accomplished?

Hello my name is Aimee and this is a real life adventure...

Wednesday was the day. I anxiously left work and sped home. I skipped shaving my legs in the shower and let my hair air dry to save time. After applying the bare minimum (concealer and mascara) I shoved a sandwich down my throat and headed for the hospital.

My closest girlfriend from high school had delivered her twin babies two weeks early and after a few days of observation visitors were allowed in to see the life she had created. She met me at the fourth floor elevators and walked me down the hall to the preemie nursery. In two little incubators laid Valerie and Viviana, who were just four days old. She had told me on the phone the babies were both around 4lbs at birth, but I had no idea how small they would be. It was incredible to see my girlfriend beaming over the two sleeping babies. Then it occurred to me, my girlfriend and I had graduated in the same class together; her and I are the same age.

I began to get that very terrified feeling in the pit of my stomach, the very same one I got when I had thrown her bridal shower two and a half years earlier. These life changes forced me to think about where my life is heading. The brave woman on my right was married with two children and I have trouble finding someone to commit to a movie date. I started to wonder, how accomplished am I? Don't get me wrong, I am extremely proud of how far I have come. I am getting ready to start my senior year with plans of graduating next May and have no student loans (knocking on wood) as of yet. So while I am not yet a wife and mother, I have done something fairly productive with my time.

Our two different situations has me thinking about how much the role of a woman has and has not changed in society. While women are now more successful than ever, (read about it at Men's Health, ironic right?) I can't help but feel my worth as an individual reduced because of my life choices. I am one of the only unmarried females I graduated high school with in May 2006, my cousins and aunts ponder out loud at family events why it is that I am single, and my mother constantly reminds me "when she was my age she had a husband and two little girls to care for". I appreciate the concern expressed by my family and friends from long ago, but at what point are they crossing the line from worried into rude?

While my ambitious attitude toward education is being doubted by my family, I'm going to hunker-down this next year and get my Bachelor's degree despite what anyone says. After I achieve success in the education system then maybe, just maybe I'll think about being a successful wife and mother.

flight M0V1N6 0U7 leaving NOW

Hello my name is Aimee and this is a real life adventure...

It's official, summer is finally over. Walls are barren, donation bags are sitting by the front door, and there isn't a visible surface anywhere in my Dad's apartment. Yes friends, my sister and I have spent the last week and a half attempting to organize and pack our lives into just a few little boxes that will fit neatly beneath our extra long twin mattresses for the next nine months. As suspected, Haleigh is almost completely packed and has even organized her DVD's and CD's into funky IKEA boxes while my belongings are still heavily attacking the dining room table and surrounding floor space. Tuesday night my younger sister did a brave thing. She sat in the living room with me as I unpacked old shoe boxes full of memories, and attempted to repack them into boxes marked "Adelphi". Being my closest sister, she held my hand through the ugly; handed me tissues through the sad; and laughed at the rest. Although emotional we spent the night saying goodbye to old boyfriends, throwing out old birthday wishes, and remembering the best parts of the past. Even with all the headway made, I still have a long way to go.

Fortunately for me this will be my third (and final) time moving into Adelphi, officially deeming me an expert at maneuvering my black futon up the L-shaped staircase to my room. I must confess how dissappointed I am in myself, as I had but one goal this summer: to have a boyfriend (preferably with a truck) by move-in day so I would avoid a large amount of manual labor. However it seems I underestimated the force of girl power. It is with the help of my sister and vivacious friend that I hope to be moved in by Tuesday.

While this isn't my first rodeo, it feels foreign. I am making the trek back to the place I've called home for most of my college experience for the last time. I know at the end of the year that the goal is to move into my own place as opposed to back into my Dad's. Another factor hanging over my head is my sister Haleigh's transition into college and onto the ASU Tempe Campus. This move seems to bear more finality because of these things. Writing this article, I can't help but be nostalgic. I feel as if I am finally flying the nest, for good.

