Wanna get thirtaaay? (C. Becca Girl)

I recently turned thirty. Okay, so I literally just turned thirty four days ago. For all of you who have not crossed over the line into your thirties I have some good news for you. Turning thirty is a lot like getting a shot. There is all this anticipation. It's kinda scary. You're a bundle of nerves. You can't believe you have to go through this. And then it happens, and you're all like wait, what!? That's what I was afraid of!?!? Turning thirty was a piece of cake compared to what I had built it up to be. I think  turning twenty-nine was actually harder! Because all year it was the "last February in my 20's, the last March in my 20's, the last April in my 20's…you get the idea. Too much build-up and anticipation! But I'm here to say that four days into my thirties and things ain't so bad!

I think part of what blows my mind is thinking about how I've entered this decade verses how I will most likely leave it. I've always been kind of a late bloomer and this is no exception. I am entering my thirties unmarried, without children. When I leave ten years from now, I have a feeling much of that will be different. It's scary to think that my life ten years from now may be completely unrecognizable to me now. And while there are no guarantees to any of this, it's kind of a crazy thought to think the decade you have entered may bring you more change in your life than ever before.

I loved my twenties. But I fucked up a lot. I'm looking forward to fucking up less, because guess what? I know more stuff now. I feel so much smarter about life things now than I did at twenty-five or even twenty-six. I know myself and I am learning what I really need to be a successful adult. I feel more confident and I look better than I did at twenty-two. (Woof!) It's exciting. If this is what being thirty is about, then bring it on baby! And finally... it really helps to have the most incredible friends and family anyone could ever ask for. The love I received over the last few days has been overwhelming in the best way imaginable. My birthday party was such a special night spent with friends and family celebrating. Not everyone has friends that would devote their time to make a sign-in board for a 30th birthday bash (bat-mitzvah) filled with ugly pictures of you. Or make the unbelievable effort to individually wrap candy bars with pictures of your face. Thirty. You sound kinda scary. But so far, I like you just fine.

I'm Back!!!

Hello Mister Blog!!! It's so lovely to see you again! I've truly missed blogging and sharing my life's tales. I took a moment to think about why I haven't blogged in a few months. What comes to mind is just how busy I've been. But if I dig a little deeper, I think it may also have something to do with a growing level of maturity. Perhaps I don't feel the need to share every detail of my dating life anymore. (Or that every website now seems to be devoted to "twenty-something dating articles."). And who am I to be a cliche?

 It has been quite a year dating-wise. If you are my friend, then you know just what I mean. But for now, I will keep those memories to myself. It's funny, one night this summer I was at dinner with the man I was dating, Kyle. Over a bowl of baked ziti, I told him about the fifty-two journals that sit in a box under my bed in my parents house. I explained how I've been writing in a journal almost every day since I was twelve years old. He looked at me with a look of amazement and confusion I couldn't quite read. It was then that he said softly, "Don't you want to keep things private, just for yourself?" I replied, "Those journals are just for me, they are for myself." And then Kyle said, "I don't mean to be morbid, but one day when you're gone, those journals won't be for you--they will be for everyone. 

Well, he got me there. I surely had not thought of that. With that sentiment ingrained in my mind forever, I say this: To my future husband, children and grandchildren...I'm sorry  that you may one day have to read about your Grandma's naked adventures. At the very least, you'll know Grandma Lauren didn't miss out on her twenties.

This leads me to my next point. Tomorrow marks the last month of my twenties. In one month I will leave this crazy, confusing, life-altering, fun, surprising, life lessons learned decade behind. And I start a new chapter. It's a chapter I have many mixed feelings about. (Thank god for therapy). A good friend once said to me, "Fisher, I love you--but I don't want to be anywhere near you when you turn thirty. I have a feeling you won't go down easy."

He is probably right. But hopefully, (my fair blog readers), we will navigate through my thirties together. Until then.

