Hello, Lacuna?

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind is probably one of my favorite movies.

Keeping that in mind, what would you do if you found out you could erase someone? Would you do it? Is there someone who you would just completely erase from your memory forever?

I've thought about this before. In high school, there were a few people who really affected my life and changed the way I thought about a lot of things.

For starters, there was Shaun. Shaun and I met freshman year, in a math class. He was sitting next to a guy named Robby, who my friend liked. I also kind of liked Robby, but decided to let my friend go for him instead, and set my sights on Shaun, even though I had absolutely no interest in him. About two weeks into class, I wrote him a note that said "Hey, I'm going to pretend to like you. Sorry for everything that is about to happen." He responded with a long response of "uh, ok." We also had drama together. The first day of class we had to tell a few things about ourselves, so he started talking about how he liked water. Our teacher asked what kind of water, so he started naming off all sorts of things like rivers, lakes, ponds, etc. The bell was going to ring about a minute into what he was talking about, so I said "just keep rambling, the bell is going to ring soon." So he did, and then he thanked me after class. A few weeks after that, we had become friends. We had a lot of classes together, so we ended up spending most of our time in each other's company. Through spending time with him, I got to know him and other things about him...like the fact that he had a girlfriend. As is often the case, because we had been spending so much time together I actually had started to like him in the "more than friends" kind of way. We spent a lot of time together talking, and during class we'd write notes back and forth (all of which I believe I still have in my closet at my parents house...). We had this great friendship going, but it wasn't going anywhere. We started having a secret code in our notes and making mixed cds for each other, and having really late night conversations on the phone. Eventually he started talking about breaking up with his girlfriend to go out with me. I was excited at this prospect, because I really liked him, but as it turned out...he wasn't going to break up with her. (So the story usually goes.) After I found out that he wasn't serious, we started drifting apart. He started hanging out with other people, and I hung out in the drama room with people that I had made friends with. Halfway through sophomore year he transferred schools to be with his girlfriend. I only saw him once after that, when he came back a year and a half later to pick up his new girlfriend. A junior girl in my drama class. It was weird seeing him after all that time.

I wonder if I would get the guts to be able to erase him from my memory. He was a big part of my life for awhile, and he got me into some great music. It was hard not talking to him though. We were best friends for awhile, and he helped get me through some tough things. We even performed a scene together at a DTASC festival. Sometimes it's nice to have those memories.

Someone that I really wouldn't mind erasing from my mind is the professor. I keep thinking that he's a good guy, that I really like being friends with him, but then I see his ulterior motives and I can't help but wonder what made me attracted to that. Granted, he's Jewish and he's smart, but still. He's an elitist jerk who hates musicals. He came to see Bernarda Alba because I asked him to, but he made me buy the tickets and walk them over to his office instead of buying them himself. He plays piano, but he barely plays requests. He tries to seem nice, but instead ends up sounding sleazy. He IS sleazy. He has been trying for a few years now to get into my pants. When I told him that I had a boyfriend, he said "oh, so I guess that means no chance of that dinner, huh?" Seriously. And because of the cycle that I keep going through (talking to him, not talking to him, talking to him, not talking to him), my brain keeps going on a cycle (stupid, smart, stupid, smart) which really takes a toll on my thoughts. I think that erasing him from my memory would be a smart move. Or if I had never met him...my life probably would have been much easier.

Too bad Lacuna, Inc. doesn't really exist...

I'm a girlfriend?

I had definitely planned on writing another post last weekend, but somehow I didn't get around to it.

So. I had a date. And now I have a boyfriend.

It's interesting though, I definitely didn't see this happening this quickly. Also, everyone is telling him not to fuck it up, but what about me? I am perfectly capable of fucking things up just as much as he is, but no one is warning me about it. And I'm probably more likely of messing things up too. I mean, come on, look at my relationship history! I've been the dumpee. Let's take a walk down memory lane, shall we?

Matt (spring semester of freshman year to nov 5 of sophomore year) - broke up with me for weed. Slash I was getting attention starved. If he had hung out with me more I would have been less attention starved. Eh, bad ending all around.

