A field guide to growing up without growing apart
When fellow 20something David asked if we’d contribute our stories to his blog, 20somethings in 2013, of course we obliged. How AWESOME is it that we can all connect like this?! We’re all so different and yet all exactly the freakin’ same. I love it. Maybe […]
So I’ve faced mortality this week. A whole boatload of it. And to be honest I’m not sure what I’ve learned. Or how I feel. Hopefully we’ll figure something out together. It began with putting our family dog down on Saturday. Rhoda is (was) our […]
Why hello there dearest friends, long time no see! I know it’s only been two weeks but doesn’t it feel like more? It’s like I don’t even know you anymore! So much has changed! Dare I say we live in a Whole New World?!
Okay, okay, so nothing has really changed. I’ve still got an office job, still living at home with my parents, still have no clue what to do with my life. Guns are still a hot topic, America is still overweight and airplanes are still a billion times safer than cars. But just because the big things haven’t changed doesn’t mean new and exciting things aren’t happening elsewhere! Like my brain! So to catch you up on the places my mind has been the last few weeks, here are
Ten Things I Think Are Awesome (lately) (in no particular order) (and including but not limited to):
Geology – Rocks rule. When I was younger, rocks were my number one interest; science projects and camping outings were all about rocks all the time. Over time I let my interest slip and now I know little to nothing about this giant pile of awesome we call home. But I want that to change. Doesn’t it sound amazing to be able to identify rock layers and travel around to collect the billions of specimens? I’d wear a big white hat and wander around the world breaking open geodes and analyzing dirt with magic science machines. If anyone wants to pay me to go back to college and/or grad school, I promise to send you samples.
Dame Maggie Smith – Oh my, I know my fellow naughty princesses haven’t been watching Downton Abbey but for those of you that have, can we just gush a little about the epicness that is Dame Maggie Smith?! She rocks those one liners out every time she is on screen and after all the melodramatic plot twists this season I can honestly say the only reason I’m still watching is her. She is the granny everyone wishes they had, the mother you want to impress and the young woman you would have been friends with. Sometimes she makes me laugh so hard I fall out of my seat. Miss Maggie lights up the silver screen as well in my all time favorite movies Hook and The Secret Garden, not to mention her expert turn as McGonagall while concurrently battling breast cancer and not ageing at all. I swear she is a super human who will live forever and continue saving the world one boring person at a time.
21 Day Grand Canyon Rafting Trip – River trips are nothing new for me. My family and friends have been going on week long trips every summer since before I can remember. We pack up all our gear and live off the boat for a week, camping and navigating the rapids with little more than a map and a groover (I dare you to click). But this year our friend has done the impossible and snagged a 21 day permit to raft the Grand Canyon in October. The Grand is a different beast, 3 times as long, rapids double the size and permits so rare that people wait their whole lives for the chance to raft it. So yes, I’m more than excited; I’m flerbbin’ flabbergasted. The problem is I’m not on the short list since I prefer NOT to be responsible for rowing my own raft through mile high rapids (though my brute strength, vast working knowledge and high caliber entertainment value places me solidly second tier). So I’ve got to plan my campaign for inclusion wisely and while October seems miles away, when it comes to the Grand I will get there by any means necessary.
Quilting – Have I told you about my quilting yet?! It’s been my major winter project to combine over 50 t-shirts into one giant king-size quilt. I’ve been saving t’s since I was a kid (hoarder in training) and when I moved home I knew this was my chance to capitalize on the time, space and my mother’s sewing machine. In my head this was going to be a two month project, though now it has turned into 4 months and counting. Last weekend I finally got all the squares sewn together and now I’m working on making the border out of the tiny logos. Who knew quilting was so involved?! But guess what, I LOVE IT. I learn something new every day and come sometime soon I’ll have a t-shirt quilt that will last…until it gets ripped or peed on.
The Dead Sea, Jordan – I know the Lumineers are big right now so forgive me for pretentiously name dropping a semi-less-known song off their album, but Dead Sea has completely taken over my life as of late. The lyric goes, “You’re like the dead sea, the nicest thing you ever said to me. I’ll never sink when you are with me, you’re like the dead sea.” And maybe it’s because I just saw a Sundance film about Jordan or maybe it’s because one of my closest friends grew up there or maybe it’s because Cinderslut has promised to meet me there sometime soon, but whatever the reason the Dead Sea and this song has fantastically rocked my world. It also doesn’t hurt that the song details the choices of the traveling girl I hope I can be.
