First things first. I did NOT speak to my Favorite Band Director this past weekend. I have no idea why except that when I saw him from afar, I said something like, "He looks so different!" and my friend responded with, "Of course, Emily, it's been 13 years."
Thirteen years. Thirteen YEARS. Something about that freaked the HECK out of me. Mr. Favorite Band director joined his family after the marching band performance (that was AWESOME, btw. First time to semi-state EVER. Go Central Bears!!) and had a nine-year-old daughter and a four-year-old son. Holy crap!
And so I froze. Like a deer in headlights. (Or probably more like a creepy stalker since I kept staring at him from a distance but refused to budge from my seat.) When it was time to leave the competition, I came to my senses and ran all over the place trying to find Mr. Favorite Band Director for a few moments of conversation, but alas, it was not to be. Serves me right. Maybe next time I won't be such an ex-band-geek wimp.
In case you can't infer from the above information, it was a fantastic weekend. Notwithstanding my "creepy stalker" moment, I had so much fun relaxing with my friends, hanging out with my dad, reliving high school memories, and having a much needed heart-to-heart girl chat. In fact, it was such a GOOD weekend, that it was very very difficult and depressing to come back to real life.
Because you know how sometimes you just put your head down and power through things? And sometimes you just get into such a rhythm of powering through that you don't really realize how things are? Like you sort of know that things are difficult and they suck, but you don't really realize because what's the point of focusing on that when you don't have a choice but to just get through it? But then you have a great relaxing weekend where for just two days a load is lifted off your shoulders? After that happens, the stark contrast between "fabulous" and "your real life" is sometimes overwhelming. And that's what happened to me on Sunday.
It's like on the drive home, all I could hear was my organic textbook calling me, "Hi Emily! Remember how you have to read two more chapters before the test next week and how you have homework due on Friday that you didn't do this weekend while you were "relaxing?" Oh, and don't forget about how the lectures in class lately have sounded like a foreign language." Or my physics notes beckoning, "Yo Em! I know you're much stronger in this class than you are in o-chem, and have thus been treating me like a red-headed step child. But if you're honest with yourself, you've been completing the last couple of homework assignments without really understanding them, capisce? That might prove to be a problem next week on that test you have. You know... the one two days after the o-chem test? Way to go on wasting this entire weekend!"
But the thing is, this weekend wasn't wasted. I needed it. I needed my friend to ask me how I was doing and to poke and prod after I said, "fine." I needed to see my dad and see how happy he was to have Blue back. I needed to see how happy my friend is with her boyfriend and squeal over how she's going to get engaged, and soon!
But now it's back to the daily grind. Because what choice do I really have but to put my head down and just power through? This, too, shall pass. Only this time, I was kinder to myself and took Monday as a "mental health day" when I slept, slept and transitioned slowly into doing homework to get a tiny bit ahead of where I was on Sunday night. This still means that I have things to accomplish every night after class... and two tests to study for this weekend. But at least now I feel like I can face all that again instead of feeling like I want to hide under the covers.
So yes, this too shall pass. I just hope it passes really really quickly. (On the bright side, at least I know I made one good decision this year.)
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Monday, June 29, 2009
You spent a day where?!
On Saturday, a subset of the book club that I'm in decided to take a day trip to Bloomington Indiana 
which is the home of Indiana University, where the boy's parents live, and roughly 90 minutes south of Indianapolis. I believe the main draw of the trip was Oliver Winery, but in addition to that it became a trip of Greek food, wine tasting, antique shopping, wine tasting, goose avoidance and adult bookstore perusing capped off with chocolate cake.
Did I mention that there was wine? Basically that's all that the invitation had to say.
"Emily, we're going someplace with wine."
"Done. I'll drive."
Nicole* planned the entire thing from start to finish. A fellow blogger was included in the journey, and her take on the day is here.**
I loved that the entire day was decided and I only had to be told where to drive. The food was excellent. Downtown Bloomington was an eye opening experience for me. (I expected something more like my hometown. I suppose I should have expected more from a progressive college town.) Still, it was a pleasant surprise to wander through independent shops and the beautiful architecture. The winery was also a pleasant surprise. Had it not been so beastly hot, I'm sure we would have spent more time sitting down by the water on the landscaped grounds. I also heard that you can take your own picnic lunch, buy a bottle of wine and eat outdoors - an idea I found ideal until I was reminded that there are wasps outside. Especially outside where there are pretty flowers and bottles of wine.
Nicole drove us through IU's campus which I had heard was gorgeous. And even though I was seeing
the campus through wine-colored glasses, my impression was that it lived up to its reputation. Of course, instead of taking pictures of the pretty campus, I was taking pictures like this one. Oh, and Nicole became the third person EVER to drive Curvy - a fact I was surprisingly okay with. That wine stuff is powerful.
But gooooooooood.
After we left the winery, we had some time to kill before dinner. Now, I'm not so much an antique shopper, but, as mentioned, Nicole cleverly planned that portion of the day AFTER the wine tasting.
Turns out, I really didn't it mind so much. In fact, post-wine antique shopping yields pictures like this one. (I would like to note here that I normally am violently opposed to wearing fur. Did I mention there was a wine tasting? Turns out you were allowed to sample between 6 - 8 wines. Guess how many I sampled.) Two of the girls came away with some cute jewelry and I found out that I hadn't had quite enough wine to buy an $85 mink stole. I'm sure that those Visa people are relieved.***
Overall the day was fun-filled and there was a lot of laughter. I keep forgetting how
little time I spend with girlfriends anymore. I think I'd like to go back and spend a day solely in downtown Bloomington. But then again, I seem to remember the wine tasting being pretty fun on its own...
Note #1: All beautiful artsy pictures were taken by Nicole whose talent knows no bounds. All other pictures were taken with a point and shoot that Nicole was foolhardy enough to put into my hands while I was drinking wine. I then felt free to pass it around as I deemed necessary.
Note#2: There were five of us on the trip. I would include a group picture, but it turns out that the Witness Protection Program can place people anywhere so it's better to be safe than sorry.
*I would link to her, but perhaps she would like to keep her anonymity?****
**This blogger was the reason behind the adult bookstore perusing... a fact that I did not see in her blog. It occurs to me that it may be embarrassing to her that I'm pointing this out, but I'm an equal opportunity embarrass-er. Stick around long enough and you'll be on here too.
***And I'm sure Candy would have stopped me. Right?!
****I have learned that some people like to be anonymous and go to great lengths to keep said anonymity. Such as wearing sunglasses in adult bookstores. I don't have the heart to tell them that magic sunglasses don't work.
which is the home of Indiana University, where the boy's parents live, and roughly 90 minutes south of Indianapolis. I believe the main draw of the trip was Oliver Winery, but in addition to that it became a trip of Greek food, wine tasting, antique shopping, wine tasting, goose avoidance and adult bookstore perusing capped off with chocolate cake.Did I mention that there was wine? Basically that's all that the invitation had to say.
"Emily, we're going someplace with wine."
"Done. I'll drive."
Nicole* planned the entire thing from start to finish. A fellow blogger was included in the journey, and her take on the day is here.**
I loved that the entire day was decided and I only had to be told where to drive. The food was excellent. Downtown Bloomington was an eye opening experience for me. (I expected something more like my hometown. I suppose I should have expected more from a progressive college town.) Still, it was a pleasant surprise to wander through independent shops and the beautiful architecture. The winery was also a pleasant surprise. Had it not been so beastly hot, I'm sure we would have spent more time sitting down by the water on the landscaped grounds. I also heard that you can take your own picnic lunch, buy a bottle of wine and eat outdoors - an idea I found ideal until I was reminded that there are wasps outside. Especially outside where there are pretty flowers and bottles of wine. Nicole drove us through IU's campus which I had heard was gorgeous. And even though I was seeing
the campus through wine-colored glasses, my impression was that it lived up to its reputation. Of course, instead of taking pictures of the pretty campus, I was taking pictures like this one. Oh, and Nicole became the third person EVER to drive Curvy - a fact I was surprisingly okay with. That wine stuff is powerful.But gooooooooood.
