Quarterlife Crisis: Giving Up the (615)

Oh, young Luda.  Gotta love it.  This song doesn’t really apply but it came to mind so here you go!

A few weeks ago, I made one of the hardest decisions of this year.  (I’d say of my life but that would just be over-dramatic.)  Sure, getting a tattoo, cutting off my hair, accepting a new job, finally having “that” conversation with my roommate were all important and took guts.  BUT giving up the phone number I’ve had for nearly 8 years was a big deal.  Not only am I too lazy to remember another number (since 2001, it’d just rolled off the tongue) but getting this new number meant something more important: giving up the 615 area code.

I am originally from Nashville, TN.  While there are things about the city and region that I can’t stand (race relations, ignorance, allergens, men with grills, etc), Nashville is home.  Mother, grandmothers, childhood home, high school friends, familiar restaurants, great hairdresser, you know, all of the important things. 🙂  As a high school senior, there was nothing I wanted more than to get out of Nashville and Tennessee.  College (luckily) was never a question. I just knew that I was not staying  anywhere with a TN in the address.  So I told myself I’d go to whatever school gave me the best offer out-of-state.  I was blessed to be an above average student with high PSAT scores, from a middle-class family, a female and a minority.  For schools looking to offer “merit-based” scholarships, the combination doesn’t get much better.  I’m not foolish enough to deny that.  However, that could be an entirely different “Shades of Understanding” post.  In fact, the school I actually attended was the school that gave me the second best offer but that explanation deserves another “Shades of Understanding” post of its own.  In due time.  In due time.

Anyway, I attended Iowa State University.  For all accounts, it was a good school.  Like anywhere new, there were things that were less than ideal and just plain sad, but I met some wonderful people, received a good education and was given several wonderful, life-altering opportunities.  But obviously, Ames, IA was not home.  So I never changed my cell phone number.  I knew I wouldn’t be in Iowa for more than four years.  There was something rebellious about keeping my hometown phone number.  I WOULD NOT become a resident of Iowa.  Sure, it just made sense at that time to keep it.  TN was still a part of my permanent address and drivers license.  Holding onto that 615 wouldn’t really mean anything until I had a new permanent address.

3 1/2 years ago, I accepted a job offer in Austin, TX and moved.  Not everything has been perfect but it’s been good.  I don’t regret that move and have come to appreciate the city.  I still don’t know if Austin’s going to be home but until a new target city emerges, I’m perfectly content here.  Two months into my stay, I got a speeding ticket and had to get a TX license to qualify for defensive driving.  That was pretty painful but legally required.  Not having a real choice makes it easier to choose.  Since then, I’ve done pretty much all things Austin and Texas.  I’m still waiting to purchase my first pair of cowboy boots but give me time.  The one thing I hadn’t done was change my phone number.  Somehow 512 just didn’t sound as good as 615 to me.    8 years is a long time to have a relationship with anything.  In this digital age, your cell phone number and email address are really a part of your identity.  I preferred to remain identified with Tennessee.

So what made me finally give it up?  Money.  I wish it was something more poetic but it’s just not.  My new gig provides stipends for cell phones and smartphones if you agree to use them for business.  Seeing as I’d already put my work email on my Blackberry, I figured I should accept the stipend.  The amount is actually like 150% of my regular monthly bill.  Ok, I’ll take that.  I’ll make a little profit for doing what I was already planning to do.  The only issue was that since we’re an Austin-centric business, it only makes sense for employees receiving the stipend to have Austin numbers.  So save a little money or hold onto an area code that means nothing to anyone but you?  Ok. Don’t be stupid.

Sure, I’d had that number for almost a decade.  Yes, my grandmothers know the number.  Sure, you’d run the risk of losing touch with old friends.  (But then again if you were really that close, you’d find a way to get in touch.  I’ve had the same email address since 2001 also…)  But I’m also 25, have lived in Austin for more than 3 years and it’s makes financial sense to change.  Done.