Albert (two weeks fall semester of freshman year) - he was depressed and didn't want help, so he dumped me. Eh. Not my fault either.

Doron (August 22, 2004-January 14, 2005) - broke up with because I was too depressed. I loved him. God. Ugh. That was an awful breakup. I still can't listen to Les Miserables without thinking of him.

Evan - broke up with me because I didn't like to be touched. Still don't. Oh well.

I haven't had a boyfriend since Matt, and I don't know how to act anymore. I don't know how to be around someone who wants to be around me all the time. He pays for me. He treats me well. He likes talking to me, and hanging out with me, and going out with me...

I don't know what I'm doing. I'm too out of practice. I don't know how to be a girlfriend.

Shit.

Whisper her name...

Talk about an eventful night.


Last night, I had a birthday party for a friend of mine. It was a special birthday party though, definitely not the typical kind. First of all, she doesn't live in northern California. She's in Santa Barbara. Well, really, she's buried there.

My first real week in New York, my friend killed herself.

I remember getting the call. My mom called me at 10am on that Friday morning. I was upset that she had called that early because it was my only day to sleep in, and I wanted to sleep til noon. I didn't pick up, but she didn't leave a message. I called her back right away, asking if it was important. She said it was, but if I was still sleeping I could call her back later. That caught my attention. She was calling to tell me that on Wednesday, M had taken her life.

I hadn't talked to M in a few months, so I didn't really know what was going on in her life, but she had emailed me around Thanksgiving to wish me a happy birthday and to comment on the fact that I was thinking about becoming a Jewish educator. She thought it was so cool that I might be a rabbi or a cantor or a teacher of Judaism. She told me that she was bragging to her boyfriend about it and everything.

God, I miss her.

We were never that close or anything, but our families were in the same group at the temple. Our Havurah (basically a group of families that make up another family) always had events planned, so we hung out a lot. When I was younger, I actually thought she didn't like me. Of course, that's how I feel about a lot of people, but for her it was worse because she was in my Havurah. Anyway, eventually we became a little closer, hanging out when our moms would get together. She was such a tomboy, and I was a girly girl, so our personalities clashed, but one day when it was raining we put bathing suits on (I put the top of mine on backwards) and did a rain dance. There are pictures.

Anyway, last night I had a birthday party for her, and I guess things just hit me harder than I was expecting them to. It also didn't help that I drank a lot. (For those of you who want to know how much I had - an entire bottle of white wine, a triple sec and pomegranate juice, two and a half pina coladas...that's all I can remember. It's possible I had other drinks.) There was a lot of crying, and a lot of text messaging, and a lot of conversations that should have been had while sober. I think the thing that keeps getting me through this is that at least she's not hurting anymore. Silver lining.

Happy birthday, M. I hope you're doing better, wherever you are.

I could go for a McFlurry right about now...

I've been watching a lot of Grey's Anatomy lately. And when I say a lot, I mean I started the first season last Wednesday at work, and am now almost done with the second season. Kind of ridiculous.

Second semester of freshman year there was a whole group of us that watched Grey's in my room. The group consisted of Matt F (my then boyfriend), Matt D (Matt F's roommate), Vianey (my then roommate), and Christina (a girl from down the hall who Vianey had made friends with and in turn I made friends with). We used to crowd around the tiny tv set that Vianey had brought with her to watch the season 1 DVDs and the second half of season 2. Those were good times. We used to watch episodes, then talk about how we would all be friends for a really long time. When all of us were sitting together in that room, you could feel the bond that we shared. I think that people who walked in could even feel it. They just knew. But times change, people change, I talked about this already. Eh. Moving on.

Thinking about those times makes me really miss the closeness of good friends though. And having someone to like/love. I mean, in the more recent days of my New York life, I've made some really great friends. But it's been a long time since I've had a boyfriend. Or a crush on a real person. (Not that the guys I've had crushes on recently aren't "real people," it was just never realistic to like them. Religious differences and all that jazz.)

