Lately, I've been thinking a lot about my friends. I think about my old friends, my new friends, and those that fall in the in-between. Since moving to NYC, I have met some really amazing new friends; many of which I met through old friends. Between everyone's roommate's, boyfriends, girlfriends, fraternity brothers, sorority sisters, graduate school friends, (and the list goes on...) Each friend that I have met, has in part brought so many other great people into my life.
In fact, my own roommate who I met four years ago as Rachael, (my high school best friend's, friend from college), is now four years later--my little Bonkers.
There are the friends that I grew up with, that have known me since I was small. These guys hold a very special spot in my heart. I think about those friends, that I met at Harrison Elementary School back in 1989. These are the friends who knew me when my Friday nights were dominated by TGIF, and my wardrobe consisted solely of neon colors and sparkly sequins. These elementary school friends were the ones that I spent my afternoons with making potions, collecting inch worms, and later--would help me to stuff my bra. (Yes, each day for two months in the fifth grade, I would swipe the tape dispenser off of my teacher's desk, sneak into the bathroom, and tape little crumpled up pieces of toilet paper to my chest. I looked completely ridiculous. But, hey--I was eleven and I wanted boobs, REAL BAD--even if they were lumpy and lopsided).
(An aside: I would get my tit wish, five years later when my ta-ta's grew from B's to D's during the summer of 2000). Let's just say this: I started 11th grade, a new woman. But I digress...
Next, my elementary school friends and I traveled together on to the next chapter of our lives, at Mt. Pleasant Middle School. It was there that I would average three boyfriends a year, play spin the pencil, sport multi-colored braces, and attend 8766554 bar and bat-mitzvahs.
In the fall of '98, we moved on together to Livingston High School, where we would meet the other half of our future best friends. My highschool friends knew me through less than stellar times. Winnie the Pooh sweatsuits, (I'm actually wincing right now) chapstick necklaces, caterpillar eyebrows, and more braces--until finally, my five year battle with my awkward phase ended, and I reclaimed my status as a semi-normal human once more. With my friends, we learned how to drive together, we went to prom together, and we encountered all of the standard, growing up, coming of age, first time moments...together.
On Friday night, I attended a fundraiser for a highschool friend, who had recently lost a member of her family. I looked around the room of this bar, and it was like a league of nations of highschool cliques. Each group of friends were represented, and the outpouring of people who came to support our former classmate spoke volumes to me. It was amazing. Even though we are twenty-six years old, and haven't been in school together for quite some time now, gathered in that bar (aside from the fact that we are legally allowed to drink) it felt like literally no time had passed since we walked by each other in A-Hall, in Livingston High School. What more could I ask for? That's right. Nothing.
Oh. And, then there are my Schodack friends. And I think that you all know just how I feel about my Schodack friends. After fourteen summers spent at Schodack, these friendships mean the world to me. I met some of my 12123 friends when I was just eleven years old. While other friendships did not develop until later, in our teenage years when we were getting drunk together on nights out as counselors. And even years later, my former campers became close friends too. But, I think that all I need to say is this: On Saturday, I spent five hours parked on Marla's living room chair. Four of us camp girlays together, (BGbabe, Meelzy and Mawa) feasting on fine Italian cuisine, and giggling like twelve year olds. Updog, Shake-its, and Meelz's picture of a baby mouse suspended in honey on her kitchen floor made my stomach hurt from non-stop laughter. It really is true what they say. We literally did nothing but sit in Marla's living room eating pizza, but I'm pretty sure that I had the time of my life.
Last but not least, I can never forget my Rhodies, (who I don't get to see nearly as often as I would like to). My college friends, who gave me rides when I lost my license via suspension, who helped protect me from Mattie B (the mentally challenged boy who lived down the street who threw things at me), who spoke to policemen when our parties got broken up, who sat on the beach in our sweatshirts together, who played lax with me, who tour-guided with me, who seawatched with me, who lived at 80 Ballsak with me, and who made my college years so much effing fun, that I will always think fondly of a little place called URI.
In short, (or in length--as this blog entry got quite long!) I know just how lucky I am to have such special groups of people in my life. And, I hope that we will all be able to up-dog it together, for a long, long time to come.
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