Know Your Skill Set!

Coming to you live from my hometown today. The historical site where I skinned my knees, wore my braces, and took my SATs. All painful experiences that might explain why I left. I'm here visiting my half-sister. She's fourteen (I'm rounding up on her behalf) and while I'm here to cheer her on in volleyball, I'll also try to start arming her for the battle that lies ahead. Because if there's a state of being more confusing than that of being a teen girl, I'd hate to see it.

I think the sparkliest jewel of wisdom I have to impart to her is always be yourself. Knowing who you are is of course an intregral part of this plan. Because becoming who you think someone wants you to be is a slippery slope. Most slopes are.

It may start with something as innocuous as professing to like Pepsi instead of Coke. Because that's what HE likes. But then the next thing you know you have to sacrifice seeing the new Sandra Bullock romantic comedy because you pretended to like action movies and now it's Saturday night and you're going to see Rebel Ninja Cowboy Soldier Bounty Hunters from the Eighth Realm of Destruction, Part 2.

And before you know it, you're a freshman in college and you meet a cute boy who mentions that he likes rollerblading and says, "Do you rollerblade?"

"Oh yeah, I love it!"

"We could go sometime. Friday?"

"Sounds great!"

Then cute college boy departs and you're left with forty-eight hours to A - come up with a pair of rollerblades and B - learn how to use them. You find a girl on your hall that has rollerblades, and in a stroke of semi-luck, they're only a half size too small. She lets you borrow them, but doesn't have time to give you a private lesson. But that's okay because how hard can it be? You rollerskated as a kid.

You find out exactly how hard it is when you're teetering around the student center with cute college boy and realize you have no innate sense of balance and in order to prevent breaking your face, you cushion your triple sow cow dismount by catching yourself with your hands and you sprain your wrist. (The left one, hypothetically.)

So, little sister, just tell him you like Coke and let the chips fall where they may!