a dream dies before it had a chance to live

During 1993-1995 my dad was stationed at McGuire, AFB in New Jersey. One of the most boring locations you could pick on the east coast. To "venture" out into this town would mean antiquing or playing the skill crane at Wal-Mart. However, this town did have one thing going for it. Probably the greatest source of financial revenue next to the Wawa. I am, of course, talking about the Warner Bros creation that is Six Flags Great Adventure or "Great A" for those of you from the area.

My parents quickly realized that a Summer Season Pass would pay for itself in two visits to the park. They also realized they would drop us kids off at the park for hours with $5 and have an afternoon without four sugar crazed brats fighting over the Super Nintendo.

One particularly beautiful day, the whole Bray family decided it would be nice if we went to the park together. Having an even number of people in your family is always convenient when going to a theme park as the rides tend to cater toward a numerical balance. Pairs were: Merideth and Sarah. Clifton and Mom. Dad and I. We had gone through half the park by mid-day and were making our way to the Wild Wild West section when my dad pointed out something he saw on the amphitheater marquee. It read:

"Wild and Crazy Kids LIVE Show!!"

Clifton and I went berserk with excitement pulling on our parents toward the theater. Wild and Crazy Kids was not our favorite show on Nickelodeon. It was definitely on the lower half of the scale. We may have even groaned and changed the channel when it came on. But we didn't care. This was a TV show and we were going to see famous people who were on TV.

As we entered the theater, teenagers sporting the famous "Wild and Crazy" t-shirts asked our family if we would be interested in going up on stage for the "dance-off" competition. Merideth and Sarah immediately rolled their eyes and before my parents could even look at each other to discuss, I took charge.

"That's 'B' as in boy, R. A. Y. Bray"

We walked into a sea of lunatics. Hundreds were high on tacky, early-90's entertainment. Finally, the hosts of the show jumped onto the stage and for the next 15 minutes proceeded to make random kids perform demeaning tasks such as sitting on a whip-cream filled balloon or attempt to walk with an egg between their knees. Then they announced the dance-off competition, calling out three family's names including ours. My dad told us to scream and cheer when our name was called so we would have a good chance at winning. We immediately jumped up and down, hollering the whole way to the stage.

Let's pause.

Never has my family been "wild and crazy." We are not a "wild and crazy" bunch. The "wildest" and "craziest" thing we had done up to this point was sneak our dog into hotel rooms that didn't allow pets whenever we were on a family vacation. I don't think we had mentally prepared ourselves for how "wild and crazy" the crowd was expecting us to get.

Back to the games.

I sized the other families up. They were definitely smaller than ours. One having five members and the other having only three. This competition was going to be a piece of cake. Suddenly, the music started and we were instructed through blow horns to start dancing. I did what any other 8-year-old kid who was trying to win a dance-off would do. I did my best epileptic seizure impression mixed with "The Robot." Then my dad grabbed my hands and started spinning me in circles. Faster and faster so that my feet were barely touching the ground. I started to freak out, screaming at his to stop and that I was going to fall down. Dad didn't care. He wanted the Bray name to be associated with winning and if that meant sacrificing his youngest daughters limbs then by all means keep dancing.

The music stopped and I reprimanded Dad for being so careless. He claimed he could not hear me over the crowds cheers. Whatever. Next came the judging. The winner was determined by the level of the audiences claps. Our family was first. I was expecting roaring cheers and hearing the name "Bray" chanted throughout the crowd. On a scale from 1-10 our cheers were maybe at a 5. A 5. Pitiful. The other families received cheers much louder than ours and I was convinced they must have had a lot of friends and other family members strategically placed within the audience. I left the stage feeling defeated and embarrassed as the hosts handed me a neon pink "Wild and Crazy Kids" participatory t-shirt. For the rest of the day I wondered what the Bray family had done wrong and I prayed that this event wouldn't end up on a future episode.

To this day dancing in public makes me royally anxious. I hate it. If I am forced to go to a club or party where dancing is the primary form of entertainment, I lead people to think I am being a "goofy" dancer because I choose to. Not because I am having an internal panic attack about my random arm and leg placement during a Girl Talk mix and I have no idea how to find the beat.