Seasons have come and gone since I've written last. (Hello Summer, so lovely to see you again). Here is a short tale to ease myself back into the world of blogging.

On Friday night I was hanging out in a crowded bar. As I made my way through a sea of twenty-somethings, I attempted to get a drink near a group of boys who were taking shots at the bar. They were all attractive and looked to be on the younger side, maybe twenty-five or so. One of them started chatting me up, his hand kept touching my waist and the small of my back. I don't remember the beginnings of our conversation, but I do remember what stopped me in my tracks. He asked, "Where do you go to school?" I answered like I mis-heard him and said I went to The University of Rhode Island. "Ahhh, URI," he said. I haven't been asked what school I go to in a long time. Where do you go to school had been replaced long ago with, what do you do? Then my young friend asked me where I lived. I told him the neighborhood I lived in, and asked him the same. He told me he was living in the NYU dorms for the summer. And that's what this has come to. I was being hit on by a boy who was born in 1992, eight years my junior. A soon to be senior in college.  This would have been fine if this were 2005 and I was going into my senior year. But alas, I am twenty-nine. He asked for my number, I told him I was too old for him. He didn't believe me, and asked how old I was. I told him that he didn't want to know. He kept prodding until I finally said, "twenty-nine." He gasped, and I walked away.

Some Lessons about Boys and Things

If ever there was a week for reflection, this is it--just a few days shy of my twenty-ninth birthday, and Day four of my Strep throat/Flu sickness. Spending twenty plus hours in bed, self-reflection and introspection were high on my list of things to do. What I came up with is this: I have learned a great deal this year; in regards to others, as well as sharpening my understanding of myself. I'd like to use this post as a way to reflect on some of the significant relationships from my twenty-eighth year. I have been much more private in my blog than ever before, and tonight I return to my old ways. I want to write a little about the gents--but more importantly, the lessons that I came away with, when those gents and I parted ways. I will conclude tonight's post with "going forward" (in year twenty-nine), and the changes I hope to make. In the past when things didn't work out with a guy I liked, friends would say, "It's a learning experience." I used to think, I'd rather it just work out then "learn something," And, while I still hope for the relationship, as opposed to the post-relationship lesson... I am somewhat comforted by the amount I've learned this year.

Once I eliminated a toxic presence in my life, I was ready to let someone new in. And last February, I met Aaron. Aaron and I met at a mutual friend's wedding.  Aaron taught me many things, like if you're a boy, and you press hard onto my bladder it will make me laugh, and probably make me like you. Aaron and I shared an instant chemistry, and I will never forget how excited I was the day after the wedding, to tell my friends about this guy I had unexpectedly met. Aaron was very quick to share his feelings for me. (Something I was not used to), and was ready for a serious commitment early on. Valentine's Day was about a week after I had met him, and Aaron wrote me a very lovely Valentines note. It was quite possibly the nicest message anyone of the opposite sex has ever written to me. In the end, I don't think Aaron and I were quite right for each other, and I was the one who decided to end the relationship. What I took away from my time knowing Aaron is an understanding of what a guy will do for you, when he really cares about you. There was no game playing, and the courting process was simple and straightforward. After years of analyzing text messages, and Gchats-- it was an unbelievably refreshing change. Just as important, I learned that when something does not feel right, it's important to trust your instincts, and do what feels best--even if it's a difficult choice that may hurt someone else.

