wan·der·lust [won-der-luhst] noun
a strong, innate desire to rove or travel about.
I lived in the same house from the summer before kindergarten through high school graduation, and came back to that same house for 24 years until my parents retired to the beach. There are too many memories to recall readily though I know they involved hours on the phone, laughter, tears, boy band obsession, and an absurd amount of neon.
I loved growing up in that neighborhood, with the same friends living on my street. I met so many of them when we entered kindergarten together at 5 years old and (thanks to Facebook) I'm still in touch with a lot of them today. Throughout college and beyond, I loved to come home to the same house, the same mall, and...Ukrop's.
Because of this, I always thought that I would find a home quickly after I graduated (whether it was Richmond or not...it was DEFINITELY going to be a sweet southern town), marry my high school/college boyfriend, settle down, have kids, and give them a similar experience.
Wow.
While I'm sure that there are plenty of people who make this kind of firm declaration and follow through, I clearly was not one of them.
Showing posts with label What's my age again?. Show all posts
Showing posts with label What's my age again?. Show all posts
Sunday, August 19, 2012
Friday, March 23, 2012
Judging
Just before Spring Break [side note: living in a college town means measuring time by semesters and breaks], I was able to partake in one of the rare joys of being immersed in a college atmosphere.
I judged a talent show.
Now call me old fashioned, but my first thoughts when I hear the words "talent show" are of my first grade solo routine to "Funkytown" choreographed by my then-11 year old sister. Well...either that or the kid who sang "The Gambler" every single year of elementary school (and perhaps even into middle school) complete with his clear green visor.
BUT I am not that naive, and I know that Talent Shows these days...and in this atmosphere...are far more along the lines of, say wet t-shirt contests in Cabo than Mr. Wizard magic sets that cost $19.99 at Toys R Us.
And so there I was, front row center, flanked by three of the University's finest athletes.
Judging.
So. much. judging.
I judged a talent show.
Now call me old fashioned, but my first thoughts when I hear the words "talent show" are of my first grade solo routine to "Funkytown" choreographed by my then-11 year old sister. Well...either that or the kid who sang "The Gambler" every single year of elementary school (and perhaps even into middle school) complete with his clear green visor.
BUT I am not that naive, and I know that Talent Shows these days...and in this atmosphere...are far more along the lines of, say wet t-shirt contests in Cabo than Mr. Wizard magic sets that cost $19.99 at Toys R Us.
And so there I was, front row center, flanked by three of the University's finest athletes.
Judging.
So. much. judging.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
The Changing of the Guard
Despite my lack of posts through this fall, life has not actually been all that boring. On the contrary, it's been a pretty good year so far! We've had a bunch of house guests (because of football season), I've only gone out of town a couple of times, and most shockingly, I haven't minded sticking around. :)
I have to admit that a lot of this has to do with the changing of the guard of my teaching assistant, or TA. I'm still not sure what it says about me that I relate to my TA's more than my colleagues, but nevertheless, the two that I've had so far have become two of my closest friends.
I have to admit that a lot of this has to do with the changing of the guard of my teaching assistant, or TA. I'm still not sure what it says about me that I relate to my TA's more than my colleagues, but nevertheless, the two that I've had so far have become two of my closest friends.
Monday, August 1, 2011
A Crisis?
"Define mid-life crisis..."
ProMo and I traveled out of town yet again a couple of weekends ago to celebrate the birthday of one of our very good friends. She is our age...that is, late 30's....as were most of her guests. One of the circles that I found myself in was discussing at what age one could categorize his or her erratic actions as a mid-life crisis. To me, it always sounded like something reserved for tired, overweight, balding men who suddenly bought convertibles or sports cars. Not someone like me...right?
Right?!?