After we left the winery, we had some time to kill before dinner. Now, I'm not so much an antique shopper, but, as mentioned, Nicole cleverly planned that portion of the day AFTER the wine tasting.
Turns out, I really didn't it mind so much. In fact, post-wine antique shopping yields pictures like this one. (I would like to note here that I normally am violently opposed to wearing fur. Did I mention there was a wine tasting? Turns out you were allowed to sample between 6 - 8 wines. Guess how many I sampled.) Two of the girls came away with some cute jewelry and I found out that I hadn't had quite enough wine to buy an $85 mink stole. I'm sure that those Visa people are relieved.***Overall the day was fun-filled and there was a lot of laughter. I keep forgetting how
little time I spend with girlfriends anymore. I think I'd like to go back and spend a day solely in downtown Bloomington. But then again, I seem to remember the wine tasting being pretty fun on its own...Note #1: All beautiful artsy pictures were taken by Nicole whose talent knows no bounds. All other pictures were taken with a point and shoot that Nicole was foolhardy enough to put into my hands while I was drinking wine. I then felt free to pass it around as I deemed necessary.
Note#2: There were five of us on the trip. I would include a group picture, but it turns out that the Witness Protection Program can place people anywhere so it's better to be safe than sorry.
*I would link to her, but perhaps she would like to keep her anonymity?****
**This blogger was the reason behind the adult bookstore perusing... a fact that I did not see in her blog. It occurs to me that it may be embarrassing to her that I'm pointing this out, but I'm an equal opportunity embarrass-er. Stick around long enough and you'll be on here too.
***And I'm sure Candy would have stopped me. Right?!
****I have learned that some people like to be anonymous and go to great lengths to keep said anonymity. Such as wearing sunglasses in adult bookstores. I don't have the heart to tell them that magic sunglasses don't work.
Tuesday, December 09, 2008
Baking 101
It's funny what touches you, right? This is why I try to compliment as often as the thought pops in my head. Because you never know when one little comment will make a difference.
Like when I was moving. I enlisted the help of my single male friends well in advance. My thinking was simple - single male friends are strong, they are more likely to have weekend days free of commitments (sorry guys,) and they can be easily bought with promises of free food (and a healthy dose of "poor little me. The single girl with all this furniture to move...") I didn't ask anyone else for help because, well....moving sucks. One day about a week before the move, one of my married male friends (let's call him....well, how about "Brad"... because that's his real name and if I use a pseudonym I'll probably screw up and call him Brad anyway) nearly brought me to tears when he found out when I was moving (I thought he was asking out of idle curiosity) and said, "I'm free that day." I was almost speechless. I think I may have even stuttered in response. This was an offer that I totally didn't expect since he has a wife and a child and myriad other responsibilities that I'm sure take up plenty of his time, and again, let's face it, moving furniture is no party.
That sort of thing sticks with me.
So Brad has this particular obsession with all things pumpkin. In keeping with this "buy presents when they make you think of people" thing my mother raised me on, I tend to see a lot of recipes in the fall that involve pumpkin and immediately think of Brad. Last year it was actually a decadent "ooey gooey pumpkin cake" that my mother made that I just HAD to make for Brad. I don't even LIKE pumpkin and I thought this cake was excellent. (The reviews on the cake that I made were favorable as well. Woo Hoo!)
After the help with moving, well, I decided that the pumpkin treats will be an annual tradition. He made an impression on me, the LEAST I can do is bake him something to help curb the pumpkin craving. He seems uncomfortable with it (in that, "don't go to trouble for me" kind of way,) but he really gets no choice in the matter. His wife knows and likes me and doesn't seem to mind the treats (because, DUH, a single girl could get into trouble making baked goods for a married man without permission) so really, Brad is going to have to come to terms with the fact that if you're a good person, good things happen to you, even if you don't expect them, so just accept the damn pumpkin treats.
The problem is that I'm not a baker.
I come from a long line of non-bakers. My mother famously purchased the refrigerated batter from which one merely needs to cut off slices and bake to form cookes, and she ended up with one big pancake-cookie type thing. My mother cooks. She doesn't bake. I don't spend a whole lot of time in the kitchen, but I have definitely had more success cooking than baking. It also helps that I don't really have a sweet tooth, so really, unless someone can teach me to make fabulous sour cream and onion potato chips from scratch, I don't have the need to make my own snacks.
I decided that since I have a gas stove that is entirely new to me, I would start slow. The boy and I were going to dinner at my little brother's house this past weekend, and I decided to make cookies that I could take for desert. (Partially to practice, and partially because I think they need more refined sugar in their diet. ahem.) Since I was starting off slow I purchased the refrigerated batter, and just decided to add my own decorations so it was a little more than putting pre-made batter on a cookie sheet and baking for 20 minutes. Still. Easy peasy. They turned out tasting okay. (But apparently I needed to wait longer to put the icing on the warm cookies since it sort of ran everywhere and made a mess, and the cookies didn't LOOK as pretty as they could have. Meh. I never put a lot of stock in appearances anyway.)
While the Emily-proof cookies were baking, thoughts of my friend J popped in my head. She bakes. A lot. Specifically, she bakes for the person she's dating. Because, um, apparently that's what people do. (Oh shut up. Do I seem domestic to you?) So I decided to make some blueberry muffins for the boy (his favorite, apparently. Who knew?) These still weren't from scratch, but they involved mixing things in a box and then baking so I considered it one step up from the refrigerated dough cookies.
While the muffins didn't come out looking very pretty - they weren't rounded on top... they were more pointed... and not all of them pointed up. (Again with the ugliness of my baked goods. What is UP with that?) They apparently tasted fine since the boy shoved two in his mouth as we ran out the door, late of course, to get to my brother's for dinner. (And then he took the rest home the next day.)
So after two dubious successes, I decided to tackle the problem of Brad's cookies. They were from scratch (dun dun duuuuuuunnnn.) I had seen the recipe here and it didn't seem all that difficult other than it being from, you know, scratch. I had already mentioned the cookies to Brad, and his wife had said "yes" to the chocolate chips, so I had all the ingredients and prepared to get started.
Until I went to get the flour and realized that I had a bag of sugar, but no flour. Sigh.
(To be continued tomorrow...)
Like when I was moving. I enlisted the help of my single male friends well in advance. My thinking was simple - single male friends are strong, they are more likely to have weekend days free of commitments (sorry guys,) and they can be easily bought with promises of free food (and a healthy dose of "poor little me. The single girl with all this furniture to move...") I didn't ask anyone else for help because, well....moving sucks. One day about a week before the move, one of my married male friends (let's call him....well, how about "Brad"... because that's his real name and if I use a pseudonym I'll probably screw up and call him Brad anyway) nearly brought me to tears when he found out when I was moving (I thought he was asking out of idle curiosity) and said, "I'm free that day." I was almost speechless. I think I may have even stuttered in response. This was an offer that I totally didn't expect since he has a wife and a child and myriad other responsibilities that I'm sure take up plenty of his time, and again, let's face it, moving furniture is no party.
That sort of thing sticks with me.
