Adult in Training

I’ve always been the sort of person to laugh at cheerleaders.  I mean, while watching – the original – Bring It On I gained a better understanding of how hard it is to be a good cheerleader, but still at heart, I mock them.  And not because they wear unnecessarily revealing clothes, or because they spray their panty line with hairspray (that’s actually a good idea) but because they cheer.

I have never been into cheering.  In fact, I have loathed every situation in which I may have been forced to cheer.  Particularly when I first started playing girls’ softball, only to find that it was really just a conveinent front for cheering.  I cannot express to you how relieved I was the year that my team finally grew out of it.

That’s not to say that I don’t like to encourage my team.  I am all for the encouraging.  Particularly in softball, when I used to be the catcher.  The position easily lends itself to encouragement, especially if you have a nervous pitcher.  Oddly, I’ve found that when I’m encouraging someone, I feel the need to say everything twice.  It’s a compulsive habit that I sometimes find embarrassing, but can never seem to stop.

“Let’s go!”  turns into: “Let’s go, let’s go!”.  “Come on, now!” turns ino: “Come on, now, come on, now!”.  And no matter how long the phrase is, it gets repeated in some form.  “Alright, we’ve only got ten more to go!” would turn into something like: “Alright, we’ve only got ten more to go, ten more to go now!”  There’s no explaining it.  Do I think that maybe if I say it twice, the person will be doubly encouraged?  Frankly, if I was on the receiving end, I think I would just be annoyed.  But then, I am easily annoyed.

Some team cheers I believe in.  Before a game, when I played hockey for my college, we had a ritual cheer.  It got us pumped for the game, and brought us together as a team.  But the point was to scream as loud as we could.  There was no co-ordinated movement involved.  There were no sassy questions with smart-aleck replies.  There was no “Extra, extra, read all about it, (name) got a triple and we’re going to shout it!” There was simply “Who’s house is this?”  “Our house!” 

The old overnight manager at my Place of Employment (POE) used to feel – I think – the same way.  He would forego to usual long, drawn-out cheer, replacing it instead with a simple: “Go night crew”.  I can deal with that, even if I think that turning your pre-shift meeting into a pep rally is silly and naively optimistic.  But that manager left, and so to prepare us for the eventual permanent replacement, we have been forced to do the long, drawn-out cheer before every shift.  It involves much clapping, the “giving” of letters (as in “Gimme a ‘P’!”) and in the middle it requires an action that we are supposed to assume denotes a “squiggly”.  More than actually doing the action, I’m upset by the fact that the head office employee who wrote this cheer felt is was neccessary to add the “squiggly” at all, as though if it were left out, I wouldn’t know what I was spelling, or who I was working for.

I wish that I could simply abstain from the cheer.  Politely decline to give any letters.  Tell my boss that cheering makes me break out in unfortunate hives – not true, but a good excuse.  Forcing me to tell you that I am “All fired up and ready to go!” just makes me feel like more of a drone, with no identity and no control over anything – including apparently my emotions, since frankly, somedays I’m not all fired up and ready to go, I’m counting the minutes until I can leave. 

There’s no sense of identity in these cheers.  Saying the words doesn’t make me feel like a part of something larger, something better than just myself.  In fact, sometimes it just serves as a reminder that I’m under-acheiving and should be at a job that doesn’t require a spelling bee in the morning.   Cheers and chants and secret handshakes can make you feel “in”.  Make you feel like you’re part of something, anything, bigger and more important than yourself.  Or they can make you feel like you would do anything to get out.

So the first snow of the year was yesterday.  I had my snow tires put on last Friday.  Four of them this year.  The other two were an early Christmas present from Dad.  They are amazing!  I felt like I was driving a tank!

I work at night, so of course the roads are crappy and the weather is colder.  The upside is that there are less stupid people out and about in their cars as well.  Needless to say, I made it safely to work and back without even noticing that there was snow on the ground.  The only beef I have is that my window wipers are still utterly crap.  And I think it’s the actual arm of the wiper, and not the – easily replaced – wiper blade.

When I got home today, I brushed off my mom’s car – in my super sweet Mad Bomber toque from L.L. Bean, who is still my favourite man – and then I went up the porch to go into the house.  And then I was like: “Hmm… maybe I’ll give these a shovel.”  So I did.  And before I knew it, I had suckered myself into shovel the porch, our front walk, our side walk and my neighbour’s sidewalk as well.  He died last year, so I figure that’s a good excuse not to do it himself.  But he was always super nice to us, and I feel bad for him because he house just went up for sale like a week ago.  Which I think might only make sense in my head.

Anyways. With my sweet toque, my Newfie mitts and my snow tires, I figure I’m pretty much ready for anything Winter thinks to throw my way.  Not only am I ready, but I think I just might laugh in it’s face.  No longer will I be the girl who won’t leave her house, for fear she won’t get back up the driveway!