My previous blog post illustrates that this summer has been a little reflective for me and perhaps I should just read that to see the beginnings of a crisis...if it is indeed a crisis. Was it triggered by my birthday, aka the tangible transition from my "mid-30's" (acceptable, hip) to my "late-30's" (or as my friends have shortened it..."almost 40")? Or was it triggered by the realization that the current freshman were born after I had already graduated high school? I've always been OK with my age and birthdays, and I have changed my career path a few times (as have many of my Gen X peers), so what is causing this current sense of dread and panic?
Is it a mid-life crisis?
When I checked with wikipedia, here are the buzzwords from their definition.
"a period of dramatic self-doubt that is felt by some individuals in the 'middle years' or middle age of life, as a result of sensing the passing of their own youth and the imminence of their old age"
"triggered by transitions experienced in these years, such as extramarital affairs, andropause or menopause, the death of parents or other causes of grief, unemployment or underemployment, realizing that a job or career is hated but not knowing how else to earn an equivalent living,"
"result may be a desire to make significant changes in core aspects of day-to-day life or situation, such as in career, work-life balance, marriage, romantic relationships, big-ticket expenditures, or physical appearance."
So a logical conclusion from my wikipedia pop-quiz would be that I am indeed going through a mid-life crisis.
Another symptom? My enthusiastic attendance at the Britney Spears concert this weekend.
That said, it is also true that I have ALWAYS loved cheesy pop music, I have a clear tendency to get restless living in the same place for more than 3 years, and all who know me know my passion for travel and other "big-ticket expenditures."
So I am inclined to say that this is, in fact, not a mid-life crisis.
It's a pre-existing condition. :)
ProMo and I traveled out of town yet again a couple of weekends ago to celebrate the birthday of one of our very good friends. She is our age...that is, late 30's....as were most of her guests. One of the circles that I found myself in was discussing at what age one could categorize his or her erratic actions as a mid-life crisis. To me, it always sounded like something reserved for tired, overweight, balding men who suddenly bought convertibles or sports cars. Not someone like me...right?
Right?!?
My previous blog post illustrates that this summer has been a little reflective for me and perhaps I should just read that to see the beginnings of a crisis...if it is indeed a crisis. Was it triggered by my birthday, aka the tangible transition from my "mid-30's" (acceptable, hip) to my "late-30's" (or as my friends have shortened it..."almost 40")? Or was it triggered by the realization that the current freshman were born after I had already graduated high school? I've always been OK with my age and birthdays, and I have changed my career path a few times (as have many of my Gen X peers), so what is causing this current sense of dread and panic?
Is it a mid-life crisis?
When I checked with wikipedia, here are the buzzwords from their definition.
"a period of dramatic self-doubt that is felt by some individuals in the 'middle years' or middle age of life, as a result of sensing the passing of their own youth and the imminence of their old age"
"triggered by transitions experienced in these years, such as extramarital affairs, andropause or menopause, the death of parents or other causes of grief, unemployment or underemployment, realizing that a job or career is hated but not knowing how else to earn an equivalent living,"
"result may be a desire to make significant changes in core aspects of day-to-day life or situation, such as in career, work-life balance, marriage, romantic relationships, big-ticket expenditures, or physical appearance."
So a logical conclusion from my wikipedia pop-quiz would be that I am indeed going through a mid-life crisis.
Another symptom? My enthusiastic attendance at the Britney Spears concert this weekend.
That said, it is also true that I have ALWAYS loved cheesy pop music, I have a clear tendency to get restless living in the same place for more than 3 years, and all who know me know my passion for travel and other "big-ticket expenditures."
So I am inclined to say that this is, in fact, not a mid-life crisis.
It's a pre-existing condition. :)
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Disoriented
Orientation.
Every July, over a span of 3 weeks, groups of anxious 17/18-year-olds and their families descend on the 'burg and learn...well, I'm not exactly sure what they learn. Because I didn't go here. But whatever it is, they do it in circle formation, sitting outside, with an overly upbeat college kid in a maroon and orange polo shirt directing them.
