Observe and Report ...

So my dear readers ... when I left you last ... I was having a nervous breakdown over purchasing pants.  Seriously.  I was.  Go back and look. 

Good news ... more pounds have melted off my forty and fabulous frame and I am now looking at a 30+ pound weight loss ... and counting.  Well ... that's not really true ... the "and counting" part.  Truth be told ... the scale and I haven't been seeing eye-to-eye as of late.  The digits seem to be eternally frozen ... neither moving up nor down.  C'est la vie.  My focus has drastically changed from worrying about what the number on the scale says, to concentrating on something more interesting. 

I have been notably absent from blogging these past several weeks as I have been deeply involved in an in-depth anthropological study.  Much like Dr. Jane Goodall who immersed herself in the jungles of Africa in order to study the behaviors of her beloved chimpanzees in their natural environment; I, the Divine Mrs. M., has dangerously, albeit, cleverly, immersed herself amongst the natives of the jungle that is the college campus. 

Yes, friends, the Divine Mrs. M. is officially a full-time college student.  At 40.  Did you ever watch Captain Kangaroo?  Do you remember the little learning game the Captain (or was it Mr. Green Jeans?) used to play ... One of These Things is Not Like the Other?  You know, the game where there is a square with 4 boxes inside ... 3 boxes containing pictures that are similar (i.e., a snowman, scarf and mittens) and 1 box with something that obviously doesn't belong (i.e., a beach ball)? 

Well ... let's catapult ourselves back in time ... turn the television dial (We are back in time remember?  Remote controls have yet to be invented.  To understand this analogy properly, you have to get up off of the couch and turn the television dial by hand.) to PBS and find ourselves in a modern-day, animated version of the game One of These Things is Not Like the Other. 

The screen is showing a square with the following choices in the 4 boxes:  (a) a young, beautiful girl in 9-inch heels, skinny jeans and a tank top limping her way through a hallway ... pain etching its way across her otherwise lovely face; (b) an extremely thin young man with long, curly brown hair ... tied back in a pony tail ... wearing skinny jeans that hang so far below his waist that they expose his dingy boxer shorts paired with a T-shirt that says something along the lines of "Pimpin' Ain't Easy" ... pencil tucked behind his ear; (c) a young, beautiful girl wearing a mini skirt so incredibly short one can only hope she is wearing underwear ... bedazzled beyond what one would think was possible ... 9-inch heels ... huge jewelry ... and full-on make-up complete with a massive amount of kohl black eyeliner ... sunglasses perched atop her pretty head ... carrying a Coach bag; and (d) a middle-aged woman wearing jeans from Coldwater Creek, a Ralph Lauren long-sleeved T-shirt, Ann Taylor scarf, moccasins, bifocals ... a Vera Bradley tote slung over one shoulder ... looking confused.  Stumped? 

Welcome to my new world. 

I would like to be able to say that I am taking artistic liberty and painting a caricature of the three young people described in the above-mentioned game.  I am not.  They are only but three of the many subjects I have been able to observe during the course of my study.  A study that I may even be able to use to complete a dissertation ... if ever I pursue a doctorate in anthropology.  Which I am not. 

Subject (a) is in my math class and when I asked her if she was feeling okay due to the noticeable limp and wince on her face, admitted to me that her shoes were killing her but she loved them and was unwilling to take them off; subject (b) is in both my English Lit and Shakespeare classes and is doing his senior project on the influence of Medieval literature on the modern day gaming society (genius as far as I am concerned ... speaking as a mother of a son who is an active gamer, I can completely see the relevance); and subject (c) is in my biology class. 

Of the three, subject (c) has become my favorite ... although I am sure it is unethical to show favoritism to one particular subject in the midst of such an important study of human nature ... I cannot help myself.  Because not only is subject (c) shiny and fascinating in her own right ... she has a boyfriend who reminds me of James Spaeder's character in the John Hughes' cinematic classic, Pretty in Pink.  Subject (c)'s boyfriend has the sort of effortless cool that only one born into wealth and privilege can pull off.  You would think that with such a "sparkly" girlfriend ... subject (c)'s boyfriend would blend into the background.  But no.  He doesn't disappoint.  He is all Ralph Lauren, Tommy Hilfiger, Nautica pastel polos which he wears with the collar popped up (yep, collar popped), paired with plaid shorts and Sperry top-siders.  He and subject (c) enter the biology classroom every Tuesday and Thursday as if they are walking the red carpet at the Oscars. 

I have found the experience of going back to college at 40 to be fascinating and educational.  Perhaps not fascinating and educational in the way in which is intended ... but fascinating and educational nonetheless.  Every day I am treated to a variety of different archetypes of which I can freely observe.  As I am of the "middle-aged" variety ... to the natives, I am much like a stealth ninja ... as they never seem to notice my presence ... even when sitting right beside them. 

