I attended an event this morning for work. It was the annual spring brunch fundraiser for The Foundation that a grassroots group of women puts on every year. I had been sort of looking forward to this event, even though it was on a Sunday and was in the Couv, because I was not in charge (I was actually invited to attend), my ticket was free, the food had to be good, and because there was a silent auction involved and I secretly knew I would love checking out all the tacky shit that these women would bid on.

There were some significant complications with this event, mainly because I was somehow elected as the person who needed to teach the ladies who were running the brunch how technology works. This is not the point of this post, though, so suffice to say that grown-ups hate change. They cannot get past the concept of how much they hate change in order to see how much it actually simplifies things. This frustrates me to no small degree. Particularly when they pull out their iPhones while I’m talking to them.

Anyway, I was totally thwarted by Daylight Savings Time this morning, so I arrived to the brunch late, still half asleep, and criminally uncaffeinated. I didn’t exactly feel up to schmoozing with a table full of women who have more money than they know what to do with, but I sucked it up, put on my happy face, made conversation, and was a delightful guest. However, by the end I was totally bitter. You can only hear things like, “Dear, that sweater is just darling.” and “Look at those curls – Is your hair naturally curly?” so many times before you want a stiff drink. (Side note – For the most part, people with naturally curly hair do not particularly enjoy being asked if the curl is natural. This is usually for one of two reasons. Either they have insanely curly hair like my friend from college who used to say things like, “Of course I was born with this hair. No one has done this to themselves on purpose since 1985.” Or they are like me and have completely unevenly curly hair and don’t particularly like it. Usually when people ask me if my hair is naturally curly, I feel like they’re saying it doesn’t look like I took the time to fix it that morning. Which is true. No need to call me out, though.)

So, one of these women was chatting with me this morning and clearly had run out of things to say. There was an awkward pause for a while and then she said, “So, what do you like to do in your free time, Megan?”

I didn’t know what to say.

It’s a completely normal and innocent question, but I couldn’t figure out how to answer it. I mean, how do I spend my free time? I bowl, I drink beer, I read, I play rock band with my friends, I go to happy hour, I watch TV, I go shopping, and I blog. I’m pretty sure NONE of those were appropriate answers at the time. At that very moment, I wished I had played the harp since I was five, or really enjoyed running triathlons, or maybe even collected Rubik’s cubes. I just wished I had something remotely interesting to say. And I didn’t. So I said that I liked to go hiking and I really enjoyed music. Which was even worse. Then the woman to my left started asking me if I played an instrument or just… enjoyed listening to music (she said these last four words very slowly). And the woman who originally asked the question started talking about how boring she thought hiking was. And I really had nothing to say.

Have I really made it 25 years without coming up with any interesting and truthful answer to the question of how I spend my free time?

I’ve decided to copy my dear friend Abby today, and make a list for my 25th birthday. Here are 5 lists of 5 things I’ve learned in the past 25 years:

The five most important things in my life:
1. My family
2. My friends
3. My car
4. Music
5. Ice cream

My five core beliefs:
1. I believe in tradition. Whether it’s lighting candles on Hanukkah, watching the Homecoming parade from my aunt and uncle’s house, or going to happy hour with the Plastics every Tuesday.
2. I believe in family. I am lucky enough to have an amazing family that loves me. I feel that all of my extended family members have been involved in shaping my life, and I am eternally grateful for that. I hope my kids will be similarly fortunate.
3. I believe that most people are inherently good. It’s just hard to put yourself in their place and see things the way they do.
4. I believe that everything works out the way it’s supposed to. Not that everything happens for a reason, because lots of trivial things happen all the time without reason. But over time, it all works out.
5. I believe that you should tell your friends and family that you love them every chance you get.

Five things my dad taught me:
1. The facts should never get in the way of a good story.
2. The more you learn about yourself and make important life decisions, the more people you meet who are like you.
3. Boys are dumb.
4. Sometimes a quote can put your feelings into words more eloquently than you ever could have yourself.
5. Donald O’Connor was one talented dude.

Five things my mom taught me:
1. Being yourself and knowing yourself are more important than pleasing other people.
2. Housework and road trips should never be attempted without good tunes.
3. Pay attention to how a boy treats his mother. That’s how he’ll treat you when you’re old.
4. Nicknames are required to show affection. Calling someone by their real name is just formal and weird.
5. Good friends are your family when your family isn’t available. Choose wisely and cherish them.

Five Things I’ve learned about myself:
1. I was born without the ability to say no to fun.
2. You can take the girl out of Montana, but you can’t take the Montana out of the girl.
3. I like to pretend that my car and my room aren’t always a mess, but they are. And they probably always will be.
4. Freckles, dimples, and curly hair are a pretty powerful combination.
5. I have the best family and friends in the world.

If you read my blog and feel like celebrating my birthday with me, please comment on this post. Let me know something you’ve learned in your life that you find important, or something that you had to learn the hard way, or something you wish you’d known sooner. Any bit of information or advice that could help me as I embark on these next 25 years would be appreciated. And if you don’t have any deep thoughts today, give me a quote that you like. Tell me one thing that you think is true in life. Tell me something that helps you get through Mondays. Anything. Just lookin’ for a little e-love.

