Classic...I Guess

When you find a style that works for you, why change (even 11 years later)?

Laughing at the Past

Guess what I got today!  OK, don't really guess.  I got an official copy of my transcript.  The news contained, while not great, was actually better than I'd expected.  My last two semesters didn't count at all (Fall because I got a "trauma drop" of all my classes because of the bus accident...and I think I would've failed them all anyway, and Spring because my Dad never paid the tuition and I was never officially enrolled in any classes).  Financially that sucked, but it's a lucky break because I don't have two straight semesters of F's on there.  Even with that "good" news, I still left with a pretty dismal 2.2 GPA, and only 82 credits completed.

But the transcript provided some good laughs for Scott and me this afternoon.  I mean, I don't remember taking Arthurian Legend (D) or Astronomy (B-), but apparently I did.  I vaguely remember Genetics, Ecology and Evolution (B), which was basically a re-hash of AP Bio.  Scott was dismayed to learn that I got a D in Criminology, but I did get a B+ in Intro to American Criminal Justice 2 years earlier (which I also don't remember).  Honors Freshman Comp? B+ Three semesters of Italian? C, C+, C+.  My proudest semester was the last one I passed: Summer of '99, when I got a B+ and an A in two 400-level communications classes and an A- in nutrition.

Mostly, looking at the transcript just makes me sad.  My priorities were never what they should have been, and that I passed any classes at all after my Freshman year shows how damn smart I was, because I almost never went. And having taken 11 years to dig out of the financial catastrophuck I left behind, I wish that I could go back and smack some sense into my 18-year-old self and also go back and (while not blaming them) tell my parents to force me to show them my grades at the end of the semester.

But that's enough of looking backwards.  I'm keeping my fingers crossed that I'll be able to start taking classes again in January, though thinking about it for more than two minutes at a time makes me nauseous.    I'm hoping that the re-applying process is quick and painless so that I can actually make plans (and find out how much more I have to go) instead of this purgatory I'm in now. 

Repressed

A quick read through the updates on my favorite blogs last night brought up a long-repressed memory.  The blog post in question was about the world's most awkward date, college dorm style.  And I'd like to share my own awkward date with you, but first two caveats:

* Yes, I was young and stupid.  Not all young and stupid girls end up on the business end of a bloody scimitar. Some of us were also lucky.
* I acknowledge that this might not be funny to you.  I was drifting off to sleep last night when my eyes popped open and I started laughing out loud.  I told Scott the story, more of the story than I'm going to include here, through laughter-induced tears.  He wasn't laughing along.  Maybe it's just not funny?

The story takes place very early in my Freshman fall semester at Penn State.  I know that because it wasn't yet jacket weather, and because the story starts in the dining hall at breakfast time and I was alone.  Breakfast quickly became a social-or-skipped event for me.  So anyway, there I am alone eating my breakfast when I am approached by a pair of guys who want to share my table.  One is a generic fleshy white guy (picture the guy next to me in this picture.  for example only. it wasn't actually him. I can't stress that enough as the story goes on!) and the other is a scrawny Indian guy.  They're friends or roommates or something, computer science or math geeks, and the white guy is incredibly chatty.

Somehow, in some details I continue to repress, I end up accepting an invitation to a concert from the generic fleshy guy.  And to be clear, when I say "concert," I actually mean Glee Club concert.  The Penn State Glee Club, as I'd discover my sophomore year, is an incredibly talented, and mostly gay, group of guys who throw a really fun party.  That night, however, I was simply impressed with their talent.

There was rain.  I don't know if it was raining the whole time, or if it started to rain as we left the concert.  All I know is that "Guy" and I were soaked to the skin.  The logical thing to do, apparently, was for us to go to his dorm, because it was closer than mine.  And he decided to get changed.

He got changed right in front of me.

And didn't do the gym class shuffle either.

He got completely naked, in all his white fleshy glory.

And so I did what any Jamie in this situation would do: pretend it wasn't happening.  Keep talking and FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, don't look! Naked guy? What naked guy? No naked guy here!  And so, while he's all naked in front of me (you couldn't open the closet and use the door as a shield???), he's talking about being naked.  He's talking about nature and how nudity is normal and natural and I'm all "uh huh...mm hmm...HOLY SHIT DO ALL GUYS IN COLLEGE JUST GET NAKED AT THE DROP OF A HAT?"  I'm descended from actual Quakers, guys.  The good, decent people of my heritage do not think that there is anything normal about stripping in front of strangers.  We have a healthy dose of prude, and we think full-body covering is completely natural.

