Friday, October 1, 2010

Fifteen really is the big one

I don't know what it is, but lately my rear-view mirror has been providing a lot of insight.

I was driving home this afternoon and stopped at a red light. I fidgeted with my iPod for a second or two to change the song, and then went back to watching cars pass by around me while I waited for the light to change. A car pulled up behind me, so I glanced into the rear-view mirror to check out who was behind me. I don't really know why I do that, I guess just out of curiosity to see who's traveling the same path. It just so happened to be a mom and her daughter - mom in the passenger seat, and daughter behind the wheel. The daughter looked to be about 15, and the look on her mom's face confirmed it. I looked at the car and noticed it was a Honda minivan. I immediately smiled to myself.

Coming up on my 21st birthday, I thought back to this time six short years ago. I was so excited to turn 15. I could FINALLY drive a car. Granted, I couldn't drive by myself, but it was my first oh-so-miniscule glimpse of freedom, and I couldn't wait. I remember going to get my permit, waiting forever in line, and finally stepping up to fill out all of the information and get my little slip of paper that said "YES! YOU CAN DRIVE!" At least, it might as well have said that.

That first year was rocky at times. I thought I knew everything and couldn't stand it when Mom or Dad tried to correct me. I learned how to drive the minivan - the Honda minivan - and though awkward at times, I became pretty good at maneuvering a bus up and down Memorial Parkway. Then came the BIG birthday, or so I thought. I turned 16 and convinced my parents to let me skip school that morning to go get my license. I grinned as the lady behind the desk looked at my date of birth and smiled and said, "Well happy birthday, young lady."

I went to dinner that night with my parents and my sister. Mom, Annie and I came from the house to meet my dad at the restaurant after he got off of work. When we were finished, I nervously asked if I could drive one of the cars home. Reluctantly, knowing they didn't have a good reason to say no, Mom and Dad said yes and I took that big ol' minivan to the house. But here's the funny part. I was terrified. For as long as I'd spent complaining about having my parents in the car correcting my every move, something about having them there felt safer. It was as if I knew that if something bad happened, they could just jump behind the wheel, fix it, and everything would be OK. Sitting in the driver's seat alone and about to leave the restaurant, it suddenly became glaringly obvious to me that this was it; if something bad happened, it was me and the minivan to fend for ourselves. Of course, I made it home just fine and saw the look of relief on my mom's face as I pulled into the driveway.

As I looked behind me today and saw that girl and her mom, I couldn't help but wonder what she was thinking. As the light turned green and I started to pull away, I offered up a wish for that girl. I wished that she would cherish these days with her mom in the car. I wished that she would never have to go through the awful experience of a wreck. I wished that she wouldn't speed and face the embarrassment of telling her parents about her first ticket. And I wished that when her 16th birthday rolls around and she can't wait to be on her own, that she would appreciate the safety and comfort offered from her mom's presence today.

Fifteen really is the big birthday. It's the last year we truly have safety and comfort. We all grow up. We have to be big kids. We move out and have to learn how to do things all on our own. And I, for one, have never been more thankful for that safety and comfort that annoyed me so much for so long.

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

a perspective on perspective

We're often told that we shouldn't look back. We're supposed to live for the moment. Look toward the future. Forget about the past. It's dead and gone and there isn't anything you can do about what's already done. I suppose all of that is true enough. However, I was reminded today that there is something to be said for looking over your shoulder; for looking backward; for looking behind you to see what you might have missed the first time.

This afternoon was pretty normal. I went to work, went to class, and came home. I had decided that I was going to try to be productive today instead of sitting on my oh-so-uncomfortable couch and watching 8 hours of TV that would serve no purpose than to ultimately make me a little fatter and lazier. Having made up my mind, I wrote a pretty lengthy to-do list and began diligently trying to check off the said items. Around 5:00 I decided to go out and run a few errands. I went to Tiger Town and then ran by the pharmacy, but by the time my prescription was ready, I got back into my car and realized that it had gotten a little later than I thought. I had to be back at work by the time football practice was over to make sure I caught a couple of the guys on the way out (who I ended up missing, by the way, but that's entirely beside the point). SO. I immediately entered into what I like to call "Mae Margaret Time Stress." This basically means that I start obsessing over everything I have to get done in an extremely short period of time. I pulled out of the parking space, quickly analyzed the fastest way to get home from the pharmacy (for those of you non-Auburn folks, there are a million ways to get from one place to another in Auburn, and sometimes choosing the quickest route proves harder than you'd think), and sped off down the road. My mind was swarming with thoughts of exactly what to do when I got home. It went something like "take the bags inside, no wait, they could stay. Well why wait? You have time. No, maybe leave them and just run in and grab some food really quick, you might be at practice awhile. Well, I could take them inside and then drive thru somewhere and get food and take it with me. Or I guess I could eat later. I'm going to get really hungry though if this takes longer than I'm thinking." You get the idea.