Then last June, on the first official night of summer, I met Dave. Our first date was simply fine. Dave was perfectly sweet and fun--I just didn't know if I could see us having more than a friend-like chemistry.  If after that date, I hadn't heard from Dave again, it would have been okay. But, when Dave asked me out a second time, I thought, sure, why not?  Date two was much, much better than date one. And by date three, I was smitten. Date four I was pretty much in love. (Okay, I wasn't actually in love by date  four). But, my point is: I let something grow slowly, and each time we saw each other, and the more I got to know him, I grew to like Dave more and more. It's how dating SHOULD be.  What I took away from my time with Dave is this: Take your time in getting to know someone. Take things slowly, you can always go slower than you think you have to. Give someone a chance. One date may not be enough to tell how you feel. (Unless of course said guy talks about how much ass he gets at bars each weekend--then it's okay not to go out with them again).  But, most importantly: Dave showed me how it  looks to end things in a polite, respectful way. When Dave decided to end our relationship, he did it in person; sensitively and kindly breaking the news to me. (Over a Bacardi and Diet Coke).  He certainly did not text or e-mail me. Or even worse--just stop talking to me. He behaved like a man, and treated me with the respect I deserved. His tact and kindness allowed me to move on much more quickly than he had left me with unanswered questions.

Most recently there was Adam.  This is a tough one to write about, because I'm still in throws of my "recovery." (Please forgive me if I sound mildly traumatized, it's because I am). By all rules applied, Adam and I should have never had a first date. We met at a bar, and went home with each other the very same night. Don't get me wrong. I was instantly attracted to Adam, not only physically, but I was attracted to his energy. I liked him right away. He was positive, cheerful with a great smile. I was quite certain that I was not the only girl in the bar who noticed him. The following day, I was certain I had "messed up," any chance of a real relationship. I tried to remain optimistic, that he could still take me seriously. And against all odds, he did. And, we went out on a proper date. (Otherwise known as backwards dating, when your first date happens after you've already seen each other naked). We had a few "proper dates," Those dates felt magical to me. Fun, engaging and just the right amount of flirtation. And as they say; it turned out that Adam was just not that into me. Rejection is never easy. Humbling? Yes. An experience everyone should go through? Yes. But, is it easy? Fuck no.  Especially when you really liked the person, and in the moments you spent together, you thought it was mutual. I write this to you as I try and sort out my hurt, and still confused feelings. Surely, everyone must feel that way, some form of--how could he/she not feel the same way I do? We've all been on both ends--this just might be the suckier end.

It's tough to have these relationships end before they get off the ground. And a person can only go through these disappointment so many times before (they lose their minds a little), and a change is made. The best I can come up with for now is remaining a bit more guarded. (Sans revealing things in my blog of course). Perhaps I am too open, (vulnerable), and am asking for trouble. Another important change I will make going forward is this: I vow to take things very slowly. Once the pants come off, all bets are off, and I'm probably gonna fall in love with you. Going forward, all I can do is try my very best to be cool. (I've never been good at that).  And yes, Keep those Spanx on!  (Until I know something is really going somewhere). It's just too hard otherwise.

LHS Ten Year Reunion!!!!

It has been months since my last post. (I am soyyy sorry). But, if ever there was a time for a blog revival...it is now! A lot can happen in ten years. For my students, this is their entire lifetime. For me, ten years ago at this time, I was a college freshman having come home for Thanksgiving for the very first time. I have endured many changes in the past decade. Certainly far too much to sum up in this blog post. But, to name a few: I went to college, started a career, experienced new people, and learned many, many important life lessons. And, yet. In the context of certain situations. (i.e: a highschool reunion), it feels like nothing has changed at all. It's almost odd in a way, it's as if the last ten years haven't even occurred.

 Last night I attended my ten year high school reunion. Not only was I an attendee, but alongside two others I planned the event. And it has to be said. The night was a smashing success, I could not have asked for a more unbelievably fun night if I had tried. A ten year reunion is one of those milestone moments in life that you hear about, or see portrayed in movies, and last night I experienced it firsthand.  For one night, I was a twenty-eight year old high school senior. And, I can't think of anything that could have made me feel happier.

The green and white balloons, (Go Lancers!), the late 90's/early 00's songs played by the DJ, and the genuine joy that was felt around the room all contributed to the amazingness of the night. (Well, all of that and the open bar).  Highschool reunions have the potential to be awkward. (Alcohol helps). There could be the fear of seeing an old flame, friends fallen out of touch, and yet--at the LHS Reunion, everyone was genuinely thrilled to be reunited together.

