Where it All Began

Wow! I haven't posted a Life Before Blogging entry in forever! Hopefully it is not because I am starting to forget.... Anyway, I am at my parent's house this weekend, and I ran across a blast from my freakin' past. It is not only a relic of my extreme nerdiness from my younger days, but I also believe it is a sign of things that had not yet come to pass. It is unequivocal proof that both the person I am today was lurking inside of me somewhere and I am basically the same person today that I was then. Tis a paradox.

It is: Casio's My Magic Diary JD 5000 aka Mary's first computer/planner

I wanted this thing SO BAD when I was like 10, and I was only getting a $10.00 allowance every week. My best friend Stephanie and I both wanted one, but they cost $50, which was a lot for us back in the day. This was in the very first years of the craze known as PDAs, and the Magic Diary was a version for teens. I can remember vividly going to Wal-Mart (of course! where else would all the fun stuff be in central Texas?!?!?) and gazing at it longingly in its little glass display case with the grown-up electronics. Previously Steph and I had tried to play Spy with paper notebooks with huge padlocks on the outside of them (another day, another story), and having an electronic device that you could password protect seemed AMAZING to us. I think the fortune teller and matchmaker functions also held immense appeal to two pre-teens girls with huge crushes on indifferent boys. We FINALLY got them and entered all of friends' info into them, along with choosing crude analog likenesses of them for their profile, very similar to having someone's pic come up when they call today. I mainly love that it is called My Magic Diary; this is SUCH and early 90s thing. It was not magic in any way, nor was it a diary, except for the Notes section it has. There is a calendar, conversion chart, telephone/address book, and time zone calculator. These are actually all very grown-up things, I think.

The point is is that it kicked butt, and I have NEVER been able to even think about throwing it away because it truly represents my inner workings. I wish the batteries weren't dead so I could peruse it, but I am going to have to go to the antique shop to make it work again. I love coming to my parents' house because all my childhood stuff is stored in my room, and going through it is extremely fun. Make sure you show some love to the Magic Diary!!!

Summer Chill

So last summer my whole family went to Alabama like we always do, and this time is the first time that David has gone with us. Because of this, we had to take two cars, one of which we rented. It was some type of SUV, like a Ford Escape of something, and it did OK on the way there. On the way back, however, the AC just stopped, which was a huge problem because it was in the middle of the summer and it was like 100 degrees out. I am not as sensitive to the heat as David is, so I rode in the broken car with my dad while everyone else rode in my mom's car. It was so hot, and we had the windows rolled down but that didn't really help that much, and we were trying everything we could think of to get the AC to start working. At some point I just gave up and let the sweat overtake me. And then, when I thought all hope was lost, a huge chunk of ice rocketed out of one of the vents and hit me right in my face. I was totally stunned! And then, like magic, the AC started working again! I realize that the system must have frozen up, but it seemed like that one piece of ice was what was keeping the air from getting out, which just does not really make a lot of sense. Anyway, nothing as refreshing as getting smacked in the face with and ice chip! Yay for summer vacations!

This One is for Jennie...

This memory is the accompanying embarrassing memory to the Student Government rap that I did in the 5th grade. I can't remember exactly if this happened in the 4th or the 5th grade, but here we go. In one of those two grades I tried out for and won the role as Lana Ladybug in the school play Goin' Buggy. You know, it taught life lessons and skills using the world of bugs as a metaphor. So there were two complete sets of "actors" so all of the kids got a chance to perform, and who ever was not doing it on one day had to be in the choir. So, my group went first and we did the play for the kindergarten-2nd grade part of the school. I was Lana Ladybug, and I had a whole song to sing by myself with backup dancer guys in top hats with antennas and everything. The song went something like "That's no way to treat a Laaaadaybuggg.....NO! No way at all *do do do dooo do....*" It was genius work, really. And I really have the sheet music somewhere still to this day. Let's recount what I was wearing, next, shall we? Black leotard, black leggings, black crushed velvet skirt, bright red high heels we bought on consignment, and a red feather boa. My hair was super curly and I had a sparkly red headband that my mom attached pipe cleaners to so I had antennas. When telling this story to Jennie she was upset that I forgot to mention the ridiculous earrings I was wearing, which are clearly visible in the picture I sent her, which is the same as the one below. The earrings were my favorite ones. When I was younger (and still to this day, but on a much less 90's level) I LOVED jewelry. Especially my mom's costume jewelry, which she had in abundance. The earrings I am wearing in the picture are clip ons with gobs of fake pearls. Looking back I can remember wearing these earrings and the other pair that my mom had like them on a daily basis I loved them so much. Now as an adult I am mad at my parents for not telling my that I looked like a little baby hooker wearing those earrings. Thanks guys. Looking at the picture again I believe, in addition to the headband with pipe cleaners, I am wearing a black and red polka-dotted bow. And bright red lipstick. LOVE IT!! Ok, but the point of the story is that I did my number and it went off smashingly! So the next day the other group was performing the play for the 3-5 graders and I was in jean shorts, a school shirt, and tennis shoes in the choir. The girl who was playing Lana that day is named Faith Ann, and she proceeded to walk out on stage, freeze, and run back off again. My mom taped both shows, and all you can hear in the tape of the second show is my music teacher yelling at my mom to get me on stage. So there I was in my jean shorts, school shirt, tennis shoes, and a red feather boa. And I did the number smashingly again! I can cite that event as an actual change in my level of confidence in myself. I feel bad that Faith Ann has horrible memories of it, but whatever. So here is a pic of me as Lana in full ladybug regalia.