Before I knew it, I was at my apartment wondering if I ran any stop signs or red lights on my way home, as I didn't really remember anything about the trip except for the argument with myself. I jumped out, having decided on taking everything inside, and hastily made my way in the house to throw everything down and dash back out the door again. I headed for Zaxby's, figuring a salad would be quick, easy, semi-healthy, and cheap. I pulled in line at the drive-thru, ordered, paid, grabbed my food and continued on toward the Complex. As I was about to turn onto Donahue from College, I glanced in my rear-view mirror and what I saw made me do a double-take. I glanced back, wondering if a light had just caught my eye in a weird way. Nope. I was right the first time.

The sky behind me looked like a watercolor painting. It was pink and orange and yellow, mixed with a little blue and it looked like someone had taken a big bucket and splashed color on the sky. I looked back in front of me, but all I saw then was black. I turned my attention back to the "painting" and couldn't believe the same night sky could look so different in two places at once. And the "painting" was behind me, out of my direct line of sight, and about to disappear for good. Yet, something in it caught my attention.

As the sun went all the way down on the Plains and the Fall air became a little cooler, I started to wonder if looking behind me was really all that bad. Maybe there's something to be said for appreciating the past and what it will offer for the future. After all, I'd venture to guess that tomorrow's sunrise might look just as wonderful.

Monday, September 27, 2010

I think Tom Petty got it right

There's a pretty famous quote from Tom Petty that says:

"You have four years to be irresponsible here. Relax. Work is for people with jobs. You'll never remember class time, but you'll remember time you wasted hanging out with your friends. So, stay out late. Go out on a Tuesday with your friends when you have a paper due Wednesday. Spend money you don't have. Drink 'til sunrise. The work never ends, but college does."

Tonight, I took his advice.

I'm a notorious procrastinator when it comes to schoolwork. I wait to do everything until the last possible second, and every time I say to myself "If I would just start on this earlier, I'd be better off." You'd think I would've learned by now, but you'd be wrong.

The paper due for my World Lit II class in less than 13 hours has been no different. I've known about the paper since the beginning of the semester and the topics have been posted for about 2-3 weeks now. Naturally, I waited until this past week to even look at the topics, then bs'd my way through the mandatory student-professor conference to discuss my paper, and now I'm sitting here writing this blog at 1 a.m. instead of writing the paper. So what's the point?

Well I spent most of the day today at work. Most of the time my priorities are really messed up and I feel like my job (which I absolutely love) is my number one responsibility when I know that I really should focus on school first. That said, I worked a volleyball match today at 1 and then left and went straight to soccer where I stood for a good 2 hours in the rain and watched as our team desperately fought to find a way to win and then sadly lost in the final minutes. I returned home soaking wet, really cold, and not at all ready to write a paper. After placing an order with Pizza Hut, I stood in a steaming hot shower for about 15 minutes and slowly climbed out to towel off and face, what I thought at the time was, the inevitable. Alas, it was not so. I went in the living room to find that a Law & Order: SVU marathon was on. I knew this meant trouble. It was approximately 7:00. Next thing I knew, it was 10:00 and I'd been watching Elliot and Olivia catch the bad guys for a little over three hours. My roommates both had tests to study for as well, and were equally convinced that as soon as the marathon was over we were all going to go about our business and get our acts together and study. As "Executive Producer: Dick Wolf" scrolled across the screen to the sounds of the closing "Duh duh duh duh dummmmm..." no one moved. We all looked at each other as if to say "Do we have to?" the way a five-year-old does when his mom tells him it's time for bed. Laura finally broke the silence and seemingly-jokingly asked "So what's on next?" We laughed, but I had happened to see that The Bourne Ultimatum was about to start so I piped up. Laura's next words were "So who wants to watch this and then pull an all-nighter?"

Three hands went up in the air, popcorn was made, and we retired back to our most-uncomfortable couch for another few hours of laziness.

Now, I realize this all seems pretty innocent. It isn't scandalous or thrilling, and nothing about it is original or revolutionary. But then I think back to Tom Petty's quote.

I just spent about six hours with two of my best friends. We laughed at each other's corny jokes, we talked about how hot Matt Damon was, about the weather this week, about how much we didn't want to study. It was relaxing, it was fun, and it was care-free. And for every minute that I spend worrying about school or work or how I'm going to balance the two, I need at least five minutes of fun, relaxing, and care-free time to remind me that there are more important things in life.

So yes, I'm going to be up pretty late tonight. And no, this probably won't be the best paper I've ever written. But as cheesy as it might be, five years from now I won't be able to tell you what this paper was about, but I'll damn sure be able to tell you about how much fun I had with my best friends watching TV and laughing and enjoying each other's company. And at the end of the day, isn't that what we really want to remember anyway?

