eunice ann

tales of a girl trying to make sense of it all.

Stuffing the ballot box

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As I was reading my new favorite blog this morning, I was reminded of a particularly hilarious incident my senior year of high school.

Let me back up for a moment.

I wasn’t the most popular kid in high school. I wasn’t even part of the popular crowd. Well, not at first. In fact, my freshman year earned me an address in loser-ville right off the bat when I attempted to ask out a good-looking sophomore in my biology class by telling him I had a dream we were dating. Not only was I  laughed at, but had to wear that badge of humiliation clear until he graduated three years later. I never lived that one down. In fact, I think my neighbor still laughs at me when I walk by.

I was a band geek. And by geek, I mean that I spent almost all of my spare time playing my clarinet, determined to either keep my honorable first chair position or oust my nemesis from the seat.

I was a nerd. As in, I pulled straight A’s and loved every minute of homework I had to do.

And I wasn’t exactly the prettiest girl in school. With frizzy hair and clothes that never fit quite right (or were in fashion, for that matter), I was hardly the girl that guys were falling all over each other to ask to the dance. More often than not, I had to do the asking.

So needless to say, I wasn’t really all that popular in school. And I was fine with that.

Then my sophomore year rolled around. I started dating Jeff Anderson, the tallest guy in school (he was 6’8″ as a freshman). I met him at our school’s annual Welcome Back dance. My opening line was genius: “Hey tall guy, wanna dance?” He said sure, and the rest became history (a long, sordid, off and on history). Jeff was popular on two counts. He was the younger brother of one of the more popular girls in school, and, when you tower over all of your classmates, it’s kind of difficult to blend into obscurity.

Thus became my official launch into the popular side of the pool. I was no longer “Eunice the weird girl who has dreams,” but “Eunice, Jeff Anderson’s girlfriend.” My dating the tall younger brother of a popular girl awarded me instant entry into dozens of social circles I had previously been excluded from. Not that I cared, I really didn’t. I didn’t forget my friends in the lesser known circles at all, managing to distribute my time fairly equally among my friends.

Being part of the “in” crowd changed me though. Suddenly, I wanted to participate in things that, previously, I hadn’t cared about. That spring, I went out for two of the three extra-curriculars that determined one’s social status in school more than any other: Cheerleading and Peer Counseling (the third was Student Council, which I would have gladly attempted to run for, if not for the fact that my mom had a heart attack when I asked for money to make campaign posters). Honestly, I didn’t think I’d make it in to either one. I just wanted to try.

I first applied for Peers, since, if I was going to get one over the other, I would have rather been selected for Peers since it was more than a popularity contest, it was about finding the most genuine and caring people in the school to help others. It just happened to morph into something that meant you were something of a somebody to be selected for this esteemed group. I definitely qualified. I was in math one afternoon when a friend asked why I didn’t show up to my interview that morning. I had been selected as a finalist! I didn’t get the message about the interview, which is precisely why I didn’t show up. Having missed the interview, I was automatically disqualified, but since it was my band director who had failed to let me out of class to go,  they were willing to reschedule. I could hardly contain my excitement. The interview was somewhat of a formality, so unless I screwed it up big time, I was in.

I screwed it up big time. I got offended when one of the panelists (a friend of the aforementioned freshman year crush) started talking about “band fags” and I got a little hostile towards him. Probably not what they were looking for in a Peer Counselor. Major composure fail.

Next, I went out for cheer. I conned several of my fellow band geek friends to try out with me, figuring that I would spare myself the humiliation of getting a second rejection if in the company of friends who all got rejected together. We had a great clinic week; it was a lot of fun. I did not expect at the end of it, that I would be selected for the team, effectively bumping a two-year member of the squad to take her place. I couldn’t believe it. I. Was. A. Cheerleader. The most exclusive of all the popularity clubs you could get into, and I was in!

Except…all the girls on the squad hated me for having replaced one of their friends. They weren’t particularly nice to me most of the year (cheerleaders sure can be bitches), and all of my band friends withdrew because I was now one of them. I rode out the year and decided to quit at the end of it. By the end of my junior year, I knew a lot of people. But I didn’t consider myself popular by any means. I think the popular kids would agree. 

My senior year, I dropped all of my extra curricular activities, with the exception of Peers, since I had finally been accepted, and focused on enjoying the social part of high school. I ditched class with my friends (my schedule was 95% electives), I went off campus for lunch, I went to games and social events. I was sure not to miss a thing.

