Wild Child

I have a good friend named Kristin, who I am going to be traveling through Europe with in about 10 days. Kristin and I were raised in similar families: upper middle class, happily married parents, strong foundation in community and church, etc. We both felt enormous pressure to be the "perfect" girls. The ones who people looked at and said: "what a fantastic young lady." And being a "fantastic young lady" never felt like it included being a "normal" teenager. It meant never drinking, never staying out past our curfew, never sneaking out of the house...all of which meant never having any fun to Kristin and myself.

I tried to play the part of the good girl, but my heart was never truly in it. I wanted to stay out all night. I wanted to be a party girl. I wanted anything that was drastically different from what my parents thought was right.

Kristin and I figured out our own little manipulative ways of keeping up appearances to our parents, to the community and to the school that we were still perfect little angels that never did anything wrong. As could be expected, it didn't last forever and after one forgettable St. Patrick's Day during my junior year of high school, the halo slipped off, I fell from the pedestal, I was grounded for a month, and my actions were monitored much closer from then until high school graduation day. I won't go into the details, but in the words of myself at 16 - it sucked.

That curbed any rebellion for awhile. But after graduation...all bets were off. It started with our parents being out of town and continued for about three and a half years into college. Maybe it was a sign of deeper issues, or just the freedom of being able to stretch out my wings, but I went wild in college. I joined a sorority which practically shoved a drink in your hand the minute you rushed.

I was hung over on my first ever day of college. Please keep in mind that this was an 8:00 class on a Monday morning.

I enjoyed the drinking and the partying. I enjoyed looking cute, going out with a big group of girls and that feeling of having an entire night full of interesting possibilities. Who would we meet? What drama would unfold, which we would always rehash the next morning? Would that cute guy from the party call? (PS - he never ever called) How would the girls in our rival sororities drunkenly embarrass themselves, for which we would revel in the idea that we a superior, classier group of women? Neverminding the fact that it had, in fact, been us the week before making complete fools of ourselves on the back patio of RBar in front of a group of ZTAs or KKGs.

I was NOT, by far, the hardest drinker of the bunch. Those girls were weeded out quickly by the end of freshman year. They just drifted away...and none of their "sisters" ever cared to find out what happened to them, or to even worry about their drinking problem in the first place. But I had my moments when I would somehow find myself waking up on the bathroom floor, wondering how I had gotten home. I am completely ashamed to admit this to you, whether you are my friends, my family or my coworkers.

And through all the insanity, the post flag football drinks at State Club, the pre partying before and after Date Parties, and the pre partying before RBar and then to the frat houses after RBar...I somehow kept my grades up. It was like, if I was doing well in school...then there wasn't a problem.

If I met the 19 year old version of myself right now out at a party...I wouldn't like her. I would see her as a stupid, young, brat who had no idea of the manner in which she was presenting herself. I still see girls like this at the bar and they absolutely disgust me.

So...when did it all stop? When did I grow up?

Well, up until my junior year of college (I was still 20) drinking had been fun. Luckily, I had survived the first few years of college drinking without a ticket, an arrest, or being physically/mentally/emotionally damaged in any way. Drinking was fun - it was something to do at the end of the week...I had never truly experienced the darkest depths of what drinking could do to someone.

Then I met him. I met and fell in love with an alcoholic that made me so terrified of drinking. I saw the effects that it had on him and I tried my damnest to stay sober - someone in the relationship had to be. He literally scared me straight.

But, I think he's been given more than enough discussion in this blog already.

And you're probably asking yourself: What does all this have to do with anything?

Since graduating college, I have been living in two completely separate worlds and it is getting exhausting being two people.

Half of me is a teacher - a person who is respected in the community, someone who has a huge responsibility to be a role model to impressionable teenagers.

The other half of me is still that wild party girl from college. I'm only 23 - just because I graduated college doesn't mean that I'm going to lay down and die.

Maybe it all comes back to that point of I always saw my own teachers on this pedestal, and I think that I have to live up to this impossible ideal of who I should be, and how I should live my life.

Random

I made a mistake yesterday. I took a nap around 5:00 and therefore had an incredibly difficult time falling asleep, which is probably why I heard the unmistakable sound of my cell phone notifying me of an incoming text message. Please keep in mind that it's about 1:45 in the AM. I'm thinking that it's just one of my friends whose a little drunk wanting to tell me that they love me. You know how it goes.

