http://www.flickr.com/photos/jrmski/ / CC BY-SA 2.0
Last night, I met up with my longtime friend Tony for dinner and to catch up. It was much needed.
Tony is one of those true blue kind of friends that you know will always be there for you when you need him. Over delicious cheesecake, sweet potato fries, and mozzarella moons, we discussed what we’ve been up to, who we’ve spoken with as of recent, and just general nonsense that always makes you smile when you think about it. Conversations like those are what I love most – the kind where it just feels nice to interact with someone, smile, laugh, listen, and respond.
During our meet up, Tony got a text from another friend about the Old Shoe Game, asking if we’d like to go. I had never been to the Old Shoe Game before so I said, “let’s go!” It was below 30 degrees and the grass was completely frost covered by the time we got over to Lake-Lehman.
Time for some back story. Both Tony and I met in junior high school in the Lake-Lehman School District. We were library aides and had a few mutual friends. In high school, we were both involved with chorus, theatre, and track – all at Lake-Lehman HS. Now, the LLHS football team during my time was notorious for being well, horrible. The Old Shoe Game was considered by the entire school to be the most important football game of the season. It was always against our rival, Dallas High School, and the prize: an old shoe bronzed sometime before disco became popular. For decades, Lehman and Dallas fought over the chance to take that shoe back to its respective trophy case. During my time, we never won the shoe or ever expected to win it. It wasn’t until a year or two ago that Lehman finally got to return the shoe to the trophy case after what seemed like an endless losing streak. Last night, the Old Shoe was up for grabs – and again, we weren’t expected to win – but this particular game was going to be special. It was Homecoming. Anyway, returning to the alma mater for a football game wasn’t something I was expecting – yet, it was a great surprise.
When we arrived, the stands were packed. Absolutely packed. Neither Tony or I had any cash so we grabbed some candy corn that I had left in my car (thanks Tricia!) and we stuffed our pockets in case we were questioned. I’m still not sure if they would have accepted candy corn in lieu of US Dollars but it was worth a try. Plan B was to jump the fence as usual.
We didn’t get asked to buy a ticket, so we just kept walking through the crowds of people till we go to the field. I found my cousins, two uncles, an aunt, and a few classmates in the process. It was unexpected, but again, a great surprise. We chatted then we kept moving – mainly because if we didn’t, we’d probably freeze. Once my knees started to go numb it was time to go. We only saw a handful of plays – none of which were that important. Tony and I said our “see ya laters” and then I headed back to Scranton. This is when I got my final – and most important – surprise of the evening.
As I was driving, I looked around at the place that I had once called home only four years ago. Lehman, PA was where I spent a lot of my time growing up. For the first time since I’ve left, I felt a little nostalgic about the whole experience. I saw the dark windows of Cook’s general store and thought about the size of their turkey sandwiches and how I used to stop there for PopTarts pretty much before every physics class during my senior year. I saw the dimmed lights of my friend Elizabeth’s house, where I had spent countless hours working on National History Day. I saw the Post Office where my Dad would wait to pick me up after I worked volunteer shifts at the Lehman Haunted Barn. I saw the old baseball field and the cross country hill where I’d spent two summers at field hockey camp, sweaty and usually covered in mud. I saw the rubber track where I qualified for districts and spent countless hours after school. I saw into the windows of the school. Lockers. Lockers that were once filled with my books, really smelly running shoes, and play scripts. In the sophomore hall, my locker was once filled with confetti and calendar pages for Valentine’s Day. Matt and Tony had the combination. They always left me surprises. I saw hallways too. Hallways that were once filled with too many students and trash cans when it rained so that when the ceiling leaked, there’d be something there to catch the water. I also saw Route 118, the road I drove each and every morning, Monday through Friday, to get my education. It was a quiet drive.
I saw a lot of things driving home, but they were all things I needed to see. I was reminded, as I switched on my blinker to turn right at the stop sign in front of Cook’s, that it was okay for me to come back, but I still need to keep looking towards the future. Home.
P.S. – Dallas won last night.
This isn't a picture of me. But this is how I felt.
On Monday night, I had a meltdown. The kind with tears and incoherent speech. Yes. I had reached the tipping point. The stress of everything bore down on me and to top it off – I was more aware than ever that I was going to be graduating. The truth is – I’m scared. I’m afraid of what’s going to happen. For the past four years, I knew my direction. I knew exactly what I was supposed to be doing, and next year, that’ll be no different. I’ll be finishing my master’s degree. But what then? What’s the next step? Where am I supposed to go? What am I supposed to do? Like all people my age, I think about these things, and from time to time, they really get to me. Sure, most people see me as level headed and in control – but that’s not always the case. I have limits, just like everyone else. Which brings me to what I decided to write about: challenges.
Whether you like it or not, you’ll be faced with challenges. You’ll encounter times when you’re scared out of your mind and have no idea what to do. You’ll be faced with unrealistic expectations that you’re expected to deliver on. You’ll be faced with changing jobs and career paths and relationships. You’ll be faced with a whole lot of change in your life – it’s just inevitable. What matters though is what you do with those changes.
