Thirteen.

Growing up, I just wanted to turn 13.

Besides the obvious factor of finally being a teenager, that was the age I would get to ride in a hot air balloon for the first time. 

Hot air balloons were a huge part of my childhood. My next door neighbor and best friend’s family owned the Zia balloon. Every October I would trek out to the balloon field with my family, and with Kristen’s, and was a regular on the Zia balloon chase crew.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/see_albuquerque/4174179981/

But, by the time I turned 13, I no longer lived next door to Kristen, and I spent the majority of my time with best friends Allison and Margo (sidenote: these two are now practically sisters to me). I never got that highly anticipated ride in the hot air balloon. 

Obviously, being in Albuquerque for the Balloon Fiesta has me nostalgic for that time in my life. But, as an unemployed grad student (read: piles of debt) living at my parents house, I feel as though I missed the hot air balloon ride a second time around. This is not to say I am unhappy with my life, just that the expectations of what I thought I would be doing at this age aren’t being met. As a seven year old waiting for 13 to arrive, it never crossed my mind that there was a myriad of unforeseen events that would come to pass in the next six years. My parents would decide to move, and Kristen and I would grow apart. Not only that, but while the ride in the hot air balloon was certainly still appealing at 13, I hardly thought of it, as my mind was occupied with other things (like the discoveries of boys and makeup).

Friends my age are all at different stages of “adulthood”: some are married, some have children, some have steady jobs, some are in school, some live with their parents (um, hi, hello there). There have been a lot of reports out lately about how adulthood isn’t what it used to be. There are plenty of people my age moving in with their parents, going back to school, working at a restaurant after graduating college. And for the first time, the number of unmarried people between 25 and 34 is higher than those who are married.

istockphoto.com via npr.org

There’s a certain level of uncertainty as one steps off the precipice into adulthood. And now that adulthood is supposedly being redefined, life choices become fuzzier. Up until 22, I always knew what the next step would be. Now 22 feels pretty far behind, and I still have no idea what the next step is.

But I do know this: I don’t want to settle. I don’t want to settle into a relationship or a job just because these things are expected of me. Maybe that’s why our generation is redefining adulthood: many of us grew up with fairy tales and being told we can be whatever we want to be. We want to find that person who “completes us”(a la Jerry Maguire), and a job that means more than just a paycheck.

I don’t feel so bad for taking my time. I have gotten to live on both coasts and meet people who have changed everything from my outlook on life to the music I listen to. I got to know myself the only way I knew how: by forcing myself out of my comfort zone. Now I have a better idea of what career I might want, and what I want from a relationship. And after all the work I’ve done to learn these things about myself, I am sure of one thing: the balloon ride will happen someday, and I’m sure it will be worth the wait.

Basically, I miss my life

When my facebook status last week listed a few of the things I am missing about the Bay Area, my friend Hank responded with, “So basically, you miss your life.” Yes, that’s exactly right.

I took this picture of the Bay Bridge on my way to eating dinner with the girls at my friend Kelly's house. She lives near Coit Tower in San Francisco's North Beach neighborhood.

Of course I have somewhat of a life in Albuquerque. But I spent three years getting to know the huge metropolitan area that is the Bay, the culture, the food, the people. The months before I left I fell into a routine, or life, that made me happy. Without trying, my weeks were full with dinners, hiking, parties, dance classes, long city walks, sports events, etc. I still feel as though any day now I am going to return to that life; like I’m on some sort of extended vacation in New Mexico. I suppose it’s that sort of thinking that can hinder me from building a life here. It’s thinking about what I would be doing right this instant if I still lived in San Francisco that makes my days longer and lonelier.

A quick weekend get away landed us on the beach in Santa Cruz, having a picnic with wine and acoustic guitar.

The truth is, I have been meeting new people and keeping myself fairly busy. I have been gradually building a new life. But with growth come the growing pains. And with growing pains there is inevitable self doubt. I could still have my life, I sometimes think.And there’s a constant internal struggle of how much I let go and how much I hang on to. It bores people to be talking constantly about another place, people they've never met, and soon, another time.

