Senior Superlatives

I was voted Most School Spirited in high school.

So was Russell. He was known for removing his shirt, painting his chest,
and arriving at school functions wearing a black Afro wig.
These functions included, but were not limited to,
pep rallies, basketball games, and even girl's volleyball tournaments.

I'm guessing this probably isn't much of a surprise to anyone who knows me, or even reads my blog on a regular basis. I'm peppy. That's just me.

Here's the thing: I loved high school. Loved. There's not a single thing I can remember that I didn't enjoy about the entire experience: from school dances to English class. I was surrounded by a fantastic group of friends, many of whom I'm still close with today. I loved (most) of my teachers and got along with them famously. I participated in clubs and after school activities, and took great pride in my school.

In fact, I often remember being insulted when any of my peers had something negative to say about WHS. I took it personally. How could they say such rude things about Mr. Algebra Teacher? Sure, he was old, and a little smelly, but he'd always been nothing but kind to me! So what if we didn't have a track around our football field--that didn't make rival schools any better than us! What do you mean you think the theme for Prom is goofy? Did you attend the 12 after school meetings where we deliberated for hours, trying to find just the right idea?? Then you don't get to complain.

I took this ferocity, this passion, with me to college. While I wasn't a cheerleader for Appalachian State, I was "dressed out" at every home football game, gold and black donned with pride.

I even took my hair ribbons with me to college. And I rocked them,
even when friends made fun of me for my "pep."

I was always the first to cheer on the team, pom poms swishing, for no other reason than my desire to support my fellow students. It went above and beyond having a good time at a football game. I wept when the band would play our Alma Mater at the end of each match, my heart welling up with the love I had for my school. (Our band is also famous for Copland's "Appalachian Spring," which still gets me choked up today.)

Moment of Truth: I'd go back and relive those 8 years of my life in a heartbeat, even knowing what I do now. I loved it all. Reminiscing isn't painful for me---I think back on those years of my life and smile.

The trick, you see, is learning to apply that tidbit of my nature into my adult life. Learning to cheer for my family, my friends, my peers, even if my pom poms are proverbial. 

I think I manage to do a pretty decent job at it, for the most part. I'm fairly certain that my husband feels supported and appreciated in his position as bread winner AND nursing student. I think Dana would agree that, while I may not have the best form when it comes to hammer curls, I do bring enthusiasm and dedication to our workouts. I'm nothing if not supportive of my brother, my father, my mother, in everything they do: from finding their own paths to mastering the grill to finding the perfect puppy sweater on eBay. 

If they have pom poms for that, I'd totally take a pair. Cheering is in my blood.

(Seriously, I couldn't help myself. Below I'm sharing a video of Appalachian's Marching Band...they open every single show with the first few bars of "Appalachian Spring." Enjoy.)

Other things that make me emotional: The National Anthem, some Oreo commercials, and Bambi. Oof...Bambi.

College: The Most Expensive Experience of Your Life (Other Than Buying a Yacht)

I've been dreaming a lot about college lately.


Not dreaming in a "I want to go back to school" sort of way. Actually having dreams about being back in college.


It's not such a bad thing--I had a wonderful college experience. I graduated from Appalachian State University in Boone, North Carolina. (Pause for pastoral photos of my Alma Mater:)

An aerial view of campus.

The sign every Mountaineer has posed in front of for proud parents to snap a pic.

East Hall--the dorm I lived in freshman and sophomore year. Yes, we had a tire swing. And yes, it was used. Often.

Our gorgeous football stadium.

 

Boone in autumn. Breathtaking.

The little town of Boone, NC.

If I could pack a bag and hit the road right now, I'd be there in 8 hours. Ish.


I think about college a LOT. Things I'd have done differently. Things that were so epic I'd love to relive them again. Friends, faculty, experiences...I reminisce a lot about those years of my life.

So much so that I've compiled a list for you.


Things I Miss About College:


* That feeling of total and utter independence. For the first time in your young life, it's YOUR decision. Want ice cream for dinner? Do it! Want to sleep in and skip psychology? No one will tell on you! Want to have a sleepover? On a school night? With a boy??? Make it so!


