Ten years of hindsight

I like to people watch (I could spend hours people watching). Last Friday night at the movie theater the place was teeming with teeny boppers, Britney Spears wannabes, bref, just your general teenage population stuck at the movies because they can’t yet drive anywhere. Like I said in one of my previous entries, I’m glad I’m not a teenager anymore. Perhaps with 10 years of hindsight, now I can safely say I’ve made it, and also offer a few words of wisdom.

If I could go back in time, and in the future if I ever have a daughter, I would say:

Your worth is not determined by your low-rise jeans, your glossy lips, your Coach bag, the straightness of your hair, your easiness. Don’t let any guy tell you otherwise.

You might get bored with the same old Friday night at the movie theater and Saturday night at the local coffeehouse. Enjoy it while you can, before you become a slave to the college textbook.

That really pretty girl is probably just as insecure as you are. Don’t judge her, for everyone you meet might be fighting a harder battle.

Less is more: less skin, more intrigue; less flash, more class.

Be choosy when picking your friends; be pickier when choosing your boyfriend. True friendships and the best relationships work both ways: you have to give in order to receive, support in order to be helped. It’s like a rubber band: both people pull equally. But if one or the other pulls too hard, there is too much resistance for it to work and the rubber band will snap.

Someday you will look up to your parents again. You might even start to admire them. For now, just know that your mom is probably always right and your dad most likely has your best interests at heart. In the end, they are the ones who will always be in your corner.

As awkward as adolescence is, and as much as you want to get through it as quickly as possible, make the most of it: you’re only a teenager once. Take your time growing up, and go at your own pace. You have lots of time in college and in your 20s to explore.

In the grand scheme of things, the most embarrassing situations now will be funny to you in ten years. That might not diminish their importance in the present, but it might help you not take yourself so seriously.

Your world might be tiny. Try to expand it, and it’ll put your problems into perspective.

I know you think you’re invincible. But take good care of your body; it’s the only one you’ll ever have.

Talk to me in ten years and I can tell you what I’ve learned from my twenties!

Two rafts

Question: "If you were on a raft and had to choose between saving a baby and a dog, which one would you pick?"

My answer: "I wouldn't have to pick! There would be two rafts, one rescuing the babies and one rescuing dogs. "

Ever notice how people who question why you would volunteer at an animal shelter or make a contribution to the Humane Society (instead of volunteering at an orphanage or sponsoring a child in Africa) don't dedicate their time or money to any charity?

Summer daze

I'm still walking around in a daze after a long vacation in France. It feels like when you were little, in grade school, and the summer was almost over and the entire school year was looming over your head, and you were really worried about who your science teacher was going to be. No more lazy days at the pool and biking to the Soda Shop for a milkshake. Nope, those days are over - now it's time for waking up early, wondering what to wear, downing a Pop-Tart and catching the cheese-wagon, hoping Geoffrey the red-haired kissy monster won't be on it (by the way, there really was this redhead named Geoffrey in the first grade who would chase girls around the playground, hence the name 'kissy monster.'). That's how I've felt since I got back from my trip.

The only fun part of back-to-school was new clothes. Maybe I should do some retail therapy. Oh and buy some pens. I love new pens.

The vacation wasn't a true vacation, actually: we were very productive planning for next year. Planning a wedding has not been as traumatic as it is generally portrayed in movies or on that awful show "Bridezillas" (I can't stand those people). It's actually been quite fun (picking out the dress - the second one I tried on was it) and easy (finding the all-in-one location site). All the big details are taken care of already, and the rest of it we take care of via email. Bada-bing! I should become a wedding planner.

I don't understand how weddings have become such a big production nowadays. I just don't think it's healthy when your obsession with having a monogrammed aisle runner or matching sashes on the bridesmaids dresses have become more important than the ultimate purpose of the wedding (and what comes after the party's over). It's like it's some huge traumatic event that you're supposed to be super-stressed about. How are you supposed to enjoy your day? And I also don't understand the level of extortion that is inherent in the bridal industry. A nice bouquet of flowers at a grocery store? $12.99. Oh, but a bridal bouquet? $120.99. Some of the dresses I've seen can only be described as fugly (like a Barbie doll princess gown that a big pink bird seems to have exploded onto) but they cost upwards of $10,000 and you wear them once. Sheesh! I think I will pick the flowers myself and tie them with a pretty ribbon, thank you very much. As for the dress, it is a tenth of a price of those designer ones and a hundred times prettier, in my humble opinion.

Since coming back from France I have had to catch up on my movie-watching, namely, the summer blockbusters that I can't believe I'm paying $10 to go see:

Superbad was supercrass, and lowbrow, and terribly offensive, but I couldn't help laughing in spite of myself at the hilarity of some of the situations and awkwardness of the main characters. I say in spite of myself because I did cringe...perhaps it's because I can't really identify with the hormone-crazed teenage boy (or college guy, for that matter) whose ultimate goal in life is getting laid. And call me old-fashioned or prude, tell me to lighten up if you will, but I can't stand the p word and my ears got a full dose during this movie. I can say the movie seemed authentic in its portrayal of high school boys, and I'm really happy I'm not in high school anymore. Not the kind of movie I would go see with any of my family members. Especially my 15-year old brother (the Bourne Ultimatum was solid, though, and so was the Simpson's Movie).

Last weekend I went to a Brazilian steakhouse, Fogo de Chao, for a friend's birthday. It was a true "meat party:" all-you-can-eat meat - sausage, chicken, filet mignon, roast beef, lamb - served to you on swords by "gauchos" (ie waiters). It was truly gluttonous. And wonderfully tasty. Glad I'm not a vegetarian even though I do sometimes feel really guilty eating meat. Happy birthday Victoriño!