With that being said, I would like to blame Wild and Crazy Kids for my fear of dancing. I could have been a marvelous dancer but you robbed me of my talent by humiliating me at the tender age of eight. Forcing me to believe that if I couldn't win the hearts of a Six Flags audience, how would I win the hearts of the world? Thank you Wild and Crazy Kids. You heartless, talent-sucking reality children's program.

Mixed signals need erasers

A friend of mine from high school recently posted some pictures from the glory days of adolescence on Facebook. Here's a treat for you - I have cropped the picture to protect the innocent:

Okay, okay, okay. Let's get past the braces, stained lips and Indiglo watch. Seeing this picture brought back a memory of mine from 8th grade. Why? Because the boy in the Chicago Bulls jersey behind me, Rudy, was my boyfriend for 3 hours. Or so I thought.

I feel the need to reiterate the fact that I was the epitome of teenage awkwardness is unnecessary. That being said, let's move on to this particular day in Karen history:

I was currently in Choir when a classmate, Christina, rushed to the desk next to mine.

"Karen. Last period Laura and I were talking to Rudy about you."

Christina was your typical gossiper. We took what we she said with a grain of salt but she was definitely part of the "popular" crowd and the dichotomy between her social status and mine was reason enough for me to pay her ample respect. Not to mention, Laura was a good friend of mine and I knew I could always go to her for reassurance.

"Well.....what did you guys talk about?" I prepared myself for the worst. Did I sit in gum? Had they seen a test I had failed? Was my Giga Pet obsession the talk of the 8th grade class?

"Laura and I were just talking you up to Rudy. Saying you would make a cute couple."

I had never considered Rudy as a potential boyfriend. However, with my track record of no boyfriend, I figured this might be the opportune moment to know what it's like to hold hands with a guy. Maybe even talk to one.

"Wait? You guys were talking about...me?" I gave her my infamous bug-eyed look.

"YES! Rudy seems TOTALLY in to you! You should go out with him!"

Christina was more enthusiastic for this set up than I was. However, I didn't take much convincing. I weighed my options and boyfriend was better than sans boyfriend. There was a Spring dance around the corner and I knew I was not going to be in the mood to hang out in the bleachers hoping for a dance partner during "All My Life" and "Kiss The Rain." I told her to tell Rudy I accepted the offer and immediately developed serious butterflies in my stomach.

Luckily, Laura was in my next class and I knew I would be able to get more juicy details from her. She definitely confirmed the conversation between Christina and Rudy was geared toward the development of a youthful and impractical relationship. For some reason, this became the topic of conversation in our 4th period History class. The girls in the class scurried over to my desk wanting all the details about my newfound love. I didn't have much to say since I hadn't actually seen the subject of my relationship status since Homeroom. That didn't stop the girls from drawing "Karen + Rudy" in hearts on my 3 ring binder.

For the next hour and a half, through lunch period and dodgeball in gym, I put the rumors to rest and affirmed to Pine Forest Junior High that Rudy and I were, in fact, the new couple. I walked the halls with my head held high, looking forward to going home and sharing with my mother that I finally had a guy interested in more than my knowledge of Jurassic Park and Super Mario Brothers.

Rudy and I had 6th period together. I was awaiting this moment all day. The moment I would finally get to talk to him and plan our weekend date.

Unfortunately, I didn't have a plan for the ACTUAL events that occurred during 6th period. Rudy was immediately bombarded by the boys in class, asking if he was, in fact, "going out" with me. From across the room, I noticed his blushed cheeks and I began to panic.

Were we really going out? Had I jumped the gun? How can I get out of this situation if it turns sour? Why hadn't the teacher started the lesson so everyone would stop chatting?

The guys moved their interrogation over to me. They asked if I thought Rudy and I were together. Why did I have "Karen + Rudy" written all over my notebook? Would we be sitting in the same seat on the bus ride after school?

I didn't know what to say. I looked over at Rudy and saw the embarrassment in his face. Immediately, I knew what to do.

"Rudy and I are not going out, guys. Come on!" I rolled my eyes and waited until the guys left my desk before I scratched out the "Karen + Rudy" on my notebook. The fantasy I had of having a boyfriend dissolved faster than it began. Naturally, I was bummed. It was difficult convincing everyone that I was just joking when I prematurely stated I was no longer available for potential suitors.

