changing clothes...and other stuff

Tonight at musical rehearsal, a couple of the girls told me they loved my clothes.

"You always look so fashionable," they said. "You could be a model!"

Now, I know that's a load of crap, but it still made me feel good. Here's the funny thing -- I have always admired people who are able to sort of "put it together." But when I was in high school and even college, I never really felt like I knew how to do it, so I usually opted for the jeans-and-t shirt look.

It wasn't until probably my junior or senior year of college that I started trying to put it all together clothes and accessory-wise. For me, a "matching outfit" meant no clashing of black/brown or black/navy. It took awhile for me to just start getting how jewelry and shoes could pull an outfit together or that layering was more interesting than just wearing a t-shirt or sweater by itself. (The whole layering thing is still kind of a puzzle to me.)

And then after college I got to the point where I decided to wear whatever I wanted, because my job description doesn't really include a dress code. That gave me an excuse to take some risks and try some things that I was too chicken to try to pull off in college.

And now apparently some people think I'm fashionable.

So it just goes to show you how new people can be a litmus test for how much you've changed over the years. And I don't just mean on the outside, but also how you've changed you're opinions or your level of acceptance or your ability to branch out and try new things. I feel like every time I meet new people, I kind of find out more about the person I've become and how my experiences have taught me and influenced me to change. It's pretty cool.

On a separate note, another comment tonight made me and a couple other people laugh. My friend Chris, another guy in the show named Jeff, and I are all in the 24-25 age range. And at one point in the rehearsal, the kids sitting behind us made some comment about the three of us, referring to us as the "cool college kids." And we all three sort of went, "Pshhh, we're not in college! We're old! We're not that cool!" I think it's really funny how much we all get over ourselves once we graduate. You sort of get smacked in the face with real life, and then it doesn't matter how good your grades were, or how many clubs you were the president of, or how many friends you had, because they are all history and now you are a little fish trying not to get eaten in a very, very large pond called The World. It is very humbling to be a twenty-something.

OK, here's my last bit -- It used to be that when I was in junior high, high school, and even college, people always thought I looked older than what I was. But starting when I graduated, people have always been surprised to find out how old I am. I'm hoping it's because I stopped looking older and not because I display a lack of maturity! And either way, I'm not complaining; I'm getting to the place in life where it's a huge compliment for people to think I'm younger than what I am, and I hope it continues. But it's weird to go to a bar and have to get that suspicious eye from the bouncer after you've been legal for three years! I was always sort of afraid that because I matured early as a kid and teenager that I'd also age quickly as an adult. And it's nice to think I won't have to worry about that just yet.

Do you remember looking in the mirror as a kid and wondering what your adult face would look like? Now I catch myself looking in the mirror sometimes and thinking, "Oh! I guess this is it!" That's so weird. I still feel like I'm waiting to turn into a grown-up. I keep forgetting I am one.

high school drama

I've been thinking about high school a lot lately.

Which is really weird, because I'm not one of those people who look back very often. I treasure memories of high school, college, and everything in between, before, and since. But I don't dwell regretfully on the "good old days" or anything. I'm not an Uncle Rico.

But lately it's all been coming back.

I think it's easy to see why...first, I just started rehearsals for a play called "High School Musical," which is obviously about high school. And so it's making me think back to that high school mentality--how you define yourself by what you do, how you dress, and who you hang out with. Which of course gets me thinking about who I was and what I did in high school.

Plus, a lot of the show's cast actually ARE in high school, or just graduated, so for the first time in a long time I'm hearing and seeing bits and pieces of that high school mentality...the things that are and seem so important, cool, or funny.

AND, this weekend was Graduation Weekend for all the area schools, which got me thinking about my high school graduation and just being a high school senior in general...what we were all thinking and doing and feeling.

THEN, I went home yesterday for a cookout at my mom and dad's, and they had a bunch of my dad's high school classmates over. They are a really neat group of people, and I had so much fun hearing their stories. My favorite story is one we ask my dad to tell us all the time, but I requested it yesterday thinking it would be entertaining with everyone telling it...and I was right. It's the story of how they stole their rival school's mascot, a stuffed wildcat, the day before their big rivalry basketball game. It is a GREAT story.

