, and spent far too much money on medication and Icy-Hot. Not quite what I imagined my life would be like at 26.
I have been lucky.
My RA doesn’t seem to be progressing all that rapidly. I have been able to stay with Celebrex, and last year added Plaquenil to my daily oral dosings. Plaquenil is a disease-modifying antirheumatic drug (DMARD) that has been shown to prevent swelling and pain in arthritis sufferers, although, from my research, it’s not known quite how it works. With these two drugs, I have been extremely happy to discover I don’t have any major side effects.
However, in the last year, I was forced to switch from Celebrex to Aleve when my insurance no longer covered Celebrex. Painwise, the Aleve was successful. Unfortunately, taking it at the dosage I required caused me to have stomach pain, and after an endoscopy in August, I discovered that I have pre-ulcers. Now I am on a Tylenol regimen that isn’t nearly as effective, until my preauthorization to get Celebrex covered again comes through.
Occasionally I will go on a course of Prednisone, a steroid that reduces inflammation. This drug affects me in many ways, and I prefer to stay away from it. I become a different person when I am using it, prone to sudden mood swings, going from lethargic and mellow to bouncing off the walls. It also can cause weight gain, and sure enough, every time I use prednisone, I suddenly seem to have an extra 5-10 pounds or more that appears as if by magic, no matter what I do to prevent that. That in itself is an oxymoron, as I know that if I lose weight, my RA symptoms will ease, but every time I get into that groove, I end up on steroids again and balloon back up.
Even though my RA isn’t always that bad, there are times I have flare ups that make the simplest task seem impossible. There have been days where I’ve had to literally roll myself out of bed, and crawl to the shower, because I know hot water is the only thing that will help with my morning stiffness. Those mornings I thank God and my roommate that I got the room with the attached bathroom. Sometimes when my wrists and fingers are acting up, I find myself fighting tears at work because not only can I not type, and do my job, I can’t even focus enough to try. I’ve had many restless nights, unable to sleep because of pain in my hips, or knees, or shoulders, or ankles. And there have been too many times where I wanted to do something, but after having to drag myself around all day, I’m simply too exhausted to do more than collapse on the couch and stare into space.
Cold weather is difficult as well – it makes the swelling of my fingers worse, and they actually turn purple. This is something called Raynaud's, and it is common in patients with RA. It’s not unusual to see me wearing gloves a lot once the weather turns cooler, in an attempt to keep my joints warm enough to function. Flying is especially bad – something about the cabin pressure and the cooler temperature – and I’ve been known to don gloves on flights in the middle of summer.
Living with RA is difficult, and not necessarily because of the symptoms of the disease. Rheumatoid arthritis is not an illness with visibility. You can’t see someone suffering from RA and know what they’re living with. People who don’t know my situation probably think I’m lazy on my bad days, when I take the elevator up one floor at work, or when I mention that I’m going right home from work and sleeping. It’s not an image I want coworkers to have of me, but the sad truth is, RA has affected my life more than I thought possible when I was diagnosed.
There is no rheumatoid arthritis in my family that I know of. RA isn’t necessarily a genetic disease, although it can be passed down. Doctors don’t know why some people get RA and some don’t. RA doesn’t only hit senior citizens. There is no age restriction for arthritis. However, from what I’ve found in research, my age at diagnosis was slightly more unusual, as most people develop RA between the ages of 25 and 50. Women are affected by RA three times more often than men.
Being a 26 year old woman with rheumatoid arthritis is an experience, and since diagnosis, a new set of fears. I face day to day challenges on some of the most routine tasks that I’ve been doing for years. Tying my shoes, walking up stairs, brushing my hair...all things I’ve done without issue since I was a child, but now have problems with. And new fears? I’m scared that the things that I’ve always counted on in my life will never happen. I’m afraid that by the time I’m ready to have children, my disease will have progressed to the point where I won’t be able to, or I won’t have the energy to play with them if I am able to have them. I’m scared that I will lose my independence at a much younger age that I ever could have guessed, and my freedom is something I value more than most things.
I do try to be more active to help keep me mobile and energized. I bounce back and forth on Weight Watchers – again, it’s hard to stay motivated when a part of me knows that the next time I’m back on certain medications, I’ll just fail again. But I press on – trying to change my lifestyle to keep myself from requiring hip replacement surgery in my thirties.
I have to say that not everything has been bad since being diagnosed. I’ve really learned how many people care about me in the last few years. My family has pulled around me, and my friends have been a huge support. I’ve surrounded myself with amazing people, and it’s paying off. There are days when I don’t want to go to work, don’t want to leave my apartment, don’t even want to get out of bed, but I know I have people I can reach for, or call, and they’ll put some motivation back into me.
I’ve also learned how strong I am. How I can work through pain and fear and confusion and get things done. How I can inspire others, and inspire myself.
I have been lucky. On so many levels.
However, I know luck changes. But I also know that if and when it does, I have the strength of my family, and my friends to get me through it. More than that, I know that I have the strength within myself to push through whatever this life throws at me.