So Brad has this particular obsession with all things pumpkin. In keeping with this "buy presents when they make you think of people" thing my mother raised me on, I tend to see a lot of recipes in the fall that involve pumpkin and immediately think of Brad. Last year it was actually a decadent "ooey gooey pumpkin cake" that my mother made that I just HAD to make for Brad. I don't even LIKE pumpkin and I thought this cake was excellent. (The reviews on the cake that I made were favorable as well. Woo Hoo!)
After the help with moving, well, I decided that the pumpkin treats will be an annual tradition. He made an impression on me, the LEAST I can do is bake him something to help curb the pumpkin craving. He seems uncomfortable with it (in that, "don't go to trouble for me" kind of way,) but he really gets no choice in the matter. His wife knows and likes me and doesn't seem to mind the treats (because, DUH, a single girl could get into trouble making baked goods for a married man without permission) so really, Brad is going to have to come to terms with the fact that if you're a good person, good things happen to you, even if you don't expect them, so just accept the damn pumpkin treats.
The problem is that I'm not a baker.
I come from a long line of non-bakers. My mother famously purchased the refrigerated batter from which one merely needs to cut off slices and bake to form cookes, and she ended up with one big pancake-cookie type thing. My mother cooks. She doesn't bake. I don't spend a whole lot of time in the kitchen, but I have definitely had more success cooking than baking. It also helps that I don't really have a sweet tooth, so really, unless someone can teach me to make fabulous sour cream and onion potato chips from scratch, I don't have the need to make my own snacks.
I decided that since I have a gas stove that is entirely new to me, I would start slow. The boy and I were going to dinner at my little brother's house this past weekend, and I decided to make cookies that I could take for desert. (Partially to practice, and partially because I think they need more refined sugar in their diet. ahem.) Since I was starting off slow I purchased the refrigerated batter, and just decided to add my own decorations so it was a little more than putting pre-made batter on a cookie sheet and baking for 20 minutes. Still. Easy peasy. They turned out tasting okay. (But apparently I needed to wait longer to put the icing on the warm cookies since it sort of ran everywhere and made a mess, and the cookies didn't LOOK as pretty as they could have. Meh. I never put a lot of stock in appearances anyway.)
While the Emily-proof cookies were baking, thoughts of my friend J popped in my head. She bakes. A lot. Specifically, she bakes for the person she's dating. Because, um, apparently that's what people do. (Oh shut up. Do I seem domestic to you?) So I decided to make some blueberry muffins for the boy (his favorite, apparently. Who knew?) These still weren't from scratch, but they involved mixing things in a box and then baking so I considered it one step up from the refrigerated dough cookies.
While the muffins didn't come out looking very pretty - they weren't rounded on top... they were more pointed... and not all of them pointed up. (Again with the ugliness of my baked goods. What is UP with that?) They apparently tasted fine since the boy shoved two in his mouth as we ran out the door, late of course, to get to my brother's for dinner. (And then he took the rest home the next day.)
So after two dubious successes, I decided to tackle the problem of Brad's cookies. They were from scratch (dun dun duuuuuuunnnn.) I had seen the recipe here and it didn't seem all that difficult other than it being from, you know, scratch. I had already mentioned the cookies to Brad, and his wife had said "yes" to the chocolate chips, so I had all the ingredients and prepared to get started.
Until I went to get the flour and realized that I had a bag of sugar, but no flour. Sigh.
(To be continued tomorrow...)
Monday, November 10, 2008
Outwitted (and it tastes so good)
Someone I've known for over ten years now got married yesterday. I can't say "an old friend" because I would say we were more acquaintances in college. In fact, we only became close when we traveled to London together in November of 2006. It was there that we bonded over a love of all things silly, a relaxed travel agenda, and an intense need to drive Kat(i)e insane whilst drinking cider. 'Twas fun. We laughed a lot and came away in 7 days with a closer friendship that normally takes months to build.
Shortly thereafter, she met the man of her dreams. (And I must admit, when I met him I fell head over heels also. What a catch!) Since she and I are two of a kind, we have since spent tons of time on various teams (dodgeball, kickball) and doing all sorts of silly things that for once, I do not have to organize. (Let's hear it for planners!! Yeah!!) They are one of the most fun couples I've ever met, and their wedding was nothing short of fabulous. They even had a signature drink. No joke. I was looking forward to this wedding not only because it was a huge gathering of people I know, but also because the bride and the groom are so much fun, their wedding promised to be epic fun. And indeed it was.
She was beautiful. The ceremony was not unbearable (and with a Catholic Mass involved, that's saying a lot!) The company was good. The bride and groom were entertaining. They drove off in a Mercedes convertible while she wore a fur stole over her wedding dress....in 40 degree weather. All in all a success.
However, it was not without angst on the part of Emily. My friend is also very very crafty (though she looks so innocent. How does she DO that?) She knows about my (pretty vocal) hatred of the dreaded bouquet toss. I'm sure she thinks that I'm only saying what other single women my age won't say out loud. We hate the bouquet toss. Seriously. It was cute when we were all 21 and fresh out of college. Ha ha - single women all vying for the bunch of flowers because of course we're going to be the next ones to get married. Woo Hoo!! Look how cute we all are! I'll even (grudgingly) admit that I caught the bouquet at one of my friend's wedding, and my ex caught the garter.
We all know how that turned out.
Now that I'm older and single (and seem to be in the minority,) I object to the bouquet toss on principle. C'mon. Don't make me humiliate myself. Don't make me stand among a sea of 12-15 year olds and halfheartedly pretend to be interested in the bouquet that is sure to make me the "next lucky one." Please? I'm good. I promise. It's enough for me to exert the self control necessary to keep me from punching all of my married friends who are urging, "Emily - you're single! Get out there," with their evil grins. Hmph. Let the teenagers catch it. It will make their day. Leave the crotchety 30-year-old alone.
My friend, being my age and just married, was surely aware of the challenges of being single at 30 and the dreaded bouquet toss. You want to make the bride happy and be a good sport, but at what expense? So, armed with this knowledge, my newly married friend had a decision to make. Eliminate the bouquet toss? Or just toss the bouquet to a crowd of...um...no one?
Instead of choosing between those two perfectly acceptable options, my friend opted for C... Tie a $10 Starbucks Gift card to the bouquet.
Bitch.
I ranted and raved all the way to the ceremony. I waffled. Fine. I was going out there. And I had better get that damn bouquet. Seriously. I was going to throw elbows. I wore stiletto heels for the express purpose of stepping on toes. (It's not like I'm tall here, people. I have to use what I've got.) I was already humiliating myself, I had better get a gift card out of it.
On the other hand... no...no, wait a sec. Compromise my principles for a $10 Starbucks gift card? Were my principles really so inexpensive? Of course not. I would remain strong. No way I was going out there. The boy* listened and laughed. I think he knew.
I totally went out there.
And, you know, I would feel badly about it, but I had a Cinnamon Dolce Latte this morning that I didn't have to pay for. That made it all better.
Principles? What? I'm a starving student. I can't afford principles.
*After a couple of questions regarding why I call the boy "the boy," I've re-thought that decision. It was originally to keep the blog light, while also protecting his privacy...even though most of you know who he is. It was meant to be a silly way to refer to my significant other who goes through varying degrees of being my significant other. Moving forward, he will be known as "G." It still protects his privacy, and now he actually has a "name" instead of being an object. Maybe someday he'll be on the level of Blue and Casey and have an actual name.
Shortly thereafter, she met the man of her dreams. (And I must admit, when I met him I fell head over heels also. What a catch!) Since she and I are two of a kind, we have since spent tons of time on various teams (dodgeball, kickball) and doing all sorts of silly things that for once, I do not have to organize. (Let's hear it for planners!! Yeah!!) They are one of the most fun couples I've ever met, and their wedding was nothing short of fabulous. They even had a signature drink. No joke. I was looking forward to this wedding not only because it was a huge gathering of people I know, but also because the bride and the groom are so much fun, their wedding promised to be epic fun. And indeed it was.
