From Fourth Grade to Future: Learning to Love the Ladies

posted 2nd September 2010    Written by: Marian    CATEGORY: All Posts, Love/Relationships, Marian, Quarterlife Crisis, Season 3, Travel

When I was in fourth grade my group of friends cornered me in Mr. Aiken’s classroom closet to tell me that they didn’t want to be friends anymore. I can’t for the life of me remember why but somewhere in my pile of childhood journals is a transcript of the conversation.

I’m a deflector. Meaning if I get caught in a deep and meaningful conversation I’ll usually crack a joke to lighten the mood. I rarely cry. So when my elementary school friends ganged up on me I busted out my notebook and wrote down every word. It was “research” apparently. It also helped me forget that my only friends decided they didn’t like me.

It’s been a very long time since I’ve read over my childhood journals, but now that I’m writing this post I realize I probably should. Too bad it’s 3,000 miles away or else I’d give you a sneak peek into the mind of 9-year-old Marian.

Because I don’t have the journal I can’t tell you exactly what they said or what happened afterwards. I remember having friends in elementary school, but I don’t know how I made the transition from big group of girls (who later turned into the popular kids in high school) to one of three. I can tell you, however, that it was over ten years before I belonged to another group of girls.

My friendships after fourth grade fell into one of two categories:

The first was a threesome that would ebb and flow. Chelsea, Thana and I did everything together. We even formed a band and wrote some kick ass songs (if I do say so myself). Thana eventually moved to Croatia. She is still one of my closest friends.

Chelsea and I also bonded with Giulia, a gorgeous Italian who eventually left us for Paris. Giulia now lives in London and am crazy lucky to still have her in my life.

Chelsea and I were ditched for far-away places, but we stayed friends. Sometimes we spoke on the phone every day. Sometimes we wouldn’t speak for a year. To be perfectly honest though, in our little threesomes I always felt like the odd one out. I’ve decided that three is not a good number for friendships.

The second category revolved around guys. Maybe it was because I have three brothers, maybe it was because of my new found hatred for girl groups, but I always got along better with guys. They said what they meant, were easy to be around, and always had interesting things to do.

I obviously got over the whole fourth-grade-friends-ditching-me-thing – kids can be cruel sometimes – but I do think it’s affected the friends I’ve had over the years.

My jealous boyfriend and severe lack of confidence prevented being anywhere even remotely popular in high school. I’ve never been comfortable in groups so always had one or two very close friends who had their own groups but I never really had my own place at lunch. Let’s just say I was bit of a loner.

Then came college. Davidson has the most amazing roommate system and I was paired with a girl who within a week would become my soul mate. Because of psycho-jealous-boyfriend I was pretty much only friends with her, but it didn’t matter. We were attached at the hip and it was okay.

Then I broke up with psycho-jealous-boyfriend and moved to England. I didn’t know a soul when entering the study abroad program, but here were people who didn’t know about my completely anti-social past, didn’t know me as the girl who had no friends, didn’t have any preconceptions about who I was. That was the first time since fourth grade I ever let myself have a group of girlfriends.

And it was fucking wonderful. In my entire life I will never forget those girls. They were adventurous, fun, full of life and stories and open minds. I felt awesome around them.

That November I took a weekend trip to Paris to meet up with some Davidson friends. Girls I was close with at school, but never considered “my group”. Maybe it was because of the new friends I had made in London or the fact that I was free of Asshole Boyfriend, but I connected with them in a way we never had back at school. A weekend full of lingerie shopping, cooking, Rodin and girl chat in the one bed we all shared solidified the closest friends I’ve ever had.

The friendships I made and the friendships I strengthened while living in London changed my views towards groups of women. I learned to trust them. I learned to trust myself.

I thought the fourth-grade drama meant I was a difficult person to get along with. I worried that one event meant disaster for the rest of my friendships. Turns out fourth-grade girls just aren’t very nice and that one experience held no bearing on my future friendships.

In terms of how my friends have affected my Quarterlife Crisis, let’s just say I couldn’t have a better group of girls rallying for me.

So dear Desi, Kelsey and Alea: You are the reason I am capable of doing anything. You are the best cheerleaders, the most beautiful women, the most incredible friends. You remind me every day that I’m awesome. You remind me every day that you’re awesome. Because of this, I love you more than you will ever know.


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The Satisfied Artist

posted 1st September 2010    Written by: Nikki    CATEGORY: Creativity, Money, Nikki, Season 3

We have this romantic notion of the “starving artist.”  As though somehow it’s noble to lose everything in pursuit of an art.  In fact, an artist that makes money is often labeled as a sellout.  Do we ever call a doctor a sellout for working in a private practice instead of traveling with Doctors Without Borders?  Do we ever expect an accountant to give his services for free until he’s established himself with a CPA firm?  No.  But every day actors, musicians and visual artists are asked to work for free, or looked down on for “selling out” and doing a commercial or signing with a major label or even teaching.