While we are a mere 3 days into orientation for this year, ProMo and I are already grumbling about how all the lunch places downtown are crowded and how it's too soon to be inundated with students. This alone could make me grumpy but as I was walking back from lunch today, I recalled something that I already knew, but served as the latest in a stream of reminders that time is marching along more quickly than I would like.
They were born in 1993.
To my younger readers, this may not be a big deal. But to my contemporaries who may not work in a school-type environment, chew on this...
I had just gotten used to the fact that the students I've taught for the past couple of years were born in the late 80's and didn't know who the band Duran Duran is or understand my obsession with them.
Now I'm hit with a group that was born AFTER the heyday of not just Michael Jackson and Duran Duran, but New Kids on the Block, MC Hammer, Guns n Roses, The Cure, Red Hot Chili Peppers, and Nirvana.
Nirvana!! Forget the 80's...most of the 90's is unmemorable for this crew.
Chalk it up to the latest reminder of my age that has happened in the very short time since we got back from Switzerland. It all started with, of course, my birthday in the end of June. Not everyone cares or even thinks about their birthday. Some don't even celebrate it.
My birthday is a date that I have always looked forward to. Not because I had fabulous, grand parties as a kid. (Actually, because of my summer birthday I never got the cupcake party in school and I was usually either out of town or most of my friends were.)
No, I loved it because it was all. about. ME! I cherished it, loved it and held it on such a pedestal that I gave it a name.
Oh, I still love it. But for the first time, I felt the slightest sense of dread that I hadn't felt before. Not at 30, like I thought I would. But at 37. All this despite the fact that everyone tells me I don't look my age and I still get carded in bars and restaurants. The truth is, whether or not I look it, I am...it.
37, that is.
I drowned my sorrows - literally - by having a backyard BBQ and (inflatable) pool party attended by some very cool people...the CEBs (plus a couple of G's). Average age: 23. The song "No Diggity" comes on my iPod. "Ooo...I love this song," I reminisce as I wade in my pool and sip my cold beverage. "It was popular when ProMo and I started dating!" The closest CEB replies, "Oh yeah, I was in, like 3rd or 4th grade!"
Thanks.
The next, slightly more subtle reminder was when we went down to Hilton Head over the 4th of July weekend. My family has been going there almost every summer since I was 6 or 7 and we always went about the same time of year (somewhere around my birthday and/or the 4th).
One of the beautiful, wonderful things about Hilton Head is that no matter how popular it gets, it never builds up too much. Because of this, and the uniqueness of the island itself (a mix of dense forest, spanish moss, lagoons and beaches), every trip down there brings me back to my youth. From walking on the same great paths to Harbor Town, to chilling on our straw mats on the beaches, to playing tennis, to seeing the myriad of minivans from Ohio...not much has changed.
That is, until I see that the people my age now have kids, and those kids are experiencing those same summers that I did. No, it's not 1987, it's 2011. I'm not the one doing the cannonballs off of the diving board, I'm the one shooting the kids the evil eye and sighing loudly.
Ah, youth.
Which brings me to last weekend when we went to NYC. Most people assumed we were "escaping" or partying, but in actuality, we spend most of our time catching up with our old city and visiting good friends. One of the best things about having lived there is the fact that when we go back, we don't need to worry about hitting any tourist traps, we can just focus on enjoying the city like locals.
We stayed with one of our closest friends (who is one of the rare people who can say he was roommates with both ProMo and myself) and spent most of the weekend eating, drinking, talking and laughing just like the old days. "Doesn't it seem like you lived here just yesterday?" our old roomie asked. "Yes, but it was 12 years ago," was ProMo's prompt reply.
Really? 12 years ago?
Really.
It doesn't seem like that long ago that I was training for marathons in Central Park, going to happy hour at Bull's Head, and enjoying fresh Italian food a little too much.
But it was. A really long time ago.
And...that brings me back to orientation. As I walked by yet another circle of orientation games, I studied their faces and picked up more than a hint of the freshmen-to-be checking each other (and their orientation leader) out.