If you choose to try to fight it, you’ll get nowhere. If you let yourself be dominated by the change, you’ll also get nowhere. The oh-so-delicate balance of resisting and going along with change is difficult to manage, but when done well, you create the changes. You create the possibilities. You give yourself a chance to just be and adapt and move forward. This isn’t always easy. Usually, there’s a process to it. You start out in shock. Then you resist. Then you bargain with yourself or reason. Then you start to muster up courage. Then you do it. And it’s done. And now it’s time to see the effects of your decision. Sometimes you make the right ones. Other times, you don’t. But either way, you have to recognize that you had the strength and the courage to make that decision and you did it because you thought it was right.
Now to make myself practice what I preach…
A little while back, I wrote about committing to being better.
I started out with five things on my list. Let’s see how I’m doing:
1. Eating healthier
Check. I’ve changed up my eating habits and I’ve lost some of the weight that I put on from last year. I’m not a dieter and I love food, so obviously it wasn’t easy. But I do feel better for it. I have made and succeeded in steps toward eating better. 
2. Getting more/better sleep
Sort of. I have been more conscious of my sleeping habits, however, the past few weeks have been rough on it. Instead of what I should be getting, I’ve been skipping out in favor of getting more work done. We’ll leave this one as still trying.
3. Exercising more often
Mostly. I’m doing a lot more walking and I make an effort to park farther away from where I need to be or across campus so I’m forced to walk more. Plus, Brent and I have done a lot more hardcore hiking. Though our original plan of swimming regularly was foiled. Marywood’s pool policy won’t let Brent swim without paying an obscene amount of money every time he comes to use the pool. Currently, we’re investigating the possibility of joining a gym with a pool. Also, I’m hoping to take Swimnastics next semester
4. Reducing my stress level
Not as well as I had hoped. While I’ve dealt with stressful situations well, I’m still piling on more opportunities for stress to occur in general. I need to continue to work on this. It’s a process.
5. Making time for me and for the things that I enjoy
Kind of. Maybe. Brent and I have started to make the most of our time together by doing things we both enjoy. We’ve gone on day trips and have spent time with our families. We’ve started to watch our favorite TV shows together. We’ve been watching more movies together and making more time to actually relax. Sometimes that time that we set aside gets compromised because of crazy work schedules and such. The point is that I’m working on it and making an effort. It’ll take time, but I know things will get easier.
Hmm…not bad. What do you think? What are some ways that I can reach these goals? I’m open to suggestion
When I was in high school, I was a chorus hall kid. Yes, the kind that hung out during study halls in the chorus room or in the auditorium to practice with friends just as obsessed with Josh Groban’s new CD. I sang “Hail to Thee Blithe Spirit” and recited lines from “The Music Man” and felt so full.
When I went to college and saw my first Marywood production, “Quilters”, I felt that pang of sadness that it was a show that I wasn’t part of. At that moment, for the first time in four years, I wasn’t part of the inside jokes and the rehearsals followed by sleepless nights because there was homework still to do. I missed being part of theatre so badly – badly enough that I conjured up some courage to audition for Moliere’s “The Affected Damsels.” I got in – with a lead. I nearly burst into tears when I saw my name on the call board. I was in. I was part of it. The experience of being in that production was one of the happiest and most memorable of my life. But I still remember the thrill – and drama – of high school chorus and theatre.
I remember skipping track practice to go to rehearsals where I felt like I was a part of something so much bigger than myself. I liked it. I liked trying hard to get the notes right when everyone else sounded off key. I loved the backstage antics that left me laughing till my sides hurt. Best of all, I loved the people I spent time with on those stages and in those practice rooms.
When I heard about Glee, I was a little skeptical – and worried. At first I didn’t watch because I thought it would be another “High School Musical” (ICK). Luckily, after some cajoling by Amanda, I spent an evening in the computer lab before PRSSA watching the first two episodes of “Glee”. I was in love. The song choices were great, the vocalists awesome, and best of all, the drama and the story lines preserved. The kids in “Glee” aren’t singing to advance the story line. They’re singing because it’s what they love. It’s what I loved when I was in high school. For once, they got it right. Now, I’m a full-fledged “gleek” again – and I have to say, I missed it.
Things happen. We all know this, but sometimes, we forget.
For the past few weeks, I’ve been stretched pretty thin. It was midterm season – not my favorite time of year – and I found myself clinging to what little sanity I had left by reading instead of writing. This morning, I finished Love, Again by Doris Lessing. It was interesting and I found a few themes that she also shares in Briefing for a Descent into Hell. It was a nice change. Normally, I go straight to the keyboard when I’m about to lose it, but this time I just couldn’t. I had spent several weeks just writing, writing, writing, editing, and more writing. I became taxed. I started to feel like writing was work. Things didn’t flow naturally. It was if I was a walking shade of myself.
Have you ever felt like the thing you loved most was taking over your life and causing you to feel like it was work? That’s exactly what happened last week. I had to take a step back. I had to walk away from the writing and just breathe. I realized that if I kept writing, I would end up hating it, and that’s something that I don’t want to do. I don’t want to ever come close to hating this. Sometimes, I feel like it’s the most important thing I have. My words. Voice. The chance to say something and have people be touched by it.
I don’t know if this blog touches you, or if you even like reading it. You may only check in from time to time just to see what I’m up to because you know me outside of this web address. Or maybe, and I really hope that you do, you enjoy reading my aimless rantings and self-reflections. Either way, thanks for coming – even when I wasn’t around.
Let’s hope I won’t stay too far away.
