It's not you, it's me

Charlotte, I'm breaking up with you. But it's not you, it's me.

You've been a great home for the last year and a half. You've taught me a lot about myself and about my interests and goals. We definitely had a lot of fun - I loved the Whitewater Center and the Lazy 5 Ranch and all the awesome restaurants. I loved my country club, my tennis lessons, and my water aerobics classes. I love that it's 75 degrees in the middle of February. You made me very, very happy.

But I miss my family and I miss my friends, and so it's time for me to move back to Wisconsin. I'm sure the first time I am forced to shovel, I'll be longing for a southern snowstorm instead, but the weather isn't enough of a reason for me to stay.

Hopefully we can stay friends and I can visit you again, and maybe someday you'll be my home again. I'll miss you, and you'll always have a special place in my heart.

Love,
The Real Housewife of Charlotte Milwaukee

"You're not normal."

For much of my life, I've been told that I'm not normal, or some variation, such as "you're weird." Yeah, I know.

I find the topics that trigger the abnormal comments very interesting. The one that triggered this post though was being surrounded by a bunch of other alums from my alma mater for our annual basketball game watching party at a local sports bar, and it had to do with the song that my alma mater plays during its introduction at the men's basketball games - "Where the Streets Have No Name" by U2. This song has been played for years, and though the game operations people have changed it at various times over the years, the alumni feedback (read: complaints) have led to making "Streets" seemingly permanent. And the alums LOVE it.

I don't get it.

A) I don't understand how this song is a pump song, B) I don't understand how this is even an option for a basketball game in 2011. C) I don't like U2.

I know some fans have a Pavlovian response to the song because it was the intro song in the early part of the decade when the team went to the Final Four. I get that. But a lot has changed since then, including the coach of the team, not to mention the obvious change in roster. I can't imagine any of them get pumped by this song either.

Apparently this means I'm not normal.

I'm pretty sure there was some sort of law that that people my age had to pay $150 to see U2 in concert in 1997, but I don't like U2 and never really have. In fact, I remember standing up in my friend's wedding in 2003 - a friend who paid $150 to see U2 in 1997 - and she chose U2's "Elevation" as the song we walked into at the reception. The random dude I stood up with made some comment about it being the greatest song ever, and I commented that I didn't really like U2, which elicted a "what the hell is wrong with you" look and a "I don't think we can walk in together" response. That would've been fine with me.

Clearly, I'm supposed to like U2. And it's also supposed to pump me up. Since it does neither, I'm not normal.

But when I really think about it, I'm not normal compared to my fellow alums or maybe even my demographics.

My alma mater has a huge problem with binge drinking. They like to pretend they don't, but I've seen the statistics and they are waaaaaaaaay above the national average. But even if they were at the national average, popular culture tells me that I should've gotten drunk at least once in college. I've never been drunk in my life, and I don't understand why I should have been, or why others believe my college life was somehow unfulfilling.

My fellow alums often reminisce about their time at the bars and frat parties, and then discuss the local restaurant establishments they frequented after to get their greasy food fix. I also never did that. Oh, I went into the most infamous one once - a chili place where people went for the cracker throwing more than the food I think - but it was because I was babysitting drunkards and was seriously outnumbered. I can only imagine that one had to be drunk to eat there because that was the only possible way to be oblivious to the multiple health code violations and disgusting food. In fact, my alumni group has gone so far as to duplicate the chili recipe and have game watching parties where they eat that stuff voluntarily, while reminiscing about all the awesome times they had watching basketball, getting drunk, and eating chili - not necessarily in that order, though. I've insisted that we NOT do that again, largely because it's disgusting, but also because that was not my experience in college.

But you know, that's because I'm not normal.

As an adult, and as a professional, I've realized that being perceived as not normal has made me into the person that I am, and it is what makes me successful in my multiple roles in life. If I had followed my college peers, I probably wouldn't have ended up with my husband. I also wouldn't have soberly witnessed the drunken behavior of my classmates, and drawn attention to an ugly trend developing before the college administration wanted to acknowledge it was ugly - that my university has a problem with alcohol abuse. I also recognized that this trend wasn't college specific, like most in the the university community wanted to believe. Rather, research now shows that students engage in binge drinking behavior for years after they graduate from college. It's not about a "normal college experience" anymore - young adults are regularly drinking to get drunk. It's a growing trend and therefore "normal," but I am 100% confident that that behavior is not normal, nor is it healthy or safe.