I am struggling like whoa this year with my Christmas List.  Usually, I have to admit, I kick it’s ass.  Starting a little after American Thanksgiving (last weekend) I make a list of all the people I’m getting presents for, and what I’m getting them.  And then, following this carefully laid-out list, I shop until I drop.  Which isn’t as dangerous as it sounds, because usually I am shopping from  the comfort of a couch or chair, as I am a HUGE supporter of online shopping.  And an equally huge hater of each and every mall from November through December.  If I am honest, I hate malls all the time, but will occassionally brave them.  However, you had better be Jesus if you think I’m going to a mall for you from now until New Year’s.

This year I am coming up blank though.  Absolutely blank.  I’ve bought one present.  And I didn’t even come up with this idea on my own, it was broadly hinted to me, so I’m not really counting it as a stroke of genius, like I do most of my presents.  I know what I’m getting my boys, and I have to say I sort of impressed myself with those gifts.  “The Dangerous Book for Boys – Canadian Edition”. I am excited for them.  Even though one of them can’t read English yet – though he reads better French than I do.  There is a lot of stuff to do in there, and frankly, if you are going to do it all, you have to start quite young. 

And I’ve already had a super awkward moment for Christmas. I was out with my brother, and we were looking at some magazines and I was all like: “Hey, I was thinking about getting Dad a magazine subscription for Christmas. Does he like to read anything?”  Do you know what his response was? “He reads Playboy.” Oh, does he?  I don’t really care, and neither am I particularly suprised.  But that is not an appropriate gift from a daughter.  And frankly, not something I want showing up on my credit card statement.  Call me crazy.  My brother does.  He can’t understand why it makes me itchy just to think about it.  Needless to say, Dad is just one of the many people on my list that I am struggling with.

It all combines to make me sad.  I love Christmas shopping (minus malls).  It puts me in the Christmas mood almost as much as when “W” channel starts playing like three Christmas movies a day.  And this year I am drawing all blanks.  It’s like all my warm, Christmas-y feelings are being trapped behind my Gifter’s Block.  I worry that I may be forced to brave the malls, just to get my creative juices flowing. On the other hand, I’m not sure who would want to get a gift that I was inspired to buy while I contemplated killing an entire family who decided it was a good idea to hold a Family Meeting at the top of the escalator, forcing me to climb in place until I could get them to notice me, and the other twenty people getting pissed-off behind me (Both a nightmare and a true story).

So wish me luck.  And if you are one of those people getting presents from me this year, keep yourself warm at night with the thought that while no animals were harmed in making your present, small children may have died in my quest to get it.

Hear yee, hear yee.  The latest issue of The NewEnglander (and yes, I left the space out on purpose, although what purpose I am not sure) has come out, and so I would like to take this time to share my latest gem with each and every one of you.

           I was hanging out the other day, watching a little TV, oddly enough.  I was waiting for a commercial so I could go and get a snack without missing anything.  By the time the first commercial rolled around, I felt like I was on the verge of dying from hunger.  Until I realized that it had only been eleven minutes since the show had started.  Really?

            Was I perhaps in a time-warp?  Had I inadvertently fallen into a worm hole?  Or could it be that I’m so used to cramming so many things into every minute of my day, I find it odd when I can sit for more than seven minutes, without having to do anything?  And I really don’t even have that many things to do, compared to most people.

            The fact of the matter is that in today’s society we are all over-stimulated.  We are all so used to multi-tasking and getting the most out of our time, we don’t have the opportunity to enjoy anything that we’re doing.

            Raise your hand if you have ever found yourself watching TV, doing homework and IMing at the same time.  Or talking on the phone, while trying to cook dinner and check your email.  Guilty.  I try and multi-task all the time.  I stink at it, but I continue to try valiantly.  But why?

            Why should I have to?  Why does it always feel like there aren’t enough hours in the day?  If I feel like I have to continually split my attention, what’s going to happen to me once I have a real life, with a real job and real responsibilities?  Because, if I am honest, there aren’t that many things I have to do in the average day right now.  So then, why am I writing this column, while doing laundry and watching America’s Next Top Model?

            The human brain is an amazing machine.  There’s no denying that.  But even today’s fastest computers can’t multi-task.  It seems like they can, but in reality they flip-flop back and forth between tasks, fast enough that you don’t notice. 

            The human brain works similarly.  According to Hal Pasher, a psychology professor at the University of California at San Diago, unless you’re doing something as menial as walking, or breathing, you aren’t actually multi-tasking, your brain is flip-flopping back and forth very quickly.  Unless you are me, and then it flips, but doesn’t really flop back to where it came from, it flops back to somewhere else.  Unhelpful.