My friend Kara has a friend that she calls “The Anti-Kara,” not because they don’t get along, but because they’re best friends and seem to be exact opposites. The Anti-Kara lives in LA and when Kara’s Portland friends met her, they couldn’t understand how she and Kara had ever struck up a conversation, let alone become friends.

I don’t have an Anti-Mego, but whenever I talk to my friend in New York City, who we’ll call Monique, I’m struck by how different our lives are. First of all, clearly living in New York for the last 7 years has influenced her in different ways than my time in Portland has shaped me. But the thing that never ceases to surprise me is her profession. For over 3 years, Monique has been employed by one of the biggest smut/porn magazines in America. As an editor. Like, for the articles. She has an impressive position for a 24-year-old and she works at a well-known magazine, albeit a dirty one.

Monique has taught me so many interesting and hilarious things that (I’m assuming) she has learned at her job. For instance, she told me that the interns at the magazine are tasked with writing letters to the editor when they don’t receive enough real ones to fill the section. She also taught me the term “box lock”; the female equivalent of a cock block. Yesterday, she told me about the Drambuie Pursuit. Which came up because her publisher signed her up for a team. That’s right, my friend Monique was to be, as she put it, “marched to certain death” on a 100-mile race through the scottish highlands, “rock climbing, mountain biking, running, dune buggy racing, canoe racing, whitewater rafting” and generally busting her ass on a team with a porn model from the magazine and 2 Green Berets.

Even though her work life is clearly very different from mine, we still have our Montana moments. Like when she told me she was going out on a date with a guy that’s a dead ringer for Barack Obama. I asked her if she was going to bring it up, to which she replied, “Yeah. ‘By the way, did you know you look like Obama? Also, you’re the first black guy I’ve dated!’” Or when we talked about how outside Montana, puppy chow is called muddy buddies and fry bread is called elephant ears.

Anyway, unfortunately she won’t be continuing her Navy Seal-like training for the Drambuie Pursuit, because she got a new job working for two magazines that are almost as popular amongst people our age as her current employer (although more people admit to reading these two). She’s going to be so big time now, she probably won’t have time to IM me from work anymore. Plus she won’t say things about jumping out a window if she has to look at one more vagina, or put hilarious quotes from the models on her status message. Sometimes working for a non-profit looks so boring. Maybe I’ll go into the spank writing business.

I go kinda crazy on holidays sometimes. I love them all. Pretty much any excuse to celebrate or dress up is something I can support. However, today, for the first time in years, I did not dress up or even wear one string of beads for Mardi Gras, out of respect for the seriousness that is Super Tuesday. (I couldn’t go without any Mardi Gras action, though, I snuck purple, gold and green into my outfit without anyone really noticing. It made me feel better).

Today, I was focused on my man Barack. I fell in love with Barack Obama after/while reading his book The Audacity of Hope. I found his intelligence refreshing and was surprised by his ability to step back from the madness that is politics and try to find unconventional solutions to the problems he faced. I don’t claim to know a lot about politics, but I think he’s pretty great.

Now, to be fair, I also liked John Kerry. Sure, he had no personality or charisma, but during certain parts of his speech at the Democratic National Convention, I was hanging on his every monotonous word. I told my brother how cool I thought some of the things he said were, to which Pete responded that he and I were probably the only ones who thought they were attractive, while everyone else thought they were too radical and not centrist enough. Fair enough.

But Barack speaks to me. He’s interesting and engaging. He publicly acknowledges and admires his wife’s strength. He laughs about his experiences raising two girls. He’s educated but not inaccessible. He even jokes about Bill Clinton’s dance moves.

So you can imagine my dismay when Julie sent me this quiz today and my results were as follows:

88% Similarity – Mike Gravel
81% Similarity – Hillary Clinton
79% Similarity – Barack Obama

Mike fucking GRAVEL?!?! I mean, I guess it’s better than Mitt Romney… but Gravel actually ran on a platform that included abolishing the IRS. Talk about a whacko. Apparently, though, he and I see eye-to-eye on matters of education, Iraq, and a woman’s right to choose. Who knew?

Anyway, the moral of this story is that I still have a crush on Obama, but that if Hillary happens to win the nomination, I will still get behind her all the way. She may be a bit of a corporate tool with a husband who is quickly losing my respect and admiration (AFTER he left office, mind you. That’s not normal.), but she and I can agree on the important things, and that’s enough. Plus, a broad in the White House would be pretty sweet.

If Barack wins, though… I’m going to put on some beads and party like the Obama Girl I am!

In the last week, my dad turned 61 and my mom turned 57. When I just typed that, I realized that those numbers sound old. And although my dad’s hearing is less than perfect (and his fashion sense has gone from sweaters and slacks to flannel-lined pants and Keith Richards hair) and my mom and her husband are building their “retirement home,” I still don’t think of them as old. They didn’t have children until they were in their thirties, which was good, considering they were both too busy with other things until then, but has become a problem now that they’re ready for grandbabies and my brother and I have had (between the two of us) one serious relationship in our lifetimes. And yes, it was Pete’s.