At the young age of 13, I learned a lot about boys and the fickle rules of dating. A year later, I would finally have the opportunity to "go out" with a guy. Can't say it was an overall success, but I certainly did not make the previous mistakes. To this day I still never know whether or not I am following the right "rules" but let me tell you, I have NEVER written a guy's name in my notebook since.

Here is another token from my wonder years:

Lisa Frank and child entrepreneurs

I'm supposed to be calculating my budget right now. And by "calculating" I mean determining how much I can spend on McDonalds and shoes this month. It's the responsible thing to do. My dad taught me how to "budget" when I was 5ish. He had me sell Kool-Aid and cookies at a yard sale and taught me the value of a savings account and interest. Since then I became very familiar with the value of a dollar and how to multiply it.

When I was 8, I had a friend named Mallory. Mallory's family was loaded. The only reason I went to her house was to loose myself in their playroom. They also had leather arm chairs in their study, the kind that I imagine Sherlock Holmes or Dick Clark sitting in, and I liked to pretend I was the host of a scary story radio show. Don't ask.

Let's cut to a quick side story. My sister, Sarah, always had pages of Lisa Frank stickers. In 1990, Lisa Frank was a hot commodity and every girl wanted to cover their trapper keepers in rainbow colored koala bears and unicorns. I was very familiar with this rage and wanted to know how I could profit from it. I didn't care how I got there, just as long as it made me the richest 2nd grader at Warrenwood Elementary and, naturally, the most popular.

Back to Mallory. I stole a small page of Lisa Frank stickers from Sarah. (This was not unusual. I stole a lot of things from my siblings.) The page had about 10 small stickers on it. I brought it over to Mallory's one day with the determination of a used car dealer wanting make a sale on a 1970 Gremlin. Let's face it, Mallory was sucker. I convinced her to give me $10 for that small page of crummy stickers. I went home proud of my profit and wondered how I could steal more sticker pages to bring to school the next day and sell to the other chumps in my class. Unfortunately, for me, I had one sharp mother who I had yet to outsmart at my young age.

"Karen, WHERE did you get ten dollars from?!"

I had not yet reached the point in life when money was exchanged for household chores so I knew I had to think fast.

"I....found it....." Sharp mother did not produce sharp child.

"Karen. You did not find it. Where did you get the money?"

If you know me at all, you know I cave at the slightest bit any kind of interrogation. I burst into tears and use my doe eyes as my greatest defense.

"I took some of Sarah's stickers and sold them to Mallory!!!" I mustered up with a quivering lip.

With four kids, my mom perfected the stare down. I knew I had it coming. My punishment would entail returning the money to Mallory and replacing Sarah's stickers. Now I was out ten bucks AND had to somehow come up with the cash to buy my sister new psychedelic, drug inducing Lisa Frank "artwork."

I never said my ideas to "multiple the dollar" were successful. Right now I am far to busy breaking in my new Chucks and ordering take-out to share the prosperous stories/ideas. Another time, kids. Another time.

loves of my life....well, for this week anyway

You could say I had an amusing array of celebrity crushes growing up. It didn't take much for me to develop a new weekly fantasy. Waiting for the bus, doing math homework or during the homily at church, I imagined one of these boy wonders coming to my school for a pep rally or other festive event, sitting with me at lunch and then taking me under the bleachers where he would remove my glasses and say how much he liked my color choice of braces rubber bands.

My first crush was Rider Strong AKA Shawn Hunter from Boy Meets World. Every Friday I would tune into the family friendly TGIF line-up and hate any female actor that portrayed his girlfriend, not understanding the concept of an "on-screen romance."

He was the bad boy and I was the good girl. We were an incredible match. I used to worry about our 5 year age difference and that he would never go out with a third grader. My sister, Merideth, had a poster of him in our room from YM magazine that I used to blush at whenever I was changing my clothes.

He came out of hiding in 2002, starring in the gruesome flick, Cabin Fever. Then my crush fizzled. Along with any desire to ever go camping.

Next up is Joseph Gordon-Levitt during his 3rd Rock From The Sun days. Granted, when your co-stars are French Stewart and John Lithgow you are definitely keeping the young female fan base all to yourself.