Further down the Drillfield, I walked by a couple of parents - identifiable by their free "Ask Me About My Hokie!" reusable tote bags - and looked at them a little more closely. As I did, I realized that many of them looked like they could be my age. Or at the very least my sister's age. And I realized I was most likely (much) closer in age to them than the shiny-faced new crop of students.
Disoriented? Well, to quote my younger selves...
Right on.
Totally.
Word.
Fo shizzle.
Mos def.
Every July, over a span of 3 weeks, groups of anxious 17/18-year-olds and their families descend on the 'burg and learn...well, I'm not exactly sure what they learn. Because I didn't go here. But whatever it is, they do it in circle formation, sitting outside, with an overly upbeat college kid in a maroon and orange polo shirt directing them.
While we are a mere 3 days into orientation for this year, ProMo and I are already grumbling about how all the lunch places downtown are crowded and how it's too soon to be inundated with students. This alone could make me grumpy but as I was walking back from lunch today, I recalled something that I already knew, but served as the latest in a stream of reminders that time is marching along more quickly than I would like.
They were born in 1993.
 | |
| Me circa 1993 - when the current freshmen were born. | Flannel shirt? check. |
To my younger readers, this may not be a big deal. But to my contemporaries who may not work in a school-type environment, chew on this...
I had just gotten used to the fact that the students I've taught for the past couple of years were born in the late 80's and didn't know who the band Duran Duran is or understand my obsession with them.
 |
| Duran Duran? Hubba hubba. |
Now I'm hit with a group that was born AFTER the heyday of not just Michael Jackson and Duran Duran, but New Kids on the Block, MC Hammer, Guns n Roses, The Cure, Red Hot Chili Peppers, and Nirvana.
Nirvana!! Forget the 80's...most of the 90's is unmemorable for this crew.
Chalk it up to the latest reminder of my age that has happened in the very short time since we got back from Switzerland. It all started with, of course, my birthday in the end of June. Not everyone cares or even thinks about their birthday. Some don't even celebrate it.
This is not my world.
My birthday is a date that I have always looked forward to. Not because I had fabulous, grand parties as a kid. (Actually, because of my summer birthday I never got the cupcake party in school and I was usually either out of town or most of my friends were.)
No, I loved it because it was all. about. ME! I cherished it, loved it and held it on such a pedestal that I gave it a name.
Stelabration!
 |
| The original Stelabration |
 |
| The start of a new tradition in B'more...Stelabration, Camden Yards style (my name's on there somewhere) |
Oh, I still love it. But for the first time, I felt the slightest sense of dread that I hadn't felt before. Not at 30, like I thought I would. But at 37. All this despite the fact that everyone tells me I don't look my age and I still get carded in bars and restaurants. The truth is, whether or not I look it, I am...it.
37, that is.
I drowned my sorrows - literally - by having a backyard BBQ and (inflatable) pool party attended by some very cool people...the CEBs (plus a couple of G's). Average age: 23. The song "No Diggity" comes on my iPod. "Ooo...I love this song," I reminisce as I wade in my pool and sip my cold beverage. "It was popular when ProMo and I started dating!" The closest CEB replies, "Oh yeah, I was in, like 3rd or 4th grade!"
Thanks.
The next, slightly more subtle reminder was when we went down to Hilton Head over the 4th of July weekend. My family has been going there almost every summer since I was 6 or 7 and we always went about the same time of year (somewhere around my birthday and/or the 4th).
One of the beautiful, wonderful things about Hilton Head is that no matter how popular it gets, it never builds up too much. Because of this, and the uniqueness of the island itself (a mix of dense forest, spanish moss, lagoons and beaches), every trip down there brings me back to my youth. From walking on the same great paths to Harbor Town, to chilling on our straw mats on the beaches, to playing tennis, to seeing the myriad of minivans from Ohio...not much has changed.
 |
| Stelabration, Hilton Head-style. We still own this timeshare and I'm pretty sure this table is still in there. |
That is, until I see that the people my age now have kids, and those kids are experiencing those same summers that I did. No, it's not 1987, it's 2011. I'm not the one doing the cannonballs off of the diving board, I'm the one shooting the kids the evil eye and sighing loudly.