Not so much.

This is the text that I received:

"What u doing i think i m getting married"

It was from the dreaded David. You know - emotionally retarded, alchoholic, cokehead, abusive...YAY! I love hearing from him at two in the morning. It takes me back to those wonderful nights when he would show up at my apartment drunk at two or three in the morning, banging on the window, demanding for me to let him in so that he could completely berate me and leave me in a panic attack.

Let me relay the text conversation for you.

DP: What u doing i think i m getting married

LC: Please leave me alone

DP: U called me last i was rude sorry just being nice wondering wat u up 2
* I had called him a few weeks ago asking him to STOP GIVING MY PHONE NUMBER TO THE CREDITING AGENCIES that were looking for him.

LC: Trying to sleep

DP: Sorry good night!

LC: Thank you. I will say a prayer for you "wife" because she will need it
* Tacky, I know...but I had to get it in there somehow. I do not wish him upon ANY woman.

DP: No i need it, as of now i m walking out

LC: Arent we a little old for drama at two in the morning?

DP: I m trin 2 be friends

And I'm out at this point. Dunzo. Turned my phone on silent, shook my head and went to sleep. Should I have even responded to his first text? Probably not. But, sadly, whenever I think about him, or hear from him, or see his picture, I still have some anger towards him. I still want him to hurt as badly as I did when we were together. I want him to know what it felt like for me to be curled in a corner of my bathroom, sobbing, after he told me that "Even if I put a ring on a girl's finger, it doesn't mean it will be forever. My fraternity brothers will be there forever." Ouch. And at the time that he said this, we had been together for a year and a half already.

Oh. And I found out later that he was drunk and high on cocaine at the time. And at work. Can you say WINNER?

Bored

I need a hobby.

Desperately.

It is summer and I am so utterly bored. I have been dreaming of summer vacation for about 9 months. Since August 14th to be exact. And now that it's here - I'm bored. Maybe it's the weather (rainy and crappy) or maybe it's the fact that many of my friends are not teachers. Thus, they can't go shopping or hang out on a Tuesday afternoon at 2:00.

So back to the business of creating a hobby for myself. I would like for it to be something that is:
1. productive...therefore drinking is out of the picture.
2. inexpensive...therefore drinking is out of the picture.
3. creative...therefore...well, you get the idea.
4. healthy...ditto.

I really want to get back into working out everyday, but with my back pain still flaring up, I'm a little apprehensive about it. I was thinking about taking a painting class or something creative like that, but it costs money and tends to be a bit messy and I'm a big fan of keeping my clothes looking nice.

So....I don't know WHAT I'm going to do this summer. But I know that sitting around on the internet and drinking every night will not be a part of it.

Little Girl Lost

Two weeks from tomorrow I leave for Europe with one of my closest friends, Kristin. We're hitting up Amsterdam for a few days, then off to Munich, staying with Josh for a weekend in Heidelberg and finally back to London for the remainder of the trip. I'm extremely nervous - there is so much to think about. From packing and clothing options, to money and the question that continually has run through my head: "What if I don't like the food they eat there?" The most major things have been taken care of - lodging, transportation and a basic outline of what we'll do when we get there.

I think the scariest thing about the entire trip is what it signifies. I'm doing this on my own. My parents are not helping me pay for it, nor will my mother be there interpreting the language for us like she was in Italy. I think that this might be the farthest that I have ever physically been from my parents. And it kind of terrifies me.

Plus...I'm terrified of the plane crashing into the ocean. Because then you're screwed.

I am the youngest of three children in my family by a lot. I was the accident. Oops! Eight years after they had my middle brother Mike, I was born. I am the only girl - the princess. I never had to take care of anything that was a big deal like this - I could almost always convince SOMEBODY in my family to "help" me, to which I just backed off and let them do it for me. Yes, I tended to be lazy and a tad bit manipulative. In turn, I think that this has made my transition into adulthood a little harder. Remembering to pay bills on time was a shock, as was the fact that my father made me pay him to change my oil.