Still, after four years of high school I was, by no means, popular. I was known.

One afternoon, my friend Chris and I were sitting outside our counselor’s office, waiting to discuss college applications, when one of the student council members came around, distributing ballots for the prom royalty. Chris and I looked at each other with the same twinkle in our eye and asked her to give us several, that we would help hand them out. Being that Chris was a former student council member, she didn’t object, and we proceeded to fill out our names on all 100 (give or take) ballots she had provided us. We had no clue whether or not our prank had worked.

A few days later, the nominations were announced over the PA system, and when my name was announced, I watched with glee as the #1 most popular girl in our class stared at me in disbelief before uttering the words, “Uh. Wow, Eunice. Congratulations.” I knew she was trying to calculate in her brain how on earth I managed to secure a prom royalty nomination when the drill had been the same for the past four years — the same five couples merely traded off the title of king and queen while the remaining couples comprised the court. It was this way every dance, every year. I was pleased. I was more than pleased. I managed, once again, to upset the popular apple cart.

When the final ballots came out, I’m sure that I got a fair amount of votes, but the popular coup that I had tried to create failed. I was not one of the five exclusive couples, therefore, I was not voted in as Prom Royalty after all. So much for trying to buck the system. Chris, somehow, managed to bump one of the guys though, and for that, I considered our prank a success.

So the lesson learned here is, cheaters never prosper. Unless you’re popular.

One semester down, summer session to go

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Today, I finished one my last assignments of the semester, and I am now 2.67 credits from my Bachelor’s degree. Summer school is most certainly on the books as I still contemplate changing #33 on the list to “Get a bachelor’s degree in photography.” I’m still not sure. Maybe I’ll do both.

I really am a school junkie, I could be a student forever. I thirst for knowledge and actually enjoy doing homework, most of the time. I’m not a big fan of any grade less than an A, but I’m learning that it’s not always as important to get a perfect grade as it is to really embrace the knowledge being given out. If only I’d have known that twelve years ago when I first started college.

It feels good to be nearly finished with this monumental task, but I know that I will always be a student, in some way shape or form, no matter what it’s for.

#47 – Keep a fresh flower arrangement every day for a month

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© eunice brownlee 2010

I love fresh flowers. They make me happy. Especially on the heels of the winter we just had – I was ready for spring. So I decided it was high time to fulfill goal #47 on The 101 List.

It started with the bunch of daffodils we bought for St. Patrick’s Day. Alissa helped me pick out the prettiest bunch in the store (I was sure to teach her all about choosing an arrangement that still had buds yet to bloom so they last longer), and then proceeded to run the blooms the entire length of my filthy car. I managed to clean most of them up so they still looked nice, but I couldn’t believe that she did that.

The second arrangement was a bunch of candy pink tulips, followed by lilies for Easter (which my sister actually bought), and rounded out by a mixed floral arrangement.

I came home last week to see that Alissa had decided, “because mommy loves flowers,” to pick out her own arrangement for my birthday. It’s the first time I’d gotten flowers for my birthday since I was married. It was a nice surprise.

I really enjoy having fresh flowers around the house. They lift my spirit, they smell nice, and they seem to make even a cluttered room feel like home. While I probably won’t freak out if there’s a chance the current arrangement could die before I get a new one into the vase, I think I’ll keep the tradition going.

I have plenty of vases, after all.

On ten hours’ sleep

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I had the most bizarre dream last night. It happened somewhere in the midst of the solid 10 hours of sleep. I’ve been exhausted lately. Most days, I feel like a zombie, just trudging through. I’m sure that staying up until 1 am doesn’t help, but part of that is pure insomnia. I actually found myself awake watching Three’s Company reruns the other night. For no other reason than the fact that I just couldn’t sleep.

What I don’t understand is that I don’t seem to have any trouble relaxing. I have been taking both yoga and Pilates for some time now, and I have been thoroughly enjoying it. The relaxation that comes from meditating is refreshing. I’ve been thinking recently about how amazing it feels to experience both the physical and emotional workout that comes from practicing yoga. It’s very amusing.

I still can’t explain the exhaustion or the insomnia. I suppose I have a lot on my mind, but it doesn’t necessarily feel that way all the time. Perhaps I got too used to my lazy ways when I was working part time and enjoying three to four days off a week. Now I feel that not only do I not have the time for anything, I just plain don’t have the energy!

