10 Favorite Movies from My Teens

Are there movies you could watch again and again … even though they are more appropriate for 14-year-olds? Maybe for you it’s High School Musical … or maybe you grew up Pretty in Pink?

All it took was one passing mention of one of these films and I was instantly transported to my own teenaged years. So just for fun, here are 10 of my favorite movies from when I was a teen [I turned 13 in 1995].

1. Camp Nowhere (1994) – Cute boys, four cliques brought together, innocent kisses, and life without parents. I’m pretty sure I could still watch this 18 times in a row. And my heart might still beat a little fast for 12-year-old Jonathan Jackson. Ha.

2. Now and Then (1995) – Four girlfriends in the 60s grow up a little bit and find out about themselves and friendships. I love the flash forwards to their adult selves, and I love the 60s soundtrack! I remember going to see this with my Sunday School class and gushing over Devon Sawa. As my sister said (very, very tired, on a road trip), “Sometimes you just need to see Devon Sawa’s booty.”

3. Casper (1995) – Yeah, I’m pretty sure this one was entirely to do with the 5 minutes Devon Sawa is Casper, the human version. And my 13-year-old self fumed with jealousy that Christina Ricci got to kiss him, again.

4. 10 Things I Hate About You (1999) – I’ve declared my love for this teen flick before. I’ve seen it a million times. It’s pretty darn funny. And the whole nerdy guy from 10 Things is the head elf in The Santa Clause is the dude from Numbers? Crazy.

5. She’s All That (1999) – As I “matured,” my love for Devon Sawa gave way to an intense love for Freddie Prinze, Jr. (Which also explains my prejudice against Sarah Michelle Gellar, his now-wife.) No, this movie is not really good. It’s your typical girl-takes-off-her-glasses-and-now-she’s-hot-and-guy-loves-her. But … Freddie!

6. Grease (1978) – I’m pretty sure Grease is part of every woman’s teenaged life since 1978. My husbands claims all the words to all the songs are implanted on the second X chromosome. What sleepover is complete without an off-key and window-shattering rendition of “Summer Nights”?

7. Drive Me Crazy (1999) – A little twist on the “one of them changes and now it’s OK” relationship, in this one girl tries to change guy to make her ex jealous. But it’s OK, because she figures out that she likes him for him at the end. I like Melissa Joan Hart and thought Adrian Grenier was adorable in this movie before he got famous on Entourage.

8. Down to You (2000) – More Freddie, more Julia Stiles. I love Julia Stiles. She was in a bunch of teen movies, but she really was and is a great actress. Other than that, I really have no defense for this one.

9. Cruel Intentions (1999) – Apparently 1999 was a HUGE year for teen flicks. Yeah, the premise of this movie is just flat-out awful. But I can’t say I didn’t watch it five or ten times. Besides, I liked being able to legitimately hate Sarah Michelle Gellar.

10. Drop Dead Gorgeous (1999) – I remember going to see this with my sister and some friends in the theater and thinking it was one of the stupidest movies I’d ever seen. And then I watched it again … and again … and suddenly it was flat-out hilarious. Kirsten Dunst was perfect in this black comedy set in Minnesota.

What movies do you still love from your teen years?

added to top ten tuesday at many little blessings.

Why I Studied Chinese

Beijing Tiananmen Square

source

You should see the look on people’s faces when I tell them I took seven years of Chinese, studied abroad in China, and was a Chinese minor. Obviously that’s not what you expect to hear from someone who spends most of her time changing two kids’ dirty diapers and wiping spit-up off her shirt.

It’s not something I bring up a lot, because I am afraid someone might force me to try to speak Chinese. After seven years of not using the language, I’m afraid my level is right up there with Ni Hao Kai Lan – if not lower. Mostly I only divulge my studies if I am talking about travel with someone. It makes me feel pretty cool (something I am not) to say, “Oh, well, I’ve been to China, Thailand, Brazil, and Taiwan.”

(Strangely, I’ve never been to New England, although that will be remedied this summer! I’ve also never been farther West in the US than Montana, unless you count airports.)

So why did I take Chinese? It was simple: I was scared of confusion.