What I really miss is liking someone. Or having someone like me. Someone that I can really talk to, really be myself. Someone who will understand that I like to dance to the Spice Girls, or watch High School Musical, or that I get distracted by glitter. And who won't just say "aw, you're so cute," or just laugh at me when I'm being self-conscious. Someone who won't judge me for staying up until 4 in the morning because I was reading and couldn't put a book down, but will be able to say "yeah, I've done that. I love when that happens." Someone that will be my best friend, but also my teddy bear. When Beth and Erik were here, I felt like I was able to be myself. Yeah, I even spun around the subway pole at 3am and they supported me, they didn't care that I was acting like an idiot. When I used to go to camp with Rachel and Sunny, I'd get superhyper, and they loved every minute of it. They got hyper with me. I need more people like that in my life, not people who will put me down because of what I like or what I think.

I guess I keep coming back to needing more supportive friends. I think it's more than that though. I'm lonely. I'm tired of not scrolling through my contacts list on my phone and not having anyone to call to tell about something stupid that I saw while walking down the street. I'm tired of spending nights by myself. I'm tired of not hugging people. I'm tired of being alone.

I know that you aren't supposed to look for love, or it'll come when you least expect it, or whatever, but...it's difficult! Ha, like I have to tell more than half the world. We all know it.

Well, I guess it's back to more Grey's Anatomy. I wish I had a McFlurry to eat while watching McDreamy and McSteamy...

Fortune cookies tell awesome fortunes

Last night, Beth and I were having a girls night (leaving Erik to his own devices) and decided to order Chinese food. As we were watching High School Musical: Get in the Picture, our food arrived, which we dug in to quite quickly. After we were done eating, we opened our fortunes. I don't remember what hers said (last night was a long time ago, give me a break!), but mine was quite profound. Mine said:

"You don't have to change friends if you understand that friends change."

Wow, right?

It definitely makes me reflect on stuff that has happened in the past few years with people who I was/am friends with.

My 20th and 21st birthday years have both been so different. As I've said before, a few weeks before I turned 20 I stopped drinking, then when I turned 21, I started again. A lot of things happened right after I turned 21. At my birthday party, (which I had planned for myself because I wanted to celebrate with my friends, but ended up being sick with a cold during after I got back from my vegas birthday trip...more on that later) I was forced to drink by my friends, EVEN THOUGH I was not feeling well. Ok, maybe not forced, but I felt like if I was having this party so that people could drink with me to celebrate my "return to the drinking world," I should be drinking. So I did, and that was fun, and my friends were fans of the fact that I could drink again (as one of my rudest friends said when I had stopped: "I liked it better when you were drinking").

But things weren't all fine and dandy for long.

Things that led to the demise of my friendships with people I thought were my friends:
-I went on a cruise in December with my family, where I had a cruisefling with the pianist on the ship. My friends didn't like that I talked a lot about it when I came back.

-I started going out to the bars, mainly with Michelle, who was 24. My friends didn't like that I was hanging out with other people or that I was "drinking all the time to get drunk".

-I text message a lot. Most of the time when we were hanging out it was late at night, and that was the only time my cousin could text me. So, I ended up texting him a lot while my friends and I were hanging out. Not such a good idea.

-My face's natural expression is not happy. So a lot of the time I don't look like I'm having a good time. It's annoying, but I'm not going to smile 24/7 just to make YOU happy. I'll smile if I want to.

-My ability to pick the WRONG people to like.

Over winter break, my friends and I grew apart due to all these things above, not to mention that I was co-stage managing a show at a community theater that had rehearsal pretty much every night.

When spring semester started, I thought we would be going back to normal patterns of hanging out, but it didn't happen. A party that was supposed to be at my place was moved to a neighbor's place - no one told me about the change until most people had gone home. I heard about movie events, parties, game nights after the fact. I couldn't believe it: I was being phased out. I went to one of my friends of the group that I had helped bring together to find out what was happening, and she told me all of those things above had contributed, plus a few others.

Another girl from the group asked me if I still wanted to be friends with them. I couldn't believe she had asked me that. Of course I wanted to be friends with them. I didn't have many other people to hang out with since I had been hanging out with them almost EVERY NIGHT for a year and a half. Just because I was going out to the bars with people who were of age (which most of them were not) did NOT mean I didn't want to hang out with them!