The curveballs life threw at me during my time in California have left me with a much stronger appreciation for life. It’s because of my heartaches that I was able to build a life that made me so happy and that I now miss so terribly. So as I sat here pondering my old life, I realized that the best thing I can do is learn from it. I had much longer, harder, lonelier days when I was living in the Bay Area. And those days were what gave me the motivation to move forward, chin up, heart open. It’s time for me to find again what makes me happy each day and do it. It’s time to learn who I should spend time with in order to make me feel good about myself. It’s time to appreciate what my old life gave me, maintain those lifelong friendships, and build a new life I would be missing if I left tomorrow. 

When someone you love becomes a memory

For the past week, I have effectively been living in high school. My little brain has been re-living moments on the soccer field, track, zero hour senate, sour apple puckers, Dion's pizza for lunch in the commons, blue lockers, the "secret of the Matador"... I could go on and on. I haven't thought this much about high school since... well, since I was in high school.

The news of a former classmate dying in a car accident has spawned a look back, and thoughts on those people who were so important to me back then. Ben Ashwill was a star soccer player, an intelligent, easy-going guy, and I think any girl who met him that says she never had a crush on him (even just for 5 minutes) would be lying. I still remember the 5 minutes I had a crush on him our freshman year. I also remember cheering him on as he scored goal after goal, on Varsity, when we were freshman, and the team was ranked #1 in the nation. The news of his passing was at first shocking, and then heartbreaking. Not only did we lose a great person that day, but he was my age, and friends and classmates back home were hurting.

Still, I hadn't seen or talked to Ben in the 8 years since we graduated. I didn't even attend a single UNM soccer game. It was hard to wrap my mind around why I was so upset. If there was no facebook.com, I might feel a little more detached. But that made it real. The messages from loved ones, my friends heartfelt statuses of grief...

I wrote in a previous post about how ever since I was in high school, I dreamed of living in California. All I ever wanted to do when I was in high school was get the hell out of there. I did, and I never looked back. I didn't keep in touch very well, and I sure as hell didn't miss the halls of Sandia. But the impact of Ben's death has been the realization that I really cared for the people I went to high school with. Let's face it: for most, high school sucks. It's full of unnecessary drama and teen angst. But underneath all the bullshit, there were some really awesome people there. We have all gone on separate paths, and evolved into different people - hopefully the people we were meant to be. I always bitch about how I can't go anywhere in Albuquerque without running into someone I know... and now I realize, maybe I actually kinda like that. Sure, the small talk is always a little awkward (how do you fill someone in on the last 8 years in crowded, noisy bar or restaurant? or while you're standing in the frozen food section at Smith's?), but in the end, it's always good to see people. To know they're alive and well.

I am beyond sad to come to the realization that I will never bump into Benji at Horse & Angel (or some other place frequented by SHS alumni).

It could have been me or someone close to me in that car that night. It could be me or someone close to me tonight, or tomorrow, or the next day. At 25, we are always planning/worrying/talking about our future. Who will I marry? Will my career ever take off? Will I ever be able to buy a home? Am I going to have kids? Where will I live? Am I ever going to make enough money to stop worrying about bills? Constant worry, constant stress. SO OVER IT. All we have is now, people. We owe it to ourselves and those we've lost to start living for today. I want to say I have lived a full life, even if I die tomorrow. I also want those I love to know I love them. I aim to work on letting people know how much I care and value having them in my life.

I am sorry I missed what sounds like an early high school reunion at Ben's funeral. He was that kind of person - we all knew him, but more than that, we all loved him. RIP.

Turtle Power!

Remember Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles? Heroes in a half shell - turtle power! Cowabunga dude!




I collected the masks of all the TMNTs. The only way I remembered the name of Renaissance era artists on my World History test in high school was by thinking back to this totally awesome show. Shortly after the movie came out, my brother and I waited in line for an hour for Michelangelo's autograph. I felt so silly when I realized he wasn't the actor in the movie - in fact his costume was a pretty lame replica. And he didn't even say anything. That was the end of my TMNT love affair, although they still hold a place in my heart.

This talk of animated ninja turtles is inspired by a 25th birthday celebration I will be attending tonight - complete with pizza (!), numchucks, bowstaffs and headbands. With so many grown up worries dominating my thoughts these days, it will be nice to wax nostalgic with fellow '80s babies and pretend I'm that eager 8 year-old waiting in line for Michelangelo's autograph (he was my fave, by the way).

Tubular, dude!