Thursday, July 29, 2010

Time for a change...

All of us face changes in our lives all the time. Some changes are big. Some are small. Some seem insignificant. Some turn our worlds upside down. Some are for the better. Some aren't.

So what do we do? How do we deal with change? How do we face things that aren't nice and pretty and neatly tied up in packages? How do we make ourselves believe in the good when it seems like we're surrounded by bad? Anyone...?

I don't think any of us really have the answer. I could go the cliche route and say "Oh I just pray about it," which is fine. Don't get me wrong, I believe in the power of prayer. But I also believe that I am not a patient person. I don't always feel like praying. Sometimes I feel like screaming and crying and throwing things.

In the past several months, I've had a few very personal experiences with change. None of them have been seemingly positive. All of them have made me scream and cry (I can't remember throwing anything...I think). And I still haven't figured out how to deal with them.

This weekend, another change is coming in my life. It's both good and bad. My amazing youth minister, Beth Thomason, will spend her last Sunday at First Christian, Huntsville, before taking on a new role as the senior minister at Madison Christian in Madison. For the past two months or so, I've been serving on the going-away committee, planning an event for this weekend to help celebrate her ministry over the past 11 years. It has been an incredible bittersweet experience. "How lucky I am to have known someone who was so hard to say goodbye to." It's a quote that has never seemed more true.

Beth and her family aren't actually moving and I'm thankful that God has called her to serve in a place where she will still be close to home, but it can't entirely ease the pain. It's a change that hurts, and this weekend will not be easy.

I've had a similar experience having to say goodbye to another person who I cared for greatly. Without going into too much detail, let it suffice to say that it is a hurt unlike any other. It's a hurt that shows no signs of going away. And it's a hurt that sticks in your throat when you so much as think about them.

So how do I deal with all this change? I honestly don't know. I wake up every morning and put one foot in front of the other. As for Beth, my comfort lies in knowing that she is going to be happy in her new position and that this will be another step in her journey of faith, and hopefully one that will nurture her as much as she has nurtured me. As for the other situation, I can't say.

But at the end of the day, I try to think of that quote. I try to remind myself that I am so fortunate that I've had people in my life who have meant so much to me that it would hurt this much to say goodbye. For Beth, it's not goodbye. It's just "See you in Madison." For the other person, again I can't say. I hope it's not goodbye. I hope that there's something left to be said. And if not, I simply hope that one day it won't hurt so much. And one day, that won't be the first and last thing on my mind as I wake up and go to bed every night.

Ultimately, I'm discovering that change can be the realest (is that a word?) form of hurt, and they don't make bandaids big enough to heal it.

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

If it makes you happy...

...it can't be that bad. If it makes you happy, then why the hell are you so sad?...

I'm beginning to notice a common thread in all of my blogs...they all start out with song lyrics. This really wasn't at all intentional, but I guess it just sort of happened that way.

However, this entry's lyrics are brought to you courtesy of Sheryl Crow and "It It Makes You Happy." I've always found the chorus of that song to be very interesting.

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, but I've decided that happiness is an extremely difficult subject to tackle. And I think Sheryl might have a point. Often times, I find that the things that make us happy are the same things that serve as points of contention, frustration, anger, and downright hurt. You can love someone with every single piece of your heart, and never feel it in return. The action of loving someone makes you happy. You find joy in seeing them, excitement from their smile, etc...but if you don't feel it in return, just how happy are you? "If it makes you happy then why the hell are you so sad?" Does that mean that we should avoid trying to be happy in the first place if we know it isn't going to end well? Does the fear of the happiness causing eventual pain prevent us from striving for happiness at all?

I don't think so. Another favorite quote of mine is "Never regret anything because at one point in time it was exactly what you wanted." The thing you wanted the most at one point might eventually break your heart...the boy that doesn't love you back, the seemingly amazing job that turns it's back on you and lays you off, the husband or wife who betrays your fidelity and trust. However, I still find that quote to be most certainly true. I try to treat every experience with a certain amount of respect, knowing that some kind of wisdom can always be gained, whether or not the eventual outcome is what I wanted it to be. I recently heard this line on Grey's Anatomy and was struck, not only by the poignancy of it, but the accuracy..."Sometimes you have to make a big mistake to figure out how to make things right. Mistakes are painful but they're the only way to find out who you really are." I think the same goes for happiness. Sometimes we have to make a big mistake to figure out what really makes us happy. And the mistakes we make throughout our journies are definitely painful, but at some point along the way, we couldn't have been happier.

