Age meme from
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thistleingrey. Comment if you would like an age.
When I was 16:
I lived in: Mostly, in something that used to be a hospital but was/is now the dormitory for a boarding magnet school that takes grades 11-12. (I was in grade 12 at the time as a result of a grade skip and a summer birthday.) On our monthly-ish visits home, I lived in a large house my parents had recently moved into. Oh, when I
turned sixteen I was living with my grandparents for the summer because I had a job in the area. My step-grandmother didn’t poison me, and I think we both counted that as a win. (I’ve never inquired as to why they agreed to it in the first place; probably pressure from my step-aunt and husband, who got me the job and whom my grandparents actually liked.)
I drove: At school, we weren’t allowed to have cars, so nothing. When I went home, my mom forced me to drive; I think it was my cousin’s Camry that he used while he was at school in the States and which he bequeathed to my family when he went back home.
I was in a relationship with: Not, of course, including my family, the most important and intensive relationship I had at 16 was with K -- I’m sure I spent more time with her than with my family (though given the boarding nature of our school, and the inclusiveness of our group of friends, I suppose I spent a lot more time with a lot more people than with my family).
…oh, what, you mean
romantic relationships? I had a short and ill-fated relationship with another boy at school; we seem to have mostly been attracted to each other because we were both smart, without any consideration of whether, y’know, our personalities meshed at all. I realized this well before he did (although he figured it out eventually; unfortunately, not before we broke up). Oh, and I was still 16, in fact, when I started my second real relationship with a boy that summer (we were both at a summer program -- in fact, also with the ex mentioned before, heh; it wasn’t awkward, though, because at the time he was dating another friend of mine). This was the first time I actually fell in love, which turned out to be two years of long-distance adolescent angst culminating in an unpleasant ending. (Oh, hey. Googling shows that both of them became professors in our shared discipline. Neat!)
I feared: I don’t remember particularly then. Probably cancer, or something happening to my family. I spent a lot of time worrying about stuff like that. I also worried about grades, depending on the class. I think I worried curiously little about college. I worried about looking stupid.
I worked at: School. College applications. Violin.
I wanted to be: I have written proof that on my college applications I said I wanted to be a doctor. I probably would have said, if I knew my parents weren’t around, that I wanted to be a professor.
Now:
I live in: A house, both smaller and costlier than my parents’, alas.
I drive: An Accord, usually.
I’m in a relationship: with D, for, eek, thirteen years, seven of them married. Though I suppose given that I used the time metric earlier: I spend far more time with E, our adorable three-year-old.
I fear: Something terrible happening to my family, particularly health-wise. I fear what might be a hidden strain of genetics in our family breaking through to my family or my sister’s family. I still fear looking stupid.
I work at: a lot of things, so that I probably don’t give any of them justice, because my attention span is approximately five minutes. In my day job, technical analysis, project management, and proposal writing, mostly. Parenting, some parts of which I am naturally good at and some of which I am naturally terrible at. Music stuff for church, which some weeks takes very little (non-church) time, some weeks takes more time, and occasional weeks has been known to consume all my time. Catholic choir section leading. I have one violin student, the son of friends, although he’s starting to get good enough that I’m worried he should really have a better teacher — I’ll probably talk to his parents about it soon. On the other hand, I’m much cheaper than anyone his parents could find otherwise (since I’m a friend, inexperienced in teaching, and bring E to play with their other kids), so. Writing, with extremely slow improvement and sometimes backtracking.
I want to be: oh, a lot of things. A hard worker. (Working on that one; some
weeksmonths are better than others.) A better critical thinker, especially in terms of science. Better at ordinary socialization. To borrow from thistleingrey: I’d like to be more gracious. Also, I’d like to be a choir conductor. (I will be shocked if I’m not called to it at my church sometime in my life, probably when E is a little older.)
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