Ah, youth.
Which brings me to last weekend when we went to NYC. Most people assumed we were "escaping" or partying, but in actuality, we spend most of our time catching up with our old city and visiting good friends. One of the best things about having lived there is the fact that when we go back, we don't need to worry about hitting any tourist traps, we can just focus on enjoying the city like locals.
We stayed with one of our closest friends (who is one of the rare people who can say he was roommates with both ProMo and myself) and spent most of the weekend eating, drinking, talking and laughing just like the old days. "Doesn't it seem like you lived here just yesterday?" our old roomie asked. "Yes, but it was 12 years ago," was ProMo's prompt reply.
Really? 12 years ago?
Really.
 |
| "The REAL Three's Company" My roomies and me...12 years ago. |
It doesn't seem like that long ago that I was training for marathons in Central Park, going to happy hour at Bull's Head, and enjoying fresh Italian food a little too much.
But it was. A really long time ago.
And...that brings me back to orientation. As I walked by yet another circle of orientation games, I studied their faces and picked up more than a hint of the freshmen-to-be checking each other (and their orientation leader) out.
Further down the Drillfield, I walked by a couple of parents - identifiable by their free "Ask Me About My Hokie!" reusable tote bags - and looked at them a little more closely. As I did, I realized that many of them looked like they could be my age. Or at the very least my sister's age. And I realized I was most likely (much) closer in age to them than the shiny-faced new crop of students.
Disoriented? Well, to quote my younger selves...
Right on.
Totally.
Word.
Fo shizzle.
Mos def.
Monday, May 16, 2011
They call it commencement for a reason
Oh, what a week!
Last week was exhausting yet exhilarating. Grading a never-ending pile of final papers (and yes, I read all 137 of them) by day, relaxing and milking L's last days in the 'burg by night. It was certainly not a sustainable pace for me, but I don't think it is likely to happen again in quite that way.
On the academic side, I was at times really frustrated with students who I knew could do better, but for whatever reason chose not to put the effort into their final papers. But on the other hand, I was super proud of the students who really pulled together something great at the end of the semester. [This part of the week will probably happen again. Every semester, in fact.]
On the social side, I was at times so happy to feel like my (true) self - laughing too loud and razzing friends sarcastically. But on the other hand, I knew that all the revelry was for a reason. It was the end-of-semester euphoria...a sentiment shared by students and (frankly) professors alike.
To be clear, for all its insanity, it was not my "real life" in the 'burg. But for one week, at least, it was.
And so ended the 2010-2011 academic year. All in all, I would call it a successful one even though the classroom continues to provide endless challenges for me. Student apathy is certainly rampant and as a result, I'm usually surprised when students are shocked that I take a real interest in their lives.
Even though I may joke about it, I think that some of them are among the brightest and most talented people I have met. Why wouldn't I want to be a part of that? I could honestly talk to these folks (or even just listen to them) forever.
Of course it's not all sunshine and roses...not everyone is going to love me and/or my style. Maybe they want more law, less ethics. Maybe they don't want to hear about professionalism from someone who they think is only a few years older than them. Maybe they think I don't know what I'm talking about. Maybe they're thinking that they are engineers for a reason - they don't do well with memorization of definitions or they hate writing.
I've learned to not obsess over it. Some of my colleagues feed on the negative feedback and some of them just don't care. I admit that it crushes me a little bit when I get a bad review, but luckily with such a big class every semester, I am usually able to drown out the negative with the positives.
And thus begins another cycle for those of us here. In my academic life, I will continue to strive to be a better educator, friend, and colleague. I will try to be more patient and positive. In my social life...well...I'll try to get a social life in the wake of L and D's departure. :)
It's not the end, it's just the beginning...
So stay tuned. I predict good things for the 2011-2012 year!