I went to a magnet school for government and international studies for high school, and we had to have a total of six years of language studies for graduation—at least four years of one language and at least two years of another. I started French in eighth grade, and that was my four-year language. I was worried if I picked another Latin-based language I would confuse the two.

That left me Russian, Japanese, Chinese, and sign language as choices. I probably would have picked Japanese, except the teacher was also the woman who taught Chinese and was from China herself. Supposedly her Japanese class consisted mostly of, “Now the Chinese created this and then the Japanese stole it!”

Although my Chinese teacher in high-school was a little bit of a nut job, she introduced the Chinese culture to me in a way I found fascinating. We visited Chinese grocery stores, sang children’s songs, made sushi, and learned characters with flourish. The lei I wore around my neck on graduation day was LaoShi’s contribution to making sure the whole school knew Chinese students were different and special.

hsgraduation

Three years of high-school Chinese allowed me to skip … the first semester of college Chinese I. Yes, ONE semester. But in the next three-and-a-half years, I grew to love the crazy people in my class. I went to China for six weeks to study the language (and shop … and learn how to berate taxi drivers in Chinese).

No, I haven’t used it since I graduated. But I still feel like God put a love for all things China in my heart for a reason. Like many things in life, I will just wait and see how it works itself out.

So for now: zaijian, pengyoumen.

Tiananmen Square entrance to the Forbidden City.

source



[Other possible answers to why I studied Chinese include: Lottie Moon, I really like Chinese take-out food, and I wanted to marry an Asian guy and have cute Asian babies.]
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Five Minutes

I told a friend last night that the day I graduated high school was one of the happiest days of my life. And thinking over it again, I wasn’t kidding.

I know nearly everyone is awkward at one point in time, but I feel like I was socially inadept to the point where it was painful. I had friends, although going to a magnet school many of them lived an hour or even more away from me. My dearest refrigerator friend, Jen, is the only one I’ve really hung onto since high school. My other friends were all from church. They all went to local high schools. Even there, I stuck out like a sore thumb.

I never knew the right way to do things. I am, and always was, a bit of an old soul. I got along better with adults than with my peers.

I remember being in the room under the Landmark Theater, where my high-school graduation was held. I hugged nearly everyone in my class of 120 graduates. And I breathed a sigh of relief that many of them I would only have to see sparingly in the future.

In college, I found my confidence. I found friends who adored me and that boosted me up. I found my voice through poetry and English essays.

I’ve always thought maybe there are high-school people and college people. Those who hit their stride in high school may not remember their college experience as fondly. And for those of us who can’t think of high school without shuddering a little, college was blissful.

What do you think?

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Rather than go back and clarify everything I’d like to, I will leave it at that. This is part of The Gypsy Mama’s What Can You Write in 5 Minutes? experiment. Let me know if you join in!

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Like Looking in a Mirror

Early in my high-school years, I developed a strange habit of chewing on the end of my hair.

Yeah, I know. It’s kind of gross and weird and I have absolutely no idea where it came from or when it went away. I was a shy, awkward kid–and teen … and of course that is completely and totally different than how I am now.

state theater

I was in drama from 8th to 10th grades before I discovered that no matter how much my heart told me I was going to be on Broadway, my acting skills just didn’t measure up. (Again with shy and awkward.) I spent 11th and 12th grade in the creative writing elective, and I think we can all agree that was a better choice.

I vividly remember a drama exercise where we were paired with another student and we were supposed to give a monologue as that other person. I was teamed up with a good friend of mine, much to my relief. And as we practiced in our high-school auditorium, also known as the drama “classroom,” the first thing she did to “be” me was start chewing on her hair.

I was mortified. I thought no one else noticed this crazy habit; it was my own secret strangeness. But obviously it was the first thing people noticed about me. Seeing it replicated by someone else made me crimson with embarrassment and sick to my stomach.

I get the same feeling now–often–when I see my bad habits reflected in my spunky two-year-old. Some of them seem rather harmless to me: the way she says, “Come on!” in the exact same intonation that I do. But I know this truly shows how I get upset at simple, insignificant things.

IMG_0243

Her indignant, “Hush, baby David!” is another phrase I don’t like to hear repeated. Do I really say it like that? Am I so insensitive to my own children?