* Learning. Every single day. That sudden understanding that furthering your education, and the thirst for knowledge, doesn't make you the dork you feared you'd become in high school. In fact, that 8 hour stint you pulled at the library to study for your chem final doesn't even put you in the same category as the girl next to you, who was there when you arrived and is making no move for the exit as you leave.


* Having your friends a doorway away. I miss the days when I could walk down the hall, knock on a door, and know there would be a friend on the other side. 


* PARTIES! The kind that keep you up all night, the kind where the red cups cost $5 but the booze is free, the kind that leave you with memories that last a life time. 


* Waking up on a Saturday morning to a crisp, cool autumn day, painting a giant gold "A" on my face, donning my favorite App State t-shirt, grabbing my black and gold pom pom, and heading to the stadium for a football game. The ONLY day of the week where drinking beer is suitable before noon. (Usually.)

I was voted "Most School Spirited" in high school. It followed me to college. 

* That "Friday Afternoon, Just Got Out Of My Last Class of the Week, What's Gonna Happen This Weekend" feeling. God, don't you miss that feeling?!??!?!


* Opportunities. College is a wealth of opportunities. It's an internship, a writer's workshop, a position on the school newspaper. Or maybe it's a weekend camping trip with friends, a road trip to a concert with your roommate, your very first frat party. Every single day, you're faced with an opportunity. Real life just isn't like that. (Unless you consider paying the electric bill an opportunity.)


But as much as I loved college, and as much as I miss it, there's no way I'd go back. Because there's a lot of things about college that I DON'T miss.


Things About College I Don't Miss:


* Tests.


* Papers.


* The sick, nervous feeling in the pit of your stomach right before you take a test/turn in a paper.


*Similarly, that sick, nervous feeling in the pit of your stomach you have until you get the grade back for that test/paper.


* PARTIES! The kind that keep you up all night, the kind with the $5 red cups but the booze is free, the kind that cause you to spend the next 2 days feeling like you've been hit over the head with a sledgehammer.


* Paperwork. Have you ever, in your entire life, had so much PAPERWORK to fill out? With deadlines and copies of this and originals of that? Just to ensure you were even allowed to attend class? 


* That whole "searching for yourself" thing. I'm glad to have finally figured out who I am and what's important to me. But getting here? Not so much fun. I don't miss the angst at all.


* Having to save quarters just to wash your laundry in sub-par machines that sometimes work, and sometimes don't. And playing Russian Roulette with your clothing if you decide to step down the hall for a quick convo with your neighbor. Will your clothes still be in the dryer when you get back? Or will some impatient bimbo have moved them to the dusty, spider-ridden corner so she can dry her delicates?


* That 8 am math class that's on the other side of campus every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Which isn't SO bad...unless it's snowing. Hard. On test day.


As much as I'd love to go back and visit, wander the campus and see what's changed, reminisce with my husband about the "good old days," I'd never go to college again.


Maybe.

Friend: A Single Soul In Two Bodies

It was October of 1999. I'd managed to introduce East Hall and most of its occupants to my less-than-graceful self by falling out of a window and breaking my face. It was Halloween night, and I was slowly making my way back to my room after a 7 hour visit to the local emergency room. I was drugged up, bruised from one side to the other, and feeling extremely sorry for myself when I heard a somewhat familiar voice.


"Oh, honey, what in the WORLD happened to you?"


Through my pain-killer-haze I recognized a girl who lived a few doors down. She was in my English class, and had always been sweet to me. She reminded me of a gypsy fairy--long dark hair, willowy frame, graceful and kind. At that moment, I couldn't recall her name.


I explained to her what had happened, and she clucked at me like a mother hen and walked me to my dorm room.


"You get some rest. And you just let me know if you need anything at all. I'll be happy to share my notes with you from Wentworth's class, if you need them."


It wasn't until she left that I remembered her name. Jenna. And we've been fast friends ever since.

In case you don't recognize me, I'm the skinny girl on the left with all the hair.

Jenna and I bonded over poetry, our obsession for Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and our shared (and unabashed) love for The Monkees. Her room was a refuge for me. I'd escape from the stresses of college life and head for Jenna's door. We would light candles, listen to music (usually something ethereal I'd never heard before) and talk for hours. Or, we'd snuggle under a blanket, bust out our favorite vending machine snacks, and watch Buffy on VHS. 