My career path has certainly not followed a normal career trajectory, but in my profession, that's actually pretty normal. People tend to "fall into" what I do, rather than intentionally choose to work in student and academic affairs. I mean really, how many ten year olds think "I want to be an academic advisor when I grow up!" How many ten year olds know what an academic advisor is? Regardless of the path, the programs that I chose to work in are certainly not normal, especially considering my background. For one, I'm White. I'm sorry if that shocks you in some way - both that I am White and that I acknowledge it so bluntly - but I am. And the reality that I am White, and that I acknowledge that I am, actually means something in my profession because most of the students I serve are not White. I also grew up in a middle to upper middle class family and attended upper middle class schools. The students I serve generally come from low-income families and attend(ed) horrible schools - the kind that most in my profession don't believe exist. Thus, the perception is that I have nothing in common with my students, that I couldn't possibly understand their life experiences, and therefore there is no way I would be an effective advisor. And yet I am. I'm damn good. So maybe I'm not the "normal" advisor, but my students are successful, and that's all that matters. I choose to be abnormal and have my students graduate from college.
I've never really done what is perceived as normal. It's not because I intentionally went against the grain; I think I was largely unaware of what was happening around me. My dad used to tell me, "Be aware of your surroundings!" because I often lived in my imagination, and forgot to look out for things like traffic. Because of this fantasy land I created for myself, I didn't notice trends or patterns of behavior. I just did what seemed right for me in the world I created. And what was right for me was often different than what was right for a majority of other people. It meant that I was frequently teased and, when I did became aware that I was doing something that was not the socially-accepted "norm," I felt out of place or ostracized. Most frequently I felt misunderstood. I don't mean that in the "parents just don't understand" way, though I definitely felt that too. I mean it in the sense that I had an explanation as to why I made my choices or why I behaved in a certain way that seemed perfectly logical to me- but nobody bothered to ask me - or really, nobody bothered to listen or understand. And even though I sometimes felt like I didn't fit in, it wasn't enough for me to change who I was or what I believed in - or who I am and what I believe in. And I know that peer pressure should make me want to change, and that my resistance to doing so makes me weird, but I'm okay with it.

I guess that's just another reason I'm not normal.

I hate Valentine's Day

I have long hated Valentine's Day. It's not because I believe it's a Hallmark holiday. It's not because I'm single and don't have anybody to share the day with. I just

I don't remember many Valentine's Days before junior high, but I distinctly remember eighth grade. We had a Valentine's party during school - yes, just like the first graders do. We made card boxes so we could pass out those cheap valentines, and my teacher made a rule that we either pass them out to everyone in the class or pass the out to, in my case, just the girls. I suggested we forego valentines and a party done by our room mother and just watch a movie or have free time in the gym, to which my teacher told the class "[RHoC] doesn't want any valentines so you can give them to everybody but her."

Of course, that's not exactly what I said, and certainly not what I meant. But my teacher was a bully, and she wanted to punish me for challenging the status quo, so I shot back, "That's fine with me. I won't be giving them either, and I'll skip the party." And I held true to what I said. I didn't make a box. I didn't participate in the games. I didn't do the craft. I did my algebra homework instead and then read a book. I still got a few valentines, and I thanked the people who gave them to me, but otherwise I refused to acknowledge that it was Valentine's Day.

That same year, Valentine's Day fell on a Friday and we had a school dance. We were allowed to invite people from other schools, and one of my friends brought a boy from her former school. He developed a crush on one of our other friends, which led to them kissing on the dance floor, and me consoling the first friend in the bathroom for an hour. The second friend didn't think she had done anything wrong because she hadn't pursued the boy, and my two friends never reconciled. I remember thinking that one friend had just had the greatest Valentine's Day of her life, and the other one had the worst of her life, and that's just the way Valentine's Day worked. Not everyone has someone on Valentine's Day.

And for the record, the boy wasn't even cute. At all.

Valentine's Day just got worse in high school because it was a constant reminder of who had a special someone and who didn't. I attended an all-girls school for two years of high school, and it was tradition for boyfriends to send flowers and gifts to the school. My first year, girls were called down to the office all day to retrieve their tokens of affection and flaunt the fact that they had boyfriends. The jealousy from the other girls was palpable. Yes, Singles Awareness Day was alive and well in my high school. The second year, the school saved all the gifts until the end of the day so the single gals didn't have to be reminded of their singleness throughout the day, just when they walked by the office on the way home.

The reminders of having a special someone wasn't exclusive to boyfriends and girlfriends, however. I also had flower sales and candygrams to remind me of how many friends loved me too. Because that's the BS that Valentine's Day lovers try to sell - that Valentine's Day is about love in general, and that includes your friends and your family too. So my schools would sell different color roses or carnations - red for love, yellow for friend, and white or pink for secret admirer - and we'd carry those around all day as a status symbol. Really, who thought this was a good idea in high school? It was completely Singles Awareness Day - those who had a boyfriend or girlfriend carried a red flower and nobody else did - but it was also Popularity Awareness Day too. The popular kids had multiple yellow flowers to represent all their friends, while the outcasts had a couple or none at all. Those damn flowers were the equivalent of "Kick Me" signs, and yet another reminder that not everyone has someone on Valentine's Day.

