9. Spoke at my college graduation
I have two regrets from high school: I never tried out for Once on This Island, and I never auditioned to speak at my high school graduation. I remember watching whoever did speak drone on and on, tossing out tired cliches one after another, fuming all the while that I could have done a better job. I decided I would do what I could to fix that in college. I spent months writing my speech, having professors look over it, listen to it, and forcing roommates to overhear me practicing it in the shower (just after they got over listening to me practice Twelfth Night in the shower for the previous three months). Finally, I got the chance to audition in front of a committee that ever-conveniently included my speech teacher and my creative writing teacher. Frankly, if I hadn't been chosen, it would have been their fault, but I digress. I will never forget getting the call from Mary Reynolds and running around Seager Lot. I told a few people like Abby and Alec, and kept it relatively quiet otherwise in case I accidentally rubbed it in the face of someone who'd tried out.
Speaking in front of those thousands of people - fellow students, professors, family, administrators - was the biggest rush I'd ever gotten. I wasn't worried about stage fright, but my heart pounded the entire time. I remember sitting back in my seat and watching the rest of the ceremony with a sort of dazed expression. I remember half-listening to Senator Chuck Hagel, our keynote speaker, giving his speech which actually included several of my talking points. As my brother said later, it was a good thing I went first.
After the ceremony, I had people I had never met before - parents of people I had never met before - coming up to me to tell me how incredible my speech had been. I got emails from professors whose classes I had never been in asking for copies. Professor Mary Jean Lynch even asked for permission and used part of my speech for the freshman class orientation. People told me that they had been to years and years of graduations, and my speech had been the best by far. When I started my job that summer, one of my coworkers (who had graduated in my class but we'd never met) knew who I was from the sound of my voice and quoted by speech back at me. Even now, whenever someone new starts, Anthony will bring up me speaking at graduation. It was a beautiful experience.
8. Played Viola in Twelfth NightNot often is someone presented the opportunity to play her dream part. In college, it happened to me three times: Boy Gets Girl, Barefoot in the Park, and Twelfth Night. I got the part in Boy Gets Girl, absolutely blew my callback for Barefoot in the Park, and prepared for almost a year for Twelfth Night. Shakespeare was something I'd always loved but had never performed. It was something I had resisted in high school, embraced in college, and plan to have a torrid affair with for the rest of my life. I had the monologue from Troilus and Cressida taped behind a sheet of plastic on the inside of my shower from August to March (Hard to seem won, but I was won, my lord, with the first glance that ever--). I took Acting III. I knew it would be difficult to get a part at all, considering there were only three women's parts in the whole show and my being too short to be mistaken for any of the guys. Luckily, Carin took a chance on me, and I got to live in an honest-to-goodness heroine's shoes, if only for a few months.
7. Got a 4.0 in my Communicative Disorders classes
I did have to study for the first time in my life. I actually had to call someone and ask them how to make flash cards. However, I didn't study that much, considering I had full time classes at NIU, took a Tuesday night Sign Language class at the church, worked nearly full time, and drove out to Evanston to see Mark whenever I could. I have a learning condition - I shy away from the idea of calling it a disability - where I either get something right away or never grasp it. Luckily, speech-language pathology is something I "get."
6. Got closer to my brother, James
I'll never forget the day I came home with a new haircut, and James told me that he felt like I was getting farther and farther away from him in age. We'd never been super close as siblings; the term "sibling rivalry" is probably illustrated with our pictures in this year's OED. I'm five years older than him, which is just close enough that we compete for the same kind of attention from our parents and far enough that we don't quite understand what it's like to be the other. He doesn't get that I didn't get away with a quarter of the things he's allowed to do, and I can't understand what it's like to have something to live up to. He doesn't get that I was his age once, and perhaps I have forgotten some of the things I felt at his age. But we've bonded over some serious conversations (that is to say, the topics were serious even if we are incapable of going more than a few minutes without making a joke), and our differences - age, gender, interests - aren't keeping us as far apart as I had thought.5. Started running
I know. My motto before all of this was that there was no need to run unless you were being chased. I get it. But those few times when I ran with Abby did ultimately feel... Good isn't the word. Accomplished. I did something. It costs nothing to go running, it's great way to sort out my thoughts and grab some quality time with myself (which is just about as hard as you'd think when you're living with three guys who prefer to stay in and play video games than go out and do whatever guys do), and my body responds well to exercise. Sure, I have to remain consistent, and it hurts like hell because I always push myself harder than I probably should, but I've always been a fan of reaping what I sow. In theatre, I could work harder than anyone else preparing for a part and still not get the part. With running, my body has no bias; it responds exactly to my input, keeping me honest and disciplined. It has fallen to the wayside with the cold weather, but I've started again recently, and I have every intention in the world of sticking to it.
