What are you looking at?: Growing Up

Archives

Well, it's done. My spring quarter at DePaul is officially over. I have to say, I was a little sad at the end of my Screenwriting class last night. There were a lot of fun people I would've liked to have known better. Maybe our paths will meet up again in future classes, but maybe they won't. So, like I said, I was sad.

Then, on the drive from Chicago back to Rensselaer early this morning, I popped in some of my favorite nineties tunes to keep me awake, which got me thinking about my school years as a child. Instead of my last days, though, I focused on my first.

Every year, going back to school was a big deal. Because my family was a large one, we didn't have a ton of money for brand-name sneakers, jeans, accessories, and the like. I can remember the day before my first day of fifth grade, resorting to my mother's closet to find something hip to wear and feeling sad because I knew she needed new clothes just as badly as me. I ended up donning a hot pink t-shirt and rose-patterned short pants (not fashionable enough to be known as capris) with her best pair of white Keds. As my classmates showed up in Nikes and the latest trend in jeans, I was so embarassed. I shouldn't have been, but I was.

In middle school, it only got worse. Fashions changed almost monthly; my wardrobe did not. At one point in seventh grade, wearing shirts with athletic teams' names on them were all the rage. I couldn't get one until almost three months later, when the hype was long over (Charlotte Hornets - I knew nothing about the team except that I liked their mascot). At that point, I shouldn't have wasted the money, but sometimes having something late is better than never having it at all.

Sometimes I feel sad (apparently my word of the day) about moving into the future and away from my past. But it's those kind of memories that turn my sadness into relief. I was always so eager for approval, so wanting to be liked by others. I suppose there's still some of that in me today. But now I know when to say "Screw you, to hell what you think," and that makes me happy, too.