Well, I never did anything that crazy in high school, but it did get me thinking about some of my favorite times back at NHS. And the fact that the last time I did any theatre was in high school...has been bringing back lots of memories about high school drama. The department, not the actual "drama" drama. Ok, and the actual "drama" drama. In a fun way. It's weird to think back on the fights and rivalries and stuff and just how...SERIOUS everything was. When looking back, the reasons we had for getting upset just make me laugh. I don't know...I don't have anything profound to say about it. Just...that I had some great times in high school. And that even the bad memories are good memories, in a way, if that makes any sense. Aaaaaanyways....that's all I've got.

Until later! :)

Graduating

I have sat through two commencement ceremonies a year for the past four years here at Purdue, because the Purduettes sing at the winter commencements. Here at Purdue, the ceremonies are split up because there are so many thousands of people graduating that it would be impossible to fit everyone and their parents in one ceremony at Elliott Hall, which, by the way, seats over 6,000 people. So in the winter they split it into two ceremonies, and in the spring they split it into four. Just to give you a picture. Each one is about two hours long, and there are so many people that only the graduate and doctorate degrees get their names read; everyone getting a bachelor’s or associate’s degree gets to see his name up on a screen with about ten other people as he walks across the stage. Which, don’t get me wrong, is pretty cool.

I just figured, knowing how boring and long and impersonal these things could be, it wouldn’t mean a whole lot to me.

I knew it meant a lot to my family, and hey, they knew what to expect. My mom and dad both graduated from Purdue. And if it was important to them, I’d try to make it a special day. Ryan even pointed out to me what a great accomplishment it was.

“You’re the only person I’m this close to who has ever graduated from college,” he said. “It’s a big deal.” And he was absolutely right.

It’s not like I didn’t want to go through graduation…I just wasn’t really excited about it.

Plus, it was weird; none of my Purduette classmates were graduating with me. Beth has another semester, and Laura still has more school. Meghan was going to go through graduation, but I didn’t know what section she was in, so as far as I knew, I would show up at the armory, get in line, and go through the ceremony with a bunch of strangers that I had apparently been going to school with over the last four years. It wasn’t like high school graduation, where you’re with all your friends, and all the teachers are there, and everyone knows you. I’d be lucky if the Glee Club guys, who were going to be singing onstage, would catch me as I walked by.

When my family arrived, it felt like something out of My Big Fat Greek Wedding. Marla popped her head in the door to give me about a ten-second warning that everyone was here. Then in came Mom, Dad, Mamaw, and Papaw, with hugs, questions, and comments. Mamaw immediately pounced on the graduation robe I had laid out on my bed and began wishing she’d brought her steamer.

“Well, I bet we could iron it right here on the bed,” she offered. I told her no, thanks, because no one else’s was going to look any better, and from where everyone was sitting they wouldn’t be able to tell if it had wrinkles anyway. I was almost ready when they all got there, but not quite, so then I had the fun of people watching me get ready. For some reason, this is a pet peeve of mine. I think it’s because I worry that the person watching me is thinking, “Is she really going to do her hair like that?”

Finally it was time to go to the ceremony. I had to be at the armory, next door to the Hall of Music, an hour before the ceremony, and everyone else was going to go find seats. At the armory, Dad helped me put my little white collar on my robe while Mom and Mamaw corrected my placement of my cap on my head. Marla, who was taking pictures of all of this, told me I looked pissed off, and I knew my lack of excitement and slight irritation at all the nitpicky attention was coming through loud and clear. I had to at least try to act as excited as they all were.

That’s when Katy showed up.

Katy was my roommate and instant best friend our freshman year at Purdue. She was getting ready to graduate with a degree in English Education, and soon after would find out she’d been offered a teaching job in a high school near Indianapolis. She was a member of the Delta Gamma sorority and about a year ago talked Marla into rushing. Marla joined DG, and Katy took her under her wing from the very beginning, doing everything from pairing Marla with the perfect match of a Big Sis in the house to teaching Marla how to tease back her hair.

I can’t tell you how glad I was to see Katy. Just like when she showed up in our dorm room during orientation week with all of her cute dorm accessories and reminded me how fun and adventurous college life was going to be, she showed up in front of the armory asking my dad for help with her collar, since he’d figured out mine, and wanting pictures of the two of us together, and she reminded me how special it was going to be to finish this fun and adventurous time and start off on a new one of even greater significance.

