Senior year of high school brought what was arguably the yummiest job opportunity I’ve ever had. I know that may sound confusing after my ode to movie popcorn, but at seventeen I reached the pinnacle of food service employment.
I desperately wanted to play the flute in middle school.
I leapt at the chance to learn this beautiful instrument when the band teacher let us choose what we wanted. Flutes are so graceful, so delicate and elegant…I really wanted to be that girl. The one who sat demurely in the front row, ankles crossed, while notes danced out across the audience.
Hey, you – the one snickering at “demurely” – I see you.
Alas, earning the title of talented flutist (flautist?) was not meant to be.
I talk a good game when it comes to anger. When I see injustice, big or small, I’ve been known to throw a rant or two. Sometimes the rant is loud and rambly, sometimes it’s furious scribbling, and sometimes it’s outraged pounding on my keyboard until a post appears.
Plus I’m all about the feelings with the kids – you need to share your feelings, you can’t expect anything different if you don’t say you want it, find your power and set your boundaries. Encouraging them to be true to themselves. To be strong and stand up for themselves because they are their best advocates.
I might be in my forties, but I’m hip. I’m fly. I’m on point when it comes to what is and isn’t trending. (I published my #squadgoals already, right?)
Which is how I know Twitter recently lit up with #7jobs.
I had to kind of squint a bit – I mean, it’s been quite a few years since my first paying job (though it might not have involved a W2) – but eventually I figured it out.
babysitter (I can’t believe anyone trusted me with their kids that young)
movie theater (concessions and box office)
Ben and Jerry’s (see a theme?)
camera shop/Hallmark store
summer camp counselor
Oh, the stories I could tell about each and every one of these (along with the dozen or so that followed), but today? Today we’ll focus on the magic of the movie theater.
I’ve never claimed an allegiance to any particular part of the country. I don’t sound like a local, well, anywhere, so the question of where I’m from is inevitable. If I’m feeling spunky I might toss out someplace obscure like Omaha, but mostly I respond with a shrug and the short but sweet “I’m a Navy brat, so pretty much everywhere.”
Can one be from everywhere? Or does that really mean I’m not from anywhere at all? Sounds like an existential question to me.
At any rate, I spent the majority of my formative years in three locations: northern Virginia, New Jersey, and Virginia Beach. While these areas weren’t exactly identical they did have a lot in common, giving me thirteen years of continuity (if you can call three moves in K-11 feeling stable). Moving from the familiar comfort of these relatively similar areas to a tiny New England town for my senior year was akin to being dropped into a dunking booth filled with ice water.
“To the outside world, we all grow old. But not to brothers and sisters. We know each other as we always were. We know each other’s hearts. We share private family jokes. We remember family feuds and secrets, family griefs and joys. We live outside the touch of time.”