The other thing that has happened recently that’s made me think about my parents is that a good friend of mine has filed for divorce from her husband of 5 years, and they have a 1-year-old baby. This friend, who we will call Jean, has expressed to me multiple times her concerns of how this divorce and her relationship with her ex-husband will negatively affect her son throughout his life. And although my parents’ divorce was under very different circumstances than Jean’s is, I know what I felt as the child of divorced parents.

I’m not going to pretend it wasn’t hard. That would just be lying. I had a hell of a time when my parents split up. Just like any other time something significant happens in my life, I worried about how people would find out and what they would think. The idea of people talking about me behind my back in 6th grade was terrifying. I also didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for me, because that never does any good. Mainly I just wanted time to get used to my new life with two houses and two bedrooms and two curling irons and two kitchen tables.

The important thing to me now, though, is how my life has been affected by the divorce. The results were 100% positive. I believe that my brother and I became much closer to each of our parents individually because they were no longer a single entity. My mom couldn’t do all the talking for my dad. My dad couldn’t be the fun one that never made us brush our teeth. Instead, we saw all sides of them and vice versa. In addition, Pete and I became close in some sort of solidarity movement. When there is only one person who is a constant in your life, you inevitably start speaking your own language (ours is mainly quotes) and relying on each other more.

In addition, I believe that parents often forget that they lead and teach by example. Think of someone you know who has a remarkably great or remarkably disfunctional relationship with their significant other. Then think of his or her parents’ relationship. By getting divorced, my parents taught me that it’s important to try to work through the hard times, but that if you are truly unhappy, you need to leave. My mom found a wonderful husband (3rd time’s a charm) who makes her happy and likes to do the same things she does. They are a model of happiness for me and I am grateful to have that template in my life.

I told Jean that her son would grow up to be proud of his mom for getting out of a bad situation and that her future relationships would be his template instead of the marriage in which she was unhappy. He won’t grow up to make the same mistakes his dad did because he knows how it ended. He’ll also learn that it’s important to stand up for himself and what he believes in, even if doing so is overwhelmingly difficult.

Meanwhile, I’m waiting for Mr. Perfect.  Thanks, Mom, for setting the standard so high.

WARNING: Emotional Bitchfest on the Horizon.

Has anybody else ever noticed that exes seem to come back right when you DON’T need them? It’s like they know. Like some sort of news flash goes out to everyone you were ever involved with that says, “Meg’s going through a rough patch in her love life right now. You should get in touch with her and add to her list of issues.”

Last week I got an email from the guy I dated while I was in France. This man was WAY too good for me. He was beautiful, had an accent, and wanted to move to the US. He taught me French (the French say that when you learn a foreign language by dating someone who speaks it you learn “through the tongue”) and I taught him English. Thomas (pronounced Toe-Maw) and I had a great time while I was there, but then I came home and he stopped emailing/calling. Oh well. Then, in the three years since then, he has only emailed me when I was going through some sort of emotional turmoil. When I was unhappy with Pete Young? Email from Thomas wanting to know how I’d been. When I felt like I was never going to meet anyone worth dating? Email from Thomas wanting to catch up. Time-Space Continuum issues with Jason? Email from Thomas asking what’s new with me and when am I going to be in Europe next.

Last Tuesday I told Jason I needed to know exactly what was going on. He said he wasn’t ready for a relationship. The bitter and angry part of me wanted to respond with, “Well you should have thought of that before you did the following twenty-seven things…”, but I didn’t want it to get ugly. After all, we’re going to Mexico together in 2 weeks. A few months ago, when he said he needed space and time to figure his shit out (what I like to call “the Time-Space Continuum”), I did my best to give him time without leaving him in a tough place with no one to talk to. Turns out, a person like myself can only be supportive and open and emotionally vulnerable in a world full of ambiguity for a few months before they become a shell of a person and can no longer hold a conversation without turning it to how crazy the boy in her life is. So, I laid down the law. And he can’t handle it. So I’m not speaking to him.

Not forever. I just need some time to get used to the idea of us never being together. Ever. Like, for reals. No possibility. And only after I accept that can I be friends with him and have fun in Mexico. ‘Cause otherwise, like my friend Jess said, I’ll get on the plane to Cancun with this idea in the back of my mind that once we’re there together he’ll realize/remember how amazingly charming I am and tell me he can’t live without me. To paraphrase and to quote Talia, the idea that he’ll somehow magically “Nut up.” Not bloody likely.

So I’ve been doing pretty well. I haven’t talked to him since Tuesday. Not even a text message. I haven’t cried once. And I don’t talk about him or think about him all the time. I’m starting to think I could be okay to talk to him by Christmas.

And then? A Facebook message. “I want to continue giving you the space you requested, but did think a huge CONGRATS was in order! Too awesome. Merry Christmas and drive safely!”

He congratulated me on my new job and remembered I was driving home this weekend. He also magically apologized for breaking my rule while doing it in a way that makes him look good. PLUS I still haven’t responded to Thomas’ email from last week. Now I’m totally fucked.