She was beautiful. The ceremony was not unbearable (and with a Catholic Mass involved, that's saying a lot!) The company was good. The bride and groom were entertaining. They drove off in a Mercedes convertible while she wore a fur stole over her wedding dress....in 40 degree weather. All in all a success.
However, it was not without angst on the part of Emily. My friend is also very very crafty (though she looks so innocent. How does she DO that?) She knows about my (pretty vocal) hatred of the dreaded bouquet toss. I'm sure she thinks that I'm only saying what other single women my age won't say out loud. We hate the bouquet toss. Seriously. It was cute when we were all 21 and fresh out of college. Ha ha - single women all vying for the bunch of flowers because of course we're going to be the next ones to get married. Woo Hoo!! Look how cute we all are! I'll even (grudgingly) admit that I caught the bouquet at one of my friend's wedding, and my ex caught the garter.
We all know how that turned out.
Now that I'm older and single (and seem to be in the minority,) I object to the bouquet toss on principle. C'mon. Don't make me humiliate myself. Don't make me stand among a sea of 12-15 year olds and halfheartedly pretend to be interested in the bouquet that is sure to make me the "next lucky one." Please? I'm good. I promise. It's enough for me to exert the self control necessary to keep me from punching all of my married friends who are urging, "Emily - you're single! Get out there," with their evil grins. Hmph. Let the teenagers catch it. It will make their day. Leave the crotchety 30-year-old alone.
My friend, being my age and just married, was surely aware of the challenges of being single at 30 and the dreaded bouquet toss. You want to make the bride happy and be a good sport, but at what expense? So, armed with this knowledge, my newly married friend had a decision to make. Eliminate the bouquet toss? Or just toss the bouquet to a crowd of...um...no one?
Instead of choosing between those two perfectly acceptable options, my friend opted for C... Tie a $10 Starbucks Gift card to the bouquet.
Bitch.
I ranted and raved all the way to the ceremony. I waffled. Fine. I was going out there. And I had better get that damn bouquet. Seriously. I was going to throw elbows. I wore stiletto heels for the express purpose of stepping on toes. (It's not like I'm tall here, people. I have to use what I've got.) I was already humiliating myself, I had better get a gift card out of it.
On the other hand... no...no, wait a sec. Compromise my principles for a $10 Starbucks gift card? Were my principles really so inexpensive? Of course not. I would remain strong. No way I was going out there. The boy* listened and laughed. I think he knew.
I totally went out there.
And, you know, I would feel badly about it, but I had a Cinnamon Dolce Latte this morning that I didn't have to pay for. That made it all better.
Principles? What? I'm a starving student. I can't afford principles.
*After a couple of questions regarding why I call the boy "the boy," I've re-thought that decision. It was originally to keep the blog light, while also protecting his privacy...even though most of you know who he is. It was meant to be a silly way to refer to my significant other who goes through varying degrees of being my significant other. Moving forward, he will be known as "G." It still protects his privacy, and now he actually has a "name" instead of being an object. Maybe someday he'll be on the level of Blue and Casey and have an actual name.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Stress
Stress is a funny thing. In the days since the car accident, I've been super super stressed out. I don't think I've reached my breaking point yet. But I would be lying if I didn't say that I could definitely see the appeal of just letting go and freaking the hell out. (Side note: It took me a long time to understand that different people can handle different things. I just thought those who broke down were being wimps. I never considered that perhaps they literally could not walk away from the edge.) So in the various moments throughout the week when I eyed the cliff and considered jumping off (while knowing full well that I wouldn't/couldn't) I could definitely see why some people would take that option and never look back. It's just so....freeing.
Of course, then who would make sure things got done? This is usually what brings control-freak Emily back to reality, makes her take a deep breath and remember that as long as she's moving forward, the end will come soon enough. Besides, lying in bed and ignoring all responsibilities with the latest book club book is just as good as jumping off the cliff, and has less negative effects on my life.
Luckily I'm surrounded by great people. The boy came through, if not with flying colors at least with a solid A. I have a great boss who is also fabulous for brainstorming. I have friends who are willing to drive me places and rearrange their schedule to help me out. I have supportive and unbelievably giving parents. And, last but not least, I have a cousin who will take exactly what I'm willing to share with her, read between the lines, and dole out reliably good information time after time. I think she gets the bulk of the credit for talking me away from the cliff, and she did it all from thousands of miles away. She's an amazing woman, and I suggest you all get a cousin just like her.
Between everyone, I was able to have my freak out moment (sorry for any of you who were involved in that period) and then return to reality and breathing.
I am so grateful for the number of phone calls I received with support and just checking in to see if I was okay. I'm sorry if I haven't returned all of them. Let me get to the point where the car accident is an amusing anecdote and I'll get right on that.
Okay, the update is that there is no update. There are questions about the insurance coverage that might not be answered until next week. I don't know what those questions are, but they're making me nervous. I'm currently driving a canary yellow rental that I hate, but (sigh) at least I have a car. (It's so yellow. Did I mention that it's yellow?) My beloved Curvy is currently at the dealership where they're working on an estimate. I also have an insurance adjuster going out there to get a second estimate just in case. I saw her yesterday and was going to take pictures for you guys, but it was just so sad that I couldn't do it. They had her up and taken apart to see the damage, and though she looked fine from the outside after the accident, the underside of her rear end doesn't look so great from underneath. (insert brief sob here)
Things could be worse. I know, and I remember this every day. But the way I explain my stress to my boss is this: Since I don't own a home, my car is my most valuable possession. Some girl just ran right into it, damaged it quite a bit, and I'm not sure when I'll get it back, or IF I'll get it back. I know that in a month, or even a week, this will all be under control. It's just getting from here to there that's a struggle for me.
Physically I'm fine and I know this because my mother badgered me into going to the doctor. (It was either go to the doctor or kill my mom. The first option is less messy, so in the end, I guess I reinforced the badgering behavior by giving in.) Tonight the boy and I are going out to a nice dinner with a $100 gift card that we've been saving for "the right time." He seems to think that a free dinner with no stress seems to be the thing I need right now. I think he's right.
But he's going to make me drive. In the yellow embarrassment. Sigh. I guess it's never NOT time to mess with Emily's psyche. It's okay. The fact that I'm already thinking of retribution shows that I'm already on the road to recovery, right?
Of course, then who would make sure things got done? This is usually what brings control-freak Emily back to reality, makes her take a deep breath and remember that as long as she's moving forward, the end will come soon enough. Besides, lying in bed and ignoring all responsibilities with the latest book club book is just as good as jumping off the cliff, and has less negative effects on my life.
Luckily I'm surrounded by great people. The boy came through, if not with flying colors at least with a solid A. I have a great boss who is also fabulous for brainstorming. I have friends who are willing to drive me places and rearrange their schedule to help me out. I have supportive and unbelievably giving parents. And, last but not least, I have a cousin who will take exactly what I'm willing to share with her, read between the lines, and dole out reliably good information time after time. I think she gets the bulk of the credit for talking me away from the cliff, and she did it all from thousands of miles away. She's an amazing woman, and I suggest you all get a cousin just like her.
Between everyone, I was able to have my freak out moment (sorry for any of you who were involved in that period) and then return to reality and breathing.
I am so grateful for the number of phone calls I received with support and just checking in to see if I was okay. I'm sorry if I haven't returned all of them. Let me get to the point where the car accident is an amusing anecdote and I'll get right on that.