As I near the decent into adulthood I contemplate the changes of summer and day dream of what the future has in store. Until I arrive I will spend my time making memories, living for the moment, and oh yeah... packing.

i'm gonna make you love me?

Hello my name is Aimee and this is a real life adventure...

In November of 1968 Diana Ross and the Supremes joined forces with the Temptations to release the classic love song "I'm gonna make you love me". The song became a success shooting to the top of the charts and landing in the #2 spot on the Billboard 100. I first heard the song when I was 8 years old. It happened to be number 10 on the Now and Then soundtrack, a movie and cassette tape my sister, cousin, and I became obsessed with. Not only did the twelve simple songs on the tape become a staple on road trips, but the soundtrack to our childhood.

Most recently I popped the CD (we had to break down a few years ago and buy the compact disk, as we no longer owned a car that played cassette tapes) to brighten up my day. It was possibly the first time I have ever listened to the words I have belted at the top of my lungs for the last 13 years. I contemplated the meaning behind these short and seemingly simple tunes I had allowed to guide my adolescence. Driving down Pecos Road with sweat dripping down my face and hot air rustling my hair I wondered, can you really make someone love you?

Music legendaries Diana Ross, Eddie Kendricks, and Otis Williams uttered the phrase with such confidence that it seems not only possible, but effortless. Forty one years after the original release of the song I am attempting to answer the inane question of whether love can be forced from an individual.

Being a romantic at heart, I can't help but adore the promising lyrics and hope for a happy ending. I am quickly brought back to earth when considering the logistics of making one fall in love. Was the song simply referring to the process of two people falling for each other through small romantic acts of affection, or does it apply to one individual consciously targeting another?

Either way I was sucked back into the 7th grade once I heard Ms. Ross coo "I'm gonna use every trick in the book, Ill try my best to get you hooked". For it was in junior high that I developed a crush on Ryan Estrada, an unobtainable love; for he had feelings for another girl in the class below us. Despite how much time I spent on my ponytail or that I was allowed to wear clear mascara he never reciprocated my feelings. Painful at first, I slowly mended my broken heart and learned that I couldn't make Ryan love me. Embarrassingly so, I still have a crush on him to this day, something that I will probably never fully get over.

Perhaps the dynamic duo of The Temptations and Diana Ross and the Supremes sang to characterize the uncontrollable feeling of intense emotion felt when two people fall in love. For instance, Ryan made me fall in love with his goofy smile and corny jokes. He didn't purposely or maliciously tempt my heart.

Just recently I experienced yet another unsuccessful attempt at love. Just as my futile tactics failed me in 7th grade, my homework help and baked goods this time around did not win my way to his heart. I guess it's my turn to sit back and let someone else attempt the seemingly impossible. One of these days a boy will come along and sing to my heart....

I'm gonna make you love me. And I just might let him.

a broken home

Hello my name is Aimee and this is a real life adventure (or tragedy rather)...

I was walking through Michaels on one of my many craft binges and found a scrap booking accessory. It was the word family spelled out in all lowercase letters. The sparkly light green word looked so pretty that I imagined what it would look in a book of memories. Only I couldn't think of what picture I would put on the page with it. Growing up I have many memories of the ill-defined term 'family'. It doesn't necessarily mean the people I am biologically related to, but the ones that matter the most in my life. In 21 years I cannot recall as much change within our family as I have seen in the last year. While this has enabled me to accomplish the most growth as a person I can ever remember, it has also left me feeling empty and alone.

When did the time arrive that I no longer wished to live with my parents but, to only see them on some Sundays and traditional holidays? The individual choices of the people I share genetic matter with have affected the relationships between every person in my immediate family. As a result a chain reaction has occurred forcing me to forge different friendships and comfort levels with people I have known for my entire life and those I have just met. It is more common to find a broken family than one that has stuck out the hard times together. I always liked to think of myself as one that strung her broken family together. That despite the divorce, we could still love and appreciate one another. Now I don't know if I will ever be able to bring our tattered family together again.