Hopefully, I will get back to feeling human soon.

Real love is simply accepting another person. Completely and unconditionally.

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I found a great web site. It’s all about the healing power of love. It’s a LOVEolution. I love it.

A dear friend and I constantly ponder the concept of love. Both of us are very passionate, emotional people unafraid to feel love. We seem to have a knack for choosing mates that are the exact opposite. As in, people that are so afraid of love that it destroys them. It’s hard to love someone like that, it really is.

What I found myself wondering recently, however, is when did love get so scary? Why is it that overall, we are afraid to show love? And not just to a significant other, but to humanity in general?

During my time in Denver, I became a part of my own sort of Loveolution – Denver Community Church. It has been, by far, the most extraordinary experience I’d ever witnessed: a thousand people (grown from 30 or so) congregating on a weekly basis to learn how to show love within our community and beyond. I’ve watched people take homeless kids on art walks. I’ve helped men and women living with AIDS to move out of their home on a day’s notice. I’ve seen people bring an entire Thanksgiving dinner to a refugee family that spoke no English. Now that’s love.

If you knew me ten years ago, you’d know that I never wanted anything to do with church again. I’d been hurt and scarred by a group of people that were supposed to love me. A group of people that wasn’t supposed to place a condition on that love. People that shared my secrets with each other and then judged me for it. I swore I would never go to church again.

Well, a funny part of love is forgiveness. Learning to let go of the past and learn to move forward. A few weeks ago, I was asked to be on the search committee for a new pastor at the church I grew up in. The church comprised of the people that hurt me so deeply. I’m actually considering it. Partly because I would love to find another pastor like the one at DCC, but mostly because I’m willing to show these people how much I love them.

Turns out, I am awesome at racing games

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I never had a video game console as a kid. Scratch that, I did. It was an Atari and I was awesome at Space Invaders.

Somewhere around the age of 7 or 8, the Atari kicked the bucket and that was the end of that. My gaming days were limited to saving quarters and playing at the arcade.

Then, when I was about 9, Nintendo came out. Super Mario Brothers, Duck Hunt, Tetris…I wanted a Nintendo. I had to have one. My neighbors had one and I would spend hours over there, stomping on toadstools and turtles until my thumbs cramped up. Which is probably why, when I asked for a Nintendo, my mom said no.

Then the Game Boy came out. Mom said no.

Then Super NES. No.

Then Sega Genesis. Still no.

And so on and so forth, until I was a grown up and was able to buy my own system if my little heart desired. But I didn’t. I don’t know why. Probably because I *suck* at video games.

I recall a certain Christmas when I was dating my ex husband that we went to his friend’s parents’ house for dinner, and as we sat around getting drunk on margaritas, we played Mario Kart, which I was chastised for the fact that I move the controller as much as I would if I were actually driving, despite the fact that it provides no benefit.

Enter Wii. This handy little controller is based mostly on movement, thus allowing me to kick my 6 year old nephew’s hiney in the Cars Mater-national racing game yesterday. Yes, I had no mercy as I pulled the turns, made jumps, and lapped him, not once, but twice during one heat. For the first time in my life, I was actually good at the game.

And I won the Piston Cup. Go me.

Will winter please just eff off?

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I’m cranky today. Snow at the end of April will do that to you. I am so SICK of winter this year, it’s not even funny. Record snowfalls throughout the winter were enough. Having winter last through spring just crosses the line.

I’m ready for spring! I want to plant some flowers, go bike riding, and have barbecues.

Old Man Winter, it’s time for you to fly to the southern hemisphere for a while. The Aussies can have you now.

Switcheroo!!

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I’m so excited to announce a super fun clothing exchange my friend Sarah is hosting! View the original post here. She’s manning all the details, but I’m sharing so we can all join in the fun!

We are fabulously stylish women, right? Economically and environmentally conscious. Hungry for a deal. Always up for a surprise, especially when it’s done…cuuuute.