Spiderman – Yup, officially not over this Andrew Garfield/Spiderman/Emma Stone/Gwen Stacey thing. I want to be and be with all of them all at once. Will real life ever match the magic that is that group’s awesomeness?!
Artsy Fartsy Film Making – So I was thinking the other day (I know, right?!), wouldn’t it be interesting to make a film where the actors never speak? There have been silent movies and subtitles and movies that don’t need a lot of dialogue, but lately I’ve been imagining a person telling a story, narrating it in a voice over, that is sort of watching the action unfold as they describe it. For example, when a narrator is talking about a conversation between two characters the film would show the emotions on the characters faces but wouldn’t show the actual dialogue. Neither actor would be mouthing words, but they would be demonstrating what their faces would be doing had they been speaking. We’d see shots of them looking at each other, looking down, looking back all as the narrator says, “he tried to explain but every time I looked at him I saw her face.” Or in a lighter scene a mother would be pointing to her son’s dinner plate with a stern look as the narrator said, “To her, watching me eat those peas was more satisfying than any straight A I could bring home.” It’s going to be a sensation. I know I’m a genius, one day the world will too.
Live music – I went to go watch my friend’s boyfriend play drums with his band Friday night and it was AWESOME. I forgot how much fun bars can be with good friends, good music and space to dance.
Les Miserables – So I finally saw the movie (I left work early on Friday to meet my large buttery popcorn bucket at the theatre). And like everyone else, I have quite a few things to say about it. But my story begins with my elementary school brain seeing the unforgettably amazing Les Mis poster and getting the impression the musical was a retelling of A Little Princess (It makes sense though a sad lonely girl being found by her father). The rest of my childhood is littered with magical appearances of this poster and convoluted explanations of plot and song, so unintelligible in fact that for a time I believed that the girl in the poster was me in another dimension, (really I did). It wasn’t until college when I stumbled upon the Liam Neeson film version at the library and realized that Victor Hugo had written a book which had become the musical which had repopularized the book which has .become countless film versions which has now finally become a musical film with super big name actors. My life was changed and after I bucked up and bought choice seats to the musical when it came to Seattle last year at long last I finally understood the show I’d grownup with but never known. Since then I’ve seen it all (haven’t read the book, but it will come) and am a self proclaimed expert. In the interest of keeping this short I’ll only say 3 things about this newest rendition:
And last but not least.. Who are we kidding THIS IS ALWAYS AWESOME
What is an ideal or aspiration that you held in high school but have since let go of? It has almost been six years since the naughty princesses all graduated high school. Our ten-year reunions are still a ways off but close enough to make […]
I’ve had a job for three months. It’s a great job. It pays well, I’m not micromanaged, I’ve learned a bunch of new programs; I can show up at 10 or work through lunch and if the roads are seriously covered in snow I can […]
Wow. Where to start… The last week has been insanely hard on me. My feet are covered in blisters, I can barely keep my eyes open, and there were moments where I felt so inconsequential it was heart breaking. But this week was also incredible; I learned so much about the world and myself and after seeing so many stories brought to life I am overwhelmed at trying to pick just one tell you. I grew up here in Park City and I feel like Sundance is something like my heritage. And while this film festival has meant different things to me over the years, it has always felt like an old friend, coming to visit and help me live in a way I usually wouldn’t. This is the first year I’ve lived at home since high school and being a local for Sundance again reminded me how much this town is part of me. So here follows, in no particular order, and in the form of the ever-astounding list, the things I learned over the first 7 days of Sundance 2013.
Day 1 (Thursday):
Day 2 (Friday):
Day 3 (Saturday):
Day 4 (Sunday):
Day 5 (Monday):
Day 6 (Tuesday):
Day 7 (Wednesday):
Jack Kerouac created something beautiful but he didn’t live a beautiful life. We saw Big Sur tonight and while it was shot perfectly and hearing Kerouac’s language was mesmerizing, the film didn’t paint a picture of a person I want anything to do with.
And it’s not over yet. 5 more days and countless more films to go!
