Putting the past behind us and our behinds in gear for the future

Haven't thought of that quote in years. One of the plays we did in high school required my friend Tree to say this. She said it with such zeal. And while considering a title, it popped into my head.

Rather fitting, because lately, I've been confronted with things long gone.

First, I have set my DVR to record all of these amazing new episodes of Pop Up Video. Holy cow. I loved half days in high school, because I'd come home, fix a PB&J sandwich or biscuit pizzas or a Lean Cuisine, plop down in my dad's blue recliner, pull up a nesting table, and watch. Also, sometimes, because I got out of school at 2:20, I'd catch it when I got home.

In college, my roommate Lisa and I would race back to the dorm from the cafeteria in order to watch it. Sometimes, we cut it close. Always, it was a bad idea to do so. However, it was always worth it.

When I met Mark, I quickly learned that his musical trivia knowledge knows no bounds. He would always get so mad because he would tell me facts, and I would frequently respond with, "Yeah, I saw that on Pop Up Video once." He hates the show because it allows people to know obscure music trivia that generally only he knows. When it went away, he was happy. He's not so glad to have it back.

In my journalism class, one of my seniors is going to do a new feature called "That '90s Column." In it, he is going to pick apart '90s culture. I guess that the '90s for him are the '80s for me. He did an article on older generations' opinion of Gen-Y. I was his Gen X-er source. First, older generation? Mannnnn. But seriously, he is apparently a fan of everything I find amusing. He wanted to know what some of my earliest memories are and what things I liked. Most of it didn't make it into the article, but it was still fun to talk about. I guess I gave him too much information, haha.

He interviewed me about "Ren and Stimpy" the other day. Another kid did an article on the return of "Beavis and Butt-Head." I then watched that last night with Kurt, Alicia, and Joe. Kurt and I were way into it. Joe watched some through his bottle. Alicia tolerated us fools. Mark didn't get to watch it, but I DVRed it, and we're going to watch it when he gets home.

Both returning TV shows are just as good as they were back then, and have lost none of their appeal. Makes me so happy.

Last week, I once again brought my seniors to my collegiate alma mater. We had a journalism workshop, toured the campus, saw the Dyslexia Center, and visited Student Publications and Printing. Met up with Mark's cousins, Drew and Alison, and my brother-in-law from another mother-in-law, Clyde. He looks like Jones on "Reno 911." I look decidedly nothing like that. For fun, I introduced him as my brother-in-law. The kids' faces were priceless.

It was so much fun going back and showing them every part of the campus I loved so much. Thankfully, I worked so much and spent so many hours in the theater, so there weren't too many stories I had to censor myself on. I guess playing it so safe in college was a bit of a waste, but it was also a good thing. Several of my seniors are interested in going there next year, as opposed to the group I brought last year, so they were very interested in everything I showed them and everything I told them.

Two things that you would have died over.

One. My adviser, who is kind of an ass, but also one of the greatest teachers ever, Dr. C, was handing out some papers. M made a comment about how freezing it was in there, and Dr. C said that it had to be that cold because of all of the equipment in the room. He then added, "So, this is the Iceland of classrooms." He hands B a paper, and B goes, "You mean Greenland. Iceland isn't the one covered in snow. That's Greenland." Dr. C looks at him and goes, "O.....kayyyyy...." and all of us lost it.

Two. My b-i-l Phil's BFF Clyde works for the sports information office. He's a big goofy light-skinned black guy. I used a picture from Phil's wedding as one of my FB profile pictures. It has my m-i-l, s-i-l, b-i-l, f-i-l, Mark, Clyde, and his gf. I introduced him to the kids as being my bil. Their faces were priceless. Clyde explained to them what I meant.

The other teacher, also an alum, who came with us had C and D. C wanted info on remedial courses and math and stuff, so Mr. W brought her to a math dept friend of his. He brought D to visit the basketball team.