But I had changed. They had changed their views. They didn't like that I was drinking all the time (which, for the record, I wasn't.). Wait, what? Yeah. Now that I was drinking again, they didn't like it. How does that make sense? Oh, right. It doesn't.

Basically, I can't go into this anymore. It's a sucky feeling. But essentially, the fortune is true.

To quote Rockapella: People change. Everyday.
(I thought there were more words to that song that fit this situation, but I guess not. Oh well!)
People change, and when they don't change together it makes it difficult. So how to fix that?

Anyway, I guess the point of this is that the fortune cookie fortune was something good to remember. You don't have to change friends if you understand that friends change.

It happens.

Die, Vampires, Die!

I saw [title of show] tonight. Since I didn't have work at the theatre that I normally have work at on Monday nights, I went by myself to get tickets. When I went in, the guy selling tickets told me about the lottery that they have, which had tickets that were the same price as back row in the balcony, but the seats are in the front row. The only catch was that the lottery wasn't for another hour.

When the time finally came to get in line for the lottery, I noticed a girl who had been sitting by herself in Starbucks (which is where I had gone to pass the time). I went up to her and asked if she was seeing the show by herself, and she said yes, so to increase our chances of getting tickets I asked if she would put down two and I could put down two, and she agreed that it was a good idea. Since we still had half an hour to wait for the names to be pulled, we started talking, and it turns out that she had the same major as me, just at a different school. She was in NY for the summer (like me), but taking a 6 week acting class.

Normally I feel like I have a handle on my insecurities, but tonight I feel like I really failed at keeping them in check. I mean, it's probably because most of the time I just try not to think about the fact that there are millions of girls who look like me but are thinner, who sing like me but better or with more control, who act like me but better...who are a better version of me. But when I was there, talking to this girl who was a musical theatre major who still had two years left who was taking acting classes in New York, who had been to 12 or 13 shows and was able to critique them, who already knew that she wanted to go to London next summer to study at the Royal Academy, who had more knowledge than me...I started doubting myself more and more. There is so much I don't know, so much I'm scared of, so many things that I think I'm not good at...Things that I need to improve on or I'll never make it anywhere. As it is there are only a few people who actually make it on Broadway or that are well known - who's to say I'm even going to come CLOSE to that?

When I see shows that have characters that question themselves and eachother, like [title of show] did, it brings up questions in me.

At school, you get out of it what you put in, but if you don't know how to put more in, how can you get everything you need out of it? I'm the kind of person that needs my ass to be kicked so I can learn what I need to know, but I'm scared. I'm scared of so many things...but I don't know how to get over it.

What if I'm never ready to perform on Broadway? What if I'm never good enough? What if...ugh. Damn those stupid "what if" questions.

In [tos] they have a song called "Die, Vampires, Die" which is all about killing off the insecurities and self-doubt. So I'm going to try to do that, but....ugh. It's hard, ya know?

"Red!... Purple!...Grey! Marco?...Guys?"

I was running an errand to Staples today when I passed a store selling rafts for the pool. And it brought me back...

Remember the days when you would be in the pool for hours with friends, playing "colors" or "Marco Polo" or "mermaid" or whatever? It's been such a long time since I've gone swimming in a pool just for fun, or with friends. Or been in a pool in general. I used to go swimming all the time in elementary school and middle school during the summer because I would be at camp, where the main activity was being in the pool.

I always loved swimming. The whole idea of it was so fun. I used to play "colors" with my friend Aly all the time. She was a girl that I had known since we were about 3, when her family moved in around the corner. Her brother, who is the same age as my older brother, used to ride around the block on his bike and saw my family, and so Adam (her brother) became friends with Daniel (my brother) and then so I wouldn't bother them while they'd play, he brought Aly over. (Lewis kind of got screwed out of that deal since Aly and Adam were part of a two-child family.) Aly and I would play all sorts of games, and make up all sorts of stories, and our families got very close...

