Marisa's Laughter Page

Read along in this column to see what kind of stuff I find to go along with my wild story this week. Sometimes it's funny, other times, a bit more serious. You never know!

You can always find 80's music at

Did you wear Izod shirts?

A Swatch?

If the lack of humor on this site REALLY offends you try this one:

www.marklowry.com

or buy some of his work:

Gosh, it's hard to call that work. It sounds like too much fun.

Wanna start your OWN web site? Here's my host:

Here's some sports trivia from the 80's...

Here's a sampling of some of the albums I bought in the 80's...

And, some of those R-rated movies...OK, OK, so some were really PG-13...actually, back then they didn't have PG-13. But some were PG, some were R then.

And, of course, the ultimate 80's high school movies (almost like going back in time...)

If you really want confession, visit my BLOGS!

Weighty Matters

GWC

The Christian Working Mom's Blog

u c i have this website...

Warning! I haven't updated these blogs since I can't remember when.

Enjoy!

January 26, 2003

We are the eighties! But why?

I have a confession to make.

I like 80's music.

I say this in the form of a confession because my husband thinks I should be ashamed. He didn't like most 80's music when it was new, much less now. He is a musician's musician, in my opinion, one of those folks who thinks he's too cool to listen to new wave and dance music. He's so true to his craft, he won't listen to contemporary Christian music because on the one hand you have gospel, and on the other you have the rebellious nature of rock and roll, and never the twain shall meet.

Me, I was a top-40 girl in the 80's, and I still like those same songs today. I'm not a top-40 girl now, but I do like some of today's current hits (not many, but that's fodder for another week) as well as contemporary Christian. I suppose it's like Paula Abdul said back in 1989, "Opposites Attract."

Yes, I like 80's music. That's not all I listen to, because I have a little saying about 80's music:

There are some things about the 80's I'd rather not remember.

I was kind of a misfit in high school, which is where I spent four years in the first half of the 80's. I thought I'd be a popular athlete like my mom, who was a homecoming attendant one year, and went to the senior prom her sophomore year, and...well, if she hadn't married my dad after her junior year, she wouldn't have had me three weeks before her prom, but she might've exceeded her previous popularity.

All my life I heard that senior year is the best, the most fun. Maybe for some folks, but it wasn't for me. I was much happier my junior year, when I was learning to drive and starting my first job and getting into R-rated movies for the first time. Well, legally for the first time, anyway.

My senior year got off to a rotten start when a good friend died the first week, and three other friends and neighbors died within four months. That would've been bad enough, but I just had to screw myself up socially as well.

I started my slide down the social ladder by running for student council vice-president. So did another girl, one who resembles Laura Dern (even now). In comparison, I looked more like Cyndi Lauper. I thought my election-day outfit looked cool. Most of my classmates thought I looked like I'd been to Mars. Needless to say, I didn't win.

When it came time for superlative elections, I didn't even get nominated. All my friends did. They'd tell me to my face that I should've gotten "Most Likely to Succeed" or "Most Intellectual," but I learned that behind my back they thought I was silly for even thinking I was superlative material.

My best friend decided she wanted to spend much more time hanging out with a guy in our little circle of friends. Oh, I knew why - he was gorgeous - but she'd never admit she was following her heart instead of her head. He didn't appeal to me at all, because once he opened his smart mouth and all that came out were snide remarks, I didn't have anything to say to him. He was the type of guy who made himself feel better by running everyone else down. They went to dinner on New Year's Eve. I spent that night at home alone, while my parents, brothers, and even my grandmother (!) partied until the wee hours.

My homecoming date was a freshman. I know, what an insult! But he DID look good. I think he'd failed two or three years. He was one of my neighbors, and while he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, he showed me a lot of attention and we liked each other a lot. Then he hooked up with his ex-girlfriend at the homecoming dance. Now I was insulted.

All year long, even when I was dating freshman boy, I had a crush on an old buddy of mine. He was kind of bashful and I think he was afraid his parents would freak if he had a girlfriend. He was an only child, very babied, but his parents were really nice folks who liked me a lot. I don't know who he thought he was fooling. In retrospect, I think he liked me a lot, but I'm not sure he knew what to do with me. That was fine, at the time. He was pretty and it was enough for me just to be in the same room with him, which I was quite a lot of the time. He had shiny blonde hair and beautiful blue eyes, and a gorgeous smile. I don't think he ever wore braces, either.

I'm sitting here watching the Super Bowl as I write this, and I can't help but see a resemblance in the Tampa Bay coach, Jon Gruden. The old crush doesn't look like that now. I run into him every now and then. He's bald, bearded, and heavier. He looks all right now, though, I guess, just different.

But I wasn't nearly as patient then than I am now, and I wasn't about to sit around waiting on him to come around and join the fun. I had other guys to chase, like this guy who worked at a big department store at the local mall. He lived in a trailer, by himself, next door to his parents. He was such a nice guy, but he just didn't have the heart to tell me that he wasn't nearly as interested in me as I so obviously was in him. But we remained friends too, despite the fact that I did everything within my power to throw myself at him. He still works in that store in the mall, and whenever I see him, he's always very, very sweet.

One day I went in the store with one of my co-workers, who laughed when I took her over to the side and told her about my horrible crush on him seventeen or so years ago. She worked the poor guy, making him climb up on a display to get a shirt in a color she liked, and then decided she didn't want it. I was kind of embarrassed. But being the diplomatic softie he is (and a good employee of the store), he didn't complain at all. He even acted like I was never a pain in the rear back in the day.

Later I learned that this co-worker (who isn't a co-worker anymore, for totally unrelated reasons) told all our co-workers what a psycho I was, not just over the guy from the store, but other honest stories I'd told her from my past. I was so embarrassed and hurt when I heard what she told these people. I think the key word there is PAST...

Do I wish I could go back to the 80's? No. Never. I think I felt that painful, exposed, ashamed feeling at least once a week back then.

But I remember fun times in the 80's too. I did, after all, go to college in the 80's as well, and I fit in a little better there. It was during those years that I met the man who became my husband, and made a lot of friends. Even my stupid actions in those days weren't quite as embarrassing as the ones from the high school days.

And even then, I may have been a total boob, but I had great times too. I wasn't a popular athlete, and I didn't get in the homecoming court, but I did get to the senior prom my sophomore year. AND my senior year. Speaking of my senior prom, I have other confessions I could make too, but given the latest interpretations of my confession record, I think I'll stop there.

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