Last week was exhausting yet exhilarating. Grading a never-ending pile of final papers (and yes, I read all 137 of them) by day, relaxing and milking L's last days in the 'burg by night. It was certainly not a sustainable pace for me, but I don't think it is likely to happen again in quite that way.
On the academic side, I was at times really frustrated with students who I knew could do better, but for whatever reason chose not to put the effort into their final papers. But on the other hand, I was super proud of the students who really pulled together something great at the end of the semester. [This part of the week will probably happen again. Every semester, in fact.]
On the social side, I was at times so happy to feel like my (true) self - laughing too loud and razzing friends sarcastically. But on the other hand, I knew that all the revelry was for a reason. It was the end-of-semester euphoria...a sentiment shared by students and (frankly) professors alike.
To be clear, for all its insanity, it was not my "real life" in the 'burg. But for one week, at least, it was.
And so ended the 2010-2011 academic year. All in all, I would call it a successful one even though the classroom continues to provide endless challenges for me. Student apathy is certainly rampant and as a result, I'm usually surprised when students are shocked that I take a real interest in their lives.
Even though I may joke about it, I think that some of them are among the brightest and most talented people I have met. Why wouldn't I want to be a part of that? I could honestly talk to these folks (or even just listen to them) forever.
Of course it's not all sunshine and roses...not everyone is going to love me and/or my style. Maybe they want more law, less ethics. Maybe they don't want to hear about professionalism from someone who they think is only a few years older than them. Maybe they think I don't know what I'm talking about. Maybe they're thinking that they are engineers for a reason - they don't do well with memorization of definitions or they hate writing.
I've learned to not obsess over it. Some of my colleagues feed on the negative feedback and some of them just don't care. I admit that it crushes me a little bit when I get a bad review, but luckily with such a big class every semester, I am usually able to drown out the negative with the positives.
And even though this whole professor thing is relatively new to me, it has brought many "positives" to my life. For the third year, I worked at the spring commencement ceremony for the College of Engineering and it's something I actually enjoy. Graduation is just such a happy time! The proud parents, the elated students, the beaming faces all over campus. What you'll notice is that even though it may be the last time many of them see each other and most are approaching the great unknown of full-time employment, the overwhelming emotion is pure joy.
"There is a good reason they call these ceremonies 'commencement exercises.' Graduation is not the end, it's the beginning." ~ Orrin Hatch
And thus begins another cycle for those of us here. In my academic life, I will continue to strive to be a better educator, friend, and colleague. I will try to be more patient and positive. In my social life...well...I'll try to get a social life in the wake of L and D's departure. :)
It's not the end, it's just the beginning...
So stay tuned. I predict good things for the 2011-2012 year!
Monday, March 28, 2011
Age Ain't Nothing but a Number
A few of my readers have mentioned that I may want to explain what I mean by "My DINK-y Life." DINK is an acronym for "Double Income, No Kids." Conventional wisdom says that the older the DINK, the less they have in common with their (age) peers. As you can imagine, there are not too many DINKs here in the 'burg. So ProMo and I often need to get creative in our socialization.
And after nearly three years here, I did something new this weekend.
I ventured downtown on a Saturday night without ProMo.
Yes folks, while he was off having a boys' trip to VEGAS [where there was plenty of NSFB (not suitable for blog) activity], I braved the downtown scene without him.
I'm talking full-out college kid experience courtesy of my T.A., L, and her buddy D. We did it up: from the pre-gaming to the Pokey Sticks and all the Sharkey's and TOTS in between.
AND...it was really really a fun night! It wasn't nearly as awkward as I had psyched myself up to believe it would be to be. L and D told me it was because I "blended in" so well. They are sweet.
The good news is that the weekend festivities gave me hope that I, in fact, do NOT need to leave town to have fun and I also don't have to be afraid to run into students! In fact, it seemed that more of them didn't quite know what to make of me being on their home turf. One student (bless her heart) even did a "drive by" just to make sure it was me. When I assured her that it was, she gave a dazed "Oh, hi" and walked away with a friend a tow. A friend who, L later informed me, is also in my class. [My bad for not knowing that, but see this post for the reason why.]
