(no subject)
How this works: You comment, I give you an age (please tell me how old you currently are, to minimize the chances that answering will require time travel) and you fill out the meme questions as they applied to you then and apply to you now.
cinco gave me 19. EVEN LONGER AGO OMG.
Then: in a dorm room at Kenyon College in Gambier, Ohio. Great school, then and now; not perfect, but good for me in a lot of ways. I've never regretted choosing it, although I don't have the strong yen to go back (or to marry a classmate or a fellow alum) that many of my colleagues did and do.
Now: And the challenge of this meme makes itself known: if you do it more than once, you gotta find new "now" answers to the same questions. Okay. Hm. Now? I live in a one-bedroom apartment in yet another college town - my sixth or seventh thus far, depending on how you count it.
Then: nothing. I didn't get a car until my senior year in college, when my parents surprised me with a pinkish-beige Toyota Corolla my mother dubbed Champagne Charlie. Kenyon was a true walking campus, thank God.
Now: On trips where I need a car (or want one,
spuffyduds, yes, yes), I usually rent the cheapest sub-compact Hertz will sell me. (The American Bar Association and USAA both have deals with Hertz, which means I get great rates and also Gold service. More shame: I really, really like not having to stand in line and wait for my car, y'all.)
That rather depends on how one defines "relationship," no? Assuming that by "relationship," the meme means "intimate romantic/sexual connection":
Then: no one. I was late to mature physically, and even later to mature sexually - the brain was way ahead of the body, yo. I'd only been asked out once, the previous fall, and hadn't recognized the invite for what it was. I didn't really fall in love for the first time until I was twenty, my senior year in college - and oh, what a tragicomic college-dramatic brouhaha THAT was, complete with competing published poems of sex and angst and a triangle missing a leg. Oy gevalt.
Now: My Js.
Then: ... I don't remember, honestly. Probably being alone all my life. That's been a constant fear since I can remember.
Now: Among other things? Failing my clients - which is, I promise you, inevitable given (1) my workload and (b) the way I have chosen to deal with it.
Then: Hm. I had a bunch of tiny jobs in college to pay my expenses, which weren't covered by my scholarship/savings/grandparental trust/parental contributions. I typed papers for other students (I had the only computer on my hall my freshman year - yes, child, truly! - and nearly the only personal computer in my dorm my senior year). I worked in the music library. I worked in the theatre box office. I don't think I'd started teaching ear-training yet.
Now: still an attorney. Also working at: exercising more; eating earlier; drinking less; sleeping hard.
Then: An actress. I went to Kenyon for its theatre program, which boasted Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward as grads. (Nontrivial trivia: Paul Newman died the Saturday before my mother did. I still have the issue of Entertainment Weekly with his gorgeous eighty-something face on the cover in one of my folders of scrapbook stuff that will probably never see the inside of a scrapbook. I still can't read it.)
Now: Happy. Peaceful. Able to appreciate the joys that life shows me. Able to get out of my warped, deluded, unhappy brain enough to become the sensual, sexual person I'd like to be. Able to find a way to REALLY help people, as opposed to triaging Bandaids the way I'm doing now.
This is a really interesting exercise, IMO.
cinco gave me 19. EVEN LONGER AGO OMG.
Then: in a dorm room at Kenyon College in Gambier, Ohio. Great school, then and now; not perfect, but good for me in a lot of ways. I've never regretted choosing it, although I don't have the strong yen to go back (or to marry a classmate or a fellow alum) that many of my colleagues did and do.
Now: And the challenge of this meme makes itself known: if you do it more than once, you gotta find new "now" answers to the same questions. Okay. Hm. Now? I live in a one-bedroom apartment in yet another college town - my sixth or seventh thus far, depending on how you count it.
Then: nothing. I didn't get a car until my senior year in college, when my parents surprised me with a pinkish-beige Toyota Corolla my mother dubbed Champagne Charlie. Kenyon was a true walking campus, thank God.
Now: On trips where I need a car (or want one,
spuffyduds, yes, yes), I usually rent the cheapest sub-compact Hertz will sell me. (The American Bar Association and USAA both have deals with Hertz, which means I get great rates and also Gold service. More shame: I really, really like not having to stand in line and wait for my car, y'all.)
That rather depends on how one defines "relationship," no? Assuming that by "relationship," the meme means "intimate romantic/sexual connection":
Then: no one. I was late to mature physically, and even later to mature sexually - the brain was way ahead of the body, yo. I'd only been asked out once, the previous fall, and hadn't recognized the invite for what it was. I didn't really fall in love for the first time until I was twenty, my senior year in college - and oh, what a tragicomic college-dramatic brouhaha THAT was, complete with competing published poems of sex and angst and a triangle missing a leg. Oy gevalt.
Now: My Js.
Then: ... I don't remember, honestly. Probably being alone all my life. That's been a constant fear since I can remember.
Now: Among other things? Failing my clients - which is, I promise you, inevitable given (1) my workload and (b) the way I have chosen to deal with it.
Then: Hm. I had a bunch of tiny jobs in college to pay my expenses, which weren't covered by my scholarship/savings/grandparental trust/parental contributions. I typed papers for other students (I had the only computer on my hall my freshman year - yes, child, truly! - and nearly the only personal computer in my dorm my senior year). I worked in the music library. I worked in the theatre box office. I don't think I'd started teaching ear-training yet.
Now: still an attorney. Also working at: exercising more; eating earlier; drinking less; sleeping hard.
Then: An actress. I went to Kenyon for its theatre program, which boasted Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward as grads. (Nontrivial trivia: Paul Newman died the Saturday before my mother did. I still have the issue of Entertainment Weekly with his gorgeous eighty-something face on the cover in one of my folders of scrapbook stuff that will probably never see the inside of a scrapbook. I still can't read it.)
Now: Happy. Peaceful. Able to appreciate the joys that life shows me. Able to get out of my warped, deluded, unhappy brain enough to become the sensual, sexual person I'd like to be. Able to find a way to REALLY help people, as opposed to triaging Bandaids the way I'm doing now.
This is a really interesting exercise, IMO.