During our sophomore year, an opportunity to join Orson Scott Card in New York City for a spring break writer's conference was something neither of us could turn down. We planned our trip giddily for weeks, comparing notes over places we wanted to see, trying to cram in as much sight-seeing as we could despite the fact that we'd be in class every day we were there. We packed the most sophisticated clothes we had in our possession. Jenna packed her maps, I packed my writing tablet and pens, and we headed for the Big Apple.

And I wound up borrowing her clothes most of the time we were there, because my "Happy As A Clam" t-shirt just wasn't "Manhattan" enough for me.

Nothing bonds 2 college-aged young women together like nighttime strolls down East 24th Street, 6-hour writing jags in a Manhattan Starbucks, standing at the feet of the Twin Towers, or belting out our favorite show tunes in the twinkling lights of Broadway. As our trip came to an end, our grand plans to find an apartment somewhere in Boone and spend the summer drinking strawberry margaritas, writing short stories, and having true Buffy marathons (as in, from dawn to dusk) were solidified.


Jenna and I moved into our first college apartment in April of 2001. It was a tiny basement apartment, where we weren't allowed to have pets (but did), hang wind chimes (but did), or have loud parties (which we didn't.) It was everything we'd dreamed of and more. Eventually, Brian came into my life, and moved into our apartment with us. 

The three of us looking in on illegal pet #4, Dizzy. Jenna had 3 pet rats, and we eventually added a rabbit to the mix.

It was like Three's Company, without Mr. Roper. We worked in shifts, but when we all managed to get together on the same day, we'd make up the hideaway bed, pass the Ben and Jerry's around, and we'd (you guessed it) watch Buffy or Angel or Farscape (which Brian introduced us to.) I had everything I ever wanted--a love in my life that was healthy and big, a best friend who could look at me and tell me what I was thinking before I could form the thought, a little apartment and a place to call my own.

We were nothing if not theatrical.

When our lease came to an end, Brian and I got our own place. I was sad to wake up every morning and know I couldn't share a poptart and cup of coffee with Jenna, but thrilled to be making my way in this relationship with Brian. A little over 2 years after Jenna walked me back to my dorm room in East Hall, Brian proposed. And like most young couples, we fell into each other, and the rest of the world melted away. I lost touch with Jenna, and though I thought of her and missed her often, we never reconnected.


Fast forward to 2006. Brian and I were living in Charleston, and I discovered Myspace for the first time. (You remember...back when Myspace was cool?) When I found Jenna, my first reaction was, "Will she want to hear from me? Should I send her a message?" Memories of Manhattan, all-night dorm room conversations, and losing my best friend flooded my brain. I sent her a message, and she sent me her phone number. I remember feeling nervous, excited, as I took my cell phone and a glass of wine out to my car. (I wanted complete and utter silence so I could hear her every word. You may not get it, but Jenna will understand.) 


The first few moments of conversation were a little awkward, a lot nerve-wracking. But 10 minutes in, and it was like no time had passed at all.


Jenna has since married her high school sweetheart, and they have a gorgeous baby boy, "Bubber." We've grown up (a little), and we don't share the same address anymore. But there are some bonds that are unbreakable.

This past weekend, Jenna and her little family came to Charleston for a visit. We played with Bubber, chatted about mommyhood and work life and grown-up stuff. We discreetly left the men to bond over video games and retreated to the kitchen to share a glass of wine. We visited the zoo and the beach and our favorite local Mexican restaurant (because we don't get together without margaritas being somewhere in the equation.) 

Abby, Jenna and Bubber.

Out of all the fun and excitement of the weekend, my favorite moment was a quiet one, shared under the umbrella at the beach. The menfolk were gone, Bubber was sleeping, and Jenna and I sat in our chairs, breathing in the salt air, talking quietly. In that moment, we were AbbyandJenna, East Hall residents, poets, girls searching for our places in the world. Our busy, adult lives, with children and work and husbands and life, cannot shake the foundation our friendship was built upon.


After all, a friendship built upon Buffy is one that will last a lifetime.