Obviously, there was no reciprocal nakedness from me.  Though the remaining details of the evening have been blissfully removed from my memory, I can assure you of that.  "Sweet Seventeen and never been naked in front of a stranger," as the song goes.

I do remember him implying, either that night or some time after, that we were dating.  (perhaps he didn't just drop his drawers for just any Glee Club groupie after all?)  I kindly set the record straight, telling him that I wasn't ready to commit to just one person, that I was young and still finding my way around school and blah blah blah...

About a month later (maybe less?), I was in the company of Guy - please don't ask me to recall the remaining details - and the subject of my boyfriend Evan came up.  Guy looked completely heart-broken. "I guess you're ready to commit now?"  Umm...well...you see...when a girl isn't interested in a boy, she says she's not ready to be in a relationship. She doesn't just come out and tell him that his nakedness traumatized her to an extent that she won't fully realize until she's in her 30's.

I guess all boys don't know this?

Self-Writing Posts

The problem with blog posts that write themselves is that they don't publish themselves. Below is an e-mail exchange between me and Janette, about an e-mail exchange between me and Scott. It's a week old. Sorry for holding out on you for so long!

Janette,

I thought you’d get a kick out of the e-mail exchange between Scott and me this morning…

ME: And did you notice the two clumps of Elph hair upstairs in the hallway? I can tell you they appeared between 6:05 and 6:30, and that when I saw Milo at 6:30 he had a clump hanging off his mouth like the “bad kitty” on the pajamas!

SCOTT: Yeah,I heard the ruckus when you had just gotten into the shower, but it didn't continue for more than five seconds. I figured it was the two boys, guess I was wrong!

ME: Well I guess Elphie wasn’t happy with him at all. When I was toweling off, she was “hiding” (really, I guess she thinks she’s invisible) behind the orange shower
curtain and TWICE Milo went to jump into the tub and she swiped at him mid-jump
and made him fall. It was kind of hilarious, but poor Milo missed out on his morning “fresh” drink.

SCOTT: awww! I feel bad for both of them! I've seen them both this morning, not sure about together though

ME: Nah, don’t feel bad. It’s what siblings do. Well, I assume it’s what siblings do. Didn’t you and Janette ever rip each other’s hair out? ;-)

SCOTT: nah, just hand to hand combat, and mind games. :)

* * * * *

Aww, poor kitties. Well, the drama is just part of being siblings.

We bickered a lot. Scott was a PEST, at least that's the way I felt when I was in my teens (remember the age difference). I kept my bedroom door locked from the time he learned to crawl until I moved out. I swear-to-gawd he learned to walk by pulling himself up on my bedroom door knob and letting himself in. LOL!

I only remember hitting Scott 'for real' once, though we did have the very typical sibling wrestling matches. We were arguing over something stupid and forgettable and he was clearly losing when he suddenly and very dramatically yelled 'OW!!! Whaaaaaa! Mom, Janette hit me!!!! Whaaaaa!' And I hadn't laid a hand on him, the little snot.

I knew I was going to be in a world of trouble so I did the only reasonable thing. I smacked the holy crap out of him. I figured if I was 'going to do the time, I may as well do the crime.' That was one of the very few times in my childhood when I remember getting into real trouble. But I'm certain that smacking him up front prevented years of resentment.

Ask him if he remembers it, he was only about 6 or 7 years old at the time. I can SEE it like it was yesterday, we were standing in the hallway just bickering away until he became a little drama queen. Let me tell you, that was the first and last time he ever tried that little trick!

Other than that the worst thing I ever did to him was pull the warranty to the refrigerator out of mom and dad's dresser and tell him that it was his adoption papers. Much drama ensued and it took mom forever to convince him otherwise. THAT was awesome!

Flashback Friday #2

The Blizzard of '96!

I graduated from high school late. Well, not failed a grade late. If you look at it like that, I graduated early, since I was just a few months past 17 on graduation day. 1996 was a banner year for snow, and our school district went through snow days and beyond. In addition to this blizzard (which, if I'm not mistaken, was in March!), we had enough snow that school ended something crazy like 10 days late. I graduated from high school, loaded up the car, and left for college 2 days later.