Playing the role of "the rock" for most of my life, I have always put the duty of keeping my family together in the face of grief, anger, and fear above all else. My instincts toward my little sisters are maternal as opposed to being a big sister. I have been the go-between for our parents through four years of divorce. Despite receiving grey hair (I honestly hope is a result of genetics), an ulcer, late nights and early mornings I could always look forward to sitting down at the dinner table with all the people I love on Thanksgiving, or under the tree on Christmas. These days I can hardly make it through a phone conversation. I constantly wonder if this is merely a selfish act on my part, or if for the first time in my life things are beyond my control and my worst fear is confirmed: my family is falling apart.

For many, this is an irrelevant topic. Plenty of families are never the same after divorce. The sad thing is, is that ours was. We made it over the hill and through the woods, only to find out we left all of our rock climbing equipment at home. And boy do we have a mountain in front of us.

I've always hated the cliche saying "sticks and stones will break my bones, but words will never hurt me". The third grader uttering the foolish phrase obviously never felt the daggers pierce their skin after a sideways comment from someone whom they loved. I constantly wonder if this feeling is normal. Is feeling out of control and homeless simply a rite of passage into adulthood? Or am I finally coming into touch with the way things have been for awhile?

I have a reoccurring dream that varies in detail, but always ends the same way. My littlest sister Abbey is constantly in the face of death all the while I panic and spend every waking moment I can with her, the rest of our family hardly notices her worsening condition or my exasperation. Each time the dream ends with her dying in my arms. With tears, wailing, or eerie silence I can never grasp the attention of my father long enough for him to see that he has lost his youngest daughter. The irony of this situation is that it would take death for him to see what he no longer has. Becoming wrapped up in new found interests and a second family has left his first one shocked, alone, and fatherless. What is to become of the letters that once spelled out our family is unknown. What I do know is that they probably aren't green, and certainly do not sparkle anymore.

here to stay

Hello my name is Aimee and this is a real life adventure...

I must admit a terrible secret. Despite being the gung-ho, over zealous leader of the Parks and Recreation Student Association I've had this inkling that failure is in my future. I've felt that the PRSA will face the inevitable come May, that we will have to disband our student club and I will let the SCRD staff down. But as if someone could read my mind, an angel was sent to me. His name is Michael, a representative from the Arizona Student Association and as he informed me at Starbucks today he is going to help the PRSA. I don't know much about this charming student advocate, but if he can do half the things he says he can our little student club will live on. Not only will our officers be able to attend leadership trainings and recruitment workshops, but we will learn how to effectively market our purpose to the incoming student body. So baby, with a little hard work, fresh perspective, and blessings from the ASA the PRSA is here to stay.

the wingman

Hello my name is Aimee and this is a real life adventure...

When one is out at a bar, or in any social setting you can always pick them out- the pair of guys working the room. One is putting the moves on a girl and the other is usually hanging in the background keeping her friend preoccupied. This individual is normally referred to as 'the wingman'. He is along for the ride, for better for worse. He can help you rope in the hotties and keep any unwanted company at bay. In some situations the said "wingman" will even take the fall and look like a complete jackass if it means his friend will get ahead with the girl.

I believe that the Coors Light people frame the responsibilities of the wingman perfectly upon release of this commercial.



There is little acknowledgment of the female wingman in the media so I would like to bring to your attention the importance and responsibility of these fearless (and stupid) women. Of course this story involves none other than myself :).

It was fairly early for a Saturday night when my close friend and I returned home from dinner at La Boca (DELICIOUS!!!). Exhausted from the long day we flipped on the TV in her Vista apartment and started to drift to sleep. Around midnight our third musketeer came bursting in from dinner. She had a lovely time, but she wasn't ready to call it quits. She had agreed to meet a cute boy on Mill Avenue (the hot spot for college kids in the Tempe area). Just as quickly as she had blown in, she re-powdered her nose and was off to hail a cab. In a matter of seconds I had made the decision not to send my tireless friend alone in a cab to meet Mr. Right Now, but that I was going with. In this act I had willingly made myself the wingman. Shortly thereafter we arrived at our first bar, I was still half asleep and my vivacious (let's call her Viv!) friend was starting to get nervous. Slowly we mingled our way into the bar and met the group. Mr. Right Now was looking quite cute in a polo shirt, while I started to feel self-conscious about my messy hair, glasses, and sober demeanor.