As we got older we were allowed to go swimming in the pool for longer periods of time, and we would play "Colors". And we always cheated at it. The person on the diving board would name off colors, and we would always make sure to wait as long as we possibly could to get to our color. My colors, which I would always pick at the very beginning to be pink and purple, would somehow change to silver or turquoise or orange or whatever color she hadn't called. Our colors would always change so that the person who was calling the colors would have to stay out of the pool. Eventually the caller would just jump in and tag someone else anyway, and the game would continue.

But that game was so fun! I wish I could play "Colors" again. I have no pool right now though. I should find one. Because that'd be awesome.

I just don't know.

I feel like some days I'm a better friend than others.

About a month ago, something tragic happened within my non-blood related family. Because of it, I started talking to a girl that I hadn't willingly talked to in about 4 years. Our families are still close, but the two of us had drifted apart because of some unfortunate incidents back in high school.

The tragedy last month was not the only thing that had happened that was bad between the time our friendship disintegrated and now. My mom had told me stories about what was going on in her life, and most of it were things that you would not want to hear. To me, it didn't matter. She was someone distant, someone that I didn't particularly care about anymore. I stayed silent. I never called her, or talked to her, or felt it necessary to reconnect. She had hurt me, I had (maybe) hurt her, I didn't want her back in my life.

But when this happened last month, I felt that I had to do something. I was going to call her, but I couldn't dial the phone. I didn't know how to approach her. A few days passed, and I still hadn't called her or sent her an e-mail, not even a text. I kept meaning to, but I put it off and didn't know how to go about doing it the right way.

The next weekend, I went out to a bar with a friend and got drunk. At 4am, I got a text message from the girl that I kept meaning to talk to. All it said was "Hi." And that's all it took. The next day, I saw her online on facebook, and talked to her for a little bit. I didn't know how to help her, so I asked, and she told me that talking to her was good enough. She just needed someone to talk to. We talked for a little bit that night, sharing stories and memories, just for a little while. I was glad that I was able to help her.

A few nights ago, I saw her online again, and sent her an IM, checking to make sure she was ok. She said that really meant a lot to her.

I don't know what to make of this whole situation. I'm still not sure if I want to have her as someone who is a staple in my life because of our history, but at the same time...we have such a history...


I just don't know.

The sun is bright!

Whoo boy am I sunburnt. Yesterday, Rachel and I went to the Statue of Liberty, and while waiting in line for the ferry for almost 2 hours I got really sunburnt. You can see the outline of my necklace and of my shirt. It's pretty ridiculous. Not so much painful yet, but I can tell it will be tomorrow. For some reason, my sunburns always seem to get the most painful and itchy three days after the initial burn. Ever noticed that?

Over spring break, I went to Israel on a community service trip through JNF (Jewish National Fund's Alternative Spring Break). All I had to do was raise $1050 and it was totally free (not including whatever airfare I had to pay for, but everything else was included.) So I raised the money, and got to go. Woo! Every day we did some community service, ranging from clearing out a park to painting a community. The third day that we were there, we went to a Vineyard to help clear out all the sticks and stuff to make sure that the vines had room to spread (or something, I'm not sure how it really worked). We got out there at 10am. I had put sunblock on before leaving the dorms that we were living in, but because we were in the desert sun, which is RIDICULOUS, I was sunburnt by the time we stopped for lunch at 1pm. My shirt didn't cover my whole back, so my neck and a half moon shape on my shirt was about the same color as a lobster. Or a tomato. Or whatever else is bright red. I put more sunblock on after lunch, but it didn't really matter. My shirt, which was a three quarter length sleeve shirt, had given me sunburn gloves (on both my hands and my arms) in addition to the ouch that was my back. Painful. My back still is two different colors from that sunburn. Awesome.

When I was 12, my summer camp took us to the beach every monday. One monday they sent the stupid counselor with us who forgot to remind us all to put sunscreen on. Granted, we should know to put sunblock on ourselves, but we're 12! You can't really expect US to remember that! I came home that day having a bikini sunburn all the way down my back and my legs. My parents were FURIOUS that they hadn't put sunblock on us, and my mom said that if I ever came home from the beach again looking like that I wasn't going to be allowed to go back. I thought that the sunburn itself was punishment enough, but I don't think I ever let myself get that bad again. Now I just limit it to my back and my arms. Ouch.