Anyway, I thought I would post this photo because I talked to one of our repeat diners on the phone today. When I asked how he was, he said "not as good as you," and went on to tell me about the 6" of snow they had on the ground and how more was in the forecast. I tried to point out that, though the weather here is beautiful, I was stuck at work and at least he was at home. He wasn't buying it. I told him that I missed snow, but only because I don't have to drive in it. After all, I learned to drive in ice and slush, and haven't done it since.

I look at the pictures and get nostalgic. But the fact is I don't ever want to drive in snow again. I'm good right here, thanks!

Flashback Friday #1

I had so much fun with 'Mullet Jamie' last week that I decided to start a new feature: Flashback Friday, with one photo per week from the vast ParkHopper archives. This week, I thought I would stick with the holidays a little longer and present:

Jamie the Narr-e-ator

First Grade Christmas Pageant at Our Lady of Ransom. If you ask my mom, she can probably still rattle off some of my part, complete with nasty Philly pronunciation of the letter "o". I don't remember any of it. What I do remember is that I wanted to be one of the angels. I was crushed that I wasn't one of the angels! Instead, I was the narrator (or one of the narrators, I'm not really sure). Of course, I pronounced it narr-e-ator. After all, what little kid knows what a narrator even is?

And since this was before we owned a video camera (hey - who wants to watch the 5th grade play, Scarecrow Finds a New Post, where I played the Autumn Wind?), and since this is the only photo I have of the show, I will always look back and be able to tell people that I was the omnipotent star of the show, standing center stage in front of (what looks to be) Joseph and Mary, and possibly even Baby Jesus!

Super Star!

Mullet Jamie and Clown

From the comments of my last entry:

mamajoy said...
you never had a mullet!

Here for your mocking pleasure is the photo I lovingly call Mullet Jamie and Clown. If that's not a mullet (and I still think it is), it is definitely the most tragic hair cut to befall a fourth grade girl. Ever. Plus, I'm looking a little "special" in that photo!

Mock-Worthy Things in this Photo:
1. The hair
2. The expression on my face
3. The multiple shades of pink that don't quite go together
4. The yellow sunglasses dangling around my neck by a red cord
5. The "totally 80's" white button-down shirt under a sweatshirt

Cool Things About this Photo:
1. That clown in the picture with me was the head clown - he had a whole page in the program
2. Grandpop bought me a PROGRAM! That's one of those things parents never shell out the money for!
3. I also came home with a stuffed elephant.
4. It's the circus! This was the only Ringling Brothers program I ever saw as a kid. I don't remember anything about the show, but I know I loved it and wanted to go back every year. I've only been to one circus since, and it was in 2002 with Eric. I probably paid for both tickets.
5. The expression on my face. Sure, it's laughable, but that's a kid positively squeeing with excitement.

Who Did This To You?

Scalzi's Weekend Assignment : What's the worst clothing ensemble you can recall wearing? I expect we'll get a lot of bridesmaid and prom night nightmares in this one, but anything's up for grabs, and in deed, if it was something you thought was fashionable at the time and now have come to regret, so much the better. Confess! You'll feel better.

I have just to words to introduce my fashion nightmare: Color Guard. I imagine most of the people who will stumble across this entry went to high school, or maybe even college. I also imagine that a fair amount went to a football game during that time. So you are probably already giggling. Stop it! Whatever you are picturing, mine was probably worse.

The school colors: Orange, Brown and White (fight! fight! fight!).

The fabric of choice: white spandex with orange sequins.

Now in the three years I was in the color guard, we had three different uniforms. The first year was definitely the worst: it was a one-piece white spandex long-sleeve pant suit with orange sequins covering one arm and half of the torso (diagonally). Now those of you who remember marching band probably also remember that color guard isn't a sport and therefore doesn't really attract girls who are physically fit. And did I mention the SPANDEX???

Extra Credit: Are you kidding? Pictures, people!

I don't have any pictures of me in said sparkly ensemble from Hell, but I do have another Color Guard picture. This is a spandex dress (who knew spandex could make puffed sleeves?) with a separate sequin vest. It, by the way, is the least offensive of the three outfits we wore, which might explain why it's the only one with a surviving picture!

Waxing

Now that I've only got three shifts left at the call center, I've started waxing reminiscent about my long and random job history. And my random hairstyles. And my glasses. I dug out some old pictures and decided to post them all together, for the sake of history. The only costumes missing from here are my Park Fare costume (pictures from that summer are nonexistent... I must be missing an album), the pink and blue American Adventure dress, and the Comm center (woo... light blue shirt and khaki pants!).