Hello! This week’s post is going to be short and sweet (a rarity for me…), since I’m fresh off a fantastic weekend with our favorite Merskank and I’m flat out exhausted. It was WONDERFUL to have a fellow princess come stay (especially one who suggests […]
If you haven’t gotten the point by now; I’m loving living at home. There are tons of expected perks (free food, rent, an endless supply of craft supplies) but there have been even more unexpected ones too, like my mother waking up early to hug […]
It’s that time of year again folks (no I’m not talking about bringing out the NSYNC Christmas CD. That happened a month ago of course), it’s the time of year when we make our lists and check them twice. We write lists of presents, lists of resolutions; lists of what we’re thankful for and what we’ll return. We ask ourselves what matters and who we want to be. We hope Santa will forgive our bad behaviors and grant our wildest wishes. We think hard about what we want in our lives and the things we want for others. So when Cinderslut sent us the “what would you change about your life right now” question this month, I was simply brimming with ideas. But as you read I couldn’t choose just one, mostly because I wasn’t sure I would really be happier with the change I asked for.
The thing is, that isn’t true. Well, it isn’t the whole truth anyway. There is one thing I’ve always wanted to change about my life; one thing I’ve asked Santa for and never got; one thing I miss more than anything. I will always want an older sister.
A few years after my brother was born I begged my parents for a younger sister. I could dress her up and teach her to play monopoly, or we could create our own concoctions in our Easy Bake Oven! Oh what fun we would have! When I found out my dad had tied his tubes, I cried (They hadn’t even consulted me!). And just like that my dream was gone. Don’t get me wrong, my brother is the best of the best, but there is something about a sister that just isn’t the same.
![My Sister%27s Voice 3[1]](http://twentysomethingcondition.files.wordpress.com/2012/12/my-sister27s-voice-31.jpg)
The most obvious thing I can’t do with my brother is share clothing, though admittedly I have stolen a shirt or two from his collection. I’ve worked hard to be someone he trusts talking about his relationships, but it gets tricky when we realize how unfair we are being to the other side; he can’t stand that I’ve done the same thing to guys that other girls have done to him. We share millions of memories, but many of them only briefly intersect, since I was sitting at the girls table and he was hanging with the boys. Both he and I have always relished our space, but in my latest state of 20-something turmoil I’ve needed a bit more attention than his newly-20 state of independence is like to provide. I love him and he is someone I’ll always be able to stay up all night talking to, but because he’s my little brother he and I can never be each other’s best friend. No matter how close we get, he’ll never quite fill that void.
As for girls, I grew up with a lot of them. My parents’ friends have daughters just a few years older than me who have become almost like sisters over the years. I have friends from elementary school that I still pick up from the airport and Skype with on weekends. Just a few days ago one of my friends from middle school told me I’ll be her maid of honor at her wedding next year and I even have a few friends from college (namely the Naughty Princesses) who I can tell anything to.
I have no shortage of girls who have been and continue to be like sisters in my life. But maybe that makes it even harder, because they all come so close. These girls understand some of where I come from, they understand how I grew up or why I’m scared of inaction. We can talk about boys or talk about politics; we can talk every day or only once every few months-it doesn’t matter, we always stay close no matter the distance. But none of them know all of me. No one has been by my side through all of it. I can’t yell at them like I can my brother. I don’t look at them and see myself. I never miss them like they’re part of me. A sister is that person who challenges me, who I’m not afraid to push back. How differently would I see myself if I had someone that similar by my side?
A few years ago I found out my mother had a late miscarriage right before she had me; a girl. Since then my older sister has become my unspoken daydream. I’ve imagined what she’d look like and what she’d think of my choices. I’ve thought about how proud she’d make me and how I’d get to be the cool aunt to her kids. Believing in her makes me feel young and protected; like she’s somewhere out there paving the way for me, like all I have to do is write her a letter and she’ll understand. She always knows the right thing to do, and has more fun than anyone I know. Sometimes I even bring her up with my brother, just to make her feel more real.
I know there are sisters out there who don’t get along and have little in common, but when I think about my sister I know our differences would only bring us closer. If some people have a hole in their heart where their first love is, then I have a space for her. She would have been my best friend and I think that the lack of her is the reason I do a lot of the things I do. I don’t think I’ll ever meet someone who’ll replace my sister, but sometimes around the holidays I wish I could.
It’s finally here! November! The best month of the year! Anything can happen! The day when we can all come together and make a difference in our world. Yes, of course, it is time for our first ever Condition of the Month! From here on […]
I never look at who I sit next to on the bus. Some people ask for permission to sit, some people evaluate their options before settling on the lessor evil, some people even play musical chairs hopping from seat to seat as better options open […]
Alright, I’m just going to lay it all out there.
