Good Luck 2010 Graduates!

Last week, I received a phone call from one of my AOPi little sisters notifying me of her upcoming graduation from UTSA. Wow. I can't believe my little twinsies are graduating. As I watched my Facebook news feed fill up with other friend's updates about upcoming graduations, I stopped to think about what an exciting time this is for any young adult about to get a crash course into adulthood. (Because let's be serious here. Most people are not real adults in college. Bills. 8-5, Mon-Friday jobs. Benefits packages. Paid time off. These are all foreign concepts to most college students.) It isn't until after college when people stop pretending to be adults and actually have to become one.

I wish every single one of the new graduates good luck in all they set out to do, but must remind them that having a piece of paper does not entitle you to everything, or really, anything. My first job out of college was an administrative coordinator. Did I want to make copies and send faxes? No. But I did it, and guess what? After a year of never gripping and going above and beyond, I was rewarded for my hard work and given a job that actually requires me to use some of that $30,000 education my parents paid for. Never think you are "too good" to do anything, because as a 22 year old, no experience college graduate, you really don't have much to bring to the table (not to be rude, but you don't). Be respectful of those who have put in their time to get where they are and believe me, you will go far.

Why I love being a working mom...

Having 18 month old twin boys is exhausting. Physically, mentally, emotionally exhausting. The one thing that keeps me sane is the fact that I have an escape from the chaos of having two busy, bustling boys. Call me a bad mother, I don’t care. I love knowing that after a long weekend of swiping rocks and leaves out of Chase’s mouth; keeping Dylan from killing himself; hissy fits; scraping mashed potatoes off the floor, walls, face and anywhere else it winds up; screams of impatience while I frantically try to peel an orange within the requested time frame of an 18 month old (BTW… their timeframe? 1 second); fights over trains, balls, blankets and whichever other object they feel they need to steal from one another; and all of the other lovely traits of the terrible twos, I am able to retreat to my job and my office and regain the sanity that I had lost over the past two days.
Being a working mother is so emotionally cyclical. Come Monday, I am more than happy to grumpily trudge off to work like the rest of the 8-5ers of working America. Stepping into the office and having a small chat over weekend activities or recent news while sipping away on piping hot coffee couldn’t make me any happier. Nothing makes you feel more like an adult then grumbling about Mondays to your coworkers; I’m serious, if you haven’t experienced the bond that creates with your teammates, then you are missing out.
So Mondays, in my mind, aren’t really all that bad, because I’m ready for the break. It’s not until about Wednesday that I start to think about how much I wish I could be at home with the kiddos. Come Wednesday, the boys are back to remembering that mom can’t stay home with them and the small sniffles that I received on Monday and Tuesday as I walked out the door are replaced with an enthusiastic “BYE” as Dylan and Chase bid me farewell. (I know as a mom I should be happy that my kids are independent and not little attached cry babies, but it still hurts a little when they don’t throw themselves into a fit of despair whenever I leave the room. I’m selfish…what can I say?)
From Wednesday through Friday, I leave for work and secretly wish that I could stay at home all day and cuddle with the boys, eat lunch with the boys, and do all of the other wonderfully idealistic things that I visualize stay at home moms get to do every day of their lives. And then comes Saturday and Sunday, where I am reminded of how it REALLY is to stay home all day with kids.
The week is an emotional rollercoaster for working mothers, but I’m sure glad, for my sanity’s sake, I’m along for the ride.

Not Your Average Sorority Girl

Sorority Life. How does one sum up what it means to be in a sorority (especially since everyone has such varying experiences)? I'm not saying that I am the expert on the sorority world, hell, I consider myself to have been a pretty crappy "sister", but an incident a couple of weekends ago really made me rethink the four years I spent investing my time and finances as a sister of Alpha Omicron Pi.

My original intention for joining was mainly my parent's insistence that it would be a great way for a sophomore transfer student to make friends. I had never really pegged myself as much of a sorority girl, but I figured I would give it a try by at least going through the Greek Life orientation. Orientation was nerve-wrenching. It seemed as though everyone that showed up had at least brought a friend along to alleviate some of the awkward nervousness of the situation. Me? Well, since I had just moved to San Antonio from Louisiana and the only people I knew were my parents, I was riding completely solo. Luckily, I managed to sit next to someone who, like me, was also new to San Antonio and didn't know anyone. Oh, Ana; my first friend at UTSA (and not to mention still a great friend even after she pledged a different sorority than me). I really think that if I hadn't managed to meet Ana that first day, I wouldn't have returned to continue the process. After a weekend of forced conversation and an endless supply of questions and answers, I was connected with my new "sisters", the ladies of Alpha Omicron Pi (AOPi).