We are definitely at the point where Libbie soaks in anything and everything. Just like in high school, we are being watched. Will what she reflects make me proud? (Like when she says she is “waiting for Jesus” as she closes her eyes and folds her hands together?) Or will I once again be mortified, embarrassed of my own habits as I see them repeated before my eyes?

Photo credit: bagaball
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Two Cars, Two Lives

Last night, I could see in my head a mother, looking at pictures of her chubby-cheeked toddler, a girl full of smiles and pigtails. A girl like mine.

And the mother wondering: How could this happen?

On Saturday night, two senior girls from my husband’s tight-knit private school were driving and their car found a tree. The driver, one of my husband’s students, ended up in the hospital with broken bones. The passenger ended up in a funeral home.

Mr. V called me, heartbroken. How could he tell his class where their classmate was? How would he teach when she returned to school without her friend?

In an instant, I was transported back 10 years.

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The circumstances were not exactly the same. There was no passenger. There was no alcohol. The driver was wearing her seatbelt, on her way to her job as a volunteer EMT. No one knew for sure what happened, but she crossed the yellow line, collided head-on with another car, and lost her life, just after her 18th birthday and almost the exact same time of year: it was April 29, 2000.

On April 30, 2000, I was sitting in my bedroom when my friends Hannah and Marianne called; I assumed it was another of many calls about the upcoming prom. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

I remember shock. Crying to my mother. Her making me get dressed and leave the house.

Monday at school. Our class was a mere 120 people, and none of us could do anything except sit in the field behind our school, using hands to make white origami cranes. My Chinese teacher suggested this ancient custom helped the grievers. And it did.

I remember signing out of school one afternoon and spending the entire afternoon playing board games with my Jen. Because it was something to occupy our minds.

I remember the funeral, over a thousand people. I still can’t listen to “Tears in Heaven”–I have been known to violently turn off a radio if it dare come on.

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So when I told Mr. V, “I know how hard it is,” I meant it. I grieve for all his students. For the dear parents of these two girls. I am sick over it.

Sweet Jesus, be near.

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Not-So-Very-Walden

Nearly every weekday morning now, Libbie and I go have breakfast with our neighbors. They are in their early 70s, retired, and have blessed our socks off since we moved into the neighborhood. It’s an old neighborhood, and they’ve lived in their house more than 40 years.

It’s wonderful for Libbie, who loves being outside, climbing all over their patio furniture, and looking for their cat, Bo. Often we walk up to the garden we’ve planted together a few houses down.

Mostly, I just let Libbie run around as I sip coffee and watch the plethora of birds that come to their feeders. (Also, I’ve never seen as many chipmunks as I have since we moved to Chattanooga!) (I ran over one. I’ve never in 12 years killed a living thing while driving!)

Growing up, we lived in the woods. Ours was a new neighborhood–my parents had our house built–and we had a good lot with woods in the back that led to a small creek. Ashley and I spent enormous amounts of time outside playing “orphan girls”: making mud pies, pretending to eat holly berries, climbing a felled tree, crossing the creek.

crooks in the river

When we were studying Walden in high school, my English teacher asked us to spend a half-hour observing nature and write down what we saw. I just knew my house was the perfect space from which to do this, as I’d spent my entire life seeing turtles find the backyard, having our dog bark at every squirrel that crossed the lawn, and watching birds flock to the feeders.

I convinced my friend Marcy to make what was a pretty long trip* to my house because I was so sure we’d have all sorts of wildlife to write about.

We sat outside. We did not see ONE. LIVING. CREATURE. We had to make up some blather about the existentialism of not seeing any forest creatures in, well, the middle of the forest.

I wonder if Thoreau had days like that.

Eleven years later, it still makes me laugh. Did you ever have a school assignment turn comical? (Maybe next time I should write about the Julius Caesar puppet show we did freshman year.)

*I went to a magnet high school that drew from areas all over Richmond, so Marcy did live about 45 minutes away. It was kind of a stinker for making friends!

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Make Love Happen

This past Saturday, Mr. V and I invited a few of his fellow teacher-friends over to our (basically unfurnished) house in Chattanooga. He had connected with some of the other new teachers at a conference they all had to go to in July, and he was eager for me to meet them.

