Realizations

This past weekend was all about realizations. I realized just how long it will be before I’m laughing and dancing with my dearest friends again. I realized how much those friends mean to me. And most importantly, I realized what is most important in life.

Let me start by saying, the weekend surpassed any of my expectations. The venues were perfect. The dresses were perfect. The food was perfect. I guess the word “perfect” describes Tiffany and Aaron’s wedding…perfectly. It was gorgeous. She was gorgeous. She was so gorgeous I cried.

One of my favorite parts of the wedding was holding Tiffany’s train while we were walking to the chapel. She looked so ready for this next stage of her life and I found myself wondering if I will ever feel about a guy the same way she feels about Aaron. There were no “dating games” in their relationship. There was no waiting three days to call or feigned indifference (at least not when they were officially dating ☺ ). They were just soul achingly and heart wrenchingly in love. And watching Aaron look at Tiffany walk down that aisle—I have no doubt he will treasure and love her until his last breath. Witnessing that kind of love—that kind of devotion—that kind of raw purity in a relationship makes me wonder if it will ever come along for me. I have to believe it will. And until it does, I’m just going to be happy that couples like Aaron and Tiffany are around to remind me of what is possible when you focus on God and let him lead a relationship.

I also realized how much I really miss my friends from Hillsdale. Sitting around until 2am talking about the newest Vogue and other sundry girlie topics—I could almost transport myself back to the Whitley basement. I had so much fun; from our wild Bachelorette party to taking off our shoes and dancing to “Dancing Queen” at the reception—I think I laughed and cried more in two days than I have since graduation. And it was so hard to let go at the end of it all. Realizing we’re all in different places in our lives and things will never be the same is difficult. I almost want to go back in time and shake myself—why didn’t I appreciate these precious relationships more when they were right in front of me? I guess the Yellow Taxi song says it best. You really don’t appreciate things until they’re gone. And my days at Hillsdale are gone now. I’ll miss that place--and the people who made it live--so much.

Don't it always seem to go
That you don't know what you got till it's gone
They paved paradise and put up a parkin' lot

A little confused...

Because I am THAT bored at work here's another post for today.

Yesterday I got flowers. One dozen red roses--and I’m not sure how I feel about this.

One of part of me is a little confused. We’ve only been on three dates. Isn’t one dozen long stemmed roses a little much for a relationship of a few weeks? Maybe it’s not. Maybe I’m reading too much into this (as I often do) but I don’t want him to think this is more than it really is. What does one dozen red roses mean? I love you? I hope not. I miss you? I guess that wouldn’t be too bad. I want more? Ha.

The other part of me is just happy to get one dozen long stemmed red roses. I love flowers. They look nice in my room. I like the smell.

I hate dating. It’s too complicated. I’m going to mail order a Russian husband and get this whole process over with.

Fun times ahead

Now for something a little less...narrative. For those of you who asked me about my last post—it was half true—half not so true. True—I did friend my middle school crush last week, I did feel weird the next morning, I did get an awkward message from him, and I have followed him into a bathroom in the past. What’s not true--my psyche is not fragile (most of the time) and I don’t hate Clive (although his keyboard IS falling apart). I was just bored at work and wanted to make the whole experience more interesting. Sorry if I confused you.

In other news--
Today I’m driving down to Maryland for Aaron and Tiffany’s wedding and i’m so excited to feel comfortable again.

I haven’t been comfortable in a while. A new environment, new friends, new job---all of these exciting—but stressful—experiences have been a constant for the last two months. I’m starting to get the hang of things but it will be really nice not to have to try to be friends with someone—and just be friends with people who really know me. I’m also excited for the wedding! From what I hear it’s going to be beautiful.

So all I have to do is get through today—get on a bus—and cruise my way to good friends and a good time.

Fun times ahead.

The morning after...

It’s time for the walk of shame.

Slowly my eyes open to let in some light. I know something’s different—the feeling in the pit of my stomach signals something is amiss. I swing my legs around, rubbing my eyes and willing my mind to recall last night’s horrors. What could I have done to warrant this barrage of shame?

