Not Alone

Came home to a plethora of magazines stuffing our mailbox. A couple outdoorsy things (we like to see what they say about National Parks we plan on visiting), a science one, and one from my alma mater. I usually read only one thing in my alma mater's magazine: the briefs on what members of each class are up to. I actually know the guy who writes the one for my class, which means he'll use more space for my update. I get a full three lines instead of the one line "Kellie Hazell was recently married" summary or somesuch. So I like to read what he's gleaned from the Class of 2000. This time, I remembered a few names but couldn't place a face to them. Or, in one case, I knew one name, but couldn't for the life of me remember who his soon-to-be-wife was, though her name looked familiar. I was curious enough to drag out the yearbook and refresh my memory. Which led to me skimming the entire magazine, looking for names I might remember. Or at the least the "00" notation that indicated a fellow classmate. And I stumbled across this article.

I'm pretty sure Mary Beth roomed with a fellow former Shenanigan (I hunted and hunted for a link, but the group went bankrupt and disbanded my senior year, taking all web traces of their existence with them in their demise, apparently; take home point: Shenanigans is was a singing and dancing ensemble, a show choir). And if I'm thinking of the right gal, then Mary Beth was one of our biggest fans, at all the concerts with posters and cheers and the general support we all too often lacked (for a whole mess of reasons, some good and some bad, most unfair). That's an odd mess of memories - the group brought some of my best and worst moments at Notre Dame. Actually, come to think of it, most of them were bad. Hmmm...methinks I need to post about my Shenanigans experience.

Anyway, I read Mary Beth's article and suddenly realized I'm not the only Domer floundering in a job light years away from where I'm "supposed" to be. I'm not the only alumnae who fudges the "profession" blank a wee bit in order to hide the awful truth. Although one form I think I might have checked "other" and written in capital letters "ADMINISTRATIVE ASSISTANT" just to see if I could piss anybody off or get my name removed from those donation mailing lists. And to make me feel even better, Mary Beth's got dreams of being a writer. She's also blonde with master's degree, working with a bunch of technical folks in a job that makes next to no use if any of her training. There the comparisons start to feel forced or diverge, so I suppose I'll stop. But it gave me a warm fuzzy all the same. I may write her an "I'm right there with ya, sistah" letter.

Another reason why I enjoyed my perusal of the ND Magazine: I found out that the infamous fan at the Cubs game who reached for the ball in left field was a Notre Dame grad (see the third bold name). Go Irish! I actually remember thinking about fellow Domers being at that game while I watched it on TV. It's a quick bus, car, train ride to Wrigley Field. I imagine some dorms even arranged treks to the Championship games. They did back when everyone was counting Sosa's HRs.

And there I go, getting all nostalgic. Which inevitably leads to dwelling on my resume and how woefully overqualified I am for my job. Which leads to remembering the dream I am chasing. And then I'm better. Until the next bout of nostalgia.