The bad news is that, in the back of my mind, I couldn't help but think that L and D (who are grad students) will be gone soon. And once again, I will be left with a crop of 18-22 year olds. To paraphrase a character from my blog's pseudo-namesake, I keep getting older and they stay the same age. :)
I guess the positive of this is that as they graduate and move on, I'll have more friends in various locales to visit and maybe they can just be my friends instead of my students!
Being a DINK is pretty interesting. Because of circumstances, I find that I often relate more to people who are 10+ years younger than me than the ones my own age. Nothing against my mid-30-something friends, but it's frankly easier for me to relate to conversation centered on the latest books, movies, sporting events, and music than talk of daycare, play dates and the perils of little league politics.
Which leads me to believe that it's not age, but rather life experience that sets us apart. There's nothing wrong with it, it's just life! And so I've concluded that there must be some "mental age" sweet spot that I've stayed in for a while now. For example at my first job, my closest friends were all between 5 and 15 years OLDER than me.
So I guess it's true what they say...
Age ain't nothing but a number!
And after nearly three years here, I did something new this weekend.
Yes folks, while he was off having a boys' trip to VEGAS [where there was plenty of NSFB (not suitable for blog) activity], I braved the downtown scene without him.
I'm talking full-out college kid experience courtesy of my T.A., L, and her buddy D. We did it up: from the pre-gaming to the Pokey Sticks and all the Sharkey's and TOTS in between.
AND...it was really really a fun night! It wasn't nearly as awkward as I had psyched myself up to believe it would be to be. L and D told me it was because I "blended in" so well. They are sweet.
The good news is that the weekend festivities gave me hope that I, in fact, do NOT need to leave town to have fun and I also don't have to be afraid to run into students! In fact, it seemed that more of them didn't quite know what to make of me being on their home turf. One student (bless her heart) even did a "drive by" just to make sure it was me. When I assured her that it was, she gave a dazed "Oh, hi" and walked away with a friend a tow. A friend who, L later informed me, is also in my class. [My bad for not knowing that, but see this post for the reason why.]
The bad news is that, in the back of my mind, I couldn't help but think that L and D (who are grad students) will be gone soon. And once again, I will be left with a crop of 18-22 year olds. To paraphrase a character from my blog's pseudo-namesake, I keep getting older and they stay the same age. :)
I guess the positive of this is that as they graduate and move on, I'll have more friends in various locales to visit and maybe they can just be my friends instead of my students!
Being a DINK is pretty interesting. Because of circumstances, I find that I often relate more to people who are 10+ years younger than me than the ones my own age. Nothing against my mid-30-something friends, but it's frankly easier for me to relate to conversation centered on the latest books, movies, sporting events, and music than talk of daycare, play dates and the perils of little league politics.
Which leads me to believe that it's not age, but rather life experience that sets us apart. There's nothing wrong with it, it's just life! And so I've concluded that there must be some "mental age" sweet spot that I've stayed in for a while now. For example at my first job, my closest friends were all between 5 and 15 years OLDER than me.
So I guess it's true what they say...
Age ain't nothing but a number!
 |
| Act yo' age! |
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Dance Dance
On a spring semester Saturday night in the burg, you can count on a few things. Among these:
1. The majority of the people you see will be students.
2. If you go out to a nice dinner, you'll likely see fraternity boys and/or sorority girls all dressed up to go to a formal.
3. There will be dancing. Lots of dancing.
The benefit of living in a college town is that it gives you the opportunity to re-live some of the best moments of your college days. For me, this included formals and dancing. I love love love to dance. In fact, that's one of the reasons I love Vegas so much. Amazing clubs! But that's a post for another time...
