So let her eat cake...

Today, my little sister leaves our fine nation of apple pie, football and “Don’t Tread on Me” for a land of Tart O’ Pomme, Joue au Foot and “I’m le tired…” It is a big deal. She’ll be on her own for really the first time in her life. I don’t believe she has ever been farther away than a day-trip from her parents… ever.

Elizabeth is, and always has been, the baby of the family. And with our clan, this came with its perks and its quirks.

For instance, I remember the tete a tete (a tete a tete)’s between the four of the Golemo children invariably resulting in having Beth always be the one to “butter-up” my father when we wanted to see a movie on a Friday night instead of “spending real time, damnit” at home playing Trivial Pursuit as a family. Yeah, dad, “real-cheap-time.”

As the youngest of 4 button-pushing children, Elizabeth was always more than just the “cute one.” She was a combo-plate of a full-size, interactive, babydoll, 11th man, lab-rat, and test-monkey.

Through taking advantage of her natural trust and adoration, Kate, Ben and I were all able to learn much about life and the human condition. We all took advantage of her naiveté (ah, the malleability of the young mind) and used her as a personal megaphone from one time to another. If we thought the actions of a certain family member, for instance, was askew but family politics (where hypocrisy is defined) demanded that we keep that particular opinion to ourselves, one needed only to make a well-worded observation in an authoritative voice within earshot of an always-eager-to-be-paid-attention-to Elizabeth, and then remember to act shocked when we hear the opinion how “Rachel has always been a slut when it comes to Ross” spew forth from the mouth of a 3-year-old.

They grow up so fast.

My sister has what could be the worst temper of anyone I’ve ever known; especially when it comes to showing violence. And upon a moment’s reflection, I don’t know that I am not at least partially responsible. I remember the three of us torturing her based on her inability to pronounce certain phrases such as “froon-ral” as opposed to “funeral.” “Froon-ral girl! Froonral girl!” we’d croon. My mother still tells stories about how my little sister would just simply make words up, when she couldn’t remember which one to use. For instance, “Steel Pag-na-doolian” starring Sally Field, Dolly Parton, Julia Roberts, Olympia Dukakis, etc. was a favorite movie of hers as a 4 year-old. “And why not?” my mother would defend.

But back to her temper, I remember once watching her stop -in mid-swing- and with narrowed eyes, coldly consider the hammer in her hands to muse which end (the claw or the head) would do more damage to the face of an older (handsomer) brother who just gave her a wet-willy.
I remember watching my father hold her with one arm and hold a spoon in one of her hands with his other arm and help her lip-sync Stevie Wonder to the entertainment of us all. So one can understand how strange it is to imagine my little sister living –more or less- on her own, in a country across an ocean (a big one, at that).

I don’t doubt her ability to make it on her own. Not at all. It just sorta snuck up on me. She turned 21 last month. When did this happen? I don’t know if I’m ready to stop seeing her in her First-Communion dress practicing converting the neighbor kids with Necco-wafers.

Elizabeth, just like all of my parent’s children, has never really resided in the real world. With her, it really is possible to make a living as a theatre major with a degree from a small school and tons of college debt. And you know, I’m not so sure that she’s wrong. The world is changed not by those who see things as they are, but as they could be.

One more story. I remember when I got the make-a-wish thingy and our family took the trip to Disney World and then up along the East Coast. “Our great family adventure.” Yes, I remember the dorky matching outfits we all wore “in case one of us got lost, we’d all know what everyone else was wearing.” I remember meeting Mickey and the smug look on my father’s face when he found a faster way to do anything.

But I also remember the one who had the most fun of us all, the one who made friends with every waitress or waiter or stockboy at every restaurant or store to which our horde went. I remember the one of us all who managed to make an impression upon every park-ranger and tour guide we met. It wasn’t the bald-headed kid on chemo. It wasn’t the sharp-witted older sister. And it wasn’t the always solemn and completely honest Bennie-hanna. It was the two-year old who had no fear and knew no strangers.

Bon chance, Elizabeth Erin Rose Golemo. I envy the hearts you’ll make a little bigger wherever you go.

Bon Voyage, and Bon chance!

Je t’aime.

40 years of Awesomeness

Today we celebrate the 40th anniversary of the first episode of Star Trek.

Thank-you, Creator, Gene Roddenberry, for giving all Nerds a common flag under which they may join, comiserate, and with the help of a well-stocked bar at the convention hotel, multiply.

For 40 years, you've helped the world to know that a series full of flimsy plots, formulaic story lines and squelchy acting can truly be more than the sum of its parts. (MTV owes you one.)

For what you've done with so little, we salute you.

For what you've done for the world, we thank you.

Please, live long, and prosper.

Life is in the contrast

Today was a day like the first time you’re rough-housing with a new girlfriend and she accidentally pops you in the nose. Things are still fun. Things are still cute. But see if you don’t keep an eye on that left hook of hers from now on.