Okay, the update is that there is no update. There are questions about the insurance coverage that might not be answered until next week. I don't know what those questions are, but they're making me nervous. I'm currently driving a canary yellow rental that I hate, but (sigh) at least I have a car. (It's so yellow. Did I mention that it's yellow?) My beloved Curvy is currently at the dealership where they're working on an estimate. I also have an insurance adjuster going out there to get a second estimate just in case. I saw her yesterday and was going to take pictures for you guys, but it was just so sad that I couldn't do it. They had her up and taken apart to see the damage, and though she looked fine from the outside after the accident, the underside of her rear end doesn't look so great from underneath. (insert brief sob here)
Things could be worse. I know, and I remember this every day. But the way I explain my stress to my boss is this: Since I don't own a home, my car is my most valuable possession. Some girl just ran right into it, damaged it quite a bit, and I'm not sure when I'll get it back, or IF I'll get it back. I know that in a month, or even a week, this will all be under control. It's just getting from here to there that's a struggle for me.
Physically I'm fine and I know this because my mother badgered me into going to the doctor. (It was either go to the doctor or kill my mom. The first option is less messy, so in the end, I guess I reinforced the badgering behavior by giving in.) Tonight the boy and I are going out to a nice dinner with a $100 gift card that we've been saving for "the right time." He seems to think that a free dinner with no stress seems to be the thing I need right now. I think he's right.
But he's going to make me drive. In the yellow embarrassment. Sigh. I guess it's never NOT time to mess with Emily's psyche. It's okay. The fact that I'm already thinking of retribution shows that I'm already on the road to recovery, right?
Friday, August 01, 2008
Hindsight is 20/20
So everyone needs some cheese on a random Friday, right? I found one of my favorite bloggers (Clink) earlier this year, and immediately sent a link to my friend Alisa. It was love at first blog. Since imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, we totally stole this idea and decided to do a joint post of our own...
(check out Alisa's here.)
Hola Chica!
You are eighteen years old! You just started having sex! You are on top of the world! You are about to start college in less than a month. You just started having sex!!
Let me start by saying how beautiful you are. You are not fat - shut up. You've always been beautiful. You never believe it (and during that "perm phase" maybe you had a point) but you should. I promise that eventually you will be comfortable in your own skin, but if you could start that process earlier (like now) then things will be MUCH easier down the road. Trust me.
I'm sorry to tell you - your mom is right. The university you chose is not quite the right fit for you. Don't worry - you make it work, and it actually helps you realize some things you never want to become. As a bonus, you'll escape with one or two good friends who are with you through thick and thin. I know that senior year is rough, and all you do is hate, but you did do well by choosing a liberal arts college. And a beautiful campus. And a good education. All in all, though - your mom was right. And here's the worst part - that's not the last time that's going to happen.
You are in loooooove right now. But of course you don't know it. Oh no. You think you're dating this kid who you really enjoy spending time with (not to mention having sex with) but that you're completely in control of the situation. Behold - you didn't even cry when you left him to go to college. I'm here to tell you that you're in love. You're deeply in love and the sooner you face that, the better off you are. But we'll get back to him later.
You make some missteps in college - everyone does. But good things happen too. You try to continue in colorguard (so not the same) and it takes a ridiculously long time to rid yourself of the marching band. They are persistent!! (Not to worry - by the time you're 30, that embarrassing band picture that includes you has rotated up to the top level of of the fieldhouse, and should be gone soon.) You'll meet one of your best friends over a shared love of steak night. You'll join a sorority (I know, right? Trust me, thirty-year-old Emily can't believe it either) because of this same good friend (who will then leave you high and dry in said sorority) but you'll find it in your heart to forgive her. You'll meet some great women in the sorority and you'll have some great times, though you'll eventually come away thinking that under no circumstances should that many women ever live under one roof. I would tell you to stay strong and not join, but I think that in the end, enough good came out of it that you're not entirely embarrassed to admit that indeed you are a Pi Beta Phi.
Of the women you meet your freshman year, the most persistent friend will surprise you. She will make many of the choices you don't know that you will envy later (except for that boyfriend thing. You called that one from the very beginning.) She'll end up sharing a lot of good times with you. Don't forget about her when your paths randomly separate. They will always reconnect, and you could do better about calling her every once in a while.
You're at the same university as one of your best male friends ever. He is so in love with you. You cherish him, but you'll never love him that way - though lord knows you'll try. I really really really wish I could convince you that you're meant for each other, but I know you're not, and surprisingly, you knew that too. You should trust your instincts more. You guys are still good friends, and you still cherish him. And even though he caused you all sorts of pain by telling you he chose to study abroad to get away from you, in doing so he actually introduces you to the idea of study abroad.
You go, and it is awesome. More awesome than you can possibly imagine. Truly a life changing experience.
You'll return ready to be done with rules and college and wanting to GET ON WITH YOUR LIFE ALREADY. Chill out, sister. You'll get there. And when you do, you'll wonder why you were in such a rush. Smell the roses a little more. (And could you stay away from the comfort food in the midst of all that angst? Seriously. That stuff is KILLER to work off later.)
I can use no word other than "blessed" to describe how lucky you are to stumble into your first job after college. Not for the career aspect. Nope. Even though you're 22 and you think you know it all, you're not ready for that yet. It's for the social aspect. You'll make some great and lasting friends from this job. You have no idea how much their support will mean to you. With your college and high school friends scattered to all ends of the earth, this tight social network makes your life in Indianapolis so much more fun and rewarding and you're so lucky for that.
Remember that boy you were SO in love with after high school? Yeah, well, you'll see him again. Run! Run like a scared rabbit!
Of course you don't. You're "meant to be," right? Well, I'm here to tell you that he's going to break your heart into a million pieces. This boy is going to bring you to your knees. You - who doesn't bend for anyone. I know it's hard to believe, but trust me. (Can I please please please convince you not to take him back that last time? Seriously. There's only so much you can do, Emily. Why sign up for more pain? AND DON'T GIVE HIM BACK THE RING!!! ARGH. If it helps, that last time is when he's going to be dating his future wife behind your back. Please please please stay strong!! Okay fine. You're still going to do anything for that jerk. Can I at least convince you to punch him in the nose that last time you see him? I promise you that you won't regret it, but you WILL regret not punching him.)
Um, I know you don't think you need it, but can you work on not carrying grudges? Maybe if you start now, fifty-year-old Emily has a chance to be good at forgiveness. :-)
So - shattered heart. That's the bad news. The good news is that you pick yourself up again, and you do a damned good job of it. I'm not gonna lie - it sucks and it takes a loooooooong time (and a LOOOOOOOOT of MarioKart,) but you get by with a little help from your friends (and those MarioKart skillz come in handy later on :-) When you do it (though you make some mistakes - kudos to realizing you're on a destructive path and stopping it all by yourself) you remake yourself into who you know you are, and promise to never compromise her again. See, that steel core was there all along - it just needed some reinforcing.
Along the way you meet some men, you realize that you are beautiful(ish), and you start what I consider your "real" life. No more waiting for Mr. Assface. (Um, did I mention that you may have some residual anger from this high school boyfriend? More reason to punch him when you can. Preferably before the engagement is called off. That ring could have done some damage. Sigh.) You start to grow into you and surround yourself with things that make you happy.
And while we're at this point, you know your best friend ever? That girl that is so totally going to be your maid of honor some day? The one who wears the "Be Fri" necklace to your "St Ends?" Yeah, not so much on that. You should walk away now. She lets you down when you need her most and it will break your friendship irreparably. You sever the friendship and you never look back. The ease with which you drop that relationship makes you realize that it wasn't all that great to begin with, even though you probably can't imagine life without her now.
