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School Daze

At 9:00 tonight, my parents will drop Samantha off at O'Hare airport so that she can make the big trip to Africa with SJC Habitat For Humanity members. Everyone's a little nervous to see her go, but I admire her so much for going to a place outside of her comfort zone in order to experience something new.

Meanwhile, as Ryan prepares for college life at Columbia and Saint Joe welcomes another freshman class, I can't help but remember what that time was like for me. The memories are fuzzy, not because I can't recall them, but because it feels like they happened to somebody else, not me. I think about my first roommate and clinging to her as we traveled from Chicago to a little town whose name I couldn't even pronounce. I hated the bugs, the lack of public transportation, the absence of a mall. I missed my family and friends. I missed feeling confident in the person I was. Thinking about that makes it even funnier to me that, almost seven years later, I'm still here.

While I certainly wasn't a wild child, there were definitely a few crazy times that I like to think about and laugh about; getting drunk for the first time; receiving out-of-town visitors at 3:00 in the morning; going to parties, throwing up, and then partying some more. Staying up late to play cards and eat Little Debbie snack packs, the mother of all food groups for broke teenagers. I can't say I had a bad time.

Some people say they don't believe in having regrets; because we have free will, we should embrace each choice we've made because it's our own. I don't think that's true. Having free will doesn't mean having full understanding of ourselves and our actions, and I sometimes wish I had branched out a little more in college--made a bigger effort to know more people, go out on a limb, try new things. As I see Ryan saving up money for dorm furniture and picking out her fall classes, it's hitting me harder than ever that I can never go back to that place again. I will never be 18 years old again. Never again will my life revolve around school. Gone are the days where 20 bucks could last me two weeks because all I needed was money for Grandma's pie. No more waiting for 3 a.m. visitors. I'm just too damn tired.

The upside: I'm glad I can't go back. I was too insecure, too dependent on the people around me, people who couldn't even get their own act together. It's only now that I truly feel confident in who I am and who I've become. But if I could capture those days on video, the good times and the bad, I'd happily watch them all.

Ellie Mae Down On the Farm

That's how I felt in this outfit at Samantha and Ryan's joint graduation party on Saturday, having more to do with the pigtails and less with my attire, but I felt fun, too. I haven't worn pigtails since grade school.

On July 1st, I had just one Visa card. By August, the number changed to four as I signed up for a New York and Company credit card over the weekend. One hundred and sixty-five dollars in a half-hour. Am I really good or just really gullible? To avoid repeating mistakes from years past, I am more cautious with my purchases when I get home, no longer in a hurry to rip off the tags and stuff my latest finds into the closet without giving them another once-over, trying pants on with heeled shoes and tops on with just the right bra. (It does make a difference, people.) Anyway, everything passed inspection except for one pair of black pants, which I can just return in a couple of weeks when I go back to NY&C and spend my special City Cash coupons. City Cash is the best invention ever. They pick a week to dole them out and for every 30 bucks you spend, they give you a $15 coupon. The best thing about them is you can use them all together, so $120 worth of clothes quickly turns into $60. I earned $175 in discount spending, so come the first weekend in August, Ellie Mae will be camping out at Southlake Mall.

However, as fun as my shopping sprees are, I also realize all that card swiping has been getting to my head. My paycheck is already close to gone, leaving me with pennies to buy groceries. At first, I thought I could manage on grilled cheese and green beans until next Friday. Then I thought, "If I can justfiy almost $500 on clothes, why can't I charge one fifth of that on that which keeps me alive?" So I did, and it felt good. Spaghetti, fruit snacks (what did I tell you?), chicken, hamburger, Little Debbies, frozen pizzas.... My God, it was almost like I was at The Limited. The feeling of guilty pleasure in buying what I can't afford was ultimately the same.

But so what? I'm not married, I don't have kids, and I'm not buying crack. I wore great shoes to work and cooked up a mean Sloppy Joe for dinner. All in all, not a bad day.

Vacation: All I Ever Wanted

For the last couple of weeks I've felt trapped in a state of inactivity. It begins the minute I walk in the door after work, drop my keys on the kitchen table, and turn on the air conditioner. After changing my clothes, most of the time I end up sitting on the couch flipping through TLC design shows and reruns of soap operas until a phone call or visitor stirs me into action. Sometimes I read, sometimes I don't. In any case, my motivation level is extremely low.

