When 31 isn’t cool…

Being a big sister has been rewarding in many ways, but mostly I was different than all the other sisters in the world; I was cool.   In college my brother proclaimed, “I’m going to live wherever you live when I get older, sissy.”  His loyalty ballooned my heart and helped me catch my breath in various stages of my life.  There was always this little guy that thought I was the coolest person in the world.  When my bruised ego pushed my shoulders to the ground, there he was–I was cool.  When I felt I couldn’t love anymore, there he was–someone I truly loved. 

While I did the college thing at Oklahoma State University in Stillwater, OK, my little brother tagged along a couple weekends as I visited the local hangouts.  When I lived in Dallas, Texas during my Turn On, Tune In, and Drop Out phase, he was sent to stay with me and get me out of the Tie Dye.  After fame and fortune left me like a one-night stand, he came out to New York City to let me know that I was a star in his world.  There hasn’t been a place I’ve lived that my brother Blake hasn’t visited. 

This visit was different and as my place in life had solidified over the past few years,  his was changing in every way every single day–adolescence.  In fact, for the first time in his life I wasn’t cool.  I suppose I thought I would always be the cool big sister and never that old fart that referred to his uber bass levels as too loud or the uncool old hag that couldn’t point out cool truck rims from regular ones.  Even working at MTV wasn’t cutting it in his world since ‘MTV hadn’t been cool in over a decade’  and Maplewood, NJ was a suburbia he didn’t think he could live.  For the first time in my life I had moved from an era of cool into 31 is not cool.

As he walked out the door this morning from my New Jersey Colonial  to head back to Oklahoma after a visit to my first laying of roots, I knew our dynamic had shifted.  No longer would life send my little brother to check on me and lift me up, but rather I would be sent into his to return the favor. 

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Life Is A Highway

Today I woke up, alert, relaxed, and genuinely ready to start my day.  Outside my window was a gray film complemented by droplets of rain covering the Friday morning.  Typically, I wake up groggy and unwilling to accept that it’s not a weekend so the mere peek outside would have set my depression into overdrive.  Not today, nope, I was up and ready to shake a tail feather.

Time was on my side as I leisurely got dressed, my hair dried to a radiant shine, and walked out the door as the sun appeared through the grim sky to greet my face.  Pulling out my sunglasses, I had a short skip to my walk and hopped in my car turning on the newly replaced windshield wipers to clear my view so that I could gracefully drive to work.  Without a care in the world and not running late for a change this week (road construction stress is the worst especially on a NJ Turnpike), I listened to Q104 (NY’s Classic Rock Station) tapping my steering wheel with an enthusiasm of a newly licensed driver as Billy Joel sang about tie dyed jeans (Captain Jack song).

Every green light danced as my car approached, and the weekly traffic on the NJ Turnpike due to construction parted so that I could veer off at an exit to avoid gridlock.  The normally busy Jersey City street was desolate allowing me to bypass the traffic woes of the turnpike, which pumped my smile to a full grin.

Cars lifted in the air as I looked for a parking spot in the usually hard-to-come-by parking lot in Weehawken.  Within a few steps of the bus stop, I parked my Honda and gathered my things jumping on the Jitney headed to Manhattan.  I sat alone and could breathe without the two overweight stranger’s bodies I usually get sandwiched between, and I got some work done courtesy of my iPhone.

The air was light, my soul felt bright, and it’s a Friday– Believe It Or Not!?!?

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