I've had a romantic someone on Valentine's Day for the last fifteen years, but that hasn't translated to liking the holiday. My school experiences definitely shaped my perspective, but my opinion on the holiday also has to do with my expectations for romance. I don't think I've mentioned it before, but I'm a princess. My princess tendencies don't come across in my everyday life, but they certainly do in my romantic relationships. I expect to be put on a pedastal, and expect to be treated like I am the best girlfriend/wife ever, and I expect to be wooed daily. And while these princess tendencies appear to lend themselves to Valentine's Day, they actually directly contrast this day. Why? Because it's too easy.

Think about it: Valentine's Day is designed for idiot men to get romance right. Every store is advertising some sort of appropriate Valentine's Day gift. All the restaurants feature romantic Valentine's Day menus. Flowers are foolproof. Even blogs and magazines give ideas for perfect Valentine's Day presents. It's just too easy and really requires very little effort - buy flowers, buy chocolate, make reservation, etc. It's prescribed and tired. And as a princess, prescribed and tired is unacceptable.

I'm lucky because my husband spoils me daily. We go out to eat often, and we still "date" a few times each week. And if I really want to buy something special, my husband will get it for me or I'll just buy it for myself. I'm far too practical to take advantage of that fact, but I know it's true. I don't need a special day to express my love for my husband or to feel loved by my husband. We are intentional about expressing our love for each other - through words or actions - and I feel it every single day.

My practicality is another reason why I dislike Valentine's Day: Flowers don't cost as much as they do on Valentine's Day. Neither does that box of chocolates. Or that prix fixe menu. Every store and restaurant is taking advantage of the poor schlubs who are only romantic one day of the year and are therefore pressured to be romantic on this one day of the year that they're willing to pay $60 for flowers that only cost $19.99 the rest of the year. It's insane, and I refuse to be part of it.

I prefer my way: Take Valentine's Day off. I have no expectations of my husband on this day so he can't fail to deliver, but the other 364 days of the year, he is required to treat me like the princess that I am and he never fails. He gets to be romantic in his own way without some unrealistic expectations brought on by some "love holiday," and I get to feel loved and adored every single day! Oh sure, we've done things on Valentine's Day or said it was for Valentine's Day, but really, we'd do it anyway. For example, last weekend we took a road trip to DC to see our alma mater play basketball and said it was for Valentine's Day. Really, if it had been January 14th, we would've done it anyway. Calling it a Valentine's Day trip helps others understand and categorize us.

I'm also very aware that there are many people who don't have a Valentine, and much like my relationship with my husband, I don't like to wait for some prescribed holiday to make sure that these people feel loved. As much as some try to incorporate friends and family into Valentine's Day, I think the day is really Singles Awareness Day for a lot of single adolescents and adults. The love of a friend is not the same as the love of a partner, and it feels patronizing to associate friendship and family with Valentine's Day. I'm the same friend on February 13th as I am on February 14th so drawing attention to our relationship on Valentine's Day is counterproductive. And because I'm the same friend, I think it's important for me to acknowledge that my friend who wishes she had a boyfriend on February 11th may feel sad that she doesn't have one on February 14th and giving her extra attention isn't going to change that- as though me loving her makes up for the fact that she doesn't have a boyfriend. I'm just that fabulous! Right. I love my family, but it's not the same as the love I have for my husband. Sorry family. 

So I'm going to have a Monday, and you can have whatever day you want. Just please don't shove your love down my throat, unless you're prepared to do it every other day as well.

Last night I saw... what was my point?

Yes, I am aware I haven't blogged in a while.

I have tried to write, really I have, but I've been losing steam. I start a post and halfway through I forget my point, or realize I have no point, or just get tired of typing and log out of blogger. That used to happen to me occasionally, but now it happens every time I sit down to blog. I thought maybe it was because I didn't have much to say, but that's not true - I have lots of ideas. So what the heck is wrong with me?

Oh yeah. I have ADHD.

I am exhausted all the time. It's not the lack of sleep thing anymore - I've sorta developed a schedule. This is more mental exhaustion than physical exhaustion, and it's because I exert an extraordinary amount of mental energy trying to stay focused and on-task during the day that I am completely wiped out by the time I get home. Consequently, my brain does what it does naturally - gets bored easily, loses focus, and bounces from idea to idea. Unfortunately, it also means that I can't stay on task long enough to finish an entire blog post. I'm getting incredibly frustrated just writing these few paragraphs, and this is pretty short compared to the other stuff I've been writing.

I have a bunch of brilliant posts in progress I promise. Maybe someday I'll actually finish them...