This December I will be participating in the Arthritis Foundation's Annual Jingle Bell 5K. December 7th marks my 4th year walking, and I am eager to once again face the challenge - 3.2 miles that start with a fairly intimidating hill, usually tromping through ice and snow. I've done it 3 times before, and I can do it again.

I'm asking for support doing this - my hope is that even if there is no cure found in time to help me, maybe research will develop new treatments with less side effects, or even a cure by the time my future children may have to deal with this.
If you have the ability, please sponsor me in the Jingle Bell Walk. I truly appreciate every donation, no matter the size. If you can't donate, please keep me in your thoughts on December 7th!

Thank you all for the support and encouragement!

To donate: My Fundraising Page

November 2005 Article about me in Oakland Press

The Best of Me....(Spin Cycle, part 1)

This week's Spin Cycle assignment is an easy one - find your favorite post in your archives, and add an intro. Since I've had no time lately in which to actually blog (I swear, I really am going to get caught up. Someday. 2012, perhaps?) this seemed ideal. I have two that'll I'll be using.

My first favorite post was easy to come up with - this is the post that has been passed around coworkers, blogger friends, random acquaintances. It was featured on Good Mom/Bad Mom one Sunday (still the pride of my blogging-life) and I still laugh/cringe every time I read.

Enjoy.


'No, those are NOT my Magnum condoms' (or, why I will never use U-Scan again) (8/26/08)

Anyone who knows me knows that I am not the girl to get easily embarrassed.
Fall off a table while dancing? Check. (and I was sober!)
Puke on a fire hydrant while hungover? Check. (no, I'm not proud)
Accidentally tell an [ex]co-worker about the sex dream they played a large role in? Double check. (alcohol was possibly involved)
Fart in mixed company? Many, many, many checks.
Sing inappropriate songs of the 90s in front of coworkers? Too many times to count. (and sadly, no, alcohol was not ALWAYS involved)

So yes, been there. Done that. Laughed about it afterwards. Sometimes for years, because some of those stories just won't die....

But until tonight, I have never know true mortification.

It starts out simply, and innocently, enough. I stopped at Meijer on the way home to pick up some fruit, a few Lean Cuisines, diet soda, some hair smoothing crap.

Looking at the two lanes that were actually open, and twelve people deep each, I decided to just skip to the U-Scan. This isn't unusual, as unless I am doing one of my semi-annual large shopping trips, I usually opt for the 'quicker' route.

Today though...oh no. Not today.

I waited patiently in line, and when the man in front of me had grabbed his bags and left, I moseyed on up to the scanner, and proceeded to scan my eleven or so items, bagging them as I went. I was impressed with myself because at this point, my trip had only taken me 15 minutes, and $30, and this is very unusual for me. Anywhere.