The new member process was interesting. Considering that I am a standoffish kind of person and was even more so at nineteen years old, I didn't really feel as though I had connected with all of the other girls in my pledge class. There was of course my pledge sister, Jenna, who was my companion for most of my pledging process, but other than her, I didn't really feel as though I had much to relate to the others. Everyone almost instantly seemed to bond and have that sisterly love for each other. I am not a lovey-dovey kind of person. I don't hug, I don't hold hands, I don't express much emotion (I, honestly am an annoyingly emotional person, but only those closest to me are the ones who get to see that side.) But again, as fate would have it, I managed to get the best big sister ever, Missy, who reassured me that I was making the right decision by sticking with it. (BTW, if you aren't familiar with sororities, a big sister is someone who is to act as your mentor and guidance throughout your years in the organization.)

The following three years after initiation all seem to be a blur to me. My first semester as an official initiated member, I got my first little sis, Natalie. The Amber and Natalie show was indescribable. The wildest of my college years, she and I were pretty inseparable. It was during that time that Jenn entered the picture and the Amber and Natalie show progressed to the "Troublesome Trio" (and, yes, we had that name first). After the troublesome trio dissolved, I made my appearances at AOPi events limited. Jenn and I had been deemed the "bad guys" after the breakup of the trio, so in an attempt to avoid confrontation, I checked out for a little bit. It was Missy's insistence that I continue to come to events, and as a result of her advice, I ended up with two more Littles, Sarah and Liz (twins as they were dubbed). My relation with these littles was different then the one between Natalie and I. Don't get me wrong, I loved/love my twins, but while Natalie's relationship was based on friendship, the Twin's was based on mentoring and respect.

Most of my AOPi experiences revolved around the "sisters" I related to most. I always find it humorous when people say that sorority girls buy their friends (which I guess you can somewhat say since we pay to have parties and events) but what people don't realize is that not every girl in the sorority is going to be best friends. I still remember a new member telling me one time at retreat that she was scared of me. That statement made me laugh (yet hurt my feelings), because I have been told that a lot. People automatically assumed that I was judgmental and snobby because I didn't "hang out with them". I just didn't have much to relate to a 19 year old at the age of 21. I had been through the party stage, I had been through the drama, and I was over it. At twenty one years old, I had made the friends that I figured would be my friends for a long time, and I didn't feel the need to let people in who probably weren't going to stay.

After all of the drama, chaos and fun that I experienced during my years in AOPi, I must say that I am most appreciative for the best friends that I remain closest to after college. I think it was the Greek Life experience that gave us the bond that makes up lifelong friendships. While I may not be best friends with all of my sisters from AOPi, I do respect them. I regret not making the effort to let people get to know me better, and I regret not getting to know them better. A couple of weekends ago I was able to reconnect with some of my sisters, including my little Natalie, and it was a great time reliving old memories and catching up on new ones. I hope, and will try, to remain in contact with them for years to come; it was obvious from lunch that we have a lot in common and probably missed out on a lot of great times by remaining so distant.

Thanks to the Ladies of Alpha Omicron Pi for the wonderful memories. "Women Enriched through Lifelong Friendship"...yep, I can agree with that mission statement.

Where Have All the Manners Gone?

Chivalry, kindness, common courtesy…all things that appear to be long gone in today’s society. Perfect example: As I’m walking into work this morning an older gentleman who was about two strides in front of me didn’t even have the decency to hold the door open for me. Had he paused for even a second, I would have been able to catch the door. Instead, I had to do the awkward mid-closing door grab that never seems to go well. Not a good way to start off the morning and then sure enough the douche was standing there waiting for the same elevator that I, too, was going to ride up. Awesome. Elevator awkwardness.

Normally my rants are ignited while out with my friends, because despite the jerk off old man from today, it’s normally the young’uns that are the rudest. Okay people, word of advice: When you bump into someone, spill your drink on someone, want to use the mirror in the bathroom, etc please rely on our dear old friends “Excuse me”, “I’m Sorry” or “Please”. Believe me, I’m not going to think you are any less cool or sophisticated if you use language of the common folk. It amuses me that these people think that they are so classy and entitled that they shalt dare not belittle themselves by speaking to those who they believe are beneath them. Really? Because you a) don’t know anything about me or my “status” and b) last time I checked, a lack of manners was a clear indication of a person’s lack of proper upbringing. Stay Klassy, SA!

To those that feel they need a little reminder of how to demonstate good manners, I recommend the following:

or

There’s a little white trash in us all

Is it ever okay to engage in a girl fight? I have been questioning that all day after the adventure I had last night that involved me getting drawn into a verbal altercation with a trash-talking, teeny-bopper girl and subsequently getting escorted out by management. How embarrassing is that? Seriously, who gets escorted out of a bar? Obviously, I do.