The person on the left is my friend Deana, who I have written about in previous posts. The person on the right is my friend Emily, who I am sure will be mentioned at some point in more detail, as her house was the hub of my horseback riding experiences and Barbie play dates.

Letters from the Wasteland

Last night when I was getting into bed I got a wild hair and decided to look through some of my memory boxes. I like antiques, so all my memory boxes are old and wooden and have horrible worn out linings. One box has just pictures. Another one has trinkets from elementary school, and two others have my old horrible '90s jewelry in them. Then I found one that I had kind of forgotten about that has high school stuff in it. Things like all my ticket stubs from New York and Walt Disney World and playbills from all of Susan's plays. I had so much fun looking at that box full of stuff that I dug out my letter box. From time to time I will get it out and read all the notes my friends and I passed back and forth and letters written a long time ago. A few of the ones I really enjoyed reading again are from my dad when he was still in Kansas and we had already moved to Texas. They are all reminding me to not be mean to my sister, along with things like sending me $30 to take my mom out for Mother's Day. I was about 8 years old:) Another one was actually from me to Santa, asking if he could please leave present in my stocking for my stuffed dragon Draggie. I loved Draggie with all my heart, and apparently really wanted him to get a present all his own. So, on the back of the letter I wrote, "Santa" wrote back in huge block lettering that is clearly my mom's. It said that he would leave a bracelet for Draggie, but that maybe Draggie would let me wear it mostly. And also, be nice to my sister. Apparently I had a problem with that. Others are from my childhood friends Jacque and Stacey, on Hello Kitty paper all about the next time we would get to visit each other. Then there are the ones that I can never talk about because they are so personal and take me back to such an amazing place in my childhood that typing their content does not do them justice. Those are from friends, ex-boyfriends, and childhood crushes. I do not usually get emotional about a lot of stuff, but reading some of those letters made me cry. Not because they are sad or about bad times, but because they represent a time that is so extremely precious to me, and I am so lucky to have it written down on paper that I was smart enough to keep. How in the world did I become a museum person?!?! I bet no one saw that one coming...

Politics

Even though looking back I never see myself as a "leader" exactly, especially in my younger years, what really happened points to the contrary. In fifth grade I ran for and won the position of Student Government Secretary. In college I ran for and won the title of Student Government President at the community college I went to before I went to Baylor. At Baylor I was Museum Studies Student Association President. So, obviously I am just asking for the punishment that comes with leadership positions. The specific incident I want to recall relates to my fifth grade stint as Secretary. I was running against a girl named Kim, and actually that was the closest competition I have encountered in all my political races. This is so classic. I made construction paper hearts that had my campaign slogan on them, and there was a Hershey's Kiss taped to each one. Kim accused me of cheating and "buying" votes with my delicious chocolate heart-o-votes. That is a lie. She obviously did not know me, because that is just how I roll. I am a perfectionist, and if I am going to run I will do anything to win. I was probably wearing my Elvis jump suit, too. That probably didn't help my chances of winning:) The other part of my campaign was getting on the school TV channel and doing a "Vote for Me" rap that me and my friend Emily wrote. It is probably the most hilarious thing I have ever done. I wish wish wish I could post the video of it, but it is on VHS. Only a select few people have seen the original video. Anyway, I have many fond memories that stem from me wearing the Elvis jumpsuit. I have GOT to find a pic with me wearing it. Don't elect me for anything else:)

Sunshine

When I was younger I thought the dots you see when you close your eyes after looking at the sun had meaning. Of course grown ups told me that if you look directly at the sun you will go blind, which is true, but I now know I was not in immediate danger. When I would accidentally look right at the sun then close my eyes, I would see these dots that had rings, almost like tree rings. I am not sure if anyone else saw them in that exact form, but I used to think that the rings were my countdown to blindness. Each time I looked at the sun, one ring would be taken away, and I would be that much closer to being blind. Thinking about it as a adult it seems ridiculous, which is why I wanted to write it down. It turns out that my theory is not true, but I just had to be able to grasp an explanation as a child. I was like that about most things, but this is the specific memory that stuck out at the moment.

Volleyball

Tonight my husband went to play volleyball at his friend's house after work. I was invited to go, but said no immediately! This is because I have hated particiapting in sports, but especially volleyball, since I was very little. I am not really sure what the source of my phobia is, but the thought of just standing there waiting for the ball to fall from the sky on top of me has never appealed to me. I have horrible hand-eye coordination, and I just do not enjoy playing it. My memory of volleyball was in elementary school. I am not sure which grade I was in, but I remember that it was pretty enough outside to set the net up on the playground, which for some reason made me even more uneasy. I literally wanted to get away from the situation so desperately that I told my very scary gym teacher that I had to go to the bathroom. I stayed there all period. Literally. Now, keep in mind that the only thing more terrifying to me than playing an organized sport was being gone to the bathroom so long that my classmates think I am going number 2. At that age I was also terrified of any type of punishment or disappointing my teachers in any way, so it must have been pretty bad for me to basically skip class in order to get out of it. I am thankful that I am a confident person today, but I still carry the fear of volleyball with me. Maybe I still carry the bathroom fear with me a little, too:)