Two bars, one Silvermine sandwich, and three hours later I laid on a couch in Hayden Square wondering how my night had gotten so random so quickly. In accompanying my adventurous friend I had chosen to act at her mercy. Besides, I could not have let her hit Mill alone with no one to listen for the code word, or hold a ponytail of hair in the case of vomiting (a rare occurrence, I assure you). In essence, the female wingman is a socially accepted way of enacting the buddy system, something my parents adamantly preach about. With the help of a buddy, it is believed that creepy boys will be warded off and everyone will get home safe and sound.

In my case I had done the ultimate duty. I stuck by my co-pilot all night, never leaving her side. I backed up her white lies, and joked about my insecurities. I kept the other group members entertained, allowing Mr. Right Now and Viv to flirt shamelessly through the night. In the end it may seem that I was the one to get the short end of the stick, but I slept soundly knowing that in the big, scary, uncertain world there exists two other musketeers that will always be there for me.

So here's to you and your friends; whether it be yourself or another playing the leading role in your next adventure make sure to stay safe and never fly without your wingman.

i want to hold your hand

Hello my name is Aimee and this is a real life adventure...

As I write this my little sister is four buildings down across Orange Street meeting her advisor for the first time. Haleigh is being cleared to register for classes at ASU for her freshman year. A million thoughts race through my mind as this is happening. For one I am taken back to my freshman year advising appointment, where I felt inadequate for not yet knowing what my major would be. I felt left out for being the only freshman in my orientation room not moving on campus, instead I stayed home to help my little sisters (I have three) adjust to our parents' divorce. I think of how different my ASU experience would have been had I lived on campus. All I can do is thank God and all other higher powers that my parents finalized their divorce in early August of 2005. Had it not been for that act of fate I would've moved on campus, made completely different friends, and maybe never have found the parks and recreation program.

As I am counting my blessings, I am also living vicariously (and shamelessly) through my little sister. My parents never moved me onto campus when I finally made the transition. I didn't have anyone on campus to help me figure out which buildings my classes belonged in and I certainly had no one to guide me on my journey through the Greek system. I know for this I am stronger, but like parents and their offspring I want better for Haleigh. This is why I have done everything I can to help her get paperwork in to move onto campus, register for classes, and of course rush a sorority. I can't wait for her to go to all the football games, find the major that is right for her, and have her "ASU moment".

While extremely excited for Haleigh's life changing transition, I am also nervous and a little sad. Our entire lives I have paved the way for my little sister making sure everything is safe before allowing her to try it. I have managed to do this for possibly the last time in convincing her to spend the next four years of her life at Arizona State. As the summer treks on, I realize that while I'll only be a half mile away on the other side of campus I will not be able to be alongside her for every decision she will have to make. I will not be able to hold her hand on the way to class and drop her off (which I have done all through elementary, junior high, and some days in high school). My baby sister is growing into a breath taking young woman before my eyes and I am going to have to start letting her go to live her own journey.

There is an upside to this seemingly sad, empty nest story. For the next two years (I am hoping to get into the grad program) Haleigh and I will be on the same campus; grocery shopping, meeting for coffee, and late night studying together will become a staple item in my life. I cannot wait to share the Greek life experience with her (as of now I have convinced her to rush!) and show her all of my favorite nook and cranny spaces on campus.

It's ironic that this coming of age tale for one girl is also the same story for another. Letting her go her own way will allow me to grow into mine. I couldn't be more excited and queasy for freshman move-in this year. And if she wants me to, I will hold her hand.