Wear sunscreen, kids. Sunburns hurt.

Dance Dance

My best friend Rachel was in NYC visiting her cousin the past couple of days, so yesterday she made time for us to hang out. We went gallivanting around the city hanging out and making jokes and just having a really great time. It was really awesome hanging out with her. We always have such a fun time together, laughing and making jokes and just being so natural with eachother...it's just great.

It was also great that I got to ditch out on work just to spend time with her, because I haven't seen her since probably January when I was home for winter break.

Two winter breaks ago, there was a rumor going around that there was snow falling somewhere in the vicinity of where we lived. That was just amazing to us, because snow NEVER falls near where we live. Ever. So, we got on our hats and gloves and sweatshirts and went driving around, trying to find the snow. We drove north, then east, then south, then west...but no snow was found. We drove around for probably about two hours, looking for snow, but never found it. So I called my mom, and she reported to me that the snow that was falling was about an hour away from where we were. Sad news for us. So, we drove back to Rachel's dorm and hung out there instead, where she put new music on my iPod that she thought I would like but didn't have because my computer doesn't hold much music on it.

Then, we broke out my camera.

We took a few pictures, then put a song on that our friend Jeremy wrote, and made a music video. Not a good music video, not even close to a decent music video, but a music video that has her staring at her computer the whole time except random times during lyrics that she points to me and kind of dances a little bit, while I'm singing all the words making funny faces at the camera. We're both randomly laughing and holding out notes too long or saying the wrong words and it's just hilarious.

I found that video before I left for NY and laughed at the ridiculousness of it, as well as another video that's just of me dancing over by the tv for a few seconds to another song that the same guy wrote.

A staple of Rachel's and mine when we hang out is dancing in a parking lot. The parking lot changes from time to time (usually it's the abandoned parking lot next to the college, or the parking structure near the college), but we always make sure that we dance. We put on old songs from our childhood, like Spice Girls or N*SYNC or BSB or whoever and we dance and sing at the top of our lungs with the car stereo blasting. Always a great time. We just let loose and dance. It's awesome.

If you haven't experienced dancing in a parking lot listening to old songs with a good friend or two, I suggest you try it ASAP. And then tell me about it.

Finding love in all the wrong places...

I always have a crush on the wrong guy. The rabbi's son who was dating my then best friend. The camp counselor when I was a camper. My sixth grade science teacher. The advisor of my youth group. The director of my theatre group. A professor. A director of development at my internship.

And I make it worse for myself by becoming semi-blatantly obvious about. Can you be semi-blatantly obvious about something? I'm not sure. But I was. I'll go to the more recent ones since those might be a tad more interesting. (Plus I can remember more about them).

The Director of my theatre group and I had gotten quite chummy towards the end of my high school career. I was no longer in the theatre group, but I missed him a whole lot. Whether it was the friendship aspect or more is one thing I'm not sure about. In January of my senior year, my boyfriend (and best friend) had broken up with me. I was heartbroken and bitter, so I decided that for my creative writing class final, I would write a play about it. When I finally finished the play in April I felt much better about everything that had happened, and decided that I wanted to share my work with someone. I sent it to the Director and asked what he thought. That sparked the beginning of our really close friendship, where we began to talk about everything and completely opened up to each other, which inevitably led to me having a crush on him and him kind of liking me back. (Take note - I was 18 and he was 34.) He made dinner for me one night at his apartment and after that I was completely hooked. I spent all my time checking my email (our relationship was mainly maintained through email and IMs since I was still in school and couldn't talk on the phone during classes) through my phone. Over the summer it escalated into spending more time together, but it never got more physical than hand holding. This is mainly because I was an "innocent child" that he didn't feel right corrupting, then sending off to college. After I left for college the whole thing kind of fizzled out into the occasional email or IM conversation, then he abandoned talking to me completely.

