embrace the crazy fan girl

As part of my quest for more balance and presence, I am coming out of a closet. My name is Nina and I'm a crazy fan girl disguised as a suburban mom attending parent teacher conferences, cross country meets and little league baseball games.

A sometimes CFG and myself at the Journey concert.

My addiction began like many of the millions of fan girls peeking out behind their venti lattes and premium denim. I was nine when I sang my heart out to 'Hey Deenie," a la Sean Cassidy. I wrote him a letter professing my unwavering love and devotion. At 12, I ripped out my first of many pages from  TigerBeat magazine. A picture of Steve Perry, front man of Journey sporting long hair and his large nose captivated me like no other and he gazed at me from the walls of my tiny bedroom singing to me about open arms...

It continued on and on with Michael Jackson, Prince,  Jordan Catalano (fictional but not to me,) Eddie Vedder and Justin Timberlake. Young girls are fickle, you know. Somewhere along the line, as age crept in and I traded "wisdom for lines around my eyes," I had to snuff out my open musings of the object(s) of my affection.  It didn't suit my blossoming professional image, not to mention my many (ha!) suitors, to drool over images of Eddie Vedder's long hair, flannel shirts and stage thrashing. This was before the days of smart phones and internet - everything was in print and I ran the risk of being discovered at Walgreens buying the latest issue of Rolling Stone, People or Us Weekly for fear of looking like the crazy star struck girl that I was (am.)