            Regardless, no matter how many things you think you can do at one time, you aren’t doing them as well as you could if that was the only thing you were paying attention to.  Your homework will always have fewer errors if you aren’t IMing and talking on the phone at the same time.  And the person on the phone will likely feel more appreciated if you don’t forget what you are saying every other sentence.  And the person you’re IMing will feel more appreciated if they don’t have time to cook a turkey in between your responses.  Everyone wins.

            I will be the first to extol the wonders of the internet – especially since it’s the only way a broke girl can talk to her family long-distance.  But it seems I’ve traded more accessibility for a more demanding lifestyle.  The exact same things that are supposed to be making my life easier are in reality just making it easier for other people to demand more of me. For me to expect more out of each minute.  

            When did it become normal to do everything at the same time?  Why should I feel lazy when I’m only doing one thing at a time?  When did silence and relaxation become scary?  Apparently it happened while I was busy paying attention to something else.

Every girl I know believes in the value of a little retail therapy.  How can you deny the scientific data?  Everyone knows that when you are having a bad day, giving yourself a present is a great way to feel better.  Unless you are having a bad day because you are overdrawn, in which case buying anything is likely a bad idea.

I love the mall as much as the next person. Well, that’s actually a lie, I don’t really like most malls, because I have a fear of large crowds, and at the mall near my house it’s full of like slutty teenage girls and crazy Asian moms with like toddlers running willy-nilly.  Its hellish for me.  There are stores that I much prefer.

The Home Depot.  I love the HD. Which, might seem odd because I don’t really have any skills that pertain to building or painting or anything that involves tools… or really any useful skills at all.  But I do know how to jump a car now, thanks to George, the resident Athletic Department Handy-Man.  Now, if only I knew how to hot-wire a car, I would consider myself set.  But I love the HD because inside there exists such possibilities.  If a person had skills, there are so many choices!  You could make almost anything. Fix almost anything. Be prepared for almost anything.  And, if you don’t have skills, they are willing to teach you.  How can you not be impressed with that?  It feels almost magical at the HD.

The other stores I am a sucker for are the Target/Zellers/Wal-Mart-types.  The stores that sell everything you could ever want. And at a reasonable price.  I love the feelings that no matter what I need, it’s likely that these stores will have it.  And each of these stores have certain other perks.  For example the Wal-Mart near my school has a high concentration of mullets and/or NASCAR fans.  And assorted other weirdos.  The Target near my school has the best cards, t-shirts and some pretty cool furniture.  And Zellers is Canadian.  Enough said.

Unfortunately, the only thing I feel like I’ll be buying in the near future is gas for my car.  Because I am that cool.

Ever since Ben came home and told Nanny that I sucked at snowboarding, I have been on a mission to suck less.  I started out slow, keeping to the easy slopes.  I went yesterday with Katie and Carboni and CJ.  And all of them are better than me.  I was definitely the slow girl holding up the line.  Because I am still really nervous about going fast.  Because it hurts more when you wipe out – which for me is often.  And also, I don’t really know how to “carve”.  I still like to “feather” which is like the difference between driving on a street, and idling around the parking lot.

So today Berman and I went by ourselves.  Because that way we can work at a slower pace.  And we spent the day on the beginning beginner’s hill.  Which is basically flat.  And it was raining, but that just made the snow softer when we ate shit.  It was pretty cool, since we had the entire “hill” to ourselves, which meant no one to laugh at us.  While Berman was learning basically how to get down the hill without injuring herself, I practiced carving.  Which didn’t really go that well for me.  Almost every time I went to my toe side, I fell.  And it didn’t really slow me down, which was the effect I was hoping for.  It seems to bode ill for me when I get onto a real hill.

Afterwards I went to the rink to check in with Renee, who gave me the delightful task of end-of-season hometown releases.  And then made a phone call to my other boss Lori and all I heard from her end of the conversation was “Yeah, she’s even wearing snow pants” and “I don’t know if she’d get up on the roof”.  Nervous?  After she got off the phone, she offered me an opportunity I couldn’t say no to.  Lori was going to pay me $100 to shovel her roof.  Hell yes I will risk falling off a roof into three feet of snow for $100!  I fell of the top row of the bleachers for free.

I will say this though: Should I ever own my own house, where it snows a lot, I think I’d invest in tin roofs.  At home, I don’t think we’ve ever had to shovel our roof.  And it’s shingle.  But apparently it’s not uncommon here in New Hampshire.  It’s also not very easy.  While I managed to leave with my limbs intact, I am paying for it now.  Heavy, heavy snow.  Flinging it off a roof.  While it was raining.  Awesome.  I’d do it again in a heart beat, as I am broke, but I am going to be more than a little sore in the morning.  In fact, I was more than a little sore after I lay down in my bed for 45 minutes to warm up after I got home.

So all in all, one of the most productive days I’ve had since I came back in January.  Sweet.  It’s a good feeling.