While you're living your life, you find yourself, you eventually fall in love again, and you fill your time with many different activities that range from soccer to tutoring adults who are learning to read. Some activities stick around longer than others :-) Even though your friends think you're insane for having such a crazy schedule, it actually helps you out! While wandering aimlessly, you actually stumble into something that you love and want to dedicate your life to. I'll bet you didn't even know you had this much passion about a career, did you? Well, you do, and you find it at a point where you're strong enough to defend your decisions (unpopular as they may be) and stick to them.
How does that turn out? Well, I'm not sure. I guess we'll both have to wait to find out.
Remember to be bold and courageous. You'll always regret the things you didn't do more than the ones you did. Even now, I have remarkably few regrets, so you'll do good. Even though it seems like sometimes you can't do anything right, you have love and support from so many people that you can't ever really fall far. Make sure to thank them and tell them that you love them as often as you can.
I know how you'll turn out, but I'll wish you luck anyway. (And enter one more plea to punch Mr. Assface. No? Pretty please?)
Do Good,
Old Emily
(check out Alisa's here.)
Hola Chica!
You are eighteen years old! You just started having sex! You are on top of the world! You are about to start college in less than a month. You just started having sex!!
Let me start by saying how beautiful you are. You are not fat - shut up. You've always been beautiful. You never believe it (and during that "perm phase" maybe you had a point) but you should. I promise that eventually you will be comfortable in your own skin, but if you could start that process earlier (like now) then things will be MUCH easier down the road. Trust me.
I'm sorry to tell you - your mom is right. The university you chose is not quite the right fit for you. Don't worry - you make it work, and it actually helps you realize some things you never want to become. As a bonus, you'll escape with one or two good friends who are with you through thick and thin. I know that senior year is rough, and all you do is hate, but you did do well by choosing a liberal arts college. And a beautiful campus. And a good education. All in all, though - your mom was right. And here's the worst part - that's not the last time that's going to happen.
You are in loooooove right now. But of course you don't know it. Oh no. You think you're dating this kid who you really enjoy spending time with (not to mention having sex with) but that you're completely in control of the situation. Behold - you didn't even cry when you left him to go to college. I'm here to tell you that you're in love. You're deeply in love and the sooner you face that, the better off you are. But we'll get back to him later.
You make some missteps in college - everyone does. But good things happen too. You try to continue in colorguard (so not the same) and it takes a ridiculously long time to rid yourself of the marching band. They are persistent!! (Not to worry - by the time you're 30, that embarrassing band picture that includes you has rotated up to the top level of of the fieldhouse, and should be gone soon.) You'll meet one of your best friends over a shared love of steak night. You'll join a sorority (I know, right? Trust me, thirty-year-old Emily can't believe it either) because of this same good friend (who will then leave you high and dry in said sorority) but you'll find it in your heart to forgive her. You'll meet some great women in the sorority and you'll have some great times, though you'll eventually come away thinking that under no circumstances should that many women ever live under one roof. I would tell you to stay strong and not join, but I think that in the end, enough good came out of it that you're not entirely embarrassed to admit that indeed you are a Pi Beta Phi.
Of the women you meet your freshman year, the most persistent friend will surprise you. She will make many of the choices you don't know that you will envy later (except for that boyfriend thing. You called that one from the very beginning.) She'll end up sharing a lot of good times with you. Don't forget about her when your paths randomly separate. They will always reconnect, and you could do better about calling her every once in a while.
You're at the same university as one of your best male friends ever. He is so in love with you. You cherish him, but you'll never love him that way - though lord knows you'll try. I really really really wish I could convince you that you're meant for each other, but I know you're not, and surprisingly, you knew that too. You should trust your instincts more. You guys are still good friends, and you still cherish him. And even though he caused you all sorts of pain by telling you he chose to study abroad to get away from you, in doing so he actually introduces you to the idea of study abroad.
You go, and it is awesome. More awesome than you can possibly imagine. Truly a life changing experience.
You'll return ready to be done with rules and college and wanting to GET ON WITH YOUR LIFE ALREADY. Chill out, sister. You'll get there. And when you do, you'll wonder why you were in such a rush. Smell the roses a little more. (And could you stay away from the comfort food in the midst of all that angst? Seriously. That stuff is KILLER to work off later.)
I can use no word other than "blessed" to describe how lucky you are to stumble into your first job after college. Not for the career aspect. Nope. Even though you're 22 and you think you know it all, you're not ready for that yet. It's for the social aspect. You'll make some great and lasting friends from this job. You have no idea how much their support will mean to you. With your college and high school friends scattered to all ends of the earth, this tight social network makes your life in Indianapolis so much more fun and rewarding and you're so lucky for that.
Remember that boy you were SO in love with after high school? Yeah, well, you'll see him again. Run! Run like a scared rabbit!
Of course you don't. You're "meant to be," right? Well, I'm here to tell you that he's going to break your heart into a million pieces. This boy is going to bring you to your knees. You - who doesn't bend for anyone. I know it's hard to believe, but trust me. (Can I please please please convince you not to take him back that last time? Seriously. There's only so much you can do, Emily. Why sign up for more pain? AND DON'T GIVE HIM BACK THE RING!!! ARGH. If it helps, that last time is when he's going to be dating his future wife behind your back. Please please please stay strong!! Okay fine. You're still going to do anything for that jerk. Can I at least convince you to punch him in the nose that last time you see him? I promise you that you won't regret it, but you WILL regret not punching him.)
Um, I know you don't think you need it, but can you work on not carrying grudges? Maybe if you start now, fifty-year-old Emily has a chance to be good at forgiveness. :-)
So - shattered heart. That's the bad news. The good news is that you pick yourself up again, and you do a damned good job of it. I'm not gonna lie - it sucks and it takes a loooooooong time (and a LOOOOOOOOT of MarioKart,) but you get by with a little help from your friends (and those MarioKart skillz come in handy later on :-) When you do it (though you make some mistakes - kudos to realizing you're on a destructive path and stopping it all by yourself) you remake yourself into who you know you are, and promise to never compromise her again. See, that steel core was there all along - it just needed some reinforcing.
Along the way you meet some men, you realize that you are beautiful(ish), and you start what I consider your "real" life. No more waiting for Mr. Assface. (Um, did I mention that you may have some residual anger from this high school boyfriend? More reason to punch him when you can. Preferably before the engagement is called off. That ring could have done some damage. Sigh.) You start to grow into you and surround yourself with things that make you happy.
And while we're at this point, you know your best friend ever? That girl that is so totally going to be your maid of honor some day? The one who wears the "Be Fri" necklace to your "St Ends?" Yeah, not so much on that. You should walk away now. She lets you down when you need her most and it will break your friendship irreparably. You sever the friendship and you never look back. The ease with which you drop that relationship makes you realize that it wasn't all that great to begin with, even though you probably can't imagine life without her now.
While you're living your life, you find yourself, you eventually fall in love again, and you fill your time with many different activities that range from soccer to tutoring adults who are learning to read. Some activities stick around longer than others :-) Even though your friends think you're insane for having such a crazy schedule, it actually helps you out! While wandering aimlessly, you actually stumble into something that you love and want to dedicate your life to. I'll bet you didn't even know you had this much passion about a career, did you? Well, you do, and you find it at a point where you're strong enough to defend your decisions (unpopular as they may be) and stick to them.
How does that turn out? Well, I'm not sure. I guess we'll both have to wait to find out.
Remember to be bold and courageous. You'll always regret the things you didn't do more than the ones you did. Even now, I have remarkably few regrets, so you'll do good. Even though it seems like sometimes you can't do anything right, you have love and support from so many people that you can't ever really fall far. Make sure to thank them and tell them that you love them as often as you can.
I know how you'll turn out, but I'll wish you luck anyway. (And enter one more plea to punch Mr. Assface. No? Pretty please?)