I am also reminded of the great Henry Miller and his famous quote on life...I think it ties right into happiness, too...
"Life moves on whether we act as cowards or heroes. Life has no other discipline to impose, if we would but realize it, than to accept life unquestioningly. Everything we shut our eyes to, everything we run away from, everything we deny, denigrate or despise, serves to defeat us in the end. What seems nasty, painful, evil, can become a source of beauty, joy, and strength, if faced with an open mind. Every moment is a golden one for him who has the vision to recognize it as such."

So we look to the future, hoping for the best and sometimes expecting the worst, trying to ease the pain of eventual disappointment. But how much happier we would all be if we lived as the beautiful Grace Kelly instructed..."One shouldn't talk about the future. It's the best way to mess it up."

Sunday, June 20, 2010

Shells sink, dreams float...

...Life's good on our boat.

That's part of the chorus to another one of my favorite Jimmy songs. And on Father's Day, what more appropriate song than "Delaney Talks to Statues"?

My dad celebrated his 20th Father's Day this year...or maybe his 21st if he counts when my mom was pregnant with me. It's a little surreal to think about...

I'm writing this entry tonight from what used to be my bedroom, and is now my dad's home office. (The wifi at our house hasn't been working on my computer for a few days, so to check Facebook (and other gravely important things), I've been having to come back to the office).

As I sit here and look around the room, I think back to my childhood and the transformation that this room has been through. The multi-colored striped window curtains that my grandmother made for me when I was a little girl still hang in the windows, and the bright teal-colored walls are still the same. But instead of little-girl artwork and paintings, they are now adorned with Daniel A. Moore's "The Catch" from the 1998 National Championship (Tennessee over FSU, 23-16), a University of Tennessee diploma, numerous Associated Press and Alabama Sports Writers Association honors and awards, and several sports pictures. The closet that used to hold my dresses and baby-doll outfits now holds a TV, filing cabinets, media guides, and stacks and stacks of CDs. The carpet has been removed and is now a hardwood floor.

The "look" of the room has certainly changed, but the memories will always stay the same. I can still remember exactly where all of the furniture used to be. I remember waking up in the middle of the night when I was only 3 1/2 or 4 years old and hearing my baby sister crying from her room next to mine. I remember stacking my stuffed animals up neatly on my bed after I first learned how to make it up properly. I remember getting my first big-kid desk to do my homework on. I remember the night that our sweet old dog Wilson got stuck under my dresser because he was so scared of the thunderstorm and we couldn't get him out until the next morning. And I remember my sister and I coming up with secret knocking codes so we could "talk" to each other through the walls after my mom made us go to sleep at night. Memory after memory comes flooding back, and just for a second, I feel like it's my room again.
In middle school I got to trade this room for the one on the other side of the house that had it's own bathroom. I was tired of sharing one with my sister and Dad agreed that it'd be OK. After new carpet and a fresh coat of paint, his old office was mine and that was the end of my little room at the back of the house...

Sitting here tonight, I was browsing the internet and getting ready to get off and go to sleep when I noticed a picture frame hiding behind the edge of the computer monitor on the top of the desk. It's a picture I've seen a thousand times, but yet one that today put a smile on my face and gave me a lump in my throat...it's of me and my dad when I was probably no more than four or five. We're on the sofa together and he's got me under his arm. The look on my face says that he was probably tickling me. And the look on his says he couldn't be happier.

This was my room when I was that age. I'm older now and I have a bigger room. My dad's older too. And yet, I don't think that look on his face has ever really gone away.

The days of sitting on the sofa under his arm and getting tickled have gone away...but the man in the picture will always be my Daddy. And just like that look on his face, that will never really go away.

"Father, daughter, down by the water...Shells sink, dreams float, life's good on our boat..."

Thursday, June 10, 2010

I knew this girl...

Where to begin? For years, I've been trying to make myself keep a journal, or at the very least to write things down. In high school I decided that I was growing up and didn't want to be 50 years old and not remember things. So thanks to modern technology and the crazy world of blogging, this will be my attempt to write things down, to remember things, to savor moments that I won't want to forget...with the hope that when I'm 50, I'll still remember things - big or small, important or trivial.

The title comes from one of my favorite Jimmy Buffett songs, "Lone Palm." It's on the Fruitcakes album, and was one of the first songs I learned growing up. My mom would listen to that CD in the car over and over again and I soon found myself singing right along on the way home from...pre-school, I guess. The song begins with "I knew this girl made of memories and phrases." Years after learning the song, that line finally resonates with me. I feel like that describes me and who I am.

So hopefully I'll be able to fill this blog with my "memories and phrases." I'm not really concerned about anyone reading this or not. Hopefully I can offer something for someone to enjoy - entertaining moments, an insightful thought here or there, etc. And if not, then I'll still be here with my memories and phrases..."ride if you will, ride it with me."