Barbies and Colleges

The people in my family never played Barbies the right way. My sister would jump the parts of Barbie's life she thought were insignificant. She would move Barbie along to prom, or her wedding without ever having to work to get there. In her world, Barbie had no reason to ride in her yellow Volkswagen bug when she could ride in the pink stretch limo with six of her closest Barbie friends. Barbie always wore full ball gowns and a fancy up-do. Together, we found ourselves fighting over what exactly playing Barbies was supposed to be about.

I thought Barbies should have rules, and regulations. I thought that even make-believe land should follow basic order. And basic order said that Barbie had to go shopping for a dress, and fight to get a date before she could even think about going to prom. My sister viewed it as a time to fantasize; a time with no boundaries and no boring obligations to hold her back. I fought hard for my shopping trip and discreet flirting. I tried to convince her of the obvious reality that my way was the right way. I knew how to play barbies. She was obviously confused.

She wasn't the only one who didn't know how to play though. My father was equally as bad. I remember thumping the front of his newspaper as he tried to read and begging him to play with us. My sister and I would simply move our game to his belly and annoy until he caved. We would beg him to join our game until, with great hesitation, he would gently fold his great paper back up and pick up a Ken doll. Even my idiot baby sister knew he played the wrong way. First, my father never wanted to go to prom. His form of Barbies involved taking Barbie and Ken on an extensive hike up Backofthecouch Mountain. When the two would finally reach the summit, he would throw Ken across the room exclaiming "OWWWW, I broke my leggggg." At which point Ken would retire to the hospital to have his femur set, and my father would return to his paper.

I look back at that little girl, and I can still feel the pulls of frustration she felt. Even writing this, I glared a bit at my sister when she pranced through the living room with a bowl of salsa. Those emotions are still so real and so palpable. So completely... unatractive. I reminisce to those long days clutching plastic dolls, and feel sorry for my young self. Earlier, I was laying in my bed thinking about the past. In so many ways I have changed the type of person I am, and the way that I respond to conflict. Yet, even today, I am still that little girl who doesn't like not having control.

College has been unbearably difficult on me for that reason. Everything I can do to get into college has been done. I have made the grades. I have sent in applications, and expanded resumes and transcripts. Now, I can't do anything. The only thing I can do is check the mail. And I do that with astonishing resiliency. Not only do I check the stack of mail my father places on my desk every day, I hike down to the mailbox "just to make sure". I'm easily frustrated and annoyed these days. I want to just know. I want to be told whether Barbie will be going to prom or dress shopping or hiking(god forbid). I want to be told so that I can know how I will react. Know which place I can play Barbie the boring, controlling way I play Barbies.

Here I am, thirteen years older than my past self. But from the way I act, it could have been yesterday. I've simply replaced my Barbies with Colleges. Instead of Barbie, and Theresa and Mandy I have UT and Yale and Reed. These Barbies and bigger and scarier. Worst of all, these new barbies don't play the way I want them to play. I have to wait until they decide how they want to play. Its much harder to control Universities.