Anyways. Back to Europe. I'm excited. I truly am. I'm not sure if I'm more excited about seeing the sights or doing something this big COMPLETELY ON MY OWN. I kind of feel like it's time to cut the umbilical cord. As much as I love and respect my parents and I know that I will NEVER be able to repay them for everything that the did for me growing up and do for me now....it's time to stand on my own. I can change my own oil. If I go over on my budget for the month - I will deal with it. I can take my own clothes to the dry cleaners. I can figure out how to make the stinkin' grilled cheese sandwiches on my own. And if I mess up...well...then I'll call Mom.

As much as I resemble my parents physically, we are often on different ends of the spectrum when it comes to politics, drinking and sadly...morals. I don't know when the tides changed and I went from a fairly conservative little Catholic girl to this die hard liberal woman. I'm going to put my money on going to the University of North Texas having something to do with it. I felt guilty when I made an educated decision to vote for John Kerry in the 2004 Presidential election. I felt like I was disobeying my parents, or letting them down in some way. Like I was a little rebel thumbing my nose at them just because I could. I know that to a certain extent, they don't approve of my lifestyle. I don't think that either of them can relate to who I am or what I hold important and value in my life at times. I think that when my mother was pregnant with me, she had this vision of her daughter all dressed in pink and acting like a lady. I played in the mud as a child, and hated dresses. I'm not that conservative, lady-like and delicate woman that I think she wanted me to be. But I wouldn't be happy that way. I like being loud. I like laughing with the guys at the dirty jokes. Hell - I like TELLING the dirty jokes. I'm bold and brassy and sometimes a little intimidating. I look at her and, no offense Mom, I don't see this dainty, lady-like, waif of a woman. I see someone who has stood up for herself, someone who likes to laugh and drink wine with good friends. I see her as one of the strongest women that I have ever met...and I'm just like her, but yet, I don't feel like I measure up.

I also feel like I'm completely disrespecting my parents and that if my mother were to read this, she would get upset and therefore I feel guilty and I am beginning to think that I shouldn't even publish this. Do you see the internal conflict that I'm wrestling with? These are my thoughts and my feelings but I'm afraid to let her know because it would disappoint and hurt her...

My parents are pretty conservative with their money as far as buying clothes, music, going out is concerned. Don't get me wrong - they're not penny pinchers. They live in an older, but updated house; they both drive new cars and most of all - they take fantastic trips. And my mom doesn't sleep in anything less than 3 stars. Apparently, we are more alike than previously thought. :) I have the worst habit. Everytime I buy something, I hear my mother's voice: "And how much did that cost? It's cute - but do you need more clothes?" Or my father's: " I bet if you looked in the back of your closet, you could find that same exact thing." I actually feel guilty spending the money that I earn because I'm afraid that my parent's are going to get angry with me. It's not their money, but still...I guess it's just something that was ingrained in my head when I was in college and actually spending all their money on complete crap that I don't ever wear anymore. We just have different priorities. They tend to go grocery shopping at least once a week and spend their money. I go clothes shopping at least once a week, in contrast to my monthly/bimonthly grocery shopping trip. I don't eat that much at my house because I would much rather be able to fit into that size 8 skirt that I bought, then chow down on frozen pizza. And plus, if I get hungry...my mom will let me eat the leftovers.

I just want to be able to make decisions, large and small, for my own life without automatically thinking of what my parents would say or think or if they would disapprove or not. I want to be independent and make decisions for my own life based on what I believe to be right for me because I think that if I am able to do that...maybe I'll make decisions that will make ME happy.

And Mom...if you're reading this - don't cry. I love you. I just can't be everything that you want me to be. I just want to be me and have you be okay with that.

Cooking Lesson

If I've said it once, I've said it a million times.

I have met the man of my dreams.

Unfortunately, all the characteristics about him that I love about this man are scattered throughout the many boys and the few men that I have dated.

Creating the man that I want to spend the rest of my life is like concocting an extremely difficult recipe.

Well, actually ANY recipe is extremely difficult for me. I had to call my mom and get directions on how to make grilled cheese sandwiches. No joke.