After I signed the little card reader that would make John Hancock's signature look like it was scrawled by a monkey with no thumb, I loaded my few bags into my tiny cart (yes, I know, I had four bags, but anytime I don't use one, I inevitably rip at least two bags, and end up losing a jar of pickles or a gallon of milk to the parking lot) and headed for the door.

Nothing spectacular, right?

As soon as I pushed my cart through the exit, the alarm goes off. Naturally, I stopped right in the middle of the door, confused as to what this loud noise was, and why a man in a red shirt was waving at me to come back.

Figuring the only interesting thing they would find would be that I had already scarfed down a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup in the time I waited in line (read: 2 seconds), I turned around, and when man in red shirt asked if I minded waiting for the manager, I assured him that was fine. And when said manager (let's call him Steve - that's a bad name for me, and this was NOT a fun experience) came up to the front, and asked if I minded him looking through my grocery bags, I agreed once again. I handed him my receipt and stood back, assuming it was my MP3 player or cell phone that set off the alarm, as they are wont to do.

So imagine my complete and utter surprise when Steve pulls out a box of Trojan Magnum-XL condoms, and asks if I was planning on paying for them.....

I'm pretty sure my jaw is still recovering from hitting itself on the floor.

Confused, but still trying not to laugh, I told Steve that I hadn't been down that aisle - to be honest, I don't even know which aisle that is. In my nervousness, I am sure I gave that poor man waaaay too much information about my lack of the sex. In turn, I maybe just gave all you readers too much information as well, but that's neither here nor there.

At this point, Steve has turned as red as red shirt guy's red shirt. I'm pretty sure I had totally slipped into nervous laughter and stuttering, as I tried to explain that I definitely did not 'accidentally' throw those in my bag.

Red shirt guy is standing to the side, continuing to help the inept people trying to scan their groceries, and comes up with the brilliant (seriously, he was smarter than Steve - someone needs a raise and promotion) idea of looking at the receipt log, to see if maybe a customer before me had paid for them, bagged them, and accidentally left them.

Turns out, it was the guy before me.

Many many years back, I dated a boy (we were young, back then) who was well over 6 feet tall, and probably 120 pounds soaking wet.

The guy in front of me? Could have been his double. If you subtracted about a foot, leaving him a few inches shorter than myself. Add in a soul patch and a creepy thin mustache, take off about 10 pounds. Douse in Polo Sport (delicious smell, but really guys? Moderation? Is key.)

Manager Steve now feels bad for essentially accusing me of shoplifting enormous condoms. They've been paid for. Creepy little man has probably left the parking lot at this point. So what is the natural course of action?

Obviously, offer the tomato-faced girl who has just bemoaned her lack of a man-friend a free pack of Magnum-XLs. That'll make her feel SO much better. And definitely less humiliated.

I politely declined, but it seemed like Steve was insisting. For one crazy moment, I figured I could just hand them off to a friend that might find them useful.

Then I realized -- I can easily live the rest of my life without knowing which of my friends (or their lovahs) require extra-large condoms. I'm pretty sure it would always be creeping up in the back of my mind - 'Hi Jane, this is my friend John Doe. He needs MAGNUM-XLs! Lucky you!! Woot woot!'

No thanks. That's just information I should never encounter.

Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, before I could once again refuse, Creepy Little Guy from before ran in, sweating, and blew right past Steve and I, checked the empty scanner/bagging area that we had previously shared, and then turned to Red Shirt: 'Um, I think...I mean, I know...I left a bag...I bought some things...and forgot them. And I really need...my things. Did someone find them?'

Red Shirt pointed him in our direction, and Steve quietly said to me 'Sorry for the hassle...have a nice night' as he swiftly grabbed the box out of my bag, ran it over the sensor deactivator, put it in an empty bag, and handed it over to CLG.

