Am I living up to my childhood expectations?

Sometimes I look at the state of my life, and I wonder what my childhood self would think of me right now. Not that it matters, but I just know that back then I had some pretty rigid expectations for how my life was going to go. For instance, at the age of five, when anyone asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I always responded, "Reba McEntire."

...

Reba.

McEntire.

Not "a singer." Not "a musician."

Reba....McEntire...

..................Reba.

Via 3chicspolitico

I mean, really, I completely set myself up for failure with that goal. It should go without saying that my genetic code is still pitifully the same as it was back then. I did not suddenly morph into the magnificent redheaded creature pictured above (though make no mistake, I can rock a denim blouse like you wouldn't believe).

My life now is way different than the one that I planned for myself when I was a child. If I could travel back in time and tell Little Christy all about her future, I think she would have some big opinions about how things have gone down. Since that's impossible, for the purposes of this blog post, I'll use my childhood pictures to depict her emotional response if such a conversation were to take place.

Hey, Little Christy, it's me -- Future Christy. How you doing, girl?

Nice, nice. You're just chilling with a cat, as per usual, I see. Well, don't worry, girl, I won't keep you for very long. I just wanted to let you know some stuff about your future, if that's cool with you. 

Great. Well, I feel like I should just get this out in the open -- just rip that bandaid right off -- Little Christy, when you grow up...you are not going to be Reba McEntire. 

I know, I know. You're disappointed. But really, how did you think that was going to go down? Like, it's literally impossible for you to become a different human being. You can't be Reba. Only Reba can be Reba. You didn't think that one through, so that's on you. But good news though, while you may not become Reba McEntire, you will become -- get this -- A WRITER.

What? You don't think that's cool?

Okay, well, I guess you have a point. Being a writer is almost never glamorous, and you basically live in constant fear that you'll never get work again. Plus, whenever you meet new people, you always have to answer the question, "Have I read anything you've written?" (for the record, the answer is usually no). But get this -- you're going to live in New York City!

I know! I'm psyched too! It's definitely cool, but just so you know, you don't live in an apartment anything like the one Tom Hanks has in the movie Big. 

Look, New York is expensive. Not everyone can have an elevator and a trampoline in a loft on the Upper West Side. But listen, you live in Brooklyn, one of the most diverse areas in the world. I mean, you live less than 15 minutes away from what has been deemed the best pizza in New York City. 

Yeah, I see you licking those lips, girl. I got your attention now. Well, how about if I told you that your neighborhood, Ditmas Park, is one of the few designated historic districts in NYC?

Okay, cool it with the fake snoring. It's not as cute as you think it is. But I got it, you haven't developed a love for history yet. That's fine. Let's see, what else, what else....OH! You get married!

And your husband looks like THIS (click the link, Little Christy): 

I know, right?! Also, he makes really delicious casserole.

Man, this whole husband thing might be the only thing you approve of, but trust me, there is more to life than having a super hot man around to cook you casserole. The thing is, Little Christy, your future will definitely be different than the one you've been planning. For instance, I know you have your heart set on it, but you are not going to have a moon bounce at your 21st birthday. In fact, from here on out, each birthday you have is less of a celebration and more of a reminder that you are crawling closer and closer to the grave.

OH, aaaand spoiler alert -- the Spice Girls break up.

Cool, well, I'm going to go, kid. This was kind of a waste of time. Hope I haven't left you in a confusing state of anger and despair.

In general, I think Little Christy is pretty pissed with the prospects of her future, but she'll get over it. What would your childhood self think of the life you're living?

Waiting on a Friend

Today I am going to talk about something that I think is true for a lot of people that move to New York City, or any new city for that matter. Let's start this one out with a song.

This is the Rolling Stones' "Waiting on a Friend", and it is basically my life story right now. Here we have Mick Jagger standing in a doorway watching some ladies pass by. He's all "ooo ooo oo OO ooooo", but you know that is just code for something really heavy that's weighing on his heart. Then he starts singing and you eventually hear him repeating over and over, I'm not waiting on a lady. I'm just waiting on a friend. Then it hits you. Mick Jagger isn't waiting on a lady...he's waiting on a friend.

You and me both, Mick. I wouldn't mind if that friend was a lady, by the way. I'm not picky. I'd probably prefer it.

Let me explain. Daniel and I have been living in New York for almost two months, and we have been having a blast. We've been to museums and zoos and parks and musicals and Coney Island. We are a daily audience for an inconsistently impressive dance show on the Q train. We've eaten cupcakes, ridden on ferries, walked by historic landmarks, sighted celebrities (Clinton Kelly...I had just been watching What Not To Wear before I saw him). This place is great. Listen to Alicia Keys. She's not kidding.

But here's the thing about moving to New York that I hadn't completely realized until we actually got here: when we moved, our friends didn't move with us.

This revelation probably isn't as shocking to those who have moved before, but I don't have a lot of experience with moving, so give me a break. From the time I was born, I lived at the same address in Helotes Park Estates in the same bedroom with the same bunny light switch for nineteen years. The first time I really moved away was college, but I was still in Texas and when I got there they had something called Welcome Week where they basically assigned us lifelong friends. Thanks for the bridesmaid, Baylor bubble!

My wonderful friend Lara and I, freshman year at Baylor.

On my wedding day. The comparison seriously makes me cry. 

From there, Daniel and I got married and we moved to Austin where most of our friends were anyway. I got used to a lifestyle of going out to dinners, having occasional sleepovers, checking in on each other, having real in-depth conversations, and simply doing life with my best friends. I was spoiled.

These people spoiled me rotten.

Now we've moved to New York, a city where I know only a handful of people and none of these contacts are preexisting best friends. This situation has NEVER happened to me. And I mean for that sentence to sound as dramatic as it looks.

When I think about how I even accumulated the friends I have in my life, I realize that I have mostly made new friends with a few older ones by my side. Then I have to think about the first time in my life that I made a friend which was probably in pre-school, and that was probably the result of Tinker Toys or some other friend-inducing toy of the early 90s. Kids are awesome at making friends. 

I know I am getting ahead of myself, and I am absolutely making it look like I am totally socially inept (which I'm pretty sure isn't the case). Daniel and I only just recently joined a church and while I have a job, we haven't started taping yet, so I haven't been around any of those folks. These are very logical places to meet people, and I probably will and everything will probably be more than okay.

The problem (as always) is my expectations. I am seeking in strangers what was cultivated through years of experience with my close friends. I want discussion and honesty and accountability. I want to skip right on through the politeness and primary tension of meeting someone to true, real friendship. 

That's not how life works. I know that. I know I am being selfish in not wanting the work of starting new friendships. The truth is I have been pretty fortunate to have had such great relationships despite my propensity towards over-thinking absolutely everything. And it's not like I am looking to replace any of them. They are still there, though miles away, whenever I need a dose of thoroughly-marinated, real conversation.

Still, as Mick Jagger says:

Don't need a whore
I don't need no booze
Don't need a virgin priest
But I need someone I can cry to
...
I'm just waiting on a friend

My thoughts exactly, Mick. Who needs virgin priests when you've got friends?