4. Met MarkThis one is a no-brainer, although many reading this will be surprised that it's not higher on the list. For years, I was worried I'd die alone, and it wasn't just a passing "no boys like me" phase. It was a series of failed almost-relationships after leaving a long-term relationship feeling worse about myself than I ever had in my entire life. And considering my high school experience, that's saying something. I was certain that while I may have caught men's (or boys' as the case may be) eyes for a moment, I was ultimately too disappointing, obnoxious, untrusting. I talked too much, tried too hard, cried too often for anybody to want my company as a romantic partner. The only reason I did not sink into a very real depression, which is a condition that runs in my family, is because I was together enough to be comforted by the "fact" that while I was probably going to be a decrepit old cat lady, I would never lose the love of my family and friends. I didn't dismiss love; I simply stopped believing in romance. As Elizabeth Proctor said in The Crucible, "I counted myself so plain, so poorly made, no honest love could come to me."
It's weird, because this relationship is going really well, but it's not like I'm planning our wedding (yet). Sure, we clicked, and we clicked fast, but as the song goes, "This can't be love: I get no dizzy spell; my head is not in the skies." I had butterflies on our first date, and now - three months later - I still get butterflies when I open my eyes to see him smiling at me, when he rubs his thumb along my hand while we sit at a restaurant, when he laughs into my hair. I know, I know, three whole months and the spark's still there - what an accomplishment. But he seems to actually enjoy my company, is happy to hear my voice when I call, and has an incredible instinct for when he can make fun of me and when a subject is too tender. I'm happy in this place where we haven't named our kids and started constructing our white picket fence life, but we're past the place where "Does he like me? I think he likes me. Maybe he's just being nice. Maybe he's just desperate," runs through my head every moment we're together. He's one of the best things to happen to me this year and in my entire life.
3. Lived in an apartment
You can never appreciate your mother or cafeteria food as fully if you don't live on your own for a while. You will be surprised by how much everything costs, by how quickly those rent payments sneak up on you, by how expensive cable and heat are, and by how rewarding it feels to call a place yours. True, I share my place with three other people, but I have my own room, and no RA can go into it. I can burn candles whenever I feel like it, I can prepare food (limited only by my own admittedly dismal cooking skills), and I never have to go to another floor meeting ever again. On the downside, there's no one there for me if I wake up confused and convinced there's a vampire in my closet, I can't complain to the RA if the douchebags next door are blasting their music, and - considering my budget and physique - I can't just run out and buy prepared food whenever I feel like it. It takes planning and self-control and discipline like I've never had to exhibit before in my life to live in an apartment.2. Figured out what I wanted to do with my post-college life
Unfortunately, it's not what I did my undergraduate work in, but I did figure it out. Speech-language pathology just fits, like when I discovered theatre. It's diagnostically interesting - I feel like I'm on an episode of House every time we study a stuttering client - in terms of critical thinking, but it also requires memorization. It's easy for me to be better than my classmates (sorry, but it's true - my 4.0 wasn't born from blood, sweat, and tears), because I am good at both of those things.
Sure, I had to do the college victory lap, but it doesn't feel like a fifth year taken because I didn't get my shit together in undergrad. I have my theatre and English degree; I'm just taking a year of extra classes to prepare myself for graduate school in SLP. After I put in a few more years of hard work, I'll be able to work pretty much anywhere, at a job that doesn't force me to live paycheck to paycheck, and I will be happy to head into work instead of slugging in as late as possible just to make ends meet.
1. Fell in love
When I say I fell in love in 2007, I'm not referring to Mark, although I am sure that will come along sooner rather than later. I mean, I fell in love with myself. I am a social creature by nature, and as painful as it is to live in DeKalb so far away from all those I love dearly, I'm okay. I can spend time on my own, whether chilling in my apartment or on my half hour commute to work, and I don't wallow. Do things get me down? Sure. Do I not like the way I look or act or feel sometimes? Of course. But I still love myself at the end of the day. I may never reach my weight goal (110), and I will probably never be happy with my squinty little eyes. I can smile and give myself a little wave in the morning, though, because I love the person I've become.
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