Being old and married, I had to giggle when the conversation turned to something I am completely unfamiliar with: online dating sites. Apparently there are more than I had ever dreamed of–not only match.com and eHarmony, but also okcupid and plentyoffish and christiancafe, just for starters.

It made me very thankful to be married. Mr. V’s friends repeatedly told us that we were very lucky to not have to be dating, and I wholeheartedly agree.

Many, many moons ago, online dating was just a spark in someone’s head and meeting people from the Internet almost assured you’d be found somewhere dead, cut into pieces, and stuffed into a shoebox.

Which is why what I am account to you is one of the stupidest things I’ve probably ever done.

One of my best friends in high school, Cynthia, and I worked together in an aftercare program at the daycare at our church. One day she came in and said that she was going to get together that night with her Internet boyfriend and she wanted me to come along. Her guy would invite a friend for me.

It was a little daunting, but we would drive separately and meet them in a public place, so how bad could it be? Plus I had had a sum total of maybe two dates all of high school. So, I mean, really.

So we went to wherever we were meeting them, and they were going to follow us to the movie theater. Which is when we noticed that one of the tires on my car was nearly flat.

Oops.

So Cynthia and I let them drive and we all went together. In a car. With guys from the Internet. (My dad may kill me for this NOW, 11 years later.)

The sad part is, it was fine. And I really liked the guy they set me up with. And he never called me again.

Not even guys from the Internet liked me.

But now, I’m happily married, and I hope that guy is looking for dates on RednecksConnect or something.

I wonder if, 20 years from now, everyone’s parents will have met on the Internet. There won’t be as many cute, saw each other across the room stories. But it is interesting, people connecting (somewhat) for personality more than looks. (Maybe? Again, I’ve never done any online dating site stuff.)

I have to know: Have you ever met someone from one of these sites? Your spouse? Spill!

The Hanson Chronicles: On the Road

I really, really wish I had pictures to accompany this post. I know they exist somewhere, but of course in nondigital format and I honestly have no clue where they might be hiding.

So you’ll have to settle for this hideous picture of me and Cynthia, doing who-knows-what in her room, in 2000 (we were high-school seniors). I spent a WHOLE lot of time in that room.

In the summer of 1997, Cynthia introduced me to a little band called Hanson. A severe obsession formed that lasted years. I’ve written a little about it here.

Hanson had the nerve to wait an ENTIRE YEAR from that time to go on tour. At the time it seemed like forever. When it finally came around, Cynthia, my sister, my sister’s friend, my DAD, and I trekked it to Manassas, Virginia and actually got to sit in seats, for which we were very proud. I am pretty sure my dad read the newspaper during the concert, surrounded by a gazillion screaming teenyboppers.

I have a document in my scrapbook entitled “The Life and Times of Jessie and Cynthia at the Hanson Concert.” Yes, I was 16.

Later that summer, we stumbled on the fact that Hanson was coming to the great Commonwealth of Virginia again, and there would be an online presale–THE NEXT MORNING. Cynthia and I rushed along, securing a credit card from my dad, permission from parents, money from our best friend Elise; and we nearly dropped dead when we also secured seats in the FIFTH ROW at the Virginia Beach venue.

Elise and me, circa 2001

We stayed up the entire night before and made gifts for Hanson, and delivered them to the stage at the concert along with a giant card we were sure would get their attention. And cause them to propose on the spot, perhaps.

The concert, though the same set, was quite different from the fifth row, where we could see what was going on. Eschewing our Hanson shirts for sexier attire, we tried to seem mature while screaming our lungs out and panting like dogs–at the “hotness” of the vocalists as well as a result of the swarm of young women surrounding us.

It’s a very happy memory.

I went on to see Hanson in concert once more, in Richmond, in 2000. While fun, it was never the same. I just don’t love the music they do now, as much as I want to. And the fact that Taylor has four kids kinda freaks me out as he is younger than I am.

By the way, I’ve also seen The Backstreet Boys, NSYNC, LFO, and Joey McIntyre in concert. There’s your laugh for the day! :)

So, what was your favorite band in high school? What’s your favorite concert memory?

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This post inspired by a prompt from Plinky, which asked, “How far have you traveled to see your favorite performer?” While this isn’t the farthest I’ve gone for a concert (I took my then-boyfriend/aka Mr. V to see his favorite band in North Carolina one year), it’s definitely a more entertaining and involved tale. Thanks, Mary, for the link to Plinky!

