Quarter life crisis v328

Coming across random names on your facebook friend list that you don't recognize at all, only to realize upon further inspection that Christine, Christina, Jenna, Marie, Jennifer, Jennifer, Lisa, oh and Jennifer have all gotten married and changed their last names.

Meanwhile I'm still picking up diet chasers for the fleet week bbq. Just did a quick mental scan and yes, mostly singles and all unmarried, how bizarre! At least I'll have no problem with any names today.

Your biggest fan.

Lights up at the sound of your tired, monotonous voice on the line when you make the obligatory call home during your commute after work.

Calls every day "just to say hello" on his way home from work and occasionally shoots a text over when the Lakers/Dodgers represent or when his coworker teaches him how to say "tu es l'amour de ma vie."

Teaches you how to make her siganture dish even though her bad knees make it increasingly painful to stand, then recycles the water she subsequently washed the dishes with (by hauling it outside in a pail to water the plants) because she's saved every penny for her entire life only to leave $200 on your dresser when she visits.

Has recently recovered from prostate cancer and sits at home every day with nothing to do. Excitedly makes a Home Depot date for the two of your tomorrow afternoon so you can help him carry the bag of Vigoro lawn fertilizer that he specifically wants. Immediately changes into a collared shirt, slacks and black socks so you can go now when you say you won't be in town tomorrow, then tries to hide his disappointment when it turns out you don't have enough time before your flight to go now.

Cooks your favorite dishes every time you're home then slaps your back and tells you you're prettier when you're skinnier and to go find a nice boy.

Has lost 100 pounds (give or take) to Parkinsons and resembles Master oo-gui from kung fu panda as he chews the lunch you spoon feed him at his retirement home on Sundays. You're constantly wiping something or another and realize bodily fluids aren't so gross right now.

Thanks you for "listening to her rambling" as she briefs you on her plans to postpone med school apps for 1 year before telling mommy and daddy then cusses you out when you're "too rough" with her toy poodle, then apologizes a couple hours later, implicitly acknowledging the fact that you cover for her ass when the thing poops on the carpet.

Even the hottest rockstars are nobodies without their fans, that's a given, but who knew it was this easy to maintain such a loyal, admiring fanbase? It is illogically, amazingly so, and a true VIP never forgets why he's there and more importantly what got him there.

Whenever I take a break from wandering amongst the weeds, I step back and re-assess the big picture and I'm floored by the power of this grassroots movement.

It's a girl!

Name: Andie*
Age: 9 weeks
Roots: Golden Retriever
Interests: Cuddling, Chewing on Denise's rainbows..
Status: Not. Pottytrained.

*Kate Hudson's character from How to Lose a Guy in 10 days

Maria, you've brought music back into our lives.

I recently listened to the Berkeley Symphony play in Zellerbach Hall at Cal. It had been quite a long time since I'd listened to, much less played, any sort of chamber music. Frankly, I was pretty sure I would fall asleep, which would have been quite unacceptable given that I had agreed to go with an acquaintance who had graciously offered me a ticket.

I was quite conflicted as to whether I felt uncomfortably young amidst the mercurial crowd averaging 60 some years of age or even more uncomfortably old as an early twenties listening to the symphony play on a Thursday night, clearly drinking night.

I didn't fall asleep. Inklings of an old familiarity condensed as I strained my eyes and ears, attempting to keep up with every movement that accompanied each new voice. Maybe it comes with age and maturity, maybe it comes from having experienced it, or maybe it's just a language that some people speak innately while others don't, but music is truly an awe-inspiring and versatile force of nature.

The amalgamation of musicians, elements, metals and woods gave birth to a single lyrical entity, notes flirting back and forth across the stage, bantering melodies in a perfectly timed give and take game of tug-of-war, rich throaty eruptions of lava-like baritones blending seamlessly with the barely discernable lightness of tinkering.

What could have easily shamed the scratching of 30 sets of fingernails across the most spiteful of chalkboards somehow exercised the incredible collective control and purest of emotion to summon an indescribably gentle, unfettered melody so surreal it was almost little more than a fleeting presence.

I sat down and paid a long-overdue visit to my old friend and once vehemently loathed rival when I was home a week ago. It was only one set of fingers trying clumsily to get reacquainted, and there was absolutely no refined gentleness about it, but there was magic in the room. No matter how long it's been, once you've spoken the language, you thankfully never forget the sound of music.