Shivonography: August 2008

Saturday, August 30, 2008

My Quarter Life Crisis

The summer after my senior year of high school, I went through a period where I listened to the John Mayer Room for Squares album on repeat for hours at a time, and for some reason one song really stuck with me. The title is 'Why Georgia' but a distinct phrase stands out in my mind from all the other lyrics: "It might be a quarter life crisis, just a stirrin' in my soul." At the time, I thought it was so odd-all I'd really heard about before was the dreaded mid-life crisis complete with sportcar driving, toupe wearing, breast implanting, younger dating self-concious crazies.
However, at this point in my life, I feel this phrase is the definition of my life. Let me elaborate.

1. I'm a (nearly) 23 year old woman living at home with her parents and working at her high school job....as a waitress.
2. I have no prospects for my career and no motivation to pursue even the imaginary ones in the distance.
3. I have wonderful friends and family accomplishing awesome things: getting married, starting new jobs, going back to school, basically living life. Everyone around seems to be moving on and I just feel like I'm...standing still.
4. The man I love lives thousands of miles and an ocean away.
5. Scotland hates me. Ok. that might be a bit harsh, but my visa was refused. Therefore, the whole life I started 6 months ago is now discontinued.
And Finally
- I'm freaking out about gettting old-
I know I know. This one sounds so superficial, but it is a legitimate concern (at least to me). Since I've gone back to work at Malcolms, my co-workers are generally comprised of girls aged 17-21. The other day, one such girl was saying how she wanted to 'live life' before settling down and having kids and promptly cited 23 as the appropriate age. Gah. On her life plan, I'd be having babies within the next month. Then, when one of the cooks asked me how old I was turning this coming month, his reply to my answer of 23 was "Oh. I thought you were older." I mean really? Really. And I know it seems absurd, I know when I'm thirty I'll look back and think my 20 something self was crazy, but I can't help how I feel. And y'all know how compuslive my thinking can get...for instance I've been slathering on sunscreen just to walk outside and pick up the mail and have been researching anti-aging skin products like crazy. I had to literally stop and do a reality check before spending nearly $40 on wrinkle cream the other day. You only think I'm kidding...

Whew! So glad to get that ranting off my chest. Now that I've had a moment to vent all that crazy that's been bottled up for the past month or so, hopefully I can be more reasonable. Let's just call that my 'con' list and, thankfully, I have quite a few pros to counteract it:
1. I have the most supportive parents ever. Not only do they let me live at home for free, but I get fed regularly AND my Mom does my laundry. Pretty much the coolest thing ever. Also, I get to spend time with my baby brother whom I haven't lived with since he was 6. We've been bonding over guitar hero and The Office. Luckily, he has good taste.
2. I have a good, flexible job that lets me work as much as I want and I've met some fun girls to hang out with while I'm here. We're even having a BBQ this weekend-probably the first social event I've attended since my sisters wedding. I know. I'm a workaholic.
3. My friends are AWESOME. They call to check on me, they let me vent, they cheer me up. Seriously don't know what I'd do without you guys.
4. I have a back up plan and a goal I'm working toward:
Since the whole Scotland thing didn't work out, my next plan of action is to set my sights on a country that WILL let me in without illegal endeavors-Australia. Now, this is an expensive move-I need to save about oh $6500 to finance my visa, plane ticket, and initial living cost. But there are some definate perks-by the time I've saved enough money (say December-ish) it will be snowing here and I'll be off to sandy beaches for an Australian summer, Australian accents are really cool, I'll have the chance to live on yet another continent, I'll get to say 'no worries mate' as many times a day as I like, and I'll get to (finally) see my boyfriend again who plans on moving down under as well (thank goodness I met someone who likes to travel as much as me).
So all in all, once I let my rational side creep up and do some serious soul searching, I really don't have it bad at all. It's just he waiting and uncertainty that is so difficult. Now if I just didn't feel so darn old, I'd have it made in the shade...