At this point, I was already hightailing it out of the store so I wouldn't start laughing so hysterically that I peed myself, but had to step aside as CLG ran past me yet again, then proceeded to stop, turn, and say 'Hate to run outta these!' followed by a wink.

I got in my car and laughed for a good ten minutes before I felt sane enough to drive home.

So, summary?

Groceries - $30
Time shopping/in line - 16 minutes
Time spent with a rogue box of condoms - 20 minutes
Leaving your dignity somewhere between the 1 penny pony rides, and bags of charcoal - Priceless

All these mistakes I've made....and all the ways I've changed.....

I've failed out of college.
Twice.

The first time, my freshman year at Western Michigan University. When I started the year, I was 'the good girl.' I had never had a drink in my life before that. I was actively involved at my church back home, and for the first two months, did an admirable job of trying to stick to my previously-untested scruples. But it was college, and I was 18, and I had freedom for the first time in my life, so eventually, I caved in. And went down in a blaze of glory. There was no shot I wouldn't try, no party I wouldn't go to, no drunken frat boy I wouldn't make out with. For a girl who had spent high school as a bit of an outsider, kissing two guys all through my teen years, sudden male attention was too much for me to handle. I ate it up, and spent months getting wasted and throwing myself at whatever boy stood too close. It wasn't til I got to know the guy who would become the most heart-breaking, real, wonderful, tear-inducing, sweet, encouraging, gut-wrenching man in my life (but that is a much different story), that I realized I had just spent six months trying to find what I had with him. I settled down, but by then it was too late. I had spent too long in the cycle of partying, sleeping in, hangovers, skipping class, and basically ignoring what I was supposed to be doing in Kalamazoo to make up for the fact that I messed up. I left the school in April knowing I wouldn't be going back.
When I got back to my hometown, I was embarrassed and ashamed, but mostly, disappointed in myself. Here I was, a girl who graduated with honors, who generally was on the honor roll, never got into trouble, had known she was off to do great things, coming home a failure. I went back to my high school job, and that first summer, saw old friends from high school often, always avoiding the question of how my first year of college went.
I was determined to change my story.
I enrolled in a community college near home. I started in September, excited, and confident that I would thrive here. My semester began strong, and I was sure that I was just going to do this for a year before I moved on to another university, perhaps something other than a general state school. I dreamt of art and design school, of going into advertising, or becoming a photographer, or an interior designer. I knew I was destined for greatness.
But old habits die hard, and soon I was falling back into my old ways. The partying was no longer the issue - it was just laziness, not caring, not knowing what I wanted. After a few semesters, I once again found myself on the receiving end of an academic dismissal letter. This time I was furious. What the hell was wrong with me? I should have been having the time of my life, doing what I loved - meeting new people, and learning as much as I could about...as much as I could. Why were the idiots I knew in high school beating me now?

I took a little time off. I threw myself into working, bouncing from job to job as soon as a better opportunity opened up. I made more friends in the area, and spent every waking moment with them. I had lost who I was, but I was finding myself again, and in a different light. I was no longer the smart girl, the good girl, the sweet girl. The world had kicked me down, I had let it, and I was no longer going to just lie down and take it.

So I tried again...another community college, with an interior design program. When I realized how much I hated that, I switched to photography and finally found my niche. I was good. I had an eye for it, and I found my home in the darkroom. Any time I didn't have a camera around my neck or my hands covered in developer, I was framing shots in my head - eating dinner with my parents, driving to work, sitting at the coffee shop I frequented. I started to believe that this was my calling, and started to make plans - major in business and photography, start my own studio, make a living off shooting weddings and pictures of babies and dogs, and make my life whole by keeping my dad's old Minolta with me at all times, finding beauty in everyday scenes. I was ecstatic that I finally had a purpose, a talent, something that made me feel alive.