Do Good,
Old Emily
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Make New Friends, but...
I think that's a Girl Scout thing. Isn't there a song they sing with this phrase? "Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver, the other gold?" I wouldn't know. I was never a girl scout... (no surprise there, right?)
But I think it's a valid point they sing about there.
Until just recently, I never thought of "doesn't have a friend they've known longer than 5 years" as a negative trait in someone. I mean, friendship is a tricky thing. Maybe some people aren't blessed with good friends. Maybe they're surrounded by idiots their whole life and can't connect to one single person. Maybe circumstances beyond their control led them to go through life with no close friends.
Then I realized that they have a word for those people, my friends. And that word is "sociopath."
I kid.
But seriously... the more I think about it, the creepier I think it is. If you don't have any friends that you've known for an extended amount of time, that says something about your past, about your character, about your ability to maintain friendships.... Am I wrong in believing this? Maybe it's not a really bad thing on the level of "jailed for rape," but it's not a good thing, is it?
I remember meeting a great girl (who brought cupcakes to the sorority house) in college. She was fun, she was nice, she was energetic... I immediately liked her. Early in our conversations, for some reason or another, the factoid came up that she didn't have any close girl friends. None from high school or before. None from any extra curricular activities. She said, "For some reason, I just don't get along well with girls." I was shocked. Shocked I tell you! The young, naive version of me swooped in and said, "We'll be friends. I can tell we click already."
Two years later, had I had a chance to re-live that conversation, my response would have been something along the lines of, "Well, if you actually respected your friendships with women and didn't always put men above them, not to mention that whole 'stealing boyfriends' thing, you might have a TAD more success at this whole 'female friendship' thing." This was the beginning of my belief that if you don't have long term friendships, there's usually a reason.
After a dinner last night with girls I went to college with, I'm left wondering exactly what it is about old friendships that is so great. I mean, it's not like you don't have new friends who are closer. It's not like old friends have to be a huge part of your life. It's not like sometimes you can't outgrow an old friendship... But one of the girls last night mentioned, "I have friends at home, but no one can replace you girls....I mean I have good friends....but..."
I understood what she meant, even though none of us could exactly express it.
Old friends sort of keep you grounded. They remember things that even you might have forgotten - but instead of holding it against you, they just know it. It adds to their overall image of you in their heads. Sometimes those are bad things, and sometimes those are good things....but they're very rarely false things. These are the friends who can call "bullshit" when you fill out one of those stupid MySpace bulletins like, "My bar tab is only $250" and it should really be more along the lines of $345 or $450. Maybe that's not a part of yourself that you want to remember, but it IS a part of you, and I think it's dangerous to try and pretend that it never happened.
At the table last night, I was thinking about all the different paths our lives had taken. We had two girls who were married, two girls who had broken engagements, three girls in long term relationships but not yet engaged, two girls with children, one girl who lived out of state, one girl in radio, one stay at home mom....you get the picture. And yet, there wasn't one awkward silence. There were a lot of embarrassing memories, but no silence.
I don't know exactly how to express what was so clear last night. The closest I can come is to say that we all have that friend we can tell everything to. We all have that friend we can call if we want to have a good time. We all have that friend we can call to tell us the real truth about the outfit we're wearing. But friends from the past have their own separate category. It might not be a huge one, but it's just as important.
After all, who else is going to remind you about the time you wore those denim short shorts and danced to 'Wild Thing?' (and have the pictures to prove it?)
But I think it's a valid point they sing about there.
Until just recently, I never thought of "doesn't have a friend they've known longer than 5 years" as a negative trait in someone. I mean, friendship is a tricky thing. Maybe some people aren't blessed with good friends. Maybe they're surrounded by idiots their whole life and can't connect to one single person. Maybe circumstances beyond their control led them to go through life with no close friends.
Then I realized that they have a word for those people, my friends. And that word is "sociopath."
I kid.
But seriously... the more I think about it, the creepier I think it is. If you don't have any friends that you've known for an extended amount of time, that says something about your past, about your character, about your ability to maintain friendships.... Am I wrong in believing this? Maybe it's not a really bad thing on the level of "jailed for rape," but it's not a good thing, is it?
I remember meeting a great girl (who brought cupcakes to the sorority house) in college. She was fun, she was nice, she was energetic... I immediately liked her. Early in our conversations, for some reason or another, the factoid came up that she didn't have any close girl friends. None from high school or before. None from any extra curricular activities. She said, "For some reason, I just don't get along well with girls." I was shocked. Shocked I tell you! The young, naive version of me swooped in and said, "We'll be friends. I can tell we click already."
Two years later, had I had a chance to re-live that conversation, my response would have been something along the lines of, "Well, if you actually respected your friendships with women and didn't always put men above them, not to mention that whole 'stealing boyfriends' thing, you might have a TAD more success at this whole 'female friendship' thing." This was the beginning of my belief that if you don't have long term friendships, there's usually a reason.
After a dinner last night with girls I went to college with, I'm left wondering exactly what it is about old friendships that is so great. I mean, it's not like you don't have new friends who are closer. It's not like old friends have to be a huge part of your life. It's not like sometimes you can't outgrow an old friendship... But one of the girls last night mentioned, "I have friends at home, but no one can replace you girls....I mean I have good friends....but..."
I understood what she meant, even though none of us could exactly express it.
Old friends sort of keep you grounded. They remember things that even you might have forgotten - but instead of holding it against you, they just know it. It adds to their overall image of you in their heads. Sometimes those are bad things, and sometimes those are good things....but they're very rarely false things. These are the friends who can call "bullshit" when you fill out one of those stupid MySpace bulletins like, "My bar tab is only $250" and it should really be more along the lines of $345 or $450. Maybe that's not a part of yourself that you want to remember, but it IS a part of you, and I think it's dangerous to try and pretend that it never happened.
At the table last night, I was thinking about all the different paths our lives had taken. We had two girls who were married, two girls who had broken engagements, three girls in long term relationships but not yet engaged, two girls with children, one girl who lived out of state, one girl in radio, one stay at home mom....you get the picture. And yet, there wasn't one awkward silence. There were a lot of embarrassing memories, but no silence.
I don't know exactly how to express what was so clear last night. The closest I can come is to say that we all have that friend we can tell everything to. We all have that friend we can call if we want to have a good time. We all have that friend we can call to tell us the real truth about the outfit we're wearing. But friends from the past have their own separate category. It might not be a huge one, but it's just as important.
After all, who else is going to remind you about the time you wore those denim short shorts and danced to 'Wild Thing?' (and have the pictures to prove it?)
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Ode to Dean Koontz (alternatively titled: A Fond Farewell)
Ever since I stumbled upon "It" when I was a senior in high school, I have loved Stephen King. I began to read his books voraciously in college. I loved the way his books all seem to tie together in mysterious ways. I loved that characters from one book popped up in others. I loved how he alluded to other books in his short stories (sometimes alluding to a book that hadn't yet been written.) When people asked who my favorite author is, I instantly responded with his name.
But once I got through his books, the wait for new ones got long...and lonely.
So I turned to Dean Koontz to ease my pain.
Koontz is an entirely different writer than King. He dabbles more in fantasy (which I'm not particularly fond of) and his stories are fast paced right from page one. King's books start off notoriously slow and take true dedication to get to the fabulously bone chilling meat of the book.
But this isn't a critique of one writer's strengths over the other.
I never listed Koontz among my favorite authors. He was always a filler. He was just what I read when I didn't have any new books from my "favorite" authors. He was always there, and his books always satisfied. It wasn't until I moved into my own apartment, and FINALLY put all of my books on a bookshelf (alphabetically organized by author: yes I am that person) that I realized that the number of Koontz books that I owned actually outnumbered the number of King books that I owned. And I owned practically every single Stephen King book.
