Doing something REALLY BIG

So Beth wrote a post on Tuesday entitled “Calling” and when I read it, it was almost as if I could have written certain parts of it myself. I’m so glad that I’m not the only one who feels this way – and I’m especially glad that it’s Beth that does, because she’s often the barometer that I measure myself against. Why? Because we have been friends for nearly 24 years, and we are so alike in some ways that it’s eerie – which I attribute to the fact that we were almost inseparable from the time we were six until the time we were 14, so personalities mesh and quirks rub off. Luckily we both rock, so it worked out just fine…

Beth and I were the overachievers of our elementary school. Perfect grades, always at least a grade level ahead in all things English, winners of spelling bees, teachers’ pets, involved in every school-related activity possible. We used to get so bored that we’d do our homework and put the other one’s name on it, knowing the grade would be the same anyway. We were confident and self-assured, because we had never had a reason to doubt that we were what everyone said we were. “Those two,” our teachers would say “are going to go far.” And that assertion followed us throughout our academic careers. We were going to do something REALLY BIG with our lives.

BUT, even though I was always so smart and so this and so that and encouraged to get a big education and be something fabulous and memorable, in the back of my mind, I never really wanted that. I have always wanted to be a mom. I want to stay home with my kids and do stuff with them like my mom did with me. I want to be involved in their lives and encourage THEM to do great things. Journalism was not for me -- I cannot intrude on people's grief like I would be expected to for the sake of a story. I just can't. And while I am enjoying getting my masters degree (because, let's face it, I like school), I can't see myself as an Executive Director of an NPO -- even though my teachers insist I'd be great. Don't get me wrong -- I would love to be fabulous in the eyes of everyone -- I love the attention. But in reality, I'd like to be fabulous like Beth is -- with a good life full of love and doing the things she wants to do.

Beth says that basically, she’s short on career ambition. I too am short on career ambition. Way short. I think part of it may be that we never had to HAVE any ambition, because everything came so easily. The only competition we had was each other, and since we were best friends we never really cared about beating the other one -- we were satisfied with smugly achieving much higher in everything than every other kid in our class. College was a huge blow to me because for the first time ever, I had to actually exert some effort in order to do well, and I realized that I just didn't feel like it. I only like school if it includes only things I am interested in. I have yet to find a degree in “Stick drawings, song lyric knowledge, lettering and general arts and crafts.” But if there WAS one? I’d have a Ph.D.

Since I've been job hunting this time around, I've had an experience that I've never had before. I am looking at things first for if I would be happy doing it, and second, for the money. Granted, there's a limit, what with the mortgage and all, but I'm actually surprised at my willingness to take a substantial pay cut to be happy in my job. I never thought that that would be me, since I have an almost devastating love for shopping of all sorts. Not Boyfriend and I were talking about it the other night and he's like "what would your perfect job be?" And I named a couple of things that I think I'd love to do, and he said "do it then -- all you need is a start and people will see that you're good at what you do." He's right, but that's way scary for me to think about.

I don't aspire to be corporate. I don't aspire to be someone's boss. I aspire to have a work schedule that allows me to continue going on youth group trips and having the time of my life with those kids. I aspire to work to live, not to live to work. I do indeed dread work every day, and I hate that I hate such a huge part of how I spend my time. I know there is a plan for what I'll be doing. But no -- career for me is not corporate. Career is something I'm not interested in. Job is something to carry me over until I find my life's calling. But that's scary to think about as well -- what if I never find a different job that will allow me to survive, and most importantly -- what if I never find the right person like Beth has so awesomely found. That's the most disconcerting and frightening feeling of all.

As for finding the right person? I feel like I'm ready to. Sure, I have my issues, but those are things that if I waited until I worked them all out before trying to find someone, I'd go to the grave alone. On the other side of that, I know that even boyfriend-less I do have a fantastic life -- I never feel like I'm lacking in the love department. I have great friends and a great family and really, except for work, I love my life.

So you know what? It turns out that Beth and I are going far. Maybe it’s not in the way that our teachers predicted, but in our world? We are doing something REALLY BIG. And I am proud of us.

"Yoo hoo! Sexy American Girlfrieeeeennnnd!"

Remember Joan Cusack in Sixteen Candles? That's basically how I feel, minus the actual neck brace. I'm just going to blame the juice I spilled on my shirt on the fact that the ice shifted in my glass, not because I'm doing the stiff neck drinking thing. Because it did. Stupid ice.














Seriously, just thinking about these scenes is making me laugh really hard, but it hurts when I do. Remember the drinking fountain and how she got water up her nose and then wiped her face off with the skirt of the lady on her shirt? They just do NOT make movies like this anymore.

I'm going to read this post tomorrow morning and think "what the hell??"*

“Is it wishful thinking, or do I smell coffee?”
“It’s wishful thinking. I have no idea where the coffee stuff even IS.”