Before he was a Hollywood hunk, starring in Inception and 500 Days of Summer he was "Tommy Solomon" the wildly intelligent alien with the sex appeal of an orange. What did that matter to me? We all know I find smart guys sexy. It was his characters clever wit and....well, let's be honest, hair flip that won me over.

Yet another example of my where my attraction to a high IQ stems. In 1998, Deep Impact swept across the nation. While most girls my age were fawning over Ben Affleck in Armageddon, I fell hard for Elijah Wood as "Leo Biederman", the young teenager who discovered the destructive comet, married his girlfriend so she and her family could be saved and THEN went back for her minutes before impact, risking his own life. My heart couldn't handle it.

Deep Impacts slogan was "Heaven and Earth are about to collide." And it certainly felt that way with 11-year-old Karen toward Elijah.

Now I know I am not alone when I say that Disney knows how to draw their men. Captain Li Shang from Mulan was no exception. However, it was not the physique of this cartooned warrior that pierced my heart with love, but his singing voice.

I would listen to "I'll Make A Man Out Of You" on repeat before I went to bed. I just HAD to know whose voice I was falling asleep to every night! After some internet research, I discovered Donny Osmond provided his flawless vocals for the film. Thus switching my crush from Shang to Donny......

I was a little late jumping on the Donny train. I was also not a product of the 70's, leaving me the only Freshman who listened to Donny and Marie but was closest with my mother. I religiously listened to the "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolored Dreamcoat" CD (movie version) which I also used to get me through long road trips.

Even though he was married with several children, I still had high hopes of meeting him one day, singing "Joseph..." together and stealing a kiss. And if I wasn't going to get Donny, then I was going to hold out for a guy just as nice as him. Which is probably why I never had a date in high school.

As I became older, I realized we would never work as a couple for several reasons. However, whenever I happen to catch a TV special featuring him, I get butterflies all over again.

Naturally, I was royally boy crazy and had many other celebrity crushes growing up. Some lasted a few days, others years. However, I can only claim one celebrity has kept my interest since I was a teenager and that forever will be, Bill Murray.

contacting the dead and other fun games

Ouija Board. I think we all can remember our first terrifying experiences with this Parker Brothers goldmine.

I was 8. My friend Andrea and I were playing our usual games of dress-up, feeding her goldfish and choreographing rollerskating dances to Ace of Base songs. Then, Robin showed up. Robin was your "know-it-all gutsy girl." I did not like her for the fact that she always called me a "sissy" when I didn't want to climb a tree or play football. It made me even more mad that Andrea liked her.

"Hey, guys, look what I've got." Robin proudly displayed her new game in front of her.

Any game I can't pronounce is not a game I feel like playing. Move on, Robin.

"Ooooooh! You got an Ouija Board?" Andrea's big mouth flapped.

"Yeah! Let's go in and play!"

So, we followed Andrea into her house and set the game up on her coffee table. Andrea's little sister joined us as well. Both Robin and Andrea excitedly explained the game to me and said they would go first to demonstrate the awesome supernatural effects. The girls placed their fingertips on the sides of the indicator and began asking questions.

"Okay, does Andrea like Ben?"

Indicator points to "YES."

"Ahhhhh!!! Oh my gosh you TOTALLY like Ben!! HAHAHAHA!!"

About four more questions were asked in this fashion when Robin said it was my turn. I took Andrea's spot and Robin proceeded with, "Okay, we are going to try to contact my dead Great-great Grandmother. Her name is Beatrice. I want to find out how she died. We have to concentrate really hard."

Whoa!? Wait, what? Now I'm scared. The last thing I wanted was to provide Robin with any more ammo of how chicken I was, so I pushed forward.

"Dear Great-great Grandmother Beatrice. Are you there?"

Indicator points to "YES."

"Can you tell us how you died?"

Indicator points to "YES."

"How did you die?"

Indicator points to "M. U. R. D. E. R."

"Guys, I don't want to play anymore."

"Come onnnnnn, Karen! Give me a break. We are finally making a connection." Robin continues.

"Who murdered you, Great-great Grandmother Beatrice."

The indicator moves around in circles.

"Is it someone in THIS room?"

The indicator point to "K. A. R. E. N."

"OKAY! I'M DONE!" I waved my hands in the air. "Look, I have never murdered anyone before. NEVER! I wasn't even alive when your great-great grandmother died!"