I moved back in with my parents and am an unemployed college graduate with no plan.
There. Now you know. A few weeks ago I would have stretched the truth and told you that I was just moving home to drop off some things while sorting through apartments or just waiting to hear back from a few job interviews before making my choice. I wasn’t really that girl who was moving back in with her parents and didn’t have a job. It never felt real to me, but there is nothing like family to make you face reality and boy oh boy do I have a lot of family.
When my grandpa died two weeks ago I had no idea what I was getting into. He was only 75 when he lost a rough battle with cancer and I expected the week in Minnesota to be full of quiet time and stories about his life. My papa was a jokester, and the guy who never wore a shirt no matter the season. The last time we talked, he reminded me I owed him an Egg McMuffin because his basketball team beat mine and he repeatedly called me crazy for not owning a car. His garage was his refuge and spoke his mind especially when it wasn’t politically correct. These were the things we needed to talk about.
But instead of time to process privately with my family, I got an education in the Midwestern funeral, which is much bigger than I ever could have imagined. My grandpa died Thursday morning and after a few choice phone calls(I found out via Facebook but that is another story) the work began. Plots and paperwork, planning and photos, the next two days were nonstop and unforgiving. Widows are bombarded with five hour appointments at the funeral home and three hour meetings with the pastor. The phone continuously rings and an absurd amount of food and flowers overcrowd the already crowded house. Those days are a blur, and the only thing keeping us all going was pure necessity.
By Sunday most everything was in place except our wardrobe; the perfectly nice black dresses in our closets simply wouldn’t do. But shopping was a nice break from the buzz of the house. That night we held a viewing, where people are invited to come pay their respects and greet the family. My grandma, mother and her two sisters stationed themselves in front of the open casket and talked with each guest as the line progressed. They hugged every crying man and listened to every person talk about the man they love in the past tense. It was brutal to watch, and I can’t imagine how it felt to have him laying behind them. I forced myself to look a few times and I’m glad it didn’t look like him. The cancer had already changed his face but the embalming made it even more wrong; when I think of him, I won’t think of him like that.
The next morning things really got rolling. There was a visiting hour before the church service where people are invited to come pay their respects and greet the family. The widow and her girls lined up in front of the casket again and this time people in the line could look at the photo boards and slideshow we made. The line was still a half hour long when the pastor herded everyone in to the pews and told us to say our goodbyes as he closed the casket. The service was simple and nice, though we all said papa would have fallen asleep during the pastor’s reading. We, the grandkids, went up and lit candles and my brother read a poem he wrote. After the service, there was a three hour luncheon at the church where people are invited to come eat, pay their respects to the family and wait to go to the burial.
We drove in a caravan to the cemetery and the honor guard shot their rifles and played their bugle. They folded a flag and gave it to my grandma. We went back to visit every day after.
But even after the viewing, the visiting hour, the service, the luncheon, and the burial there was still a constant stream of visitors and phone calls over the week to come. The house was inundated with flowers and a hundred sympathy cards filled with money(who knew?) had to be processed and turned into thankyous. That alone was exhausting, but over 150 people came to my grandfather’s viewing and another 250 came to the church service the next day and as a grandchild, and the oldest girl, I was expected not only to be present but to entertain. So for those roughly 8 hours over two days, I not only had to talk about my dead grandfather, but also had to face my own future, saying out loud the sentences that are so often associated with failure.
Every ten minutes I stuttered as I said I live with my parents and don’t have a job. My mom’s best friend from high school, a great aunt, a distant cousin, I had to tell them all that at 23, I was jobless and living with my parents. There wasn’t time to explain that I could easily have kept working in Seattle. I didn’t know them well enough to say that I just needed a change. Who was I to tell them that I think I deserve a better job than I had? I tried other ways to get around it, asking about the other person so much that I never had to bring it up, or I’d just change the subject entirely. But it always came back to the phrase, I’m living at home and unemployed. I’m living at home and unemployed. Yes. I’m living at home and unemployed.
It was a tough week to say the least, but the crazy thing is that once I walked through the doors of my parents’ house, I felt altogether okay. Talking with those relatives forced me to come to terms with my new life here and I’m going to be okay. And all that hubbub around the funeral showed me how loved he really was and we’re going to be okay without him.
Papa always said he wanted no one to come to his funeral because that meant he’d outlived us all. He got the opposite, dying way before his time. And while I know it wasn’t what he wanted, I have a feeling it works out no matter what.