But artists need the same creature comforts and securities everyone else does.  How do we reconcile our need and drive to create with our basic needs of food, shelter, healthcare and retirement plans?  And how do we maintain our sense of artistic self in the toxic money-making machine of the arts industries?  Even when we’re working & selling our art, it’s a struggle.  A friend of mine was in an audition waiting room with a very famous older actress, and as she went into the room, she turned to him and said, “60 fucking years in this industry & I’m still auditioning; I’m sick of this shit.”  There is no level of security.

I, as an artist, have conflicting views towards money.  I vary between denying that it’s important (“I can live frugally and just be a nomad selling art and doing theatre – I don’t need stuff – money is made to be spent!”) and freaking out when I realize it IS important (“Oh my God what do you mean I have to pay $800 to fix my car??!  And rent is, ahem, HOW much!!??”).

I’m a nester.  I’m a Taurus.  I need a home space and some level of comfort and stability to balance my adventurous streak.  In other words, when my tour around Europe (hee hee we’re talking dreams now) ends, I need a lovely little home waiting for me with down pillows and my things.  I need walls on which to hang the pictures I took on my world trip.

I don’t want money to rule my life.  I see so many people my parents age (and recently, a lot my age too – scary) who feel trapped in jobs they hate because they’ve over-mortgaged their lives.  They choose the big house and nice car over a career they love or a life they actually get out and live.  I’m not judging, those are their choices, but they’re not the choices I want to make.  Unfortunately, I think sometimes I’m so afraid of ending up that way that I shut myself off to a lot of options.

And then there’s the lure of Hollywood money… Let me just tell you, the movie I was just in paid as much in 2 days as I used to make in one month at my full-time day job.  And I was a dirt cheap hire.  But the gap between those that work steadily at that rate or more, and those that have to empty their purses for the chance to book one of those jobs a year is the size of the Grand Canyon.

All this said, though, I actually am pretty good with my finances.  I never used a credit card until after college, and I really only use it when I’m traveling or for emergencies (which has actually proved to be a BAD thing because our society’s backwards in that if you have no debt, no one will loan you money).  I am queen of bargain shopping; I even buy my groceries at the 99cent store (don’t knock it til you try it!).  I always have a savings account which, though it doesn’t have much in it normally, is easily forgotten and therefore left alone to it’s direct deposits and interest accrual.  And somehow, in 2009 on a net income of somewhere around $20,000, I managed to live in one of the most expensive cities in the world, travel to Grand Cayman, fly cross country twice, and travel through Australia for 4 months.  Don’t ask me how.  I might be magic.

I guess, ultimately, I’d like a job that is creative (not passively creative like, “I have to think outside the box so solve problems” but actively, imaginatively creative) that is always changing so I don’t get bored, and which provides me with the financial security to be a crazy, stuff-shunning nomad and then come back to my home like a little nesting bird.  I respect money’s importance in our society, but I don’t like it.  I want to love my job, but I want to work to LIVE.

[photo source]


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How Homeschooling in Middle School Affected My QLC in My 20′s

posted 31st August 2010    Written by: Doniree    CATEGORY: Doniree, Family, Season 3, What I've Learned

I was homeschooled through most of middle school.

Specifically, I was homeschooled for five and a half years during third, fifth, sixth, seventh, half of eighth, and ninth grade. I used to really enjoy telling people this because I felt as though my family busted right through the stereotype that was homeschooling, particularly the ‘how’d you have a social life?‘ and ‘didn’t that shelter you?‘ questions that typically followed.  However, I don’t think that stereotype exists really anymore, so now when I talk about those five and a half years, I tout what I felt were the really strong contributors to my work ethic and relationships today.

So, this is my homeschooling story.

Why we did it

Here’s the short story: My parents decided to homeschool my sister and I after my second grade year and her first grade year. They’d run into a bit of a disagreement with the school administration over what kind of information they could and wouldn’t share with parents about what the students were being taught and tested on. Feeling as though they should get to have some idea about what their six and seven year old were being taught, they pulled us out of public school after that year and took matters into their own hands – using an approved national cirruculum from a private school based in Florida.  That was that.

Lessons Learned

Being homeschooled from essentially late elementary school through middle school was pretty formative, and in retrospect, one of the best things to have happened to me. I appreciate the development that happened in those years and feel that there are three things in particular that have shaped me and have influenced my work ethic, professional direction in life, and ultimately the handling of my own quarter-life crisis.