"Wow," I thought, "I must really like Dean Koontz."
The thought was somewhat of a surprise. Then I thought back to how much I liked Koontz's "Odd" books, and set out right then to the bookstore to buy the next one. It was the first time I set out with the goal to buy a Koontz book instead of just turning to him as a default.
Now, I'll buy the new Koontz book as regularly as I'll buy the new King book. It's tough on the pocketbook, let me tell you. When people ask me to list my favorite authors, I'll mention both King and Koontz.
When I found out that a friend of mine whom I have known for over ten years was moving away, the first emotion I felt was nothing but excitement for her. We were close friends, but never that "talk-on-the-phone-see-each-other-daily-consult-each-other-for-everything" type of friend. I started thinking about her new adventure, all the things she would be experiencing, and how jealous I was of the turn her life was taking. It added to my motivation to change things in my life and put them more in the direction I kept thinking they should be in.
Then, when I went to her going away party, it began to sink in that she was really leaving Indiana. Not that our friendship would end, but she wouldn't be HERE with me. My first reaction to that thought was a hearty "BOO!" but with rueful acceptance. We would be fine.
THEN I looked back over the years of our friendship. There were times when we didn't talk but once every six months. There were times when she would call me out of the blue with an idea for a new adventure. I always said yes. There were times she would invite me out, and I would know no one but her (and the person who came with me.) It would occur to me how different our lives were. How were we still friends?? I remember once being in the car with her when she critiqued the new color of a cross walk sign.
"I don't like those," she said. "The color is obnoxious."
"Wow. You really do have an opinion about everything, don't you?" I responded.
Pot, meet Kettle.
About three and a half years ago, my life began to undergo a series of dramatic changes. I had quit my (horrible) job, was in the process of losing my best friend, started dating a guy I thought I was going to marry, gotten over the LAST guy I thought I was going to marry....I felt like I was finally growing into me.
Around this time, my friend was also going through changes. In a job she didn't like, post breakup with a guy who was no good for her, had gotten over being "in like" with a guy who was unavailable and went on to dating a guy who was just as unavailable (though she didn't know it at the time....) She reached out to me with the following suggestion:
"We don't see each other enough. What if we schedule monthly dinners together?"
Like all other adventures, I said, "Sure!"
The dinners evolved from dinners out (my side of town, her side of town, my side of town...etc.) to dinners in (my place, her place, my place....) She cooked these fabulous meals with seemingly little stress. Meanwhile, I was leaving early from work, making a mess of my kitchen, and lucky if I had the table set by the time she arrived. They were the one event each month that I wouldn't miss unless I was DYING.
We had other adventures too. I need someone to go with me to Italian Fest. No problem. Butler basketball games? Done. Let's try kickboxing! Why not?? Latin dance classes? Awesome!
We had our last monthly dinner on August 29th.
I look back over the years of our friendship and realize that although I might not have appreciated it at the time, her friendship was as reliable as Koontz books were. Like Koontz, she was always there, and always made me just as happy as any others in my life. Sometimes I even had MORE fun in her presence than with those I considered closer friends. It's too bad that I only started to put her friendship front and center so late. I have a feeling I'll miss her in moments I can't even imagine right now, and those moments will hit me out of the blue - like when I should be kickboxing or want to go to the next "Puppy Bowl" at Animal Control.
I can only hope that the future is kind, and the distance doesn't matter.
With close friends it usually doesn't.
But once I got through his books, the wait for new ones got long...and lonely.
So I turned to Dean Koontz to ease my pain.
Koontz is an entirely different writer than King. He dabbles more in fantasy (which I'm not particularly fond of) and his stories are fast paced right from page one. King's books start off notoriously slow and take true dedication to get to the fabulously bone chilling meat of the book.
But this isn't a critique of one writer's strengths over the other.
I never listed Koontz among my favorite authors. He was always a filler. He was just what I read when I didn't have any new books from my "favorite" authors. He was always there, and his books always satisfied. It wasn't until I moved into my own apartment, and FINALLY put all of my books on a bookshelf (alphabetically organized by author: yes I am that person) that I realized that the number of Koontz books that I owned actually outnumbered the number of King books that I owned. And I owned practically every single Stephen King book.
"Wow," I thought, "I must really like Dean Koontz."
The thought was somewhat of a surprise. Then I thought back to how much I liked Koontz's "Odd" books, and set out right then to the bookstore to buy the next one. It was the first time I set out with the goal to buy a Koontz book instead of just turning to him as a default.
Now, I'll buy the new Koontz book as regularly as I'll buy the new King book. It's tough on the pocketbook, let me tell you. When people ask me to list my favorite authors, I'll mention both King and Koontz.
When I found out that a friend of mine whom I have known for over ten years was moving away, the first emotion I felt was nothing but excitement for her. We were close friends, but never that "talk-on-the-phone-see-each-other-daily-consult-each-other-for-everything" type of friend. I started thinking about her new adventure, all the things she would be experiencing, and how jealous I was of the turn her life was taking. It added to my motivation to change things in my life and put them more in the direction I kept thinking they should be in.
Then, when I went to her going away party, it began to sink in that she was really leaving Indiana. Not that our friendship would end, but she wouldn't be HERE with me. My first reaction to that thought was a hearty "BOO!" but with rueful acceptance. We would be fine.
THEN I looked back over the years of our friendship. There were times when we didn't talk but once every six months. There were times when she would call me out of the blue with an idea for a new adventure. I always said yes. There were times she would invite me out, and I would know no one but her (and the person who came with me.) It would occur to me how different our lives were. How were we still friends?? I remember once being in the car with her when she critiqued the new color of a cross walk sign.
"I don't like those," she said. "The color is obnoxious."
"Wow. You really do have an opinion about everything, don't you?" I responded.
Pot, meet Kettle.
About three and a half years ago, my life began to undergo a series of dramatic changes. I had quit my (horrible) job, was in the process of losing my best friend, started dating a guy I thought I was going to marry, gotten over the LAST guy I thought I was going to marry....I felt like I was finally growing into me.
Around this time, my friend was also going through changes. In a job she didn't like, post breakup with a guy who was no good for her, had gotten over being "in like" with a guy who was unavailable and went on to dating a guy who was just as unavailable (though she didn't know it at the time....) She reached out to me with the following suggestion:
"We don't see each other enough. What if we schedule monthly dinners together?"
Like all other adventures, I said, "Sure!"
The dinners evolved from dinners out (my side of town, her side of town, my side of town...etc.) to dinners in (my place, her place, my place....) She cooked these fabulous meals with seemingly little stress. Meanwhile, I was leaving early from work, making a mess of my kitchen, and lucky if I had the table set by the time she arrived. They were the one event each month that I wouldn't miss unless I was DYING.
We had other adventures too. I need someone to go with me to Italian Fest. No problem. Butler basketball games? Done. Let's try kickboxing! Why not?? Latin dance classes? Awesome!
We had our last monthly dinner on August 29th.
I look back over the years of our friendship and realize that although I might not have appreciated it at the time, her friendship was as reliable as Koontz books were. Like Koontz, she was always there, and always made me just as happy as any others in my life. Sometimes I even had MORE fun in her presence than with those I considered closer friends. It's too bad that I only started to put her friendship front and center so late. I have a feeling I'll miss her in moments I can't even imagine right now, and those moments will hit me out of the blue - like when I should be kickboxing or want to go to the next "Puppy Bowl" at Animal Control.
I can only hope that the future is kind, and the distance doesn't matter.
With close friends it usually doesn't.
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