My Superbowl Barbie

I was a disappointed when I learned that I would be in Australia during Superbowl XLVI.  Not that I had much to be disappointed about.  I mean, I was going to Australia.  But this was the first year I'd really paid much attention to football.  I always watch the Superbowl because it's the thing to do, which I think is why many people watch it, but this was my first year in Michigan.

One difference between Ann Arbor and San Diego: Ann Arbor cares a lot more about football.  I went from living in an apartment with four other people who didn't care very much to a house with eight other people, many of whom care a lot.  And my interest was further piqued when the 49ers, my family's team, started doing really well...and kept doing really well.

So when the Superbowl neared, I put it together that I would miss it.  Who knew if Australians even watched football?  When the 49ers lost and it was determined that the Superbowl would be the Patriots vs. the Giants I didn't feel so bad, but it still would have been fun to watch the game with my football-loving roommates.

But I went to Australia, I snorkeled in the Great Barrier Reef, I held a koala, and I forgot all about football.  I just assumed that I wouldn't even watch the game until my aunt's friend Diane who we were visiting in Tasmania asked if we would want to watch it.  So we planned to watch the game at Diane's house and invite a couple people over.

I learned how little Australians care about football when we asked our friend Tim if he wanted to come watch the Superbowl with us.

"The Superbowl of what?" he asked me.

"...of...American football..."

"What is that?"

"It's the..." I had never had to explain this before.  "Championship of football."

"Oh, okay, sure."

So our Superbowl party commenced with me and my aunt being the only ones who had been paying any attention to the season.  Now that was a first.  I had to explain the rules of the game of football to people.  That was a change considering that at past Superbowl parties I have been one of the people with the least football knowledge.  Tim and Nan, Diane's 87-year-old neighbor, needed the most explanation.

"Why do they keep stopping?"

"Why are they wearing all those pads and helmets?  Rugby players don't use those."

Dave, a rare Australian with some football knowledge, explained to us how rugby players are so much tougher than football players that years ago when two American football players came to play rugby in Australia one lasted a day and the other lasted two weeks.

Tim brought potato salad, and Dave brought sausages, or bangers, as they call them.  After Madonna's halftime show he threw them on the barbie.  All the Australians had been telling us that we needed to go to a barbie, and it seemed to be all many of them did on the weekends.  We were glad to have that checked off our list of things we needed to do during our trip.  No, there were no shrimps on our barbie, but we still had a taste of Australia.  And I think the Australians had a little taste of America, too.

And it really was quintessential Australian and American culture colliding: our Superbowl Barbie.

She Doesn't Even Go Here!

I graduated from college in May.  I was so ready to be done with that place and start the next chapter in my life.

But somehow come August I found myself on campus again... sleeping in my old roommate's bed in her on-campus apartment right across from our old apartment.  So much for moving on with my life.

The first day of classes I showed up in all of my old professors' offices and even went to a couple of their classes.  Everyone who saw me was confused... "Wait, didn't you graduate?"  "Abby, what are you doing here?"  "Shouldn't you be working or something?"

A devoted Mean Girls fan, one line kept ringing in my head--"She doesn't even go here!"

I stayed at Point Loma Nazarene University for the first week and a half of the fall semester.  After I had thoroughly worn out my welcome, it was finally time to move on.  On to Ann Arbor, where I would finally be getting a job and being an "adult."

So I moved into my new where I live primarily with University of Michigan graduate students.  "What are you going to school for?" a couple of them asked me when we met.  "Umm... I'm not actually in school right now..."

I got a job at a cafe on the UM campus, which also just happens to be two blocks from my house.  Since my work is on campus, I even have a UM ID card.

Every single person I meet automatically assumes I am a UM student.  I wear my Michigan shirt, hang out with students, go to the bars that students frequent... and basically do everything I can to make it seem like I am a student.

Every single time someone asks me what I'm majoring in or what year I am, the same thing pops into my head--"She doesn't even go here!"

Fortunately Tina Fey has yet to show up and kick me out.  Maybe someday I'll stop pretending I'm still in college, but until then I'm just trying to bake my cake full of rainbows and smiles, hoping we can all eat and be happy.

At a UM football game in the student section with my housemate Andrew, a real UM student

Why Michigan? Why not?

Go Blue...

During my senior year of college I had regular meetings with my unofficial life coach. My future, which had once seemed so clear and straight-forward, was now completely open-ended, and I just needed someone to talk things through with.

“What do you want to do?” he would ask me.

“Well, I think I want to edit books… in the long run…”

“Well, what is your number one concern?”

“I don’t want to move back to Eureka.”

This was my biggest fear. That I would get stuck. Don’t get me wrong; I love my hometown. I just think it would be a dead end for me. Not saying it’s that way for everyone; I have plenty of friends with great jobs and great lives in Eureka… I just don’t think I could really thrive there.

And so I applied to dozens of publishing jobs during my last semester of college. They were all over the place – New York, Boston, Chicago, Oregon, Florida, and I think I even applied to a couple in England and Australia.

My good friend Julianne and I had a dream of moving to New York together (okay, we still do). It was a simple plan, really:

1. Get jobs in New York.

2. Find an apartment.

3. Go out every weekend and mingle with wealthy businessmen.

I even looked at apartments in New York. “Let’s live near Central Park!” she suggested. It was a plan.

It was about March when, after not being contacted by a single company I had applied to (aside from the occasional “we have received your application” email), that I realized I wasn’t getting anywhere. I was technically qualified for all the jobs I applied to, but honestly, I didn’t have a chance with Simon & Schuster, Random House, McGraw Hill, Hearst Magazines… I was reaching for the stars, which is a good thing, but I had no real backup plan.

So May came, and it was time for graduation. When people asked me what I was doing with my life, I had to tell them the truth, which I had finally come to accept: “I’m moving back to Eureka for probably just a year. Going to work, save some money, then get a job, move somewhere…”

I put it off for as long as I could. After graduation I stayed in San Diego for another week. Then I stayed with Julianne in San Jose for a week and a half. Then after going to Eureka for a few days I went back to the Bay Area. I just didn’t want to admit to myself that I lived there now. I applied to a few jobs in Eureka, but I was spending so much time elsewhere that I didn’t invest much time into the job search.

A little over a month after my college graduation I was sitting at home with my friend Hannah, who was going to the University of Michigan for grad school in the fall. Half-jokingly, one of us said something about me looking for jobs in Ann Arbor. My laptop was right there, so I went onto a couple job boards and applied to a couple of editorial jobs.

The next day I left for Africa, and it was while on that mission trip that I really decided that I needed to move away from Eureka. I love new people and new places, and that is precisely what I cannot find in my hometown. So, on the drive back from the San Francisco airport, I told my parents: “I think I’m going to move to Michigan.”

A week later I had a room in a house. I signed the lease and began searching for jobs. Before I arrived in Michigan, I had three job interviews lined up. The first one, at a café a few blocks away from my house, was less than 12 hours after I arrived in Ann Arbor.

So now I have a new home. I’m in a house with new roommates, in a city with new faces, and I work at a café with people who have become my new friends. It’s an adventure. It may not be my typical adventure, but it’s still new and exciting… and I really think that life isn’t about your circumstances—whether you live in San Diego or Ann Arbor, whether you’re an editorial assistant for Random House or a barista at Glass House Café, you get out of life whatever you put into it.