The Professor was....wow. An ongoing "thing" for a very long time. I had the Professor my freshman year. I was smitten after the very first class when everything he talked about got me excited about learning...and the fact that he had a great ass. He looked to be about 23, not the 36 that he actually was (at the time...now he's 38), so I was unaware of his age until a few months later. One day during class, a friend of mine and I had decided to take a count of how many times he turned around to show us his ass, and at the first tally we both went to put it down on the same piece of paper at the same time and both dissolved into giggles almost immediately. We caused quite a stir (even though class hadn't started yet), so he kind of scolded us and tried to get us to tell what we were giggling out. Neither of us would tell (because how embarrassing would THAT be?) so he dropped it. The next week I found a comic that I thought pertained to what we were talking about in class which was mildly amusing, so I emailed it to him. The Professor emailed me back with "that's funny, but I don't think it's what had you laughing in class last week..." to which I replied "No. To be honest, what were laughing about during class is how I have a huge crush on you and I think you have the greatest butt ever. Sorry if that makes you uncomfortable...Just thought I should tell you the truth." That's not even the slightest bit awkward, right?? My roommate came back from the bathroom after I had sent that email to me curled in a ball on my bed kind of shaking. Ha. Anyway, after that we had a lot of awkward emails sent back and forth during that semester, then we stopped. Then over the summer I emailed him again while I was drunk (there I go again with the alcohol!) and that got us started talking again. Then we exchanged phone numbers, and he took me to lunch when he was visiting near where I lived. A lot of emails and text messages and phone calls later, we had become friends, and I was very comfortable with having a pseudo relationship with this ridiculously intelligent (although occasionally arrogant) professor. My friends, however, were less than thrilled that I was talking to him in more than a teacher/student context. So eventually we stopped talking for awhile, but a few months later we began again. Then stopped. Then started. Then stopped. And so they cycle continues. Right now we're on a hiatus. Still nothing physical.

Now I have a crush on the director of development at the internship that I'm working at. 32, kind of reminds me of Buzz Lightyear (which I told him when he took all the interns out to get drinks the second week I was here). Apparently, that night (which I don't remember much of...yay alcohol) we were flirting pretty hardcore and he was reciprocating... What am I getting myself into now? Probably nothing. I'm just overanalyzing. But he just came to my building (there are two buildings for this company) and my stomach jumped into my mouth. My face probably turned bright red too. Awesome.

We'll see if anything happens. Probably not, but you never know, right?

Who am I?

When I was younger, I used to climb on things a lot. Monkey bars, large speakers at bar/bat mitzvahs/weddings/big parties, stairs, roofs, etc. I'm guessing that's how my first nickname came to be. My dad thus named me "Monkey". I also had a white stuffed monkey that I carried around with me a lot. So I guess that could have been a contributing factor.

My older brother and I attended the same elementary school at the same time (which later switched, with my younger brother and I attending at the same time). My older brother had a teacher who had the same name as the principal, which confused people a lot. I used to go to his classroom during recess (our class and his class had different recess times since I was in first grade and he was in fifth) and interrupt his class and tell his teacher on things that he had done at home. I guess I was a real riot, because when I had the same teacher for fifth grade a few years later, she used to regale the class with tales of what I had said. "Mrs. B! Do you know what my brother did last night?!?" I'd apparently say, wagging my butt from side to side like most children do when they tease. "He got in sooo much trouble!" I'd make his class laugh with all the things he did, while his face would turn red. When she'd tell us the stories of what I used to do, it would make MY face turn red, so I guess I got what was coming to me. Sort of. Anyway, because I hadn't really changed much in size since first grade (I was quite the shorty), Mrs. B would call me "Squirt". Then one day she decided to change my nickname to "Midget" (which was not as traumatizing as some nicknames for other children). One day she got confused about which name was mine for that day, so when I was called early to go home, she said "Hey Squirt! No...Midget! No...Squidget!" and from that day on in fifth grade, Squidget stuck. All of my friends called me Squidget from then on... or rather, until about seventh grade.