I'm not sure why this is happening, but then again, I can probably guess. I've been pretty broke lately, paying for my writers workshop, paying off credit cards, paying, paying, always paying for something. Then there's Rensselaer, a place that I really enjoy most of the time and then get angry at when I want to browse through the aisles of Barnes and Noble without making an hour-and-a-half round trip just to get there. Then there's my job, which I like most of the time but right now feel pressure to complete projects my heart can't get into. All of these factors make it even more exciting that I'm supposed to leave this Wednesday for my workshop, to start my first actual vacation of the summer, thanks to the president's emergency priority list; to flee to a place where new ideas will be in the air; to a place that's anything but work. I've also entered one of my short stories into a contest and am anxious to learn the results.

I'm thinking about all of this because on Monday, Samantha told me that my Auntie Debbie is in the hospital again. My aunt has been fighting brain cancer since I was a junior in high school and is getting steadily worse. However, as concerned as I am for my aunt and her family, I started thinking, "If she dies now, there goes my workshop. There goes the break I've been waiting for." For that reason alone I've been too scared to call and ask how she's doing.

I know, I know - it's horrible.

After a statement like that, I don't think a positive ending is possible, so I'll just stop here.

All About Me

A survey you can enjoy without the burden of passing it on.

Name: Frema (not really, but it helps me promote an air of mystery)
Birth date: January 9, 1980
Birthplace: Berwyn, Illinois
Current Location: Rensselaer, Indiana
Eye Color: Gold-brown
Hair Color: Brown with carmel highlights
Height: 5'2"
Righty or Lefty: Lefty
Your heritage: Irish, German, Mexican, and Arabian.
The shoes you wore today: Joe Boxer piggy slippers and black heels.
Your weakness: Spinach dip and ice cream
Your fears: Never finding the perfect haircut.
Your perfect pizza: Thin-crust pepperoni.
Goal you'd like to achieve: Publish my short stories and, eventually, write and publish novels.
Your bedtime: Between 11:00 p.m. and midnight.
Pepsi or Coke: Neither - I don't care much for caffinated drinks.
McDonald's or Burger King: McDonald's - it's closer to my apartment
Single or group dates: What kind of sick question is this?
Iced Tea or Nestea: As long as it has Raspberry in it, I couldn't care less.
Chocolate or vanilla: Vanilla shakes but chocolate pie.
Cappuccino or coffee: Neither
Smoke? No
Cuss? Yes
Sing? In the shower.
Take a shower everyday? 99% of the time.
Have a crush? Yes. :)
Do you think you've been in love? Fo' shizzle.
Like(d) high school? Very much.
Want to get married? Oh, yes.
Believe in yourself? Yes
Get motion sickness? Only on tire swings and that horrible boat ride at Six Flags.
Think you're attractive? Most of the time.
Get along with your parent(s)? Very much.
Like thunderstorms? No
Play an instrument? I played the recorder in fifth grade. Does that count?
Been trashed or extremely intoxicated? Yes
Been caught "doing something"? At 15, my parents caught me kissing my forbidden boyfriend in an alley.
Gotten beaten up? Only by siblings.
Age you hope to be married: 26. (No pressure.)
Numbers and Names of Children: Three, and the names change constantly. Current favorites include Lucy, Nathan, and Elaine.
Your Dream Wedding: Surrounded by flowers, the people I love, and a willing groom.
How you want to die: Old and disease-free.
What you want to be when you grow up: Published writer.
What country would you most like to visit: Not sure - London or Greece.

And, lastly, favorites:

Food: Spinach dip!
Magazine(s): Glamour, Entertainment Weekly
TV Show(s): 24, Friends, What Not to Wear, Sex and the City (the last one's a new fave; thanks, TBS!)
Movie(s): When Harry Met Sally
Nail polish color: Shades of berry.
Celebrity: Spidey-er, I mean Tobey Maguire.
Restaurant: Ruby Tuesday's
Soap Opera: All My Children
Accomplishment: It's a tie between winning first place in Chicago's Young Author's Contest in seventh grade and illustrating Randy Wooten's award-winning book in third. Randy was sooo cute!