Katy and I went inside and parted ways to sign in. Get this—we had to get a sticker with our names and numbers next to them so we’d know who to stand behind in alphabetical order! I felt like one of the calves at my grandma’s farm when my parents and aunt and uncle are working cattle; I might as well have had a tag in my ear. Wouldn’t that be funny? All the tags in colors to match our tassels representing our schools and degrees!

I was trying to find which line to get into when I saw standing together Ashley from the Purdue Bells in PMO, Lindsey, who used to go to my high school, and Amanda, a former Purduette classmate. The three of them were standing together and talking, and as they greeted me enthusiastically, I got the feeling that this kind of was like high school graduation…all of your classmates waiting in the gym, checking to see if someone’s cap is straight or if someone’s hair doesn’t look too goofy under the cap. I finally found my check-in line, and when I got to the front, who was there to sign me in but Colleen Williams, the academic advisor who had helped me schedule my classes every semester and who never let me completely commit academic suicide by taking on too much.

“Oh, you got your hair cut!” she said as she found my sticker and patted it onto the shoulder of my black robe. I smiled. She was like the teacher who always helped you out during high school, even if you didn’t have a class with her.

I lined up, it turned out, behind a guy I had met my first semester at Purdue. He remembered me, so it was really fun to be within speaking distance of a previous acquaintance. A few more people ahead of him stood Amanda, which was also a comfort. And after some final instructions about when and where to stand, sit, or walk, we began the ceremony.

We all paraded out of the armory and past the Hall of Music and the bell tower. Then we took a lap around the Engineering Mall as people stood outside waving and taking pictures. There was something really cool about taking this walk down sidewalks you’d hurried across so many times as a student, only this time at a leisurely pace and in a cap and gown. It made me feel the finality of walking in these places as a student for the last time. And I realized that this was the part I had never seen before when I sat through those winter commencements.

This was the special part. This was the part of the ceremony that was for me.

The rest was for Mom and Dad, Mamaw and Papaw. The speeches were great, the music was beautiful, and the university president, who knew me through Purduettes and a scholarship group I had been in as a freshman, made a point to get up out of his chair and meet me onstage as I walked across. He gave me a hug and shook my hand and asked what I would be doing after graduation, and he wished me good luck. I think it was a special ceremony weekend for him as well; he was retiring from Purdue at the end of the school year.

The two hours of commencement were gorgeous, and they meant a lot more to me than I could of imagined. But whenever I think back to the day I graduated from Purdue, it won’t be the stage full of glee clubbers, band members, faculty, and trustees that I will remember. For me, it will be that stretch of pavement between Elliott Hall and the engineering buildings, where I last walked as a student at Purdue.

Growing Up

A week from yesterday I will graduate from Purdue. I did it in 4 years, and I did it while devoting more of my time to an extra-cirricular singing ensemble than to my studies. Not a whole lot of people can say that, and I’m proud of myself.

The thing is, now I’m done with school. For the rest of my life.

I’m freaked out.

For the past sixteen years, the same thing has happened. I’ve turned another year older on the day before, of, or after the first day of school. Then I’ve made good grades, good friends, and good memories in the course of nine months. Then I’ve celebrated not going back to school until the day before, of, or after my next birthday. I knew what was coming with that next birthday: another year of school. But my next birthday is in a little over three months, and I have no idea what it will bring with it.

The hardest part about it is that everyone else around me seems to know where they will be in the next couple of years. My older sister, Michelle, is a graduate of Notre Dame’s Navy ROTC scholarship program, and her first 4 years of life outside of college were planned since her freshman year at St. Mary’s. She’s stationed in Pearl Harbor, where she is planning on staying for the remaining two years of her active duty. Oh yeah, did I mention that ROTC scholarships pretty much pay your entire tuition? My younger sister, Marla, just wrapped up her sophomore year in the pre-veterinary program, so she knows she’ll be at school for a loooong time. And now there’s me, the communications major, who got a couple $1000 scholarships here and there, but other than that pretty much freeloaded off of my parents for four years, didn’t manage to save up any money, and is now officially in debt for a car they had to help me buy?

I digress. Also among the people in my life who know where they’re going is Beth, my best friend and roommate, who got engaged last December to her boyfriend of 3 years. He is an engineer, so he’s already making more than I’ll ever dream of making unless I somehow get famous, and he’s living in Sacramento in an apartment that Beth will share with him when they get married next February. Beth is an English education major and has a semester of student teaching ahead of her, and then she knows where she’ll be living, whom she will be with for the rest of her life, and how she’s going to pay for stuff.