And then I remember.

I glance down at my bed. There he is. Asleep.

Crap.

I reach over and pick up his thin frame. He’s cold. It’s a 180-degree change from last night. We were up all night. And he was burning me up…

“Clive—wake up,” I command. Nothing. Frantically, I punch his buttons. “Wake up!”

Finally the little apple lights up and the Macintosh song begins—usually something I love to hear. Now something I just want to shut up.

I open my Internet browser—nervously hit my facebook short cut and wait for the inevitable. I can’t believe I did it. I can’t believe I actually did it. Did I really do it?

And there it is. The most awkward facebook message I have ever received. The fruit of my folly. The consequence of my self-perceived invincibility. Why, oh, why did I feel the need to face my past like this?

The message: “Hi…um…I think I remember you…didn’t you follow me into the men’s bathroom once? You were so weird!”

Why I felt compelled to facebook friend my middle school crush I will never know. Maybe I wanted him to know that while he was flipping burgers—I was in NYC. And while he was probably still the cutest boy on the planet—I wasn’t too bad myself. And after years of following him (sometimes into the men’s restroom) I was now a sophisticated woman who didn’t need to follow anyone, anywhere. Well…not usually anyway.

I hate facebook. I hate Alfredo. And right now, I hate my laptop, that my college friends affectionately (or not so affectionately) named Clive.

I close my laptop with a bang. I don’t need some creepy restaurant manager wanna-be messing with my already fragile psyche. The last thing I need right now is to relive middle school.
And then I realize I haven’t had my coffee. Something tells me this will be a lot less of an issue with a skinny vanilla latte in my hands. After all—his name is Alfredo. He’s had it rough too. Maybe I should cut him some slack?

A Whole New World

I think I just died and went to heaven.

A very fashionable heaven.

A chat with my mom last night left me with a concept I didn’t even know existed: New York Sample sales.

Me: “Everyone is so stylish here…I have no idea how they do it with the cost of living! It’s so intimidating.”

Mom (who lives in Florida): Well, do you go to the sample sales?

Me: The what sales?

Mom: The sample sales. I read about it in the newspaper. Let me go get it…(rummaging)…oh yes…here it is. Designer clothes for 60-80 percent off. They even have…Chanel.

Me: *Gasp*

Mom: Yes, it’s true. They also have….

But I hear no more. I begin to envision myself walking down the street head to toe in double Cs. It was magical.

Then when I got to work today I looked up “nyc sample sales” in google and a myriad of links yielded breathless wonder after breathless wonder. What have I been missing all my life? How could I live anywhere else after this life changing discovery? Chanel…you are now within my grasp…

Thank God for New York City. Thank God for sample sales. And most of all—thank God for Chanel.

I was randomly talking to a girl on the subway yesterday and she said something to me that took me by surprise.

She said, "Brooklyn is the new Manhattan!"

Really? I thought. Now I don't have excessive experience in Brooklyn, but in the time I have spent there (a week when I first got to New York and few nights here and there hanging out with friends) I have never got that impression. Don't get me wrong. I like Brooklyn. I think it has a character and a laissez-faire attitude not found in Manhattan. People in Brooklyn give off this "I just don't give a shit" aura that people in Manhattan normally just can't pull off. They're wearing too many labels. It's a fun, bohemian experience that is a refreshing respite from the Manhattan bustle and intense energy. That's why I was so taken aback by what I heard in the subway. Why would anyone want Brooklyn to turn into Manhattan? It's great the way it is. I guess the point of this post--don't mess with a good thing. Brooklyn in Brooklyn. Manhattan is Manhattan. And I like it that way.

The funniest thing...EVER

Everyone...if you have cable you HAVE to watch Flipping Out. I'm laughing so hard I can't move right now. It's amazing. I can't...I just don't have words. Watch it. You'll know what I'm talking about.

Bravo--TONIGHT--New episode at 10pm.