I am a lucky lady to have remained in touch with so many of my high school friends. (In fact, in 2013 I will be attending four high school weddings, two of which both the bride and groom graduated from high school together). And yet, there were still people who came to the reunion that I could not have predicted how excited I would be to see. Faces that I hadn't seen in years, and once the conversation began, it was like we were back in 2002, standing at our lockers in D-Hall.

What happened after the reunion was the best part. (Well, after the after-party, and the after-after-party).  It was the e-mails, texts, and Facebook messages that followed not only thanking me for planning the reunion, but also to share how good it was to re-connect. This is the best part. I came away from the reunion, feeling rejuvenated in my current friendships, and rekindled old ones.

I know. I am an interesting breed of human. Not all people care this much about highschool. And not all people would feel sad when highschool (and the reunion) ended. But, this is me. I can't begin to express the amount of fun I had on Friday night, or the actual feeling of sadness I have now that it's over. Do I really have to wait another ten years to do this again?

Ending this post feels appropriate with the following quote. A close friend of mine found two girls who he did not recognize at the reunion. Approaching them both he said. "Alright, let's get this over with, who the hell are you?"

Ah, I'll love you forever LHS. Thank you for introducing me to some of my favorite people in all of my life. To everyone who came last night, thank you for making it the actual best time ever.

Trash is dumped, and so are you!

Greetings from the last day of August. It's hard to believe how fast this summer has gone by. Every time I think about school being back in session next week, I actually want to cry small tears of sadness. This is not because I dislike my job, but rather an indicator of just how much I love summer.

It's been a really great summer filled with freedom, adventure, good times, hilarious times, and even some sexy times. Tonight, I write to you with one of the "not so good" times. And that is: Getting dumped.  I use the term "dumped" loosely, because the dumper was not my actual boyfriend. (We never made it that far), but he was someone that I was seeing on a weekly basis, investing my time and feelings. We had a real good run while it lasted. And, in the end this fellow, (who is really a lovely, stand up-person) felt this was a timing issue. I realize this sounds code for, "He's just not that into you." But, I don't think that was the case. It involves more detail, but in the small chance this is ever seen by him, well...I will keep that to myself.

We had a blasty-blast together, and it is disappointing to see something like that end. No matter what though, I appreciate that he had the courage to tell me in person. He did not text me, e-mail me, or even worse...phase me out. No. He manned up! (And broke the news to me over a Bacardi and Diet Coke). After "the talk", we chatted for a while, laughing and having fun. Moral of the story: You can dump me, and I'll still have fun with you immediately after.

 We stood outside the bar, trying to find the right words to say goodbye. Standing close together, about to hug, as a small man walked by us. The man stopped in front of us and said, "You guys make a  really good couple!" The man walked away, and we burst out laughing.  OF COURSE, I had just been told that I made a good couple with a guy who had litreally just dumped me twenty minutes earlier. Oh, timing. You are quite literally everything. The dumper (for lack of a better word), turned to me and said, "Yeah, I'm probably going to tweet about that. And, I replied--I'll probably be blogging about that too." And, with that we hugged one last time, and I walked away.

Summer Time Happenings

Last night at my post-kickball game drinks, one of my teammates asked what I've been doing with all of my free time, a la summer vacation. (Clearly, this time has not been spent blogging--I promise to write more often). And so, here I am with some summer time updates.

1. First and foremost, The Judys got engaged!! For those of you that don't know, the Judys are my older brother, Jeremy and his fiancé Christine. I am very excited for them. It was amazing to celebrate at Long Beach Island on Sunday with both of our families. I am so happy for my Judys!!! (Also, I made Judy pinkie-swear that I get to bring a date to his wedding.

