I like to think the sorority girl in all of us never really dies...she just gets buried by mortgages, dirty diapers, and boring adult responsibilities.
I'm happy to say I've remedied my Inner Sorority Girl Problem (known henceforth as "ISGP")
And it's called Junior League.
(::sparkly fingers::)
I've waxed poetic in this blog about how much I enjoyed my college days, particularly as a result of being surrounded by an amazing house of women. I'm happy for the invention of Facebook, since most us AGDs can communicate with the same level of familarity we shared years ago, this time just over the interwebs and not standing in line for dinner, waiting for the house boys to serve us.
(house boys? Really? Did we really think that was a normal idea? It sure felt normal at the time...but now seems so messed up.)
Anyways, those years were great. I'm not going to say they were the best four years of my life, since that means everything since then has gone downhill (which it hasn't...it's only gotten better). But being in the company of smart, forward-thinking women certainly brings out the best in a person, and I'm so glad I've found my Vegas-equivalent.
Junior League feels like my sorority days but with less (read: no) fraternity basements and stale beer but more (read: all) charitable work and philanthropy. People have actual jobs, real professions, and better shoes. It's win-win, really.
So I mentioned that at the May Luncheon, we find out our committee placement. This is a big deal, since it is a year-long committment. With my little blue fascinator perched on my head, wobbling in my four-inch heels (I'll never learn), I scanned the program with interest to find out who was on my committee. Notice I did not wonder what committee I was on...I kind of already knew that. (surprise!) A few weeks previously, I decided to throw my hat in the ring and volunteer as a chair. For Communications. Which handles press releases, email blasts, the quarterly newsletter, and the Facebook page for Junior League. And they agreed to it.
I can tell you officially: I'm out of my league. Totally.
I have zero background in any of this. I have lots of ideas and can type my little blog like a mad person, but press releases? Public relations? Uh...what? My whole platform when talking with the incoming president centered around turning the quarterly newsletter into more of an USWeekly publication, and she managed to not snicker at me over the phone. Thankfully.
But after the luncheon, as the emails started to fly about transitioning, meetings, and trainings, I felt the small hairs on the back of neck prickle with delicious anticipation: the feeling of expectation - professional expectation - was back in my life. People wanted - no, needed - me to use my brain. They do not need me to scrub orange juice off the floor, or soothe a fussy toddler, or unpack groceries...my brain, my thoughts, my ideas are required and I could literally feel the surge of electricity fire through my cobweb-filled, lullabye-crammed head.
So I did what any good former sorority girl would do: I promptly made a binder.
Several hours (and one cranky Bear) later, my trip to Office Max was complete. I felt organized. Fancy roller-ball pens? Check. Black leather binder with appropriate color-coded dividers? Check. Post-it notes? Triple check: I bought them in orange, yellow and green (for Operations, Fund Development, and Community, the three councils of JL.)
I may have no idea what I'm doing, but at least I look organized.
Bring it.
In one of my first "drunk with power" moments (first of many, I'd imagine), I told Brian with a flip of my hair, "You realize you are the First Man of the Communications Committee."
He buried his head in his hands and sighed heavily.
And while Brian may not be taking my new position seriously, someone else is. Someone offered to be my assistant. And while his telephone skills need work and he keeps messing up my coffee order, he certainly has potential. And really, isn't that what we're looking for?
I'm happy to say I've remedied my Inner Sorority Girl Problem (known henceforth as "ISGP")
And it's called Junior League.
(::sparkly fingers::)
I've waxed poetic in this blog about how much I enjoyed my college days, particularly as a result of being surrounded by an amazing house of women. I'm happy for the invention of Facebook, since most us AGDs can communicate with the same level of familarity we shared years ago, this time just over the interwebs and not standing in line for dinner, waiting for the house boys to serve us.
(house boys? Really? Did we really think that was a normal idea? It sure felt normal at the time...but now seems so messed up.)
Anyways, those years were great. I'm not going to say they were the best four years of my life, since that means everything since then has gone downhill (which it hasn't...it's only gotten better). But being in the company of smart, forward-thinking women certainly brings out the best in a person, and I'm so glad I've found my Vegas-equivalent.
Junior League feels like my sorority days but with less (read: no) fraternity basements and stale beer but more (read: all) charitable work and philanthropy. People have actual jobs, real professions, and better shoes. It's win-win, really.
So I mentioned that at the May Luncheon, we find out our committee placement. This is a big deal, since it is a year-long committment. With my little blue fascinator perched on my head, wobbling in my four-inch heels (I'll never learn), I scanned the program with interest to find out who was on my committee. Notice I did not wonder what committee I was on...I kind of already knew that. (surprise!) A few weeks previously, I decided to throw my hat in the ring and volunteer as a chair. For Communications. Which handles press releases, email blasts, the quarterly newsletter, and the Facebook page for Junior League. And they agreed to it.
I can tell you officially: I'm out of my league. Totally.
I have zero background in any of this. I have lots of ideas and can type my little blog like a mad person, but press releases? Public relations? Uh...what? My whole platform when talking with the incoming president centered around turning the quarterly newsletter into more of an USWeekly publication, and she managed to not snicker at me over the phone. Thankfully.
But after the luncheon, as the emails started to fly about transitioning, meetings, and trainings, I felt the small hairs on the back of neck prickle with delicious anticipation: the feeling of expectation - professional expectation - was back in my life. People wanted - no, needed - me to use my brain. They do not need me to scrub orange juice off the floor, or soothe a fussy toddler, or unpack groceries...my brain, my thoughts, my ideas are required and I could literally feel the surge of electricity fire through my cobweb-filled, lullabye-crammed head.
So I did what any good former sorority girl would do: I promptly made a binder.
Several hours (and one cranky Bear) later, my trip to Office Max was complete. I felt organized. Fancy roller-ball pens? Check. Black leather binder with appropriate color-coded dividers? Check. Post-it notes? Triple check: I bought them in orange, yellow and green (for Operations, Fund Development, and Community, the three councils of JL.)
I may have no idea what I'm doing, but at least I look organized.
Bring it.
In one of my first "drunk with power" moments (first of many, I'd imagine), I told Brian with a flip of my hair, "You realize you are the First Man of the Communications Committee."
He buried his head in his hands and sighed heavily.
And while Brian may not be taking my new position seriously, someone else is. Someone offered to be my assistant. And while his telephone skills need work and he keeps messing up my coffee order, he certainly has potential. And really, isn't that what we're looking for?
Official ChairBear
Also, I'm totally making t-shirts for my committee.
Squeal!
Squeal!
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