I’m grateful for the years my parents taught us at home because:

I learned how to self-teach. Perhaps one of the best things to come out of being homeschooled from 3rd-9th grade is the ability I developed to teach myself information.  We had cirriculum and my parents were great teachers, but ultimately I was responsible for reading, understanding, and presenting the information I learned about each of the topics we studied.  This came in handy especially in college when professors weren’t spoon-feeding us everything anymore, and expected students to take responsibility for their own futures.  Today, as a self-employed blogger, consultant, and aspiring yoga teacher, the ability to keep myself motivated and constantly learning is as much a crucial part of my personal growth as it is my professional life.

It changed the way I believed work time should and could be structured. I remember starting our “school day” at 8AM (yes, we had to be “on time”) and being done by or shortly after lunch.  What took middle schools 7 hours to teach and accomplish between hallway time, lunch hours, etc., we nailed in 4-5 hours.  Since I’ve left the “traditional” work force again this fall, I’m back to working from home for a few different clients.  Knowing that it’s possible to “work smarter, not longer hours” keeps me focused in the mornings so I have my afternoons to work on my own projects, take yoga, and spend time with my friends – for the most part.  The golden nugget of this set-up is that it reinforces balance, something that remains a massive priority in my life.

The things I’ve learned from my family are some of the most important lessons I’ve learned in my life. From teacher-student lessons to parent-daughter lessons, I’ve learned more than how to manipulate a curfew and how to diagram a sentence.  Thanks to Ma, Pops, Mir, and Jeff, I’ve learned:  Alabama history, how to sauté mushrooms, what to cook cornbread in, how important the first grade is, what a laminating machine could be used for, how to pronounce “Gewurztraminer,” how to play Canasta, what an ERA is, the Caray family lineage (Harry, Skip, and Chip), some inner workings of today’s school system, how to cook with wine, and the importance of down time, alone time, and family time.

A Balance of Learning

Miranda and I went back to public school for high school, and I have to be honest – I loved it.  I know a ton of people who hated their middle and high school years, but I look back on middle school and I see a time in my life where foundations were set, where habits and work ethics were developed, and relationships with my mom, dad, and sister were strengthened.  I look back on high school and see a time when all of those previous years enabled me to self-teach and stay far on top of assignments and classwork in high school, enabled me to keep my head on straight and only get into a little bit of trouble, and ultimately appreciate the balance that was spending a few focused years learning at home so that I could spend the last years of my pre-secondary education rounding out academics with relationships and getting a better idea about what I wanted to do after that.

Role models and support systems

Family plays a huge role in who we are, and how I’ve landed where I’m at today.  I’m eternally grateful for having a support system of parents, a sister, and in the last few years, a brother-in-law that stayed supportive as I hammered out all of my big dreams.  Big dreams that have included from the very start writing, travel, self-managing, and constant learning and now into my late twenties really haven’t changed that much, but through their counseling, teaching, and unconditional love have been better defined and pursued than ever.

{Image credit: I swiped it from my sister’s Facebook page.}


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The Line Between Independence and Aloneness

posted 29th August 2010    Written by: Lindsey    CATEGORY: All Posts, Family, Lindsey, Love/Relationships, Travel, What I've Learned

There is this really hilarious picture, lost in the electronic abyss of my dead external hard drive, taken at a picnic a few years back. It is the perfect picture of me and the ‘rents.

My parents are calmly standing over their paper plates of picnic fare. Their eyes are on the verge of rolling, but not quite. And in the forefront is me: taking a pause from my stride, striking a ridiculous pose and making a more ridiculous face.

I’m out there, in a way that is quite foreign to my very-normal-American family. I talk loudly, and act louder. I take risks in a way that people don’t, often. I push boundaries that will potentially lead me to failure because it brings a fullness to my life. I’ve claimed my personal freedom to live life for myself.

But I also am drawn by the power of my family. Living at home this summer, I’ve found incredible support and love that I had been distanced from, living out on my own. Being surrounded by my parents, my brother, even my dog, I realize this incredible unit of people, joined by blood and genetics and years of experience and love, is an important key to my personal grounding.

I can’t explain where my free spirit came from, but I know I can’t help but dream big and live with my head in the clouds of possibility. My roots, connecting me to something stable, that is my family.

Here is my million dollar question: how do I find a balance?

Interdependence is a higher state than Independence

When I am alone I miss: Connectedness. Deep conversation. Human contact. Sometimes, when I’m on my own for a really long time and then get a real hug its like fireworks explode. Human contact is an oh-so-beautiful luxury, and something I’ve learned to cherish, more than ever before.

Independence is an art that allows openness to new experience and ideas. Being comfortable, surrounded by the love and support of my family is good. But ripping that away in the raw emotion of aloneness, that is a crazy new game of self-discovery. It leads to personal introspection, development, productivity.

However, alone this track of being alone, I’ve also found myself being more impulsive in my relationships. Seeking deep bonds that emulate those of my family. Depending on newfound friends to hold me down in the way that family does.