I tend to patron the bars that haven't been infiltrated with the 21 year old college girls whose sole purpose in drinking is to get wasted and act ridiculous. The planned meeting was intended to be a celebratory gathering to officially congratulate my sorority sister's amazing new job offer that she worked her butt off to land. And since I had to be in the office at 730 come Friday morning, the date was planned to be a short get together for a few drinks before retreating home to catch a good nights sleep. That didn't happen.

Nat and I were hanging out by the bar engaged in conversation when this girl began running her mouth next to me. Nothing irritates me more than girls who find the need to vocalize their own insecurities by bashing others. Did this girl really find it necessary to devote her thirty minute conversation to my outfit selection? No. This is where I will accept a little of the blame for what follows. I could have taken the high road, walked away, and avoided the whole situation and normally, that would have been the preferred protocol. Instead, I turned around and engaged in conversation with the shit talker. I must note that the tone I had applied to my questions and responses was one of condescendence and mockery (which she quickly picked up on). After I sarcastically complimented her on her paring of a bedazzled blazer, blue jean skirt and hot pink leggings, she realized I had officially put up my subtle boxing gloves. Pink leggings (my appointed nickname for the girl) then started getting in my face threatening physical violence. Considering I had about 20 pounds on the girl, I wasn't at all concerned over my safety. I pegged her the moment I heard her talking crap about my friend and I. Pink leggings was one of those girls who runs her mouth because deep down she knows that girls are often to afraid or hesitant to speak up for themselves for fear of being judged as trashy. I didn't think I was acting trashy by making it obvious to this little girl that I didn't appreciate her attitude. And when she started bouncing around me like a cracked out monkey, I again, knew that deep down she had already realized that I would never get physical, only fueling her need to appear to have the upper hand by asking me to hit to her. (I seriously felt as though I was having an out of body experience because I've only seen girls behave like that in the movies). After she and I butted heads for about 5 minutes, the bouncer swooped in and asked Nat and I to leave. I was a little pissed considering she was the one threatening physical violence on me, but I understand the bouncers awareness that the girl was a little crazy and would probably not leave without a fight. I walked to my car in shame as I had just done what I have always believed to be so tacky; I caused a scene at a bar. My attitude changed when I woke up this morning. I saw my reaction as my being a vocal, independent woman who is willing to stick up for herself. And secretly, deep down I do kind of wish I had gotten in one good punch (the animalistic nature in me). That would have really put that annoying little thing in her place.

Singlehood=Narcissism

"Why am I still single" is on the mind of every single, unmarried woman in her 20s. I ask myself the same question every single day. I'm not perfect, but if my parents consistent insistence that I am a good catch means anything, how could I not be married by now? (And no, they don't have to just say that because they are my parents.)

As I look at my single friends, I question their singledom as well. Why are all of these beautiful, smart and sweet women still single? While browsing through my favorite girly online blog yesterday I came across an article entitled, "Why I'm still single". I was slightly insulted by the articles insistence that the large influx of single women is a direct result of women gaining more independence and becoming less reliant on men. Us, women, have become so picky that we easily and often cast aside a guy due to one simple deviation in the image we have constructed in our minds of the perfect man. I'm well aware that the independent, picky woman they were describing is me in a nutshell. Why don't I have the right to be career driven and selective about the men I want to be in a relationship with? Why was the notion that men are equally as picky about their mates not addressed? We live in a society where we want it all. Women want a man who is attractive, funny and successful and men want a woman who is smart (but not overly driven), beautiful and sweet; everyone wants the perfect partner.

I've pretty much come to terms that I am going to be single for a while. I just illuminate bitchiness (my friends blame it on my being taller than 80% of the people in this city; they believe people are intimidated by tall people.) I would not say that I am bitchy, just honest. I don't feel the need to go through life faking emotions and compatibility. I don't make an effort to humor men that hit on me when they should know from the start that they don't have a chance. I don't have the time or energy to engage in forced conversation that I know will not lead to anything. You have five minutes to wow and if it isn't happening by then, goodbye. Not bitchy, honest and straightforward.

From what I stated above, I have completely type casted myself into the stereotype derived by that article. I, too, from the attitude described, walk around with the notion that I deserve it all. That's the point I am trying to make. We have all become narcissistic. We walk around with the idea that we are better than others because we have more facebook friends, better job, a marriage, etc then our peers. And it is a direct result of that narcissus why there are so many singles out there. It is not because only women have become picky, but men have as well. The attractive men have determined that they are such a great catch that they have no need to seek out women because the women will come to them. Men who are seemingly normal have decided that because they are somewhat successful, they too deserve a perfect ten. It appears to me that everyone walks around with this attitude that because they have something, they deserve everything. The big question is who is going to back down. Both sexes are like rams butting heads, each trying to prove that they hold all of the cards in the dating world. It is a difficult, complex world 20 something's are dealing with. To those who have been lucky enough to find their ideal partner, congratulations. To the rest of us who are still wadding in the pool of singlehood, good luck. You and I are going to need it.