They came in after this while Clyde was talking with the kids. Clyde asked if they had any questions, and D goes, "Yeah, I got one. Who are you?" I said, "He is my brother-in-law." Well, the reaction was as awesome as you could expect. The kids played along. I pulled up the profile pic. Now, the gf, Stephanie, is white, so I guess he thinks Clyde married either my sister or Mark's hahahha, because he said, "Ohhhhhhhhh. I see."

So we let him think whatever it is he thinks. In following days, several kids asked me to ask my brother-in-law some stuff about athletics and the school. Heehee.

On the way home, a different female C was behind me and she leaned forward and said, "I never knew people could have black in-laws." This from a white girl dating a black guy. What happened that some level of disconnect exists?? At least Clyde brought some multiculturalism to her life.

Then, on Saturday, we drove to the M.C. to take a photo of three generations of alumni with Mark's family. His grandpa, aunt, uncle, mom, two cousins, brother, sister-in-law, and the two of us all graduated from there, and his two youngest cousins are there now, as I mentioned earlier. Stephanie is actually writing an article for the university about the family's three generations of grads. She and a university photographer took the photo.

After that, we had to go back to Thibodaux to pick up some costumes from my friend Wade, who is also a drama teacher. He did "The Wizard of Oz" a year or so ago, and that's what I'm doing this year. He offered to lend us his costumes, and we detoured to get them. Then, we went to Houma and ate at Outback with Mark's parents and made a detour to the mall for a minute. When we were in college, that was one of the few restaurants there. Good times.

On Saturday, I heard from Wade again, but it was not for good news. Marie, a girl I'd hired based on the fact that, as a freshman, she reminded me of me as a freshman, died. She climbed the ranks and eventually edited the paper. She worked in the same school system I work in, and we would run into each other at workshops and things. We kept in touch via Facebook, but were not close any more. She was an amazing person, and I am very sad about this. She was only 29. Everyone began posting photos from Student Publications. I did, too. It was fun looking through my photos and reminiscing. And it's been fun to see people comment on the pictures, too.

In addition to this revisiting my past stuff, I have listened predominantly to the Gen-X radio stations we have now. Fantastic stuff.

Tomorrow (today?) We are attending a college radio reunion for Mark. It just keeps going!

But then, there's so much progression. It's my 7th year of teaching. I took the GRE last week and have applied for grad school to get a master's in journalism education. I spent the evening with new mommy Alicia.

In fact, babies are stealing my friends, haha. There's lingo I don't speak, there's trick-or-treating plans, there's no one to do things with after work, events end earlier, one moved back to California...glad I have other friends who are childless by choice out there. Otherwise, the world would be so lonely.

Things are changing. When did we get old?

More classic Mae...

Here's an oldie but a goodie from my days as editor in college...
So what if I want to change my name?