But then the pain started....at first it was just an annoyance....my ankles that kept cracking whenever I moved, the "growing pains" that were unexplainable - at 22 I wasn't getting any taller. My shoulders and hips ached, my wrists were on fire, and soon it spread into my fingers. I was popping upwards of twenty Motrin a day, and still barely able to get around. I couldn't sleep because of the pain. In the morning, I couldn't move my joints without agony. The only fix was to crawl to the shower, struggle to reach the faucet, and then huddle on the floor while hot water pounded over me. I started making doctor appointments, and after months of tests and medication, I was diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis. I took the news as well as could be expected, but after research and more appointments with my specialist, realized that making a living as a photographer wouldn't be likely. The constant activity, the cold, the minute movements required to be successful - as much as I wanted the dream, I didn't want to ruin my body by doing it. I knew it would be a hobby, but nothing more.

And so once again, I threw myself into work. I decided I was done with school, and focused on learning as much as I could hands-on. I went as far as I could at one job, and started another. After the initial few months of panic, of feeling in over my head, I slowly became more confident. People started to depend on me. My opinion was valued. My company was great to work for. I made great friends, and really enjoyed what I was doing. Through it all, I waited for the restlessness - the itch that came after a year and a half or two years to move on. But it never came. I was happy with where I was, and sure that I had a long future ahead of me.

One morning, shortly after I turned 26, I woke up wondering when I'd become so complacent. Sure, I loved my job, but where was it headed? In my department, there's no real room for growth...just a steady source of income, and the same thing, day after day. There were challenges, sure, but nothing I couldn't conquer within a few hours. I was starting to get bored again.

Instead of jumping ship, as had become my way, I suddenly made the decision - I was going back to school. I'd get my business degree, move to research, and then basically take over the world. I decided that on a Tuesday morning, and by Wednesday night, my application to Eastern Michigan University was submitted, and transcript requests to my previous three schools were on their way. My ACT scores had been requested, and I was beginning to compose a letter to the transfer director, making my case - maybe my GPA wasn't pretty to look at, but damnit, I was motivated!

A few weeks later, I was accepted, and a couple months after that, I met with an advisor. I picked my classes for winter semester, filled out my financial aid forms, and prepared to lose most of my social life for a couple of years.

January 5th came, and classes began. I walked in each day ready to learn. I attacked my online classes with gusto, and became a standout student in both. My speech class was a piece of cake (God knows I love to talk) and even my statistics class was going well. I studied hard, worked my ass off, and for three and a half months, lugged around a heavy backpack so I could do homework on my lunch at work, or while watching a movie at a friend's. This time, I knew, I would succeed.

And at the end of my first semester back at school, I have exceeded my expectations. I finished the term with a 3.57 - 3 A's, and a C+ in that pesky stats class (still above my goal of a C). I made the Dean's List, I applied for a scholarship that I became eligible for, and more than that, received two recommendation letters that proved to myself how capable I had become - one from my Business Communications professor, and one from a VP at work that I work with often. I decided to take a break for spring semester, and only one class in the summer, but this fall, I'll be back full time again, with 4 classes.

For the first time in my life, I am eagerly anticipating the second semester at a school. And with all the mistakes I made the first couple of times, the disappointment of the third, and the personal failures, challenges, and triumphs along the way, I know I am ready to take on the world, and this time, instead of getting kicked down, I will kick ass.

Spin Cycle: Me against the music

"What came first - the music, or the misery? Did I listen to the music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to music? Do all those records turn you into a melancholy person? People worry about kids playing with guns, and teenagers watching violent videos; we are scared that some sort of culture of violence will take them over. Nobody worries about kids listening to thousands - I mean, literally, thousands - of songs about broken hearts and rejection and pain and misery and lost. The unhappiest people I know, romantically speaking, are the ones who like pop music the most; and I don't know whether pop music has caused this unhappiness, but I do know that they've been listening to the sad songs longer than they've been living the unhappy lives."
(Nick Hornby, High Fidelity)

Actual post coming as soon as I'm done writing it....stay tuned.