Tell Me Why

I recently watched the Backstreet Boys documentary, "Show 'Em What Your Made Of," and it took me back. For a few years, I was obsessed with the Backstreet Boys. My friends who knew me then instantly cringe at the memory of me regaling them with the latest single or tales of Nick, AJ, Brian, Kevin and Howie.

To be honest, it was a very tough time in my life when I started listening to BSB. The summer of 1999 was a mixed blessing of working an internship at the Evansville Courier where I met lots of great people, some of which I still keep in touch with today, and working with my mom. But I was not super excited about being home for another summer while my roommates held down the fort in Bloomington.

I got the ear worm that is "I Want It That Way" stuck in my head and decided to capitulate to its charm by blaring it nonstop. It soon turned me into a full-on, non-ironic fan. I bought all albums and bootlegs that I could get my hands on. I watched MTV specials and music videos. My dad even bought me tickets to their concert in Indy for my 21st birthday. Anne and I got tipsy at a Hooters before the concert and figured we were the only non-parents there who were imbibing.

Things really escalated when mom's cancer came back.

That seems weird to say, but looking back, it is actually a habit I have. I throw myself at things, become moderately obsessed. I did it with BSB, and before that Matt Damon, and before that Indiana basketball. I was the only girl I knew that could name the lineup of the 1976 Indiana Hoosier National Championship team. I spent my sophomore year of high school reading every book that had to do with basketball in Indiana. It's why when my friend told me she was teaching at Crispus Attucks in Indy that I immediately said "That's where Oscar Robertson went."

I used to tape every Hoosier basketball game if I wasn't able to watch it live and then stay up late at night, after some sports practice or another, homework and a job to see how the game turned out. Back then basketball was something to think about other than my parents' divorce. It was something I could study that wasn't going to make me deal with my looming future or the weight of the immediate past.

And that's actually what BSB was for me, as well.

I could download songs on the Internet and listen to them for hours on end. They weren't particularly challenging songs. They were pop songs, which was a genre I had sworn off most of high school. I almost felt like I was regressing by liking BSB. I had never dove into the New Kids on The Block fad as a kid, but in my early 20s, I was following a boy band. It didn't make sense to me, and yet it made complete sense to me.

I watched the documentary the other night and it hurt a little. That time of my life hurt and the songs were both smile-inducing and soul-crushing memories. The morning of my mother's funeral, I was in the shower when "I Want It That Way" came on the radio. It wasn't played all that much by that time, but just hearing the chorus that morning made me burst into tears for the first time since the night she'd died.

I will always love the Backstreet Boys. I will never completely understand why. But I like to think they provided me with a respite from my life and thoughts at a time when I really needed it.

And for that, I will always be a fan.

Blast from the Past: High School Style

Who doesn't love a cheerleader? I certainly did, for a while. In 8th grade, I broke my father's heart by announcing that I did not want to play basketball any more. I wanted to be a cheerleader. 

There are several theories that I have toyed with over the years about why I wanted to cheer on other people who were playing sports, when I was an avid athlete myself (at least at the time-playing both volleyball and softball). It came down to two things: 1) I got into all the basketball games for free. 2) I loved wearing the short skirt. 

Yup. That's it. I wasn't a particularly good cheerleader, but I also filled out another role for the squad: the fat cheerleader. Okay, I look at the picture above and realize that I'm not really that fat. Not the skinniest for sure, but no where near where I would top out at. But at the time, my perspective was very skewed and I thought that I was by far the fattest chick at my high school. But mostly it was the big boobs that threw things off. 

That was both figuratively and literally. I wasn't able to tumble as I had before because the girls got in the way or threw off my balance. And this was the era of rapid growth for my chesticles. Also, they aren't lying when they call them "little sweaters" for cheerleaders. My mom and I had to stretch my middle school cheerleading sweater over the back of one of our large kitchen chairs, wet it and stuff it with newspaper for three days for it to be stretched enough to not choke me. Seriously. That happened.

But in the end, I decided that two years of cheering was enough for me. It was fun while it lasted, but I was someone who actually liked watching basketball games instead of facing the crowd. 

Party Like It's 1996

I've decided it would be funsies (and frankly self-indulgent which is really the purpose of blogs) for me to find some pictures of myself that are floating out there and provide some story or context for them. The first of this series (which will take place whenever the hell I feel like it) is courtesy of Amanda's Facebook album and is at left.

This picture was taken on what could've been nearly any Friday or Saturday night during my last two years of high school, but was in fact taken in 1996--or at least that's what Amanda says. Missing from the photo is the other of our rag tag group of intimidating girls, Anne. (Anne and Amanda will surely make later appearances as they were my college roommates). Pictured from left to right are Brook, me, Lara and Amanda. We're sitting on my patio. I am 17 years old.

I figure that since I've been out of high school for a long time and because my mother is dead and therefore cannot hold these confessions over my head, I might as well reveal some things. We're sitting on my patio because you couldn't smoke inside my house. And that's what I was likely doing. You can't see my other hand, and it's probably holding a cigarette. I don't smoke any more, so don't even start with the lectures. I get it.

We're also outside because it's obviously summer and if it's summer and I'm smoking that means that mom wasn't at home. When I had the house to myself, I had some pretty righteous gatherings. And they were frequent and usually included a plethora of mall employees--primarily from Gus Doerner Sports. I thought I was super cool because I worked in the mall and specifically at Gus Doerner's because I got to work with a lot of college guys. I pretty much had crushes on most of them at one time or another. They were all unrequited crushes. At the time I was sure it was because I was ugly and fat. Looking at this picture with more perspective, I can see that clearly wasn't the case. They must've all been idiots.

I look at this picture and miss my friends. The ones who would do nothing other than sit in a car and make up theme songs to made up games (I know you girls remember the WTF? theme song). I wonder what the hell happened to Lara. I'm thankful that I had them for a critical time in my life and super thankful for the peeps I still keep connected with.

Mostly I look at this picture and remember a time when my mother sat us all down and told us that the gig was up. She knew about the parties and she wasn't upset. But she'd pull the plug quicker than anything if she found another bottle cap in her garbage disposal. I'm paraphrasing as I'm sure this speech was laced with some colorful language.

What stupid things did you do in high school? Weren't they great?