I Love the '90s - Frema Style

The newest installment of VH-1 pop-culture programming debuted this past Monday, and unlike the '70s and '80s, in the '90s I was both alive and old enough to connect with everything the panel members are talking about.

Since I sooo enjoy "listing," here are some of my own reasons for loving the '90s:

New Kids on the Block
I had plenty of trading cards and those cheap buttons you found in the dispensers at the grocery store. However, we never had the money for the actual music. To make the kid in me feel better, I finally bought Hangin' Tough on cassette when I was 15.

Neon
I wore it all the time, all the while never worrying about a matching color palate. My favorite outfit consisted of a green shirt, blue shorts, and red Keds.

Ding Dong Ditch
The kids in my neighborhood played this game daily during the summer until one of our victims threatened to call the police.

Seven Up
Even though I was almost never picked. :(

Teen Beat
I wanted to read 17, but my mom thought it was "too old" for me. Like talking about STDs and birth control is inappropriate for children or something. To say the least, I was disappointed, but Teen Beat did have a great Eddie Furlong poster for me to tape on my hamper.

Kissy Fur
I may be the only person my age who remembers this cartoon, but it was way cool. "Gaaators!"

Sweet Valley High
And my mom thought 17 was inappropriate.... Just kidding - this series never talked about the kids who scored beyond first base. I'm sure it was part of the inspiration behind Beverly Hills, 90210, as it took place in California and half of the student body was rich. Which brings me to...

Beverly Hills, 90210
I always rooted for Kelly, even when she and Dylan fooled around behind Brenda's back. My sister Samantha and I used to listen to the soundtrack all the time. Remember that? I'm almost embarassed to admit that I bought it used on CD way after the craze was over. Almost.

* It should be noted that my parents did not approve of 90210, so half the time I had to wait for my friends to tell me what happened on the school bus the next day. You can imagine the chaos that erupted when I tried to watch Melrose Place.

The Baby-Sitters Club
I was so into this club that I started my own - The Chicago Chicks Club - only we were less about baby-sitting (OK, not at all about baby-sitting) and more about eating candy and plugging dirty words into Mad Libs books. Stacey was my favorite sitter, but I was probably more like Kristy - tomboyish and bossy. I even wrote an anthem and made all the club members sing it before meetings. Approach me when I've got a couple of Sky Blues in my system and I'll sing it to you.

I'm Telling!
The best teen game show ever!

I could go on and on, but I won't. Instead, I will ask: What do YOU love about the '90s?

Crushin'

Tonight, feeling somewhat literary as I began proofreading the first four chapters of Chris's novel, I came across a character, Mackenzie, who had an obsession with one of the boys at his school. Later, Mackenzie realized how badly he wanted to befriend him.

How easy it is to harvest an obsession, for whatever reason, especially when you're in high school. You're still so impressionable, still on the prowl for an everyday hero. It was around my junior year that I found one of my own. Her name was Ellen, and I thought she was one of the prettiest girls I'd ever seen. She had this great long brown hair and a sharp sense of humor that couldn't be matched. Ellen was a part of every vital organization my high school had - student council, theatre, Christian Life Community, etc. - and was always surrounded by a crowd of people wherever she went. My eyes followed her movements during lunchtime, sought her out in the classes we shared.... Sometimes just being within earshot of her was enough to warm me up for the rest of the day. I took a picture of the two of us from one of the school plays and stored it in my memory box, the same place that housed love letters and mementos from old boyfriends. I even wrote a poem about her, never telling anyone but my sister who it was about.

Sounds like love, doesn't it? Maybe it was. I certainly admired Ellen for being so confident and witty and self-assured, never caring about what people thought about her but still doing her best to make others feel welcome. We were in a lot of the same activities together, and I thought we were so much alike, both of us spreading ourselves thin, both of us aiming for that star with your name written all over it. I used to pray to God for us to become closer, for her to see in me just a little bit of what I saw in her. I remember one night needing to call her at home about some drama club meeting and I nearly wet myself out of fear. I dialed her number and hung up twice beore actually completing the call. And, honestly, I think part of the reason I chose Saint Joe was so that I could be around Ellen just a little while longer. When I latch on to people, it's always a struggle to let them go.

