Why Haven't I Heard From You?

When I was in the seventh grade, my chorus teacher was a single, forty year old woman. Our chorus consisted of seventh and eighth grade boys and girls. But, for one particular song, just the girls would be singing at our upcoming concert. The song was called, "Why Haven't I Heard from You," by Reba McEntire. I've included the lyrics below.

Back in 1876 an ol' boy named Bell

Invented a contraption that we know so well

By the 1950's they were in everybody's home

As a crazy little thing they call the telephone

Now there's one on every corner, in the back of every bar

You can get one in your briefcase, on a plane or in your car

So tell me why, haven't I heard from you

Tell me why, haven't I heard from you

I say now: Darlin', honey, what is your excuse

Why haven't I heard from you

Well there's no problem gettin' to me

Baby you can dial direct

I got call forwarding and call waiting

You can even call collect

The service man he told me that my phone is working fine

And I've come to the conclusion trouble isn't with my line

I'm sure the operator will be glad to put you thru

So dial zero for assistance if this all confuses you

So tell me why, haven't I heard from you

Tell me why, haven't I heard from you

I say now: Darlin', honey, what is your excuse

Why haven't I heard from you

There better been a flood, a landslide of mud

A fire that burns up the wires

And a thunder so loud with a black funnel cloud

A natural disaster I know nothin' about

(Repeat Chorus).

At the time, I didn't understand what on Earth my chorus teacher (or Reba) was talking about. I was thirteen years old, perhaps at the all time height of my popularity. Guys disappear and don't return your calls? Not a chance. My 7th grade boyfriend called me every night before bed. I didn't know what this broad was talking about. Well, fast forward fifteen years later. And, Ms. Washington, I know EXACTLY the tune you're singing. You are singing to the choir. (Literally).

As always, a recent trauma has inspired this blog post. This event was the result of my birthday aftermath, when I received some birthday booty.

I know, bad Lauren. If you want someone to take you seriously/want to see you again/date you in the future, you don't go home with them the first night. I try and live by this rule. However, I have two counter arguments. The first: I have had some successful backwards dates. Dates, that developed after we have both seen each other naked. And, second: It was my birthday. I was ten Bacardi and Diet Cokes deep. I remember nothing about the night. (Literally nothing).

I had no coherent thoughts, telling me to make a better choice. If I had any at all, they would have been, "God, my feet hurt."

This boy was a friend of a friend, and so I thought that put me into a category slightly above one night stand, but I was wrong for thinking that. Not only did I not hear from him again, but when I reached out to him, I received nothing in return. Not even a "Sorry, things are really crazy with work," text. (Subtext: I have no intentions of seeing you again). These texts also suck, but atleast it's a response. If there is any one takeaway in this blog posting, it is this: Do not plain old ignore someone you hooked up with, it is just mean.

The Birthday Blog

Well, here I am. Post Birthday aftermath, with lots of things to say. The first: To everyone who came out and celebrated my birthday on Saturday night, I may not remember you being there, but I love you for coming. I'm pretty sure that the night was a smashing success. And, perhaps the greatest part: While a lady never tells, I will say this: My birthday ended with a bang, literally.

Monday, my first birthday at school since I was twenty-five, was filled with cupcakes, (I ate three), birthday wishes, Facebook messages, birthday gchats, texts and phone calls. You all made my day, maybe even my year. And, as always the real highlight: My lady best friends dinner. Together, convened in an East Village restaurant, I got to spend my birthday with my best gals and my best sister.

It's official. I am in my late twenties. It's scary. But, I am hopeful that this will be a very good year for me. To Everyone who made me feel special, on the first day of my twenty-eighth year...I love you.

What I Have Learned in my Twenty-Seventh Year

With my twenty-eighth birthday looming on the horizon, I thought I'd take a minute and reflect on my twenty-seventh year. In doing this, I re-read some of my blog postings from this past year. Some posts made me laugh, some made me cringe, (I can really be quite disgusting), and a couple made me tear up. Because you see, I had a difficult realization. This past year hasn't been easy. I encountered many disappointments and overcame obstacles both personally and professionally. And hopefully, I'd like to think that I came out of it, a stronger, wiser, and more mature person. I think that I've learned a lot being a twenty-seven year old lady-girl, and I thought I'd share some of these lessons here.

1. Endings are really, really hard. Whether it's a person, or a place. I haven't found an ending that I've liked.

2. If you're not interested in someone romantically, it is best to let them know sooner, rather than later.

3. Don't be afraid to ask your friends for help if you need it. (Even if you feel like you are bothering them. They are your friends for a reason).