A Minute Without You

This post is definitely going to scream “I was a major dork.” Was? Hmm, debatable. I no longer care about being a dork, so that makes it a little better.


Mr. V and I were in the car on the way to St. Louis this weekend. I had just been talking to my sister, Ashley, on the phone. I’ve been having major homesickness lately. Not for any particular place, really, because going “home” to Richmond isn’t exactly an option now that Mom and Dad aren’t there. But for my family. I told Ashley I was thinking about our Hanson days. Yes, the band Hanson, the ones who sang Mmmbop (and yes, that is one of the worst songs ever–however, they DID have other songs! Which were good!).

Some of my best memories are of being in the car with Cynthia, going to pick up Ashley and her best friend Deborah, and them sitting in the backseat of my 86 Plymouth Reliant singing and doing hand motions to “Sure About It.”

In the years before Hanson, Ashley and I were not friends. She was in middle school, depressed and angry, and I was in high school and therefore infinitely cooler than she was. When we both got into Hanson, however, we had something to share. We spent tons of time with my best friend Cynthia being ridiculously silly, watching MTV and taping every single time the “Where’s the Love?” video was on MTV or VH1. Why? Beats me!!! But it was fun.

After I had talked to Ashley on the phone, Adam and I were talking about radio singles and how the best singles are usually around #3 or 4 on the CD. I told him that Hanson’s best single on the CD that I remembered all the tracks was #5 (“Where’s the Love”). I was positive I could remember all of the tracks on Middle of Nowhere in order.

You would not believe how much I listened to that CD. I think for about 2 1/2 years it was the only Hanson CD out and I wore that sucker out. For a long time I listened to it every night as I went to sleep. I remember at one point Ashley and I were in the back of our parents’ van coming back from King’s Dominion and we tried to sing the entire album in order. Needless to say, at the time, it would have taken me ten seconds to list of the 13 tracks. I came up with 11 of them pretty easily. The twelfth came much slower but did come later that night (“Look at You”). But I could not for the life of me come up with the last track. I could not believe it! It wasn’t until tonight when we got home that I discovered it was “Yearbook.” Who would have thought?

I have to say I miss the Hanson years. It was fun and it kept me out of trouble. Yes, I am probably storing an unusually large amount of lyrics in my head where I could be putting useful things, like the style manual for work and any bit of American history. You probably are too–just a different band.

Love to my Hanson girls–Cynthia, Elise, Ashley, Alena, and Deborah.

Forgiving From the Heart

Late-night blog …

One thing I’m pretty embarrassed about is how long it’s taken me to really get over things from the past. It has taken me until this year–really, the last couple of months–to do some major heart-forgiveness over things that happened in high school. I feel kind of pathetic over the whole thing. It makes me wonder how many times God has wanted to beat me over the head, reminding me how He constantly forgives me for my stupidity. I know He forgives me.

heart
source: wiredfornoise

But I have an incredibly hard time forgiving myself for my own stupidity. I just can’t believe there were still things from high school that, when I thought about them, made me so angry I wanted to throw things at the wall. (Of course I didn’t, because we live in a nice new condo!) I think it’s a girl thing to be able to conjure up an image or event and still feel those emotions so thoroughly. It is such a relief now to know I’ve forgiven someone truly in my heart, that I can think on them without feeling nauseous. And that includes the high-school picture of myself!

I guess visiting with my sister-in-law, who’s 17, brought a lot of this up. She seems so content with being who she is and it makes me remember how incredibly uncomfortable I was with myself. I thought I was big as a house (looking at pictures–not so!). Boring as dirt. Ugly as sin. I had such bad social anxiety I immediately thought everyone hated me unless it was proven otherwise. And I acted that way! It all had the reverse effect that I made few friends and was told numerous times people just thought I was snobby when in fact I was just scared to death of them! I am so glad Sharon is sure of herself and will go to college proud of herself and her accomplishments! It was such a blessing to see her that way. :)

I am also not proud of my addiction to Makeover Madness on pogo games which is why I am up at 12:29 AM. Guess it’s off to bed!

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