on turning 20.....

I don’t think I’ll be able to fit in all 9 birthdays that I had in my 20’s…..so, I’ll just pick the ones that I have pictures for….

My 20^th birthday

I had just come home from spending 9 months in England.

I “graduated” high-school in 2000 when I was 18. I was adamantly against going to college. I did not see the point. I didn’t need a piece of paper telling me I could be someone in this world. It was too typical. It was too “normal”. It was too “everything” that I was not about. 

If you haven’t already figured this out by now, my parents really let their kids take the lead role in the play called “life”. My parents were very supportive of my decision not to go to college right away.

 I stayed in Meridian for a year and taught piano to my already existing cliental of about 12. I think I had around 20 students when I quit teaching. I loved teaching piano, by the way. And years later when I saw that some of my students continued playing, it made my heart swell with pride.

I saved up all my money during those last few years of “high-school” (I say that because remember, I was home-schooled….) and I knew that I wanted to travel and experience other cultures.

 I started studying education styles and theology when I was around 15….this led to my discovery of L’Abri (if you’re familiar with Francis Schaeffer, then you might know what this is). I decided I wanted to go spend some time at this sort of communal hippie place—and I did just that.

 I moved right outside of London (south of London, actually) when I was 19. My mom flew over with me and we spent a week in Paris, France and a week in London before she dropped me off in Hampshire for what was supposed to be a 3 month stay.

I ended up staying at L’Abri for close to 9 months when all was said and done. To say I fell in love is an understatement. I not only loved what L’Abri was and what it was all about—I fell in love with England. And with the people. And just their way of life, in general.

The only reason I came back to the States was because I ran out of money.

I learned a lot about the way I viewed the world. I learned a lot (more) about the world, in general. That more people were broken and hurt and lonely and sad than previously realized. And that stigmatisms existed everywhere.

I cut my hair (which has always been exceptionally long..and blonde) off and dyed it red. I pierced my nose. And I began a love-affair with beer.

 My first beer I ever drank was a Guinness. I started smoking beadies……I did what most people probably did at a much younger age…but because I was home-schooled and found none of those things appealing until then, they were mostly a first for me.

 I had certainly consumed alcohol before—but it wasn’t much.

I gained at least 30 pounds……from all the delicious beer I was consuming (not to mention all the pastry shops that were at every corner). I fell in love with Indian cuisine….and coffee. I learned to love coffee in England and I came home with a French press and never learned how to use a traditional coffee maker until a few years ago.

My dad literally did not recognize me when my parents flew over to “get me”. Needless to say, it was not my best look;)

When we flew into Meridian, my brothers couldn’t find me in the crowd…and when they saw me, I remember them being absolutely amazed at the size of my ass. And how large it had suddenly grown;)

I should also mention that when I started drinking regularly, I should have known that something was a little different about the way I drank. Within the first two weeks of me becoming a drinker, I had been pulled aside by several of the workers and my friends “preaching” to me about learning when you’ve had enough….stopping at 2 pints….etc, etc. Of course I just thought I was an in-experienced drinker and that I would naturally, sort of, come-in-to my own as a drinker….sadly, that day never arrived.

I was bitter and angry when my parents came to bring me home. I had absolutely ZERO desire to return to the States—much less Mississippi. I was so arrogant and cocky and rude—my parents literally had me moved from where I was sitting on the plane because I was adamant about drinking during the flight back to the States. 

Keep in mind I was 19…and it was still legal until we got back to the USA.

 I had become so cultured—so sophisticated—and so cerebral that I literally couldn’t stand anything American. Everything was dirty. Everything was cheap. Everybody was stupid. Everything was so kitsch. It lacked the beauty and history (well, duh) of Europe. It just wasn’t good enough for me anymore.

I was angry for a long time when I returned home. I had no idea who or what I was angry at. I now see that it was myself.

I had decided in England to pursue a degree in Art History. I thought Art History encompassed basically everything about human nature. I spent all my free time at the Tate Modern and the National Gallery.

When I came back to the good ole USA, I signed up immediately for Meridian Community College. I knew if I ever wanted to return to my beloved new home called England, I would need an education—and money.

I turned 20 about a week after I first started college.

I was scared. I felt out of place. I felt different. I felt alone. I felt like I knew more than anyone else. I felt like people around me just didn’t “get it”. I was an egotistical bastard in the form of a 20 year old child.

Looking at this picture I have a lot of sympathy for this girl I see….

Jennifer, You had no idea that it was okay to admit that you didn’t know what was going on. You didn’t need to be so different. People loved you for who you were inside—not who you were trying to be on the outside. Your parents are not the enemy. They have more wisdom than you will ever know. You should have listened to them. America is not the enemy. Mississippi is not the enemy. You will, in a few short years, be preaching about how much you love your State and how happy you are to be a Mississippi girl. You were the enemy. You were fighting a battle that you would never win. Little did you know.

When I turned 20, I was convinced I would be back in Europe in no time. Obtaining my PhD in Art History—falling in love with British men—taking walks around the Thames—drinking tea and eating scones.

Within 6 months of turning 20, I loved my State again. I fell in love with MCC and my professors and several of my classmates. I made friendships that have lasted since that fateful semester. I ended up losing the weight, being forced to take out my nose ring( because it was grossly infected), my hair returned to its normal color—but I still had an ache in my heart to return to England. In fact, I do now still. It’s been 10 years and I haven’t been back since.

One day.