Tree of Life, summer '98. Watching people watch a 3-D movie is a job everyone should have for a day. I was lucky enough to do it for a whole summer. It's ok people -- the bees won't really sting you. ;-)


American Adventure, 2000-2001. This picture was scanned from my scrapbook, thus the black background. I'm not really sure how 'colonial' pigtails are, but somehow they worked for me!

One Man's Dream, 2001. I loved this location. I loved the costume (reversible vest... how cool is that??). I loved working in the same room as Mary Poppins' dress and all the other Disney history. Sadly, after 9/11 I was cut to 30 hours/week and had a new apartment and new car. I had to move on.

...to Security. Of course, if I hadn't made that move, I probably would have never met Scott. Or had to wear that awful hat! Oh who am I kidding? I should always wear hats! I LOVE hats! And I love Scott. But that goes without saying.

Let's Lunch

Today's schedule included waking up early (ok, 10am) so that I could get dressed and go over to the Magic Kingdom for lunch with Professor Tom. Tom and I have been friends since freshman year of high school when I swooped in and starting "dating" his best friend. (is it still called "dating" if you never really went anywhere??) He still lives up in Marlton, on the street where I used to live! Anyway, I went over to his hotel to drop off some tickets yesterday, because that's the kind of friend I am, and it was so good to see him. It was unexplainably good. I guess it's because I'm so far from where I grew up and he's a link to all that's good and simple and wholesome about my past.

He hasn't changed a bit... although he's shaved off the goofy beard he was sporting last time he was in town. The one that made him look a little like Bob Denver back in the Dobie Gillis days. I guess we'll have to take a new picture today.

Allergic?

I need to have this checked out at a doctor - I think I'm allergic to stupid people. Really. How else would you explain the 15 minute call with frustrated lost people followed by the hives that broke out on my neck??

OK, maybe they weren't hives. And it's much more likely that the blotchy redness was caused by the Coke I had with dinner. Every time I have a coke at work it makes my cheeks all red. My frustration with the stupid lady probably raised my blood pressure, which in turn blotched my neck.

At any rate, my co-workers were amused by my new allergy. Good thing I'm getting the heck out, huh?

On a completely new topic, my friend Tom T from high school is in town. I'm going to hook up with him this afternoon before work to drop off some park tickets for him and two friends. Then tomorrow we're going to have lunch. His treat. :o) Last time he was in town, I paid. We have a floating lunch. It works out.

And let's change directions one more time. Check out this picture from the Pirates premiere at Disneyland. No, it's not Johnny Depp. Oh... you wanted to him? OK. But seriously, that first picture... woah... it just makes me want to sing that Sesame Street song, "one of these things is not like the other..."

Who Invests in their PAST?

I spent $72 at wal mart today, the bulk of which was spent on 6 storage tubs. I looked at Scott when the cashier read the total and said, "who invests that much in their PAST?"

Anyway, I was amazingly productive today. I took the whole giant pile of boxes and turned it into this:

(a slightly less giant pile of plastic boxes)

Actually, the big one on the right is less than half-full (but I'll fill it up with other random crap that's laying around). And the one on the left is totally filled with stuffed animals from a cardboard box in the bedroom. I threw out a lot of the "treasures" when Mom came to visit. There was a lot of, "do you want this?" "no" "me neither." And into the trash it went. I also pared down my collection of high school newspapers to one of each issue... with the exception of the one I won the ASPA investigative journalism award for and the 'Class of 96' Senior edition.

Now would also be a great time to mention that I fan I am of the Space Bag phenomenon. In the bag below, there are 4 formal dresses, 3 middle/high school jackets, 4 baby dresses, 2 blankets, and my dance recital costume (on the top because the sequins make me smile). I also bought a slightly smaller bag to put my wedding dress in. I figure it's time to put it into somewhat permanent storage.

And of course, now that the majority of the boxes have been emptied of their contents (I still have that box of naked Cabbage Patch Kids that I think is going to the Good Will), I have a huge trash pile. Notice that the old TV still hasn't made it downstairs? That's on the agenda for tomorrow. I wish I had lightened the picture a little so that you could better see that the bottom box on the left is actually full of flattened boxes.


And so tomorrow we grocery shop. And take out the trash. And vacuum. And, depending on the time I have left and the condition of my back (which is currently angry with me over today's exploits), I may tackle the other pile of cardboard boxes in the corner of the bedroom.

...and perhaps 7 days from today, when I once again have a day off, I'll get to relax a little. Because that certainly wasn't on the agenda for this week!