4. Pandora, specifically my Sisqo (Yes, singer of the Thong Song), radio station has actually changed my life.

5. It is possible to gain a wealth of knowledge from VH1's Pop Up Video.

6. If someone displays red flag behavior, this does not mean you should view him or her as an exciting challenge, and keep pursuing. It means: Run like hell in the other direction.

7. Gangsta's Paradise is an excellent choice of a karaoke song.

8. The curling iron can work wonders.

9. There is great joy to be found in the sext.

10. If you are invited to a wedding without a date, you will be sat at the miscellaneous table.

11. I love being mistaken for a teenager.

12. The cast of Glee can sing anything, and my body will immediately be covered in chills.

13. If a guy asks you on a date to the movies, and then asks you to pay for both of your tickets, do not go out with him again.

14. You can never be too old to make out in a bunk bed.

15. When you wear feathers in your hair, you and nine year old girls will share the same fashion trends.

16. The average person poops 416 pounds a year.

17. The Real Housewives of NYC, New Jersey and Beverly Hills is addicting. How did I ever live without these shows?

18. Patti, the Millionaire Matchmaker is surprisingly wise.

19. When a mother of one of your students offers to buy your class a pet, politely decline. (Welcome to the 4th grade, Sparky).

20. And lastly, if you accidentally leave jewelry at a one night stand's apartment, please prepare to never see that jewelry again.

We Love Camp Schodack. So...put another dime in our jukebox, baby?

An Unexpected Beginning to 2012...

I've learned two very important things in this new year. The first is this: It's okay to ask for help if you need it, especially from those that love you. And, the second: Your health is really the most important thing, without it, it doesn't matter what else you have. With each new year, I usually say "I can't believe it's (insert new year here)." But, this time I mean it. And, that's because I didn't get to experience a true New Years Eve celebration. (Or atleast, the first time since 1989--the first New Years I have an actual memory of). Though, I had plans to ring in the New Year with friends, my intestines had other plans for me. Instead of celebrating, I spent my new year, sleeping on the floor of my bathroom, fighting off the most evil stomach virus I have ever encountered. Allow me to set the stage.

Last week, with my time off, I spent many a night going out, drinking and staying up late. As a teacher, I rarely get the opportunity to stay out late and booze on a weeknight. I took full advantage of this during my vacation. But, by Friday night my body started to feel off. And, I just didn't feel like myself. I thought, okay. I'm not twenty-one anymore. Maybe I just can't hang the way I used to. But, by the time I got home on Friday night I knew it was much more serious than that. I had a one hundred and two fever, fit with chills, sweats, and painful body aches. By six in the morning--this moved to my stomach. And, I became very sick to my stomach. I will spare you the disgusting details. (And yes, they are disgusting). But, I could not keep anything down. Anything. Out of either exit. The nausea/pooping occurred every ten minutes for two days straight. There was no waste left to leave my body! In the last two days, I had only eaten an apple, three crackers, one bowl of chicken noodle soup and one slice of toast. In two days!!!! And, keep in mind--my daily breakfast is usually 4-5 bowls of Frosted flakes!

By Sunday night, I was so weak I could hardly move. Even watching television required too much energy. I had never felt this sick or miserable in my almost twenty-eight years. I was completely dehydrated, despite the massive amounts of water and Gatorade that I had consumed. I called my doctor. He told me I needed to go to the emergency room, and get hydrated via an IV. I was scared.

First, I didn't think I could make it to the hospital without vomiting, or even worse--crapping my pants. Second, I looked uglier than I did in 1999--I was afraid to be seen in public looking like this! Third, I didn't know if I had the physical strength to get dressed, lock up my apartment, and get in a cab. Somehow, (and I'll never quite know how), I managed to get myself to the hospital. Upon arrival, I was immediately put into a wheelchair. I was so weak at this point, I could hardly stand. Yes, this was a low moment. And, not just physically, but emotionally too. I felt very lonely being at the hospital myself. Yes, I should have asked a friend to come with me, but I didn't want to be a bother. (Lesson Learned: Be a bother). But, I could not get the thought out of my head. If I weren't single, I would not have been at that hospital alone. In the end, I wasn't alone--my mom met me from New Jersey, and once the IV filled with fluids, anti nausea medicine and pain killers kicked in, I felt much better.

This morning, I woke up feeling energized and more like myself than I have in days. I felt happy. I didn't have to walk around taking tiny old lady steps, I could dance and sing around my apartment, naked. I was me again. And, for the first time since this year started, when I wished someone a happy New Year, I meant it--it really feels happy.