April 29

    The other night I got out of work and called my best friend to see where she was.
    I expected to hear music in the background and perhaps the slurred voices of my other friends that signify that they are kicking off the weekend the only way we know how.

    What I got was entirely different.

    Heather answered the phone in a chipper voice, but there was no music in the background, no bartenders screaming, “what do you want?” and no sound of a drunken mess in a bar.

    Instead I was told to drive to our friend’s house and we were going to hang out there for the night. Not the normal weekend jump-off, but Heather sounded excited enough.
    “Alright,” I said and drove home to change.

    I grabbed a six-pack on the way over and pulled into my friend’s driveway with the intention of walking into a drinking game. Instead, I walked into a roomful of college-aged guys and girls playing Scatagories.

    Scatagories.

    I first did a double-take, then promptly sat down and listened to my friend argue with the group that she should get three points for Super Sweet Sixteen because it was three “s” words.

    After an argument, the group voted: thumbs down, only one point for Noreen. I then listened as one of my friends made his case for “Egg-celent chocolate” under the category “dessert beginning with ‘e’.” Why he didn’t think to put “Excellent chocolate,” I don’t know.
    You know what? That was an awesome Friday night.

    Which got me thinking: is this how we’re going to be when we’re old? Am I going to go to work on a Friday and brag to the girls that my friends are coming over that night to play board games?

    “What are your plans this weekend Lauren?”

    “Oh a bunch of my friends are coming over, I’ve made bruschetta and we’re playing Monopoly!”

    Then I’d water my plants, feed my fish and go to bed. I’d wake up at 6 a.m. because I physically wouldn’t be able to sleep in anymore and I’d overfeed my cat. I will be emotionally connected to the contestants on American Idol and Dancing with the Stars and cry when the Bachelor doesn’t pick the fan favorite.

    Is anyone else freaking out about growing old?

    Why do we fear age?

    Because we look at our parents and grandparents and see what we’re going to look like in the future. Now, my mom is a good-looking mom.

    Unfortunately for me, I’m at least four and a half inches taller than she is, so there’s no way I’m going to look like she does when I’m 50.

    Awesome.

    I wish I were Peter Pan. Peter Pan had it made. Who wouldn’t want to run around with the Lost Boys all day and fight pirates? Peter Pan never had to apply for a job, read through the descriptions and realize he wasn’t qualified for any of them. Peter Pan never had to type in “entry-level” into the advanced search and find that only three jobs in all of New England pop up.

    But we can’t live in this bubble that is college life forever. Wendy came back from Never Never Land.

    I just associated Wendy coming back home to leaving Keene and returning to Barrington N.H. It’s similar; I’m sticking to it.

    If I grow up to be the single cat lady I know I’m going to be, I hope to God I have my friends to come play Scatagories with me. Because, as some anonymous source once posted on the internet, “You’re only as strong as the drinks you pour, the tables you dance on and the friends you hang on to.” I’m not going to judge myself by how much money I make or my position within a company. Frankly, the economy sucks too much to do so.
   

Nope, I’m going to judge myself based on my happiness, my ability to be a good friend and by the friends who have always had my back. So bring on the old age, bring on the Scatagories, bring on graduation; as long as I get to hang on to those friends.

    Lauren Danie can be contacted at ldanie@keeneequinox.com.