“Where did you just go?”
“I took the dog out – it’s frickin’ cold.”
“WHAT JUST TOUCHED ME???”
“My hand – I told you it was cold out!”

Ah. The conversations you have when you're still half asleep early on a Sunday morning. It was weird – as if we lived in the same house and had forever. Saturday night, we sat in the hot tub for a little too long and then dragged our too-relaxed selves the 20 feet from hot tub to bed and watched part of SNL before going to sleep. We had a “discussion” about who had custody of the remote – I won, only because he hadn’t figured out how to work the TiVo yet. His concession to the fact that I don’t like to be smothered while I sleep was that he would intertwine his ankle with mine and occasionally, he’d briefly put his arm around me or kiss my forehead while I slept. Sunday morning, I took a shower, he made coffee (after searching every cupboard in the house on a single-minded coffee-finding mission). I got ready for church, he watched ESPN, and since I couldn’t see the t.v., kept me entertained with his running commentary.

It was a nice way to end the weekend. Which was good, because the start to my weekend involved me (in a Toyota Corolla) getting rear ended by a guy in a Ford Expedition on my way home from work Friday. I watched him hit me – it was super, especially the whole “bouncing my head against the back of the seat” thing. Fun times. My mom came over to my house that night and brought me my favorite juice and some muscle relaxers, and she made me soup. Then she took me to get x-rays the next morning while I tried not to cry every time we hit a bump.

Later, in case you hadn’t figured it out, I was staying at the hot tub house again Saturday night and so I moseyed up to Sally and Joe’s, where they fed me steak and corn on the cob and Advil until I couldn’t do much more than go back to the hot tub house and lay down again. That's when Not Boyfriend showed up and assured me that my car doesn’t look that bad and it probably won’t have to be totaled. Which is good for me, since I bought it new in ’03, but he was kind of bummed because that means we aren’t going car shopping. If there’s car shopping to be done, he can go by himself, thanks.

Which brings us back to this morning. I came home from church and took a four hour nap. I’m about to go to bed again, seeing as it’s been almost four hours since I got up. I gotta keep to my schedule, you know. Plus, tomorrow promises to be a day filled with hijinks involving the auto body shop, insurance companies, the chiropractor and who knows what else – so yeah, a girl needs her beauty sleep.

So with that, me and my flexeril bid you adieu…

*This is the place where I put my disclaimer: I wrote this before bed last night, and so, if this post is unbelievably boring and rambly, well, I blame my prescription. That is all.

23 Reasons No One Likes Us When We're 23

...or "Why We Don't Have Boyfriends."

Six years later, some of it still applies, and some of it reflects how utterly witty we thought we were at the ripe old age of 23. Oh, who am I kidding -- we still think we're utterly witty!

Since then, Beth and Kris have each gotten married, while Kendra, Becki and I have all managed to sustain long term relationships -- 2, 3 and 4 years, respectively. And now, while we may not be 23 anymore, it could be a good idea to go back and reflect on the words of wisdom from our younger selves. It's like an illustration of "what not to do" this time around. Good times, people. Good times.

YOU MAY HAVE NOTICED that this is difficult to see. Therefore, if you click here, you can see it LARGE in PDF form over on my CastPost site.

Aaaaaannnnnnd...DRAW!!

This is just a side note regarding The Dating Horse. In answer to the questions of who did the art? I did.

I'm not sure how it started, but back in high school, I started doing stick drawings to amuse the A-List. I think it stemmed from the time spent in AP English (aka "the class where time stood still") where we would while away the hour by writing notes to each other, When that didn't take up enough time, we started writing with our left hands. And yet, still the class went on. So I think I started illustrating the notes.

Then one day, Becki and I were doing "homework" in the park by my house and we came up with a list called "25 fun ways to procrastinate." And because we were procrastinating, well, I illustrated it. We later added another 20 fun ways -- which I illustrated.

Since then, we've come up with brilliant lists such as "25 Fun Games To Play If You're A Snob;" "17 Reasons Not to Date Anyone Under 17;" "23 Reasons No One Likes Us When We're 23 (OR Why We Don't Have Boyfriends);" "It's All Greek To Me -- 25 Reasons Not To Date A Fraternity Guy" and others. I've drawn a comic featuring a recurring character -- Captain STD (as in 'sexually transmitted disease') -- who happened to be my ex-boyfriend. He had a rep as kind of a slut, which I chose to overlook until he dumped me -- twice -- for not sleeping with him. He was a gem. He had an occasional sidekick -- who we referred to as "The Big Hashbrownie" -- an ex of Kendra's who aspired to be equally as slimy.

So, since the drawings amuse me and they seem to amuse you, I'll do some more. Send me some ideas and I'll try to do them justice. Or I'll totally ignore you and draw what I feel like. Either one.