Red, White and Blue
As the Olympics came to an end this week, I began to run the previous two weeks of world events in my head.
The Olympics are suppposed to be a celebration of the world's "communities" coming together to share one dream, the hope that there will be peace and happiness in everyone's hearts while each country's best athletes compete for a medal, status and hopefully some high-paying endorsements.
But this year I wasn't "feelin'" the Olympic spirit. I probably only watched a combined 40 minutes of the games this year, disappointed that the world didn't stop to watch the games either. Besides my mom and my friend Laurie trying to squeeze every minute of Olympic viewing in, I don't know anyone else who cared.
After pondering the concept of the Olympics, I had an idea of U.S. Government Olympics. The idea behind Government Olympics is that the Red team (Republicans) and the Blue team (Democrats)will come together for atleast a month and not throw stones at each other. Why can't the U.S. government, republicans and democrats (and everyone inbetween, the White team) get together, shake each other's hands and listen and play nice with the other team without playing the blame game?
Supermodel teenagers
My assignment for a class was to choose a magazine and pitch a story idea to them for a future issue. "Any magazine?" I ask. "Yes, any magazine." I immediately think of writing for Seventeen magazine, a publication which I devoured in high school. I couldn't wait to get home from school and see my new magazine waiting for me in the mailbox. How I loved to flip to the department where a high school was randomly chosen in the U.S. and the students adorned the pages with their trendy clothes, mohawk hair styles and piercings I didn't know existed. Growing up in a small Midwest town, I was not exposed to much variety, especially kids my own age who had the freedom of expression without harassment from others.
So when I ran through the grocery store on my way to school yesterday to buy the latest copy of Seventeen, I was quickly disappointed when I discovered my beloved high school department had been replaced with articles on losing your virginity, the latest make-tips and fashionable clothes that I like (at the age of 26).
Sometime in the last 10 years, teenagers have gone from fairly innocent to sky-rocketing past 16 into their mid 20's. Why is a teen magazine displaying clothes for "The Office"? Why do the ads feature girls with more make-up on to disguise their youthful look and make me believe I'm looking at a girl my age?
I begin to have flashbacks of my teen years, when I went to high school in whatever ratty pair of jeans I could find laying on my floor and the typical oversized sweatshirt and my Old Skool Vans. Then I remember the girls who showed up to school with their high heels click-clacking down the hallway, perfectly matching their mini skirt and tube top.
This makes me realize the girls haven't changed a bit. It's the media that has changed. It seems there's more promotion over beauty than brains. There are more ads featuring make-up and hot clothing designers in Seventeen than articles on "Getting Into College" or "How to Make a Difference in Someone's Life".
I would like to think I am past the impressionable age when I don't compare myself to the emaciated models in the magazines anymore. I'd like to believe that I have more self-esteem than I did in high school. I have wonderful friends, great grades in school and am on my way to a professional career. I have seen and done enough in my short 26 years that I am grateful for who I have become since my lonely teen years. I understand what's important in life and what people don't think twice about.
When my sister started her freshman year at U-Minnesota, I told her not to discount anyone she meets. "Who can't use another friend?" I leave ringing in her ears. Once you get to college, no one cares if you were prom queen or what you wore to class. It's not important that you dated the quarterback or never got asked to a dance. I believe that college is this wonderful transition into the real world in more ways than just cramming for exams or crashing the biggest Frat party.
I'd like to think that my "worldly, mature advice" on the real world would help those girls who are struggling through high school. I'd like to save them time, drama and confusion they are facing with the article I'd like to include in their favorite magazine.
After my class dismissed, I sadly put away my new copy of Seventeen in my bag. I don't know what I'm more disappointed in, the fact that my old love has changed beyond my recognition, or that the advice I'd like to give young girls won't be accepted among the sex stories, celebrity gossip and mini skirt ads.
Exercise #1
My eyes start to glaze over as I approach another cute little community that has popped up in Denver for that young thirty-something who drives a Volkswagen Jetta toting their yellow lab in the back seat. But I’m quickly surprised when I drive through Lowry Town Center and discover the quaint neighborhood nestled just outside of the downtown hustle and bustle. There’s only one Starbuck’s, which is located inside the Albertson’s grocery store, and the only other commercialized businesses I find are Q-doba, Peaberry, Cost Cutters, the Delectable Egg and Pei Wei. The other 31 shops located along the four-block “Main Street” are small, independent businesses that cater to the some 10,000 residents that live within a one-mile radius.
In all the charm of this pedestrian friendly layout, the locals seem to take advantage of a lazy Sunday morning and stroll from shop to shop with a folded Sunday paper under their arm accompanied by a Peaberry coffee cup in one hand and restraining their dog with the other. This quiet community makes me feel like I have just been transformed into the 1950s where Sunday’s were reserved for meeting with family and friends to catch up on the latest gossip and sit on the front porch and watch the world go by. Some people wave to each other from across the street while others gather on the sidewalk to discuss world news and “the kids”. I feel like an outsider not knowing anyone’s names or being able to recognize the children running into Timbuk Toys.
I’m waiting for some pack of teenagers to speed through the 20 mph zone with their stereo screeching and hysterical laughter bursting from inside the car to disrupt this peaceful morning on this seemingly perfect community, but I am disappointed. Not only do the residents here have everything they need at Lowry Town Center, they also have the perfect playground for their trendy dinner dates, stroller walks with their children and coffee breaks at a table for two big enough for their laptop, newspaper and favorite book.
I interrupt one java guzzling local on the street to question her if my visit to this small city escape is real. She assures me it is with a quick smile and deep breath.
“It’s like a little town,” Karla Schultz, 29, said. “It’s like living in a vacation land. It’s so economically friendly and I don’t have to drive to get all my necessities.”
She tells me that this is her favorite place to live in Denver after a few years of renting apartments and houses in Capital Hill and Washington Park. Since she spends her week working full time downtown, she welcomes this neighborhood with open arms and sighs of relief. She has lived here for three years in the Grand Lowry Lofts, which are conveniently one block away from the heart of “Main Street.”
After my stroll along the street making mental notes of all the shops here, I begin to think of excuses to come back. “Should I bring my bike to Pedal Pushers Cyclery for that much needed fix-up? Are there any upcoming baby showers that would give me a good reason to shop in studio bini? I wonder if the margaritas at Salty Rita's are worth driving across town for on a hot summer night.”
I find my way back to my car and I realize I’m a little hesitant to leave. I don’t want to fight for a parking spot downtown, not to mention all the traffic. I leave wondering when I will be one of those young thirty-something’s driving a Volkswagen Jetta with a yellow lab in the back seat who has just found the easy going life located just far enough outside the city, but not quite in the suburbs. After all, driving a Jetta with a dog in the back is far better than a mini van with three screaming kids in the back seat, toting them to soccer practice.