Finally, my boyfriend, Ryan, is already making more than I dare to hope I will this year, and he has two years of college under his belt so far. He is a youth director and recently took a full-time job as a church supply consultant for a Christian bookstore here in town. He also wants to go to seminary after he finishes his undergrad in religious studies. I envy Ryan because he can support himself and he’s two years younger than I am. It’s not fair of me to envy him because the fact that he can support himself is also a point of stress for him, as it is becoming for me.

I think the grass is always greener on the other side. I think, “If I only had a job.” Then I get a job and I think, “If I only had a job that paid better so I could support myself, pay my own bills, and not have to be in debt.” I’m sure it never ends. Right now I feel like being married would solve all my problems and make me feel stable and secure, but I also know that LOTS more stressors come with marriage. I think the whole key to growing up is getting yourself to believe that you’re ready to deal with the responsibilities, and the stress that goes with them.

Here’s one great thing: I do have a job. It’s only part time, which means I need to find another job to make the “real” money, but the great thing about this one is it’s exactly where I want to be. It’s my dream starter job. (So why am I complaining, right?!) I am a production assistant at the local TV station. It’s a great opportunity and a foot in the door for me, a girl trying to make it in the television business. I’m getting training and experience, and I get to stay in familiar surroundings near my family and my boyfriend. The challenge will be proving to myself that I can be independent amongst all of this support. That might not make any sense, so let me put it this way—I just want to prove to myself that I can do it on my own.

I love, love, love working at the TV station. Everyone is so nice, even the anchors and sports people and meteorologists. Everyone is willing to help you out. It’s a great place to learn. And on top of all that, I’m one of the lucky few who graduate and immediately gets a job in their field of choice. And the fact that I love my new job so much reassures me that I’m really in the right place. Still, I think I have this fear of never living up to my full potential, which is why I have this whole “grass is greener” complex.

Becoming a grown-up just makes things more complicated. I was working in the church nursery this morning and talking to Abby, a five-year-old who is very free-spirited and comes in almost every Sunday singing improvisational songs. At some point in our conversation this morning, I asked Abby what she wanted to be when she grew up.

“Well, I think I’d like to be a movie star, or a pop star,” she said casually. “Or a princess.”

“Let me know how that works out for you,” I said.

It immediately got me thinking, why do we give up on those things? Or do we really? I still want to be a movie star or a pop star. Or a princess! It’s not impossible to be those things. At least, not as impossible as we grown-ups think. I mean, I’ve accomplished those things on some small level in college. I had a small role in a classmate’s film class project…I played a dead body. But people totally recognized me when it was screened at the local movie theater. And as a member of Purdue Musical Organizations, I’ve sung in front of thousands and thousands of people. And I’ve been on PBS for the last three years, and this Christmas will be the fourth! So I’m a pop star of sorts, I guess. The only thing I haven’t been is a princess. But since my chances of entering a beauty pageant ever again are slim to none, I think I can kiss that ambition goodbye. Although I did the Miss Purdue pageant this year and I tied with another girl for the Spirit Award. I actually think I like that better than getting a crown anyway.

I think as we get older, our ideals of possibility shrivel up after too much exposure to reality. And we start to worry about where the money will come from, instead of knowing that we’re going to get our daily bread. I know I forget that a lot. Ryan had to remind me tonight.

I should be thankful that I’ve got a job where I get to do something I love and where I have promise of opportunities and growth, and I shouldn’t give up or worry that this start isn’t good enough. I shouldn’t settle for less than what I really want to be, and I shouldn’t freak out about how long it’s going to take me to get there.

I think that between Abby and Ryan, I got the best reality check of all today.

For Starters...

I started this journal as I was getting ready to graduate college this past spring. And then I thought, I should do a blog with all this stuff. Because maybe no one will read this, but maybe someone who is going through the same stuff or will soon needs to read this. I don't know. If nothing else, I'm just tossing my thoughts out to float around out there...

Anyway, so this is the start of it. But, as I said, I already started it, so the first batch of entries are all going to be posted on the same date, when in reality they may have been written days or weeks apart. So that's just a disclaimer, so anyone who happens to read this doesn't get confused.

Read on!