I don't feel the same way about Ellen anymore, and I used to wonder what the hell was wrong with me for tagging along after some girl like a little lost puppy. But now I realize how simple it was: I just wanted to be understood. Ellen never did - at least, not in the way I wanted her to - but she gave me something to look forward to, something to strive for, and that was enough. After all, that's what the people in your life are for, no matter who they are.

What Exactly Won't Meatloaf Do For Love?

This is the question that comes to mind every time I hear this song. (You KNOW what song I'm talkin' about, don't you? After all, it made VH-1's list of 50 Most Awesomely Bad Songs.) So, here are some of my own ideas:

1. Foot the bill.
2. Be your baby's daddy.
3. Sleep in the wet spot.
4. Perform the act that causes the wet spot.
5. Wang Chung tonight.
6. Touch your feet.
7. Eat a taco.
8. Go the extra mile.
9. Learn to drive a stick shift.
10. Rock the vote.

Boy, do I enjoy making lists.

Give Me A Little Credit, Will You?

I received my first credit card the summer before my junior year - a pretty blue-and-grey striped Visa card with a $250 limit. By the end of that calendar year, the limit was up to $1,000 and I had spent $750 on painfully classy shoes, clothes I quickly fell out of love with, and gas for my many, many trips to Chicago. Four years, three cards, and a few thousand dollars later, I decided enough was enough. I gathered the courage to cut all of my cards (even my sexy tiger-striped Capital One) and go cold turkey on outlandish spending. As a result, I became a much smarter shopper. Have I enjoyed shopping sprees since then? Most definitely. But my new Spidey sense cut down on the number of clothes I ended up "dumping" once they reached my doorstep, far away from the pressure of the mall. Every department store that offered me a "very special credit offer" was delivered a resolute "No."

That is, until Friday. I guess you could say I fell off the wheel.

I couldn't help it. The Limited was having an outrageous sale, and for those familiar with The Limited, price slashing in that store is not to be ignored. Fifty-dollar capris at half-off. Darling $40-collar sweaters for a fin. Not having those clothes because I was low on cash was simply not option, nor was it ammunition enough to keep me from signing up for my very own Limited credit card. I confess, though, that my shameless spending at Victoria's Secret was less about necessity and more about "But they're so pretty!" I will receive my permanent Angels card in five to seven days.

For the 45-minute ride home from Lafayette, I felt defeated. My hard work at fending off "fluffy" credit cards and sinful shopping sprees was shot in one two-hour period. My spirits weren't lifted until I modeled every single garment in the comfort of my apartment and thought, "Damn, these clothes make me look cute. If only I had new shoes...."

The next day: Merrillville's Southlake Mall. I spent a combined $75 on New Balance sneakers and two great summer sandals from Payless. I found a great pair of Sherpa flip-flops for only $9. Nine dollars!... Don't you look at me like that. A deal's a deal, no matter what form of payment you choose. What would you have done, huh? WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE DONE?

I may be crazy, but at least my bras and underwear match beautifully.

Ch-ch-changes

I am continually amazed at how easily my mood can change, how waking up to a bright sunny day can erase the bad feelings that were gathered just the night before. For example: yesterday I was in a constant state of nervousness - thinking about work, unfinished writing projects and money, and wondering if I'll have the time to watch the Sex and the City videos I rented from Blockbuster before their tomorrow due date. I spent over three hours painting my fingernails for the first time in my life, finally crawling under the covers at almost 2:00 in the morning. This morning, though, I woke up inspired with potential writing genius and the mindset that this, too, shall pass. It doesn't take much for me to get worked up; more people than I care to admit can testify to that. Today may be the first day I've truly understood that:

1. The "big things" in life are always unpredictable, so just roll with the punches

2. Brooding over how much work there is to do just prevents you from actually getting it done

3. Savings accounts were made to be emptied

4. It's perfectly normal to recover from writer's block the morning a piece is due

5. I can buy Sex and the City on DVD (which can be accomplished by doing #3)

6. Nail polish is fun, even when it's a pain in the a**

and, finally,

7. God won't give you more than you can handle.

See ya - I've got a story to write.