I sent a mass text to the people in my phone that ended with something like “Please update my number or use this as an excuse to lose touch.”  I got some negative responses to that but that just means they were paying attention.  The people that didn’t respond were handed their way out. 🙂

Still struggling to remember my new number,

Jo’van

Friendly Drama: When I Didn’t Know Any Better

I couldn’t help myself.  🙂

Okay, okay.  Something a little more serious.  Oh, classic Mariah, brunette, seemingly sane, fully equip with choir and everything.  “Anytime You Need a Friend”

Earlier this summer, I had the opportunity to hang out with two friends from Nashville in Chicago (confused yet?).  I’ve known one of the ladies since 7th grade and the other since 9th, 13 and 11 years consecutively. Those numbers seem like an eternity to a 25 year old.  Just knowing someone for 3 years sounds like a significant amount of time.  Over 2 years?  Okay, you’re verified as a friend.  What does more than a decade mean?

If you were lucky/unlucky enough to live in one area and attend area schools your entire elementary education, you may have people you’ve realistically known since kindergarten.  I don’t mean to take anything away from those people but since I didn’t, 7th grade would have to be my longest maintained relationship and it sounds pretty significant to me.

These ladies have known me for (nearly) half of my life.  They’ve seen me fight, cry, yell, stare, run, and smile.  We’ve seen each other through puberty, AP tests, custody battles, puppy love, first loves, college applications, driver’s licenses, parties, prom, and leaving all of that behind for college.  We fell apart during those college years, casually seeing each other when we were all back home but it was never the same.  And as sad as that realization may have been, there was still something that made us come back together (hoping).  I always wondered what that was exactly.  Obviously, we’d all changed and no longer had the classroom to force us together.  What was it that made me still call her “my friend”?  And actually mean it?

Spending that evening together made me realize what it might be.  Intoxicated by wine, nostalgia, good food and ridiculous conversations, we quickly moved past the awkward “so how have you been over the last X years?”  Within the time of a rerun of Family Matters, we were back in the place of giddy adolescents.  Sure, we’ve all changed, grown up, gotten master’s degrees or “real jobs”, physically filled out, moved past pimples and onto real relationships, taken on new responsibilities and the like.  BUT we also all loved not having to worry about that in each other’s company.  We reverted to gossiping, giggling, smart-ass 15-year-olds, fueled by slumber party antics.  Just trying to take a group picture at the end of the night was a monumental feat.  We simply could not stop laughing.  And it felt SO good.  🙂  Laughing at nothing but ourselves.

Anyway, that evening made me realize why we  should, or at least why I still do, hold onto these types of friendships for so long.  It’s not because these people really play a big role in your life now.  I’m not saying they’re not important or that they couldn’t reclaim their roles of indispensable friends.  It’s just that your life operates just fine without their daily/weekly/monthly interaction.  But when you are with them you can become a person you haven’t been for a long time, since you really knew each other.  You get to not be a “real” grown up.  You get to talk about gossip, not just politics, outfits, not just bills, crushes, not just relationships, life, not just drama.  These are the people that knew you when you didn’t know any better AND still liked you.  These are the friends who knew you pre-filter, pre-adult judgment, pre-responsibilities, pre-grown up.

All other friends I’ve made since these ladies and our core/clique have known me in some part of my transition from child to adult.  Sure, these types of “pure” friendships are possible with people you meet past the age of , say, 16.  But they require a type of trust we learn to not give so freely as we get older.  For that reason, there may never be anything like the relationships you have/had with the people who knew the child who knew everything, rather than the adult who realizes they know very little.

Thankful people still liked me when I didn’t know any better,

Jo’van

  • December 2025
    S M T W T F S
     123456
    78910111213
    14151617181920
    21222324252627
    28293031  
  • Archives

  • Follow The Truth: According to Jo'van on WordPress.com
  • Enter your email address to follow Jo'van and receive her updates.