bloody marty mix
108/365: 1989-1990
Thursday, 11 September 2008.
40 Years in 40 Days [ view the entire set ]
An examination and remembrance of a life at 40.
For the 40 days leading up to my 40th birthday, I intend to use my 365 Days project to document and remember my life and lay bare what defines me. 40 years, 40 qualities, 40 days.
Year 22: 1989-1990
When I returned to school for my senior year, I moved out of the sorority house and into an apartment with friends. Technically, I was a 4th year junior. I would not have enough credits to graduate on time the following June, but would finish up in December, instead. Jared (a 5th year senior) and I picked up where we left off.
We started jokingly discussing marriage, and then gradually the jokes became less joking. We never discussed it with any specificity, but we hinted at it unceasingly. When Valentine's Day came, and he proposed, it was not really much of a surprise. It was, however, comically timed. I'd had a bad case of the stomach flu, and when he returned to his room with ring in hand, asking me to marry him, I was on my hands and knees, retching into his garbage pail. I suppose we should have packed it in right there, but sometimes when the universe gives you a sign, you just keep hurtling right past it.
Word spread, and Jared's fraternity brothers, who weren't cruel enough to toss him into the lake in the middle of February, tossed him into a cold shower instead. My sorority held a candle passing ceremony. We sang the sorority sweetheart song while a candle was passed from sister to sister. The sister who had the big secret announcement was to blow out the candle when it came to her. Once around the circle meant you were going steady with some guy (nobody ever held a candle passing ceremony for something so inane), twice around the circle meant you had been pinned (wearing a guy's fraternity pin was akin to pre-engagement), and three times meant you were engaged. In the four years I was there, the candle had never gone around the circle three times. This time, when the candle began its third trip around, an audible gasp went through the room, and people who had been crowded into the foyer jostled to get into the room for a better look. I felt like an idiot for taking part in the silly ceremony, but I was giddy. My hands were shaking, and as I blew out the candle, the room erupted into such screaming and carrying on that you would have thought they'd all won the lottery.
My best friend, Mark, was supportive but skeptical. He asked if I was really sure this was what I wanted. I said I was, and he looked at me for awhile, then smiled and gave me a hug. He would be there for me no matter what, and I was grateful for his concern and friendship.
In June, almost a year to the day before Jared and I were to be married, most of my friends - the people who had come in with me as freshmen - graduated and moved away. I continued taking classes throughout the summer and into the fall, studiously procrastinating on anything wedding-related.
Who am I?
I am not comfortable with rituals and ceremonies.
There are rituals that deserve to be laughed at. Sorority candle passing, and the screaming which ensues, is one such ritual. But, I'm uncomfortable with all manner of rituals. I can't help it. While I appreciate their meaning, and their place in our lives, I just find a comical arbitrariness in a room full of people all doing and saying the same thing. It's funny to me. This is OK at sorority ritual. It's not as OK at a funeral. I wore a white blouse and a bright green scarf to my grandmother's funeral, because I wanted to celebrate my grandmother's life. I wanted to be happy thinking about her that day. Everyone else in the room walked around in a fog, dressed head to toe in respectable black. Sitting in the church, I wanted to push down the walls and burst out into the open air, where the sun was shining. I fidgeted and fretted as the crowd around me plodded through its motions. I did not begrudge them their ritual, but I did not particularly want to be a part of it, either. When the service was over, I went outside and stood in the breeze, smiling at the sun.
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108/365: 1989-1990
Thursday, 11 September 2008.
40 Years in 40 Days [ view the entire set ]
An examination and remembrance of a life at 40.
For the 40 days leading up to my 40th birthday, I intend to use my 365 Days project to document and remember my life and lay bare what defines me. 40 years, 40 qualities, 40 days.
Year 22: 1989-1990
When I returned to school for my senior year, I moved out of the sorority house and into an apartment with friends. Technically, I was a 4th year junior. I would not have enough credits to graduate on time the following June, but would finish up in December, instead. Jared (a 5th year senior) and I picked up where we left off.
We started jokingly discussing marriage, and then gradually the jokes became less joking. We never discussed it with any specificity, but we hinted at it unceasingly. When Valentine's Day came, and he proposed, it was not really much of a surprise. It was, however, comically timed. I'd had a bad case of the stomach flu, and when he returned to his room with ring in hand, asking me to marry him, I was on my hands and knees, retching into his garbage pail. I suppose we should have packed it in right there, but sometimes when the universe gives you a sign, you just keep hurtling right past it.
Word spread, and Jared's fraternity brothers, who weren't cruel enough to toss him into the lake in the middle of February, tossed him into a cold shower instead. My sorority held a candle passing ceremony. We sang the sorority sweetheart song while a candle was passed from sister to sister. The sister who had the big secret announcement was to blow out the candle when it came to her. Once around the circle meant you were going steady with some guy (nobody ever held a candle passing ceremony for something so inane), twice around the circle meant you had been pinned (wearing a guy's fraternity pin was akin to pre-engagement), and three times meant you were engaged. In the four years I was there, the candle had never gone around the circle three times. This time, when the candle began its third trip around, an audible gasp went through the room, and people who had been crowded into the foyer jostled to get into the room for a better look. I felt like an idiot for taking part in the silly ceremony, but I was giddy. My hands were shaking, and as I blew out the candle, the room erupted into such screaming and carrying on that you would have thought they'd all won the lottery.
My best friend, Mark, was supportive but skeptical. He asked if I was really sure this was what I wanted. I said I was, and he looked at me for awhile, then smiled and gave me a hug. He would be there for me no matter what, and I was grateful for his concern and friendship.
In June, almost a year to the day before Jared and I were to be married, most of my friends - the people who had come in with me as freshmen - graduated and moved away. I continued taking classes throughout the summer and into the fall, studiously procrastinating on anything wedding-related.
Who am I?
I am not comfortable with rituals and ceremonies.
There are rituals that deserve to be laughed at. Sorority candle passing, and the screaming which ensues, is one such ritual. But, I'm uncomfortable with all manner of rituals. I can't help it. While I appreciate their meaning, and their place in our lives, I just find a comical arbitrariness in a room full of people all doing and saying the same thing. It's funny to me. This is OK at sorority ritual. It's not as OK at a funeral. I wore a white blouse and a bright green scarf to my grandmother's funeral, because I wanted to celebrate my grandmother's life. I wanted to be happy thinking about her that day. Everyone else in the room walked around in a fog, dressed head to toe in respectable black. Sitting in the church, I wanted to push down the walls and burst out into the open air, where the sun was shining. I fidgeted and fretted as the crowd around me plodded through its motions. I did not begrudge them their ritual, but I did not particularly want to be a part of it, either. When the service was over, I went outside and stood in the breeze, smiling at the sun.
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