The RULES, ladies, and you need to read it ALL:

  1. For starters, to enter, become a Google follower of this blog if you aren’t already. That will guarantee that you’re receiving updates in your readers immediately–you don’t want to miss out on any bits of the fun!
  2. Find some items in your closet. Send stuff you’re willing to forever part with, but please be kind. Remember, you’re getting something “new” too, so don’t submit the junky stuff. Cute, clean, and wearable are absolutely in order.
  3. Also, keep in mind that we’ll have entries from around the country, many different sizes, tastes, etc. While you will be allowed to “shop” the items, let’s make it as fair for everyone as possible. Consider beautiful accessories, breezy dresses, and tops that can be worn fitted or not.
  4. You can trade for as many items as you bring to the table. If you send me five items, you can shop five items. No sending me one belt and walking away with 16 dresses.
  5. Take a picture of your items–preferably you wearing them so we can see the fit, style, etc. Send the picture to me at sarahann.noel@gmail.com, along with a fun description of the item (including sizing and other pertinent info).
  6. I’ll analyze all submissions for entry. Don’t fret! Unless your item is not practical for the masses, you’ll be entered! You will get a confirmation email back from me including my mailing address and instructions on sending your items to me. (If you live in the Denver-metro area, I’m willing to arrange a drop-off on items instead of mailing them to me.)
  7. PLEASE NOTE: Because you’ll be able to shop items, I’ll be responsible for mailing everything back out. A $15 entry fee must come with your package to me to offset the cost of shipping (based on flat-rate shipping and box purchase). If I receive your package without the $15 entry fee, I won’t list your stuff and you can’t shop. Period.
  8. ALL ENTRY PHOTOS MUST BE RECEIVED BY FRIDAY, MAY 7. ALL PHYSICAL ENTRIES MUST BE RECEIVED BY FRIDAY, MAY 14.
  9. On Tuesday, May 18, I’ll post all the photos, descriptions, etc. of our little Clothes Swap Shop. Each entered shopper will receive an email notifying of the shop post. From that point on, items will be reserved and updated on a first-come, first-serve basis. If in the event I actually receive a request at the ABSOLUTE EXACT same time, I’ll come up with some little battle to determine who gets it!
  10. I’ll ship all your winnings back to you when the Clothes Swap Shop closes.
  11. If for some reason you don’t want anything, I’ll refund your $15. Also, anything leftover after the swap will be donated to charity.

If you have any other questions, feel free to email me at sarahann.noel@gmail.com. Spread the word, because the bigger this is, the more fun it’ll be for everyone! Let the games begin!

They say it’s your birthday

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Today was a great day. It made me think about many birthdays past, both good and bad.

20 years ago – I was celebrating a wonderful birthday at Disney World, seeing my grandpa and his (now ex) wife for the first time in years, and rocking the awesome socks with sandals look. I only wish I had a picture to share. I met Mickey Mouse, what did I care?

15 years ago – It was snowing. A blizzard. Major. My brother and sister were having sleepovers elsewhere and my mom was mad that I got butter pecan instead of chocolate ice cream.

10 years ago – I was enjoying my first (legal) beer with some coworkers in downtown Flagstaff. I was having a blast. So much so, that I missed my dinner reservations with my (then) fiancee.

5 years ago – I was received my divorce papers in the mail. I had a pretty crappy day all around.

1 year ago- I had a complete meltdown, packed a few things in a bag, got in the car and drove to Flagstaff. Turned out to be one of the best decisions I’ve made in a long time.

Today was a fabulous day filled with fabulous friends. Overall, a great day.

Thanks to all of you that sent wishes or happy thoughts my way. You helped make my day feel special.

I have no words

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Today has been a Monday, that’s for sure.

Which is funny, since I have Mondays off. They are really like my Saturday, so I should have no excuse for having a sincere case of the Mondays, but today, I do.

It started off well. I woke up (at 7:30) to my mom asking me what my plans were for the day. I said, “to enjoy my last day of being 30.” To which Alissa replied, “mommy, why are you gonna be dirty?” Which was pretty darn funny.

Then I went for a run. I managed 1/2 a mile before I had to cop a squat behind a pine tree before I peed all over myself. Then I hit yoga and Pilates after that. Three straight hours of exercise really pumped me up.

Then I got a call from my dad. He needed my help. Which I was glad to do, but it stressed me out and exhausted me, all in the 90 minutes I spent.

When I picked my darling daughter up from school today, there was a note from the teacher. Not a good one. She had a bad day. Really bad. I have an appointment to talk with her tomorrow. That put me in a pretty foul mood. Oh the joys of parenthood…so even though I have a ton of stuff to work on tonight, I really just want to curl up on the couch, watch TV, and go to bed early.

So I’m refreshed for a big day of turning 31 tomorrow.