In seventh grade, I changed from being a camper at my summer camp to being an L.I.T. or a "Leader in Training". This was one step down from Counselor in Training which was a step down from Counselor. Well, when I started, my group decided that we wanted to have Camp Names, just like the CITs and Counselors! Of course, this theory was kind of pointless since everyone knew our names anyway, but we stuck by the idea and picked camp names. Most people chose names like "Sunshine" or "Cupcake" or "Curly", but I went with "Piglet". Piglet was my favorite character from Winnie the Pooh (still is!), so I decided Piglet would be a good choice for me. He was short and cute and pink and I thought, "Perfect! I'm short and cute and I have red hair, so we're virtually the same!" Sweet. So my nickname from seventh grade until my sophomore year was Piglet. I kind of regretted picking that name later, since it sort of associated me with being fat (which I'm not, really), but I dealt with it by sticking by my decision that Piglet and I are similar...in that we're short and cute and shades of red.

My sophomore year in high school a lot of my friends began taking Spanish, and decided to nickname me "Estar, the spanish verb meaning to be", which was then shortened to "Estar" or just "to be". Not much of a story there. Go Spanish.

My freshman year in college, our RA Kristie decided to give all of the girls on my floor nicknames by using the first letter of the name and adding and "o" to it, then doubling it (for instance, Paula was "Popo", Rachel was "Roro", etc). However, my name starts with an E, which makes it kind of difficult for it to follow the same model. So she was going to use the second letter of my name, S, but there was a girl with an S name a few doors down. What a pickle. So she decided to use "ThoTho" as my name. Which sounded like anyone who tried to say my name had a lisp. That nickname stuck for about five minutes. Sweet.

My sophomore year I was in with a new group of friends, who nicknamed me "Sta". We had been watching The Office and decided to give each other nicknames, and since "Big Tuna" was taken, I got Sta. A few weeks later, that same group of friends changed my nickname to Oyster. They thought it was clever because I'm Jewish (so, "Oy") and the rest of my name... (hence the "ster"). And that's who I've been ever since.

So much for a stable identity, eh?

Graduation

So I just got an email from my Bubby (that's "grandmother" in Yiddish) telling me that my brother's graduation was phenomenal. He went to a performing arts high school, so each of the different sections performed something (music school played music, dance school did a dance, visual arts showed some sort of...art, etc) (I'm also guessing that this is how it happened, since I wasn't there.) I was unable to attend said graduation, because I am in New York for the summer. Amazing opportunity, yet I was sad that I missed this big event in my brother's life.

My graduation was something that I couldn't wait to be done with. High school was definitely the worst time of my life so far, and I can say that with 97% certainty. (I don't remember a lot of my childhood...awful memory for some reason.) My high school years can be bundled up into a few words: no close friends, no encouragement, no interest. Graduation could not have come soon enough. Unfortunately, the last few days of school I became really good friends with a few people: Sam, Rebecca, Jose, and Jorge. We were all sitting near eachother in the graduation line because our last names were all close in lettering, so we had a chance to really bond during the 7 hour graduation rehearsal. It was during that time that I realized what I had been missing out on for so long. Easy friendship. Just by sitting together on those plastic white folding chairs that were ridiculously uncomfortable, we had things to talk about. We had conversations about our aspirations in life, who we wanted to be, where we were going to college...and what kind of senior prank we would have liked to have pulled (Our dumbass senior class decided that burning trashcans would be memorable. Losers.)

We all ended up going to grad nite together (I was the only one who had bought a ticket beforehand but once I told them I was going they decided to all go) and having an amazing time. We stayed up all night riding all the rides at Disneyland and going to the "clubs" and just laughing and having a great night. It was the perfect ending to my shitty four years of high school.

The group of us kept in touch for a little while, but eventually we split apart. Sam and Rebecca are dating (practically married! sort of), Jose is testing videogames for Disney and going to school to learn more about video programming, and Jorge...has a myspace, but I haven't talked to him in awhile. Thinking about them makes me want to send them a message and see how they all are. I just might do that.

It's crazy how you can find friends in the most random of places...a graduation lineup. Who'd have thought?

Congrats baby brother on your high school graduation...two weeks late.