Remember my story of how I got back to Michigan this summer? There were several affairs of the heart, that moved me across this country, and each time I was just SURE that this was the answer, that here was someone who’d love me and ground me and support my crazy ideas and be a mobile and modern version of my family.

But impulses are gnarly, dude. They make me an expert in heartbreak, a girl whose hardly been in any relationships long enough to warrant heartbreak possible. And I tend to be overwhelmed by my weak (or possibly far too strong) heart, crushed. Feeling alone.

Hit the Road, Jack, But Always Come Back

There is a moral to this story of heartbreak and aloneness and knowing, if anything, my family will always love me: one-way plane tickets, baby. (After defining and writing out my Joy Equation goals and one good conversation with a friend, there I was at 3 am on Kayak.com.)

Am I running away? Believe me, everyone I’ve told about my impulse decision has accused me of this. I’ll even admit it: I AM running away. Away from the idea of settling and of putting my BIG DREAMS on hold to “be responsible” and start my career. Away from the scary prospect of not changing, not expanding my mind with the great glory of humanity and their beautiful voices and opinions.

Don’t think me a coward, I’m definitely running towards something too: my big dreams. Dedicating myself fully to my actual goals, rather than making them my after-work fare as they’ve become this summer. Surrounding myself with friends who are living the lifestyle I have become preachy and non-actionable about. Towards a conviction that I can be truly independent, and fully in charge of my life. Towards filling my life with experience, and a further developed worldview, a clarity only achieved with the action that global motion brings.

Again, I will be alone.

It takes away the buffer of friendships and romance and family. It gives raw realness to everything. It teaches me something every day. I have new perspective since I paused my nomadic lifestyle to come home this summer. I am clear with my goals. I have recalibrated and I am ready to keep going.

There is something else you should know about me: I have this really frustrating belief that I am meant to be alone, stemming from some bitch palm reader at my high school prom. (WTF, right?!) I am trying to change this. But I have never really admitted it to anyone besides random boyfriends that fizzle out soon after.

I am holding myself publicly accountable on this next stage of life, that no matter what, I am not destined to be alone. I have family that loves me. I have friends that love me. And, what really matters in all of this, I have myself. I must love myself.

{photo credit : α is for äpΩL †}



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Good Enough is Good Enough

posted 28th August 2010    Written by: Renee    CATEGORY: Creativity, Inspiration, Renee, Season 3, What I've Learned

I sat down to write this post and got halfway through it and decided there was no fluidity, no form, no voice, and the whole thing was crap.

It’s writer’s block and it terrifies me. As someone who thrives on feeling productive, knowing that I just scrapped an hour’s worth of work makes me feel helpless and worthless.

I pride myself on my writing efficiency. In undergrad, I could knock out a three-to-five page paper in less than an hour. It would be a coherent, comprehensive work, too. Often, these papers would earn A’s, especially if it was for a class I really enjoyed.

Today? The writing isn’t coming easily. So instead I refill my glass of water… tap out a couple more words…  I check the mail… reread what I’ve written… I grab some string cheese from the fridge… delete a paragraph… I put another coat of nail polish on… and decide, screw it, this idea is not happening today.

And what can I do? How do I find inspiration when my energy turns negative? How should I expect myself to produce top-notch content when I feel sour about every word I type? How do I keep that Judgey McJudgerson voice in my head from constantly judging?

Is there anything more frustrating than not accepting what you produce? Be it music, art, writing, calculations, or whatever your line of work may be. It’s like, you don’t accept it so your client or readers or whatever sure as hell won’t accept it, either. But you know you’re your worst critic, so you try to look at it with someone else’s eyes and it actually just looks worse than you thought it did and please would that judgey voice STOP being all judgey in my head?

You’re certain when you submit it, it’s all mumbo-jumbo and you’re certain you’re just about to be fired because whatever you just submitted is total crap and your four year-old goddaughter could have created something way better than this. Is it naptime yet?

But then I take a step back. I take a deep breath. I roll out the tension in my shoulders. Each article, blog post, paper I write doesn’t have to be perfection. It doesn’t always have to break glass ceilings and burst through uncharted territory and thrill each and every reader. But it has to reach a level of acceptance.

One of my idols, Jane Fonda, writes in her autobiography, “Good enough is good enough.” Sometimes, that’s the best I can do and if I put forth good enough effort, then it’s good enough for me and it’s good enough for my audience. I can be proud of that.

I’m afraid of silly things—revolving doors, salmonella poisoning, things that go bump in the night–but I’m most afraid of not living up to my own expectations. I need to let myself off the hook from time to time and for God’s sake Renee just relax. Being authentic doesn’t mean being perfect, it means being the best version of yourself and meeting yourself where you are and being OKAY with that.

It’s gonna be okay. Relax.

[photo credit: AndWat]


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