2. On Tuesday night I participated in my very first GROUPER  experience with Becca Girl and Brookie. Grouper is a group dating website. (Becca secretly signed me up for this while she was over one afternoon). Grouper sends you and two friends on a "group date," with three guys who are all friends. In theory, this could be really great way to meet someone! Unfortunately, in our case it was not. While these guys were very sweet and friendly, they were not really for us. All was not lost though, as a lesbian named Katie found her way into our group date. She took a real liking to Becky, as she draped her arm around Becky's shoulder. While Becky may not have left our grouper meeting her future husband, who knows...maybe she met her wife!

3. On Wednesday night, I was at a friend from high school, (Heath F)'s birthday happy hour. While there, Becky and I met a group of guys. When I learned that they were only twenty-three, it was hard not to wince a little. But, here's the real kicker: These boys went to my higshchool. That's right!!! Of all the boys in the bar, the five that talked to us were members of Livingston High School's graduating class of 2007. Did our night end taking a hummer limo to a strip club with a group of twenty-three year old guys? Well, I'll never tell. But, Facebook will.

4. The LHS '07 boys asked me what year I graduated. 2002, I reluctantly said. Last week a Facebook group for our ten year reunion went out. I CANNOT WAIT!!!!

5. My gig as cooking counselor is going well! My hours are amazing, and working two days a week is actually a dream come true. Also, I lead a cooking (baking) class. Contrary to popular belief, I am not the camp chef.

6. On Wednesday afternoon, I was walking down 77th Street, when a woman sitting outside of a store told me that I had a positive aura. She also said more lovely things, and thus, she lured me in. As it turns out, she is a psychic.  And, as my friend Rweissypantz said, I am a psychic's wet dream. Using tarot cards, she told me the date of my engagement, the year of my marriage, and how many kids I will have. Do I believe in psychics? I don't know. Do you?

Sure, I've been up to other things too--like beaches, Shevitz family vacations, a Rhode Island wedding, and an Andyman and Brent reunion of sorts. It has been a great start to my favorite season in the world. And, it gets even better. This weekend the Schodack crew is heading to the place that will forever hold a spot in all of our summer hearts. Camp Schodack, here we come!!!

A Ten Kilometer Journey

On Saturday morning I ran my very first 10K. I did not know what to expect as to what this experience would be like. And I was nervous! (Mostly about having to poop mid-run). I can tell you this: Any nerves and anxiety I had over this run were well worth it! It was an incredible experience. And I can now understand why people run half marathons, and marathons year after year, because this feeling...is just that good.

There were many amazing things about this race that made it special. To start, it was a ladies only 10k. Girl Power!!! There was something truly empowering about running through the streets of Manhattan, and  Central Park with a pack of 8,000 women. I felt proud to be a woman and proud to be a part of that group

I ran this race with my best gal--Becca Girl. And, even though she ran faster than me, and I literally watched her pony-tail from afar, it was a special experience we shared together.

I listened to three songs on repeat the entire hour and four minutes that I ran. Mmhmm. I pep talked myself to keep going many times. I felt excitement as I watched spectators cheer us on. I kept my eyes on the girl in front of me who had the words, "I'm not a quitter and neither are you. Now you keep running," written on her back. (This sign literally motivated me to keep running, and not stop to walk once). I nearly cried when almost a mile of the course was uphill. But each time I ran past the mile markers, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, and finally crossing the finish line...the excitement, and feeling of true accomplishment grew.

I am proud of myself. It's a rare thing to announce this past the age of ten. But, it's true. I feel proud. I put in a lot of hard work to get to this point, and it paid off. It's a lesson as old as time. If you work hard for something, you can achieve what you want. After a long day at school, did I want to come home, drop off my stuff, and go on a four mile run? Hell no. But, am I glad that I forced myself to do this?  Hell yeah! Because, the feeling I felt when I crossed the finish line was indescribable, and far more emotional than I had ever anticipated. It was a mixture of pride, happiness, relief and pure elation.  The entirely positive feelings I felt when I crossed the finish line outweighed any of the negatives that took place during the course of the race. It made all  of the training and challenges completely worth it. