I don’t want to jinx it, but there is a strong possibility we might be moving far, far away soon. Where? I’m not telling. Yet. But when I told my mom the possibility, she said this:
“Candy, clean your room before you leave.”
She didn’t say it exactly like that…but it sounded like it did 15 years ago…like… “CANDY, CLEAN UP YOUR ROOM NOW!!!”
*shudder*
I moved out at 18 when I left for college, and I left my room the way it had been; in a disheveled mess. It’s been 11 years. I had junk in the desk drawers, clothes in the closet, Baby-Sitters club books on my shelf, diaries laying around, artwork shoved underneath my bed, and a folder packed with letters from pen pals. Oh, and all these awards were crumpled up here and there. I might’ve lost my high school diploma, and I think my dad found my college diploma, since it is now framed and hanging on the wall now. I was never that into the awards I got.
What I really wanted was a trophy. A nice shiny plastic trophy. Awards on paper were so tacky.
The award above was found in a stack of pen pal letters. I kept it because it was funny. That’s right….I didn’t keep this because I had pride in it, I kept it for the funny factor.
I mean…did I really care about drugs enough to receive a Certificate of Merit?! What does that even mean, ‘Time To Care About Drugs’? Shouldn’t kids NOT care about drugs? It looks like some dumb award a local news station would give out to kids to give them something to report about. Oh wait…wow…that’s a coincidence, it IS a dumb award a local news station gave to kids!
And another thing…it looks like I had to write my own name onto the certificate. It goes to show you how much they don’t care about the kids who care about drugs.
This certifies me in handling basic aid. Like…putting band-aids on cuts, performing CPR, you know, all the stuff any 8 year old can do. And since my certification doesn’t look like it expires at any time, I guess I can still save lives.
Please don’t put your faith in me. Sometimes I forget to put Neosporin on a cut before slapping a band-aid on it.
This is really embarrassing. I used to be a really, REALLY great speller. And now I can barely spell without double checking with my spell-check because my 29 year old brain has turned to cottage cheese + mashed potatoes. OMG. I almost spelled potatoes ‘patatoes’. Need I say more?
I blame AIM and Texting.
But I wanted to share this because it is proof that one day, a LONG, LONG time ago, I did speel good. I was gooder than most speelers.
And who doesn’t appreciate a colorful award with a cat in an astronaut suit? Those are exactly the kind of awards I strived for!
The dogs in astronaut suits just didn’t cut it for me. Ha. Ha.
And this here certifies me to write a blog. Not only do I care about drugs, set broken bones while performing CPR, and spell good, I apparently can manage a blog as well as any competent 10 year old can.
I hope you enjoyed taking a ride down Soupbelly memory lane as much as I have.
I realized the reason I could never accomplish cleaning out my room was because I’d look at something I was about to chuck into the garbage, sit there and think about when, where and why I had the object I was holding in my hands. I couldn’t even clear one single drawer. Everything had some sort of purpose, or meaning behind it, and I figured…it wouldn’t hurt to keep this a little longer…
When I found all my diaries, I shuddered. Diaries are the epitome of awkwardness. I couldn’t even read them, they were way too…awkward. Ugh, teen angst! It was like watching a teen movie unfold on paper. Without all the hard-core drinking and drug taking and relationship stuff. It was more about how I was such a dork. I mean, I was the kid who watched X-Files every Friday night instead of going out to parties and dates. I could barely find a date to my senior prom. Yes, these are really humiliating confessions. I sat in my room and drew pictures and painted as I listened to my Nirvana or Smashing Pumpkins CDs. Instead of participating in sports after school, I had a part time job sitting in a cubicle like a grown up, doing office work everyday. On weekends, I went to private art classes just to hang out with other dorky people like me.
Hey…wake up. You think it’s boring to read this? Imagine how boring it is for me to write it.
I was the most boring teenager on the planet.
After dousing my diaries with gasoline and burning them into the deepest depths of hell, I found a heaping pile of pen pal letters from many different people. Maybe the blog thing stems from my need to write to random people. I had pen pals from Buffalo, NY, Virginia, Washington, Germany, France, and various cousins in NYC. I also had a bunch of fake yearbooks I concocted. You see, my school produced a year book every year, from middle school to end of high school. And my parents didn’t want to spend money every year for a yearbook. So, I would go around asking people to sign my notebook, that I’d slapped a ‘Yearbook’ label on. Of course, maybe this was why I didn’t have a lot of friends, because I was such a weirdo. But I got a lot of signatures and ‘have a fun summer’ comments and even a few phone numbers. On a steno pad.
And last but not least, I found the very first phone number a boy gave me. I only kept it for the funny factor again. You always see people give each other phone numbers on TV, and it was utterly hilarious to me that I got one in real life. Of course, it was from a boy at a high school graduation party. I didn’t even call him.
The irony.
As I was blabbering on to Chris and gushing over the piece of paper with a phone number on it, Chris rolled his eyes and excused himself out of my childhood room. It’s crazy that a dork like me got married after all this awkwardness.
Then again…I’m not the one who asked a girl out on a date to a Michael Bolton concert (ahem). Maybe I’m cooler than I thought…
You might be moving, uh? Well, I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you. I’d love to move too, but I don’t think it’s gonna happen super soon.
PS: the x-files rock!!!
As someone who moves every 3-4 years you have my sympathies if you do indeed move. It’s fun and utterly exhausting all rolled into one. I’m a professional box un-packer.
How neat that you have all that stuff to reflect back on. Somehow my yearbooks got lost and I’m pretty sure that’s a good thing! lol
Chiara – Really, move from Florida? I always thought every place would be happier than Upstate NY. Where would you love to move to?
April – Sympathies?! No need. I’ve been waiting to move my whole life. There was always a reason not to. I always ended up stuck where I was, and part of it was me not trying harder to move. I’d take a job here, or in a nearby town, or back here again, etc. I always waited for my life to start.
Ok, it’s totally different if you WANT to move. I really do enjoy it more than I thought I would. I’m living places I never would have chosen, seeing things I may not have had an opportunity to and doing it all with my favorite person, my hubs. So, all the boxes, paper and anxiety of finding a new place to make home is really worth it. You sound excited about it and I’m keeping my fingers crossed for you it all works out. :o)
Hope everything works out! I had to go through all of my old stuff before I moved down with JB. It was horrendous! I would do purges every now and then growing up, but I had 200+ beanie babies, towers of notebooks, piles of barbies, school artwork, etc. I was pretty proud of myself when I let it all go. I allowed myself time to reminisce over each one and then happily chucked it out or gave to goodwill, only keeping a few items of serious significance to me. And you know what’s sad? I still have that single box filled with memories in my office and I haven’t unpacked it yet. I am super excited for you and I hope everything goes awesome for you guys!
PS: X-Files was da-bomb. And so was Star Trek TNG and I watched that religiously as well.
April – You know what, I never thought of people moving who didn’t WANT to move. Like, to be happy where they are. I guess that would be sad if they had to pack up and go. I mean, I’m nervous about finding the right place to live, but besides that I feel like I’d adapt pretty fast. Thing is, I never felt like I belonged where I grew up. Like I was always waiting to go somewhere else. But I can’t imagine moving every 3-4 years like you have. It must feel like once you finally get settled and used to your surroundings, you have to pack again. But at least you and your hubby are together when you find a new place again :)
Irish Pirate – I kept some of my school artwork. It reminded me of the time I actually had some talent :P I hope it sparks some creativity in me, what little I have left. I think I never got around to cleaning my room because I never felt like I had a real place I could call ‘home’ yet, and I always considered my parents house my home, and my apartment just an apartment. I hope everything goes well for our possibility for moving too (fingers crossed!) Oh, and don’t forget Star Wars.
Florida is too hot and humid for me. Not to mention that everyone is 100 years old and there isn’t much to do where I live. Ideally, I would like to go back to Europe and live there for a while. We’ll see…
u better come see us b4 this move. or i’ll haunt u or something….?
not good w/ threats while so sleepy!
i have soooo much more 2 vsay bout this when reid isnt screaming, btw
Chiara – I agree it’s too humid down there :) If I can’t handle how humid it is in Cancun each time I went, I surely can’t handle Florida. It’s probably scary driving down there with all the 100 year olds on the road too :P
Kier – the move isn’t definite. Still crossing our fingers, but I’ll let you know. I won’t move without seeing you guys!
Wherever in the world you build your next home, I hope you continue your blog. You have great talent in cooking as well as writing. You are one of the few friends at Foodbuzz that I follow. Good luck, Candy!
Chris – I will continue it. Not only is it all about cooking, it’s about telling all our readers and friends and families what we’re up to. Thanks for considering me one of the few friends too, I appreciate it so much.
You hit the nail on the head.. it always feels just about the time we’re nice and settled it’s time to do it all over again. As hectic and crazy as it all can be (and believe me I go nuts, my husband is a saint to put up with me) I always view it as an adventure and opportunity. We moved to CT from FL and I don’t miss FL one teeny tiny little bit. I always joke “Florida, where old people go to die”. hehe I’m pretty sure I should have been born in the New England area and NOT in GA where I’m originally from.
Good luck with it and if you need any packing tips I’m your girl! lol