"I'm pretty sure she died last year...soooo you would have been alive." Robin always had a comeback.

'Well, I didn't murder anyone!" I ran home.

My mom had dinner for me waiting on the table. She sat next to me and asked about my day. I told her how upset I was because of the Ouija Board and I was being accused of murdering Robin's relative. My mom told me that we were going back over to Andrea's house after dinner and she would force the girls to tell me it was just a game.

I really, REALLY did not want to go through with that due to the inevitable humiliation and teasing that would take place at school the next day. However, I was curious if this was just a joke or if I had unconsciously killed Robin's dear grandmother the previous year.

Mom and I knocked on Andrea's door and both girls answered.

"Hi girls. So, Karen tells me you were playing with the Ouija Board and someone said she murdered a grandmother? Karen is really scared and it would be nice if you told her it was just a game and you made it all up."

Andrea and Robin looked at one another. Startled that a mom had to come over and reprimand them, they cowardly said, "Yeahhhhh, Karen, it's just a game. We made it up."

You would think that would have been enough for me. You would think I wouldn't have been such a gullible child. You thought wrong. I had bad dreams for a week about ghosts and angry grandmothers. To this day Ouija Boards still make me uncomfortable. Even though the new design makes it less authentic looking, the purpose is one I am not going to mess with. However, if YOU are one that enjoys the evil crafts that exude from playing this nightmare producing game then here is a friendly link to ask a cyber Ouija Board all your deepest, darkest questions! Have fun!

confessions of a wannabe bad girl

The first time I ever REALLY lied to my parents was my senior year of high school. Keep in mind, I was a good kid. Good grades. Good friends. Good morals. But, oh, was a rebel on THIS particular day! My friends/accomplices, Taylor, Marie and Elise wanted to go to Seaside Heights immediately following school and stay for the night.

Seaside Heights. Treasure of the Jersey Shore. Where teenagers go to escape the everyday tortures of adolescence by partaking in trashy forms of debauchery. Which, naturally, is why MTV held their annual "Spring Break" extravaganza at this very location that year. At the time, I had a wild crush on Gideon Yago, who was an MTV News Corespondent and I had high hopes for meeting him, falling in love and getting married (it didn't happen.....in case you were wondering).

Knowing my parents would never allow me to attend a location with such a corruptive reputation, we had the original idea of telling my mom I was staying the night at Taylor's. I would pack my bag and take it to school that day. Told mom I wouldn't be getting back home until late the next day because we might see a movie at the local cinema.

It. Was. Foolproof.

The girls and I left for the horizon once the last period bell rang. I made an 80's compilation CD for our ride down, as we all enjoyed the classics of our time. I believe "Mr. Roboto" was playing as we pulled into our motel parking lot. The motel "contract" stated only two people were allowed to check in the room. Did we care? Nope. We had four....FOUR girls. Taylor and I lied at check-in to say it would only be the two of us. Felt like a true rebel, I did.

After checking into our room we decided to check out the boardwalk scene. Unfortunately, the weather was not on our side this particular weekend and we dodged the raging wind and rain by exploring the variety of arcades on the pier. Immediately, we were confronted by a local Christian television station who persuaded us to answer particular questions about our faith. Being a Catholic youth group leader, I decided to take the reigns. I figured that if I indulged them my karma would be redeemed from when I lied to Mom earlier.

That evening we ruled the boardwalk. Specifically, because no one was there due to treacherous storms that were impending over our weekend getaway. We decided to call it a night around 9pm when we were greeted by a police officer outside our room. Immediately, we panicked because we thought we had been figured out that we had more than two occupants in our room. So, we hid the other culprits under the bed. As wristband holders, Taylor and I answered the door.

::knock, knock::

"Ummm....hello....Officer?" Taylor confidently said.

"Hi, girls. Would you mind stepping out for just a bit?"

"Sure?" We both replied, hearts racing.

"So....you girls having a fun time? Enjoying your stay at Seaside Heights?" the young officer inquired.

"Yeahhhhhhh....."

"You....staying out of trouble?"

"Yeahhhhhhh......"

"That's good. We don't really like trouble."

"Yeahhhhhhh......"