There is the "artsy" girl whose hair color changes weekly ... and not from blonde to brunette ... no.  Her hair color has gone from neon green to orange to jet black to hot pink and is always adorned with some sort of homemade-looking metal barrette.  "Artsy girl" is very thin with horn-rimmed glasses and wears a variety of skirts cut just above the knee ... all in muted gray, green and khaki tones ... which she pairs with cardigans, camisoles, knee socks and Toms Eco-friendly shoes.  She carries a large art portfolio and her fingers are stained with charcoal.

There is ... and please do not crucify me for this blasphemous reference ... campus "Jesus."  Campus "Jesus" has long, dirty brown hair, a full beard and he wears what can only be described as a sort of caftan, either in oatmeal or white, that hits well below his waist over distressed jeans.  His shoe of choice is the Birkenstock sandal. 

There are the football players ... and other various male athletes ... who seem to have an unending supply of basketball shorts which they pair with their college logo T-shirts ... a majority of which have the sleeves cut off so they can display the overly-developed muscles of their arms.  Not to be outdone, the female athletes also don gym shorts and T-shirts; however, in contrast, they do not seem to be so inclined as to nix the sleeves from their shirts to show off their arms. 

There are the girls who advertise which sorority they belong to on almost everything they wear ... bags, jackets, T-shirts, hoodies, key chains, etc.  The frat boys who were most definitely the big fish in the little pond back in their respective high schools ... now searching to reclaim their former glory days and finding it difficult as they are now a little fish in a much bigger pond. 

There are your garden variety pajama-clad kids who have come to the conclusion that showering is optional; the skateboarders; the "legalize marijuana" crowd with their hemp jewelry and dreadlocks; the goth kids who manage to even make the albino-like Divine Mrs. M. look tan with their jet black hair, powdered pale skin and painted-in black lips and numerous piercings.  And there are groups of the musically inclined who gather in small groups all around campus strumming their acoustic guitars and serenading the passersby. 

Whew ... exhausted yet?  I am ... and I haven't even begun to touch the surface. 

As fascinating as my subjects may appear to the naked eye ... their intellectual integrity is greatly diminished as soon as they open their mouths to speak.  Now ... please don't get me wrong.  I have come across a few highly intelligent subjects who have keen points of view on certain literary works of art (I am an English major ... I spend a lot of time critiquing and listening to others critique great works of literature), who can solve a math problem without the use of a calculator (I can't by the way ... more on that at a later date) and who can explain the difference between mitosis and meiosis (Google it) without the use of index cards (I can do that).  The key word here would be "few." 

Most of the conversations I have been at liberty to observe amongst the natives is of the "I'm so hungover," "my parents are going to (expletive) kill me if I don't get off of academic probation," "how many DUIs do you think you can have on your record before you lose your teaching certificate (an actual conversation I was privy to by the way), "(expletive) (expletive) (expletive) ...", etc.  No one I have come into contact with is going to cure cancer.  That's all I'm saying. 

So where exactly does a 40 and fabulous woman (notice how I have eliminated fat from that equation?) fit into this uniquely diverse and stylish society?  She doesn't.  At all.  I stick out like a sore thumb.  I was told upon applying to this particular institution of higher education that they had a very high rate of non-traditional (a/k/a ... adult) students.  In the five weeks that I have been attending ... I have only seen three ... none of which are enrolled in any of my classes.

Dr. Jane Goodall had to watch her chimpanzees from afar, slowly gaining the trust of her subjects before being granted access to their inner sanctum.  The same is true for myself and my subjects.  As I mentioned before, I have the luxury of observing the natives in their natural environment going almost completely unnoticed.  But I didn't decide to embark on this new chapter of my life to go unnoticed.  So little by little, I am earning the trust of my subjects ... lending pencils and paper to the unprepared; giving Kleenex to the native with the runny nose (I can't stand to hear incessant sniffling) and cough drops to the subject with the hacking cough (although the Kleenex and cough drops are more of a selfish gesture as I would like to go the rest of my life without contracting Tuberculosis); and I am beginning to be sought out for group projects which I assume is because while not overly intelligent, my subjects are smart enough to figure out that the mom in the room is probably the one who stayed up until 3:00 a.m. actually reading the assigned material and translatingChaucer's Canterbury Tales from Middle English to Modern English instead of staying up until 3:00 a.m. playing beer pong. 

While the frat party invites have yet to materialize (I honestly believed I would be more popular seeing as how I am old enough to purchase alcohol legally), I am finding that little by little, one step at a time, I am finding my way into the inner sanctum of the college jungle.  Until I have been fully integrated into the culture, I will continue to observe and report ...



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