Saturday, August 9, 2008

La Boda

As most of you know, as of last week today, there is one less Miss Glenn in the world. The sister formerly known as Miss Glenn is now Mrs. Biggs, and her plus one has become a permanent addition to our family. So, as you might have surmised by now, this is to put it simply the wedding blog.

August 2, 2008- 2:01pm

Standing in my tea-length gown in a line of navy clad bridesmaids, my eyes followed my sister as she made her way down the aisle situated between my beaming parents, and two thoughts crossed my mind:

1. What a breathtakingly gorgeous bride- still just a small indication of what a beautiful person she truly is.

2. Marriage scares the bejesus out of me.

Let me elaborate. I realize this second observation is slightly less eloquent and more selfishly focused than the first, but it is something that has been somewhat abruptly brought to my attention these past few weeks, and I suppose as a mature, emotionally aware, healthy minded, elegant, clever, 22 year old woman with an understated sophistication.....sorry. I got carried a bit away. Anyways, I figure I need to face my fears and take this scary marriage thing head on.

So how did I come to this realization? Well first of all, I've never thought all that much about getting married. It was always some significant but distant point in my future that would come, "when I meet the right person." However, as a recent college graduate, I have been bombarded by wedding announcements of not only recent friends but also of people whose names have long ago been stored away in my head under one file or another from what seems a lifetime ago. However, no matter how forgotten the aquaintance or how predictable the proposal the shock remains the same. How can these people do it?

Now my sister was a different story. For years we've been expecting the engagement and subsequent marriage of Therese and her long time boyfriend Richard. It wasn't so much a question of if but when. Despite a few rough spots which I like to refer to as "growing moments," the couple made it through college, law school, a career change, and one stressful summer to take their walk down the aisle. And, although I feel priveledged to have been included in the process, it has been the catalyst to my ever-growing gamophobia (AKA fear of marriage. It's amazing what you can discover on wikipedia). At first, watching my sister plan her wedding was a breeze. It MIGHT have been the fact that I was living thousands of miles and an ocean away. It wasn't until I arrived home with less than three weeks to go until the big day that I realized one very important fact: weddings turn women crazy. And not only the bride by the way, but the any other women who might take the challenge to help her-in this case, my mom. And I don't mean the "oh that's cute, slightly norotic but endearing" kind of crazy. I mean the full-on stressed out, slightly hysterical, unreasonable type. As I write this, I realize there is a good possibility that the blushing bride and her distinguished mother will read this, so I confess there might be some unintentional exageration in my agitated state and I apologize for that. However, my feelings remain the same. I just know that with my unfortunate personality trait combination of procrastination and perfectionism, planning a wedding will be the death of me. Not to mention the fact that you are about to pledge your life to someone else. I'm gonna be real honest here, I can barely take care of myself at this point of my life let alone consider planning in another human being into the equation. It's funny looking back on that "10 year plan" they have you concoct in your high school English class: I swear I had myself married by 25. Ha. What a joke. I can't count the number of people at the wedding who asked me if I was next; I managed to hold my laughter almost half the time which, by the way, I consider quite an accomplishment.

Oops. I've just glanced over my blog and realized that most if not all of you must be tired of reading my rant on nuptial bliss (well, at least those of you who have managed to get through it to this point), so I now promise to cease and desist. What I REALLY should be blogging about it how wonderful the wedding turned out, how great it was to see all my family, and how blessed I am to have a new brother-in-law. Since my prose has been so jaded up to this point, I'll just let my pictures do the rest of the talking.

Sidenote: As I sat typing this my kind father referred to me as the senior Glenn sister. In addition to not really calming my nerves, now I have a whole new subject to worry about-getting old. However, I'll leave that subject for another post. Onto the pictures...

The Last Night of singledom and the rehearsal dinner...with Grandma

How many bridesmaids does it take to lace up one gown?