Anyways...here's the rundown on the boys...
David P: 6'4 and about 200 pounds of muscle and athleticism. Beautiful.
David B: Intelligence combined with ambition, as well as nice paychecks. (Shallow, but necessary)
Barry M and Quint M: Good Ol' Boy mentality. Perfectly comfortable grilling out by the lake, listening to Texas Country and playing football in the water.
Justin C: Good Catholic boy with manners who dotes on his mother and grandmother. My mother loved him. I believe that she had actually been planning the wedding since she placed us in the same Religious Education class in 9th grade.
Jordan H: Die hard liberal with a scathing sarcastic streak.
Zane W: Ahh. The illusive Aussie. Incredibly outgoing and free spirited, with a hint of habitual ADD. Always got us into bars and other establishments in downtown Ft. Worth ahead of the line and for free.

Listing out all the qualities about these guys that I loved makes me miss them...so in the effort of NOT contacting ex-boyfriends, I will list the qualities that were the deal breaker for me.

David P: Obsessive, alcoholic, abusive, emotionally immature. Need I say more?
David B: Too emotionally independent and uptight.
Barry M: Ambition? Never heard of the word.
Quint M: Radically different religious views.
Justin C: Everything was perfect with him...except there was no passion. I need passion and he couldn't deliver.
Jordan H: A great summer fling and then back to being friends.
Zane W: Ditto with Barry.

Please do not think poorly of these men, (except David P - feel free to get out your voodoo dolls) because with many of them...I think that it was just poor timing of where they and I were at in our individual lives. Thus creating a reason why it was never going to work out. I don't truly think that any of them are bad people or anything like that. I believe that finding "true love" is a combination of the right person at the right time. If I had met and dated these people at different times in our own lives, then quite possibly it could have worked out. But it wasn't and it didn't. I never repeated a grade in school and I apply the same attitude towards dating. If it didn't work out the first time, it won't work out...EVER.

Confusion

So...it's been awhile since I've blogged but it's mostly due to the fact that I haven't really had anything to blog about. I took a few weeks off from the bar scene and actually stayed at home on both Friday AND Saturday nights. This was good for a few reasons - first of all, when you're not at the bar with a guy by your side, a night out drinking costs a LOT more. And also...I'm learning to be alone, but more importantly - to be OKAY when I'm alone.

There has been something else running through my neurotic, slightly self-obsessed and very vain little brain lately. All through college and post college up until this point, I always had to be dating the IT guy. Maybe it started with the pressure from the sorority to date only the guys from the hottest fraternity, despite the fact that they were complete neaderthals or maybe I was trying to compensate for not ever feeling like I was considered pretty and "date-able" by the hot guys in middle and high school. Whatever the reason, I dated the beautiful men. The ones that should be on the cover of GQ although they didn't have two brain cells to rub together. Beautiful, but incredibly vapid. I always pictured myself marrying a beautiful man and having beautiful children living in a beautiful house driving beautiful cars and blah, blah, blah. Sadly, I was, well I still am, so concerned with what people from high school and college think of the guys that I date. I want them to see the pictures I post on myspace or facebook and think "Damn! She looks good - and look at her hot boyfriend." But, why do I have ANYTHING to prove to them? The people I truly care about don't care about the GQMP (GQ Model Potential) of a guy that I date. They just want to make sure that he treats me right and I'm happy in the relationship in general.

When I expressed this sentiment to my middle brother, Mike, who has always been the "screw 'em if they don't like it" kind of guy, he seemed relieved that I had finally come to this conclusion.

"Munchkin Butt (his affectionate nickname for me) you're finally growing up."

I personally think that it's more than just growing up. Everyone grows up because everyone has a birthday, but not everyone MATURES. And maybe that's the difference. Maybe I'm trying to mature in the type of people I date and the type of relationships that I form. I'm not looking for some amazingly beautiful guy that I can take out just to impress my friends. In truth, they'd be more impressed if he had a real job with a steady income and could hold a conversation at dinner.

Desert

Influenced by those intriguing Match.com commercials, I looked.

I put in my basic preferences:
- tall, athletic
- works out occasionally
- social drinker
- Catholic or Protestant
- Educated and making money
- Never married without any kids

I sat and waited for the man of my dreams to pop up on my screen and within 10 seconds, my 23 years of searching would be over.

But instead, I got this message:

"We couldn't find any matches for that search, but don't let that stop you."

If that isn't a sign from the Gods, I don't know what is.