A view on maiden names, feminism and Dr. Seuss rhyming games

Published: Thursday, April 19, 2001
I'm getting married next April. Of course, ever since I got engaged in December, people have been bombarding me with questions.
Some people shyly ask, "So, who's going to be your bridesmaids?" You just know they're waiting to hear their names.
Others ask for specifics, like our story, or the date, or where we'll live or what city the wedding will be in.
But the question I hear the most is, "Are you going to keep your name?"And whenever I answer, "No," many people are shocked. Sometimes even appalled.
I guess most of this shock stems from my feminist nature. I hate people who pose for girlie magazines, I refuse to wear pink or makeup, I hate the idea of being a stay-at-home-mom, I have a heavy emphasis on having a career and God help my future husband if he decides that I'm responsible for all of the menial housework.
Three years ago, I wrote a column about how pathetic it was that the University didn't celebrate Women's History Month. I even took English V: Women in the Humanities my senior year of high school.
So when I say what, to some, is an anti-feminist answer, people are shocked.
I don't know why this is so. I've always had problems with my name. My parents thought it would be nice to give me a French first name to go with my French last name.They didn't take into account the fact that it would make me sound like a Dr. Seuss character.
(Say it with me: A-May *******. Yeah, that's right, it's NOT "Amy." Thought you were so smart, huh?)
It's been my dream to not have a rhyming name, one that sends friends spiraling into contests to see who can make up the most phrases of rhymes with my name.
One friend, who now lives in Minnesota, would frequently speak in a hick accent when doing so."Haah. Ah'm Aimée *******. How are you today? I'm in a play. Don't use butter, use Parkay. What do you say? Horses eat hay. I wear Mary Kay and sell Amway. I drive a coupé. Going my way? My kids are Jorgé, Jay and Renée. "'
You get the point.
I feel some guilt at my hostility towards my name. My parents gave it to me. It's the one thing I'll always have from them. I should honor it.
But it's so difficult when you have to tell people, "No, it's Aimée. Like the first letter of the alphabet and the fifth month of the year." And when you've spent your whole life defending yourself or politely smiling when people laugh at the rhyme factor.
Do I see this as an anti-feminist move? Not really. Many people have suggested hyphenating my name. But that's such a hassle, and if I ever have kids, it will confuse them. And, no offense to those who do so, I find hyphenated names to be a bit pretentious.
Yes, it will be a huge hassle to change it. I'm prepared for that.
But on the plus side, I'll get a new driver's license picture, which sounds like a small price to pay. And I'll get to have fun presenting myself as a new person.
True, it will take some getting used to. I'm sure I will waste many checks when I sign the wrong name. But this is my decision.
And people should respect that.
After all, the heart of feminism lies in earning respect.

On second thought....

I decided I don't want to leave the last entry of the year as one from angry, depressed, sour Mae. So I hit the archives of The Nicholls Worth and dug up my old work...at least...the stuff that's online. Because I was happier and maybe funnier in those days. This one got me in trouble with the house mother. She became a real witch to my roommate and I during our final semester, which is when it was published. If you can't take the heat, I guess you just have to get out of Ellender. It was a shame, too, because she was such a nice lady for the first 4 years. And while my roommie was evil incarnate, she didn't deserve the cold shoulder. But, again, this WAS Ellender....

"Fight for your right to waaaaaaarrrm up!"
By: Mae

The University enacted an energy surcharge this semester, as many of you may have discovered when your fee bills arrived. Now, if paying this means that I can have electricity and not have to work like Ben Franklin did, then I'm all for it. We pay so many fees as it is, the surcharge just sort of blended in.

But I'd like to offer a few suggestions to the University pertaining to energy conservation. Well, actually, I'd like to offer one suggestion: fix the temperatures of buildings to a normal level. In Ellender Residence Hall, my home for the past four years, I've had a constant battle with finding comfort.

Right now, it's so cold in my room that I'm not bothering to refrigerate my bottles of water. I keep them in a closet. If I get thirsty, I just reach for a chilled bottle. You're probably thinking, "Hey! Moron! Change your air!" In fact, I'm almost positive you're thinking that, because when I told our managing editor this story, that's almost exactly what he said.

But I can't, because I live in Ellender. I touched on this a few semesters ago, but this topic was always just a side note in columns. I figured that if I want something changed, I'd better turn it into a whole column. I'll be graduating this semester, so you would think that I wouldn't be worried.

But I am. I'm afraid that future generations of students will have to be defrosted before going to class. Assuming the penguins and polar bears which will take up residence don't eat the defrosters. Conversely, the heat is on too powerfully in the winter. The thermostats in Ellender are locked. If you want your air changed, you have to log in a complaint at the front desk. Then, you have to wait until the extremely busy House Mother (no complaints about her, she just has a lot on her shoulders and is, after all, human) has a free moment to take care of things on the list.

This could be anywhere from one to three days later. As the seasons begin to change, this becomes more annoying. Anyone who has lived in south Louisiana when seasons are changing knows that this is because it can be freezing one day, and sweltering the next. If residents could change their own room temperatures, I'm sure they would find the energy bills would be much lower.

All we ask is that we should be allowed to dress according to the weather, and not to the room temperatures. Unlock our boxes. Let us adjust our air.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to eat some of that ice cream I've been keeping under my bed.