I love it here in Galveston. I feel like I’m kicking ass. I’m having fun. I’m making mistakes and that’s okay. I’m trying. I’m doing things right. And that’s good too. I’m being overbearing and riding on my RA’s. I’m challenging them. And they’re challenging me right back.

Working with James… well its like working with Fred G. Sanford from Sanford and Sons. You really have no idea from one moment to the next whether he’s going to say something crass, complain, piss off a student or clutch his chest and wail: “I’m a-comin, Elizabeth!” Ol’ Jimmy, he keeps it interesting.

I have a boss that has my back. He works for the people who work for him. And for that, he’s earned my very hardest effort. I feel good about things.

However, today… Today was that bop in the schnozz from a pretty girl. I was scattered from the moment I woke up. It was one of those days where everything seemed to be taking twice as many trips because you keep forgetting keys, which seem to disappear the moment you put them on your desk. Everything took me at least two tries today. I left my I.D. in my apartment, went to the office and grabbed the wrong spare key, so I had to do the walk of shame back to the office again get the right spare key to let myself back into my apartment so I can waste another 20 minutes looking for the key that ended up being in the pocket of the pants I was sure I had already checked.

I ruffled the feathers of the one group of people on campus I really can’t afford to ruffle. And what’s more, it sorta went down in such a way that, in my standing up for myself, I’m afraid I might have got them bopped in the nose themselves. I think I’d rather have taken the hit and saved the political currency for a rainier day. But I wouldn’t have been the only one suffering the hit, so I couldn’t.

Apparently, not everyone on campus sees me as Baylor’s gift to the A&M world. Surprise.

Everything took twice as long to do today. I felt like everything I did rubbed people the wrong way. It was the sort of day that made you really understand the phrase: “the road to hell is paved in good intentions.” My intentions were pure, I still think my execution was true. But you know there’s many a slip twixt the cup and the lip. And I seemed to definitely be missing that damn lip today.

But today I also had my very first 1-on-1 with an RA. Not a big production. It is merely meant as time with her supervisor to help her get an idea of her performance as well as a chance for the supervisor to get feedback on their performance. But also, it’s a chance for me to get nosey and let them get nosey as well. After we covered the basic crap about what she had planned insofar as programming, I had a chance to ask her about her boyfriend of nearly 2 years. I had a chance to let her know that I do think about our interactions and that I do notice things. I love bonding.

And then I gave her the chance to ask me anything. And Sweet Jesus, she went straight for the jugular. Girls. So I was completely honest, though I don’t know she was impressed with the answer. I told her where I was.

We talked about how I’m getting used to living on my own, for the first time ever, after moving from a place where I knew everyone and everything to a place where a month later I’m still a little hazy on how the “hold” button works on the phones. I admitted that it’s a little hard to close my door at night and walk around an empty apartment, hearing no other voices than those on T.V. and my own.

I kinda want a dog. Or maybe a cat.

It was all a little easier to deal when I was working the 14-hour days during the planning of RA Training, the actual days of RA training and then Check-in and Gig ‘Em Week. But now that I’m getting the hang of things, I’m finding that the world actually won’t stop spinning on its axis without me and I actually don’t have to be around all the time.

So what do I do now? I’ve been working out again. I play about two hours of basketball and then follow that up with a quick run around the periphery of campus (two, if I’m feeling saucey or the basketball games were only half-court).

Um, I watch House on Tuesdays at 7 and The Contender at 9. But I don’t really like watching T.V. by myself.

I’ve been bothering the residents on my floor. I mess with the Bulletin Board. Sometimes I go back to the office and check my email, mess with my To Do lists for the next day, straighten things up, take out the trash and save Virginia a little work.

But really lately, I’ve been spending a lot of my free time thinking about how blessed I am to be where I am. I seriously have the greatest job in the world. I freaking love every single one of my RA’s. I think we both began to tear up [still in the 1-on-1] when I was telling her this.

Yes, things are a little… different. But I love the fact that I have days like this. I love that I’m not in a perfect situation. I think that we, as people, need to be a little uncomfortable. We need to have that struggle, that uphill fight, to keep us pushing. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a masochist, [I am Catholic]. I just think that we need to have a sense of accomplishment.

We need to have those sour days so we can appreciate the sweet ones. We need to have bad bosses so we can appreciate the good ones. We need to have our hearts broken from time to time, so we know how to truly use them. Life is all about contrasts.

Today was a classic case of this. I had my moment with Danielle where I sorta began to choke up. Because it was during a 1-on-1 with my first Hall Director and Mentor, Andrew Telep, when I first realized the path God had chosen for my life. I wanted to be a Hall Director. I wanted to have 1-on-1’s with RA’s and hope God will use me, as unworthy as I may be, to pour into their lives as I had others pour into me. I don’t think I realized this morning how that moment was 4 years in the making. I don’t think Danielle realized it either. Hell, I’m not sure I fully grasp it as I’m typing.

I guess my point is that I need to be thankful for days like these. Life is in the contrast, fellas. Thank the black so I can see the white.

Dropping it like its hot,
Neil