"You seem like good kids. I'll let you go back inside. We just are checking the rooms. Making sure you aren't drinking or smoking the mary-ja-wana."

"Yeahhhhhhh......not us."

Taylor and I walked back inside not sure how to interpret the conversation. Did we look like the type to indulge in alcohol and drugs? Was he hitting on us/looking for some pot? Regardless, we breathed a contaminous breath of whatever that wallpaper was made of and proceeded with our games of M.A.S.H. and astrological readings.

The next day we did what your typical "rebellious" good girls do. We got henna tattoos that we weren't sure the meaning of. We took old Western photos exposing us holding booze and revolvers. We ate a pizza that was 24 inches in diameter. We may have even talked to a boy or two.

That was the best weekend I had ever had up to that point in my life and an amazing end to my senior year. I'm still not sure if my mom knows where I was that weekend. All I know was that it was a story I could take with me as a college freshman. It would eventually lead me to other forms of "rebellion" such as going out on a Wednesday night to the one club that would allow 18-year-olds or skipping class to play SIMS. You betcha, I was one girl you did not want to get mixed up with.

i've got sass and i've got class

When I was 7 I had a friend named Sheavon. She was an only child and lived next door. Sheavon had all the latest designer toys, a plentiful stash of Bubble Yum and when the remake of Homeward Bound came out her parents bought her a kitten and named it "Sassy." She was popular amongst the 10-year-old boys and started the fashion trend of wearing Chicago Bulls jerseys with jeans.

Yes, we ALL had a friend like Sheavon growing up. While the specific details of our friend "Sheavon" vary, they all had one particular trait in common. Sheavon was a total bitch.

Sheavon was the one who decided what and where we would play. If you presented an idea she found at all boring she would roll her eyes, cross her arms and walk away. She once said that my wardrobe was that of a kindergarteners and my glasses made me look like a total dork. While these statements were accurate -

(Case in point)

- it is not proper etiquette to deliver them so crassly. So, you may ask, "Karen, why did you continue to stay friends with Sheavon after she repeatedly made fun of the lovely clothing options your mother chose for you and winning ideas for Star Search material?" The same reason we ALL stayed friends with "Sheavon."

Her material possessions.

Stop judging. You know you did it too. You're telling me that you didn't INSTANTLY befriend the mouth breathing, spike haired boy who wore shirts that read, "Your fly is open" and overused the word, "DOI!" in lunchroom conversations when he was the first one on the block to get a Super Nintendo. Told you.

Let's fast forward a bit to my 8th birthday. It had a "Ladies Who Lunch" type of theme. My dad and brother dressed in their finest suits and served After Eight thin mints to us "ladies" who were draped in our mother's Sunday best from the 80's. It was some classy fun. The friends I had invited to my soiree were very vocal with their opinions of Sheavon. If Sheavon came, they would not. I had to make a rather difficult decision as a newly turned 8-year-old and chose to not invite Sheavon as to please my less supercilious friends. My mom warned me that it was highly possible for Sheavon to find out about this party, her being the next door neighbor, and that if a problem arose I would have to solve it on my own. I quickly shoed Mom away and said there would be no problem.

Here is a photograph from the day. Sheavons house is in the background.

About 5 minutes after this picture was taken, Sheavon and her mom came out of the house and began walking across the street. I immediately began freaking out and ran inside to tell my mom the news. There was no disguising the birthday party that was obviously taking over the Bray household. Balloons and banners celebrating my birth littered the front lawn and porch.

I stood in front of my mom, pleading her to take care of this situation. She shook her head "no" and said I had to take care of it myself. Giving in to my cowardly tendencies, I stayed inside to watch my best friend, Katie, tell Sheavon that I thought she was out of town and it was a simple mistake. Katie was an amazing friend and always had my back. I owed her big for this one. After a few minutes of convincing, Sheavon and her mom went back home and the party commenced.

The next day, Mom made me go over to Sheavons to apologize for not inviting her. I hated every minute of it. I stuck with the original lie that I thought she was out of town. She could never know the truth that I maliciously took her off the guest list. She had a new vanity I wanted to play with.

If there was one thing I learned from that day it was the ability to lie directly to someone's face. A talent that has certainly proved it's value multiple times within my career choice. My 8th birthday party was nothing short of a precursor for what trials I would be faced with in adulthood.