I also loved my sorority days and while we did a lot of fun things, getting dressed up, going to formals, and dancing bring back a lot of great memories. So when ProMo and I see all the cute "kids" dressed up, nervous and enjoying a nice dinner, we can't help but feel nostalgic for those sweet days. Sure we didn't know each other then, but that kind of thing is universally fun.
The "awww" moment quickly fades when we decide to head out and find our "perfect bar" in the 'burg. This would be a place that has friendly bartenders, plays good music (to us this means top 40 pop/hip-hop), and is not swarming with college students. Easy to find in a city, impossible to find in Blacksburg.
We end up in a place that doesn't have a rep for being one of the standard student hangouts, but has great music blasting. I'm tentatively hopeful. I think things are looking up even more as I get carded, have the drunk girlfriend of the bouncer tell me I look "amazing" for 36 (thank you), and follow the sound of the music upstairs. There, we are greeted by another bouncer who tells me that there's a $5 cover. For...? Whatever, I gotta dance!
But as soon as I'm on the dance floor, I immediately spy 2 of my students and quickly note that the average age is, at best, 19. I do my best to get my dance on and avoid eye contact with students, but I am more focused on the insanity that surrounds me.
Going to Vegas and other clubs often, I am far too familiar of the ol' "grab and hump" (or as ProMo calls it - the "ball and socket") that drunk boys LOVE to pull on whoever is closest to them. While this move is not exclusive to college kids, having it executed by sweaty, drunk, and generally awkward pubescent boys adds that little something that makes it slightly more desperate and sad, rather than just annoying.
And it's in these moments that I am glad that I am not in college anymore.
Too distracted and slightly depressed that we have not yet found the "perfect bar," we finish our drinks, watch more awkward mating rituals, and head home to snuggle with the dogs. Being a grown-up isn't all bad...but I sure wish I didn't have to leave town to dance.
1. The majority of the people you see will be students.
2. If you go out to a nice dinner, you'll likely see fraternity boys and/or sorority girls all dressed up to go to a formal.
3. There will be dancing. Lots of dancing.
The benefit of living in a college town is that it gives you the opportunity to re-live some of the best moments of your college days. For me, this included formals and dancing. I love love love to dance. In fact, that's one of the reasons I love Vegas so much. Amazing clubs! But that's a post for another time...
 |
| When formals and dancing collide... My girls and I doing the hottest dance move in 1996 - the Marcarena |
I also loved my sorority days and while we did a lot of fun things, getting dressed up, going to formals, and dancing bring back a lot of great memories. So when ProMo and I see all the cute "kids" dressed up, nervous and enjoying a nice dinner, we can't help but feel nostalgic for those sweet days. Sure we didn't know each other then, but that kind of thing is universally fun.
The "awww" moment quickly fades when we decide to head out and find our "perfect bar" in the 'burg. This would be a place that has friendly bartenders, plays good music (to us this means top 40 pop/hip-hop), and is not swarming with college students. Easy to find in a city, impossible to find in Blacksburg.
We end up in a place that doesn't have a rep for being one of the standard student hangouts, but has great music blasting. I'm tentatively hopeful. I think things are looking up even more as I get carded, have the drunk girlfriend of the bouncer tell me I look "amazing" for 36 (thank you), and follow the sound of the music upstairs. There, we are greeted by another bouncer who tells me that there's a $5 cover. For...? Whatever, I gotta dance!
 |
| Vegas, not Blacksburg |
Going to Vegas and other clubs often, I am far too familiar of the ol' "grab and hump" (or as ProMo calls it - the "ball and socket") that drunk boys LOVE to pull on whoever is closest to them. While this move is not exclusive to college kids, having it executed by sweaty, drunk, and generally awkward pubescent boys adds that little something that makes it slightly more desperate and sad, rather than just annoying.
And it's in these moments that I am glad that I am not in college anymore.
Too distracted and slightly depressed that we have not yet found the "perfect bar," we finish our drinks, watch more awkward mating rituals, and head home to snuggle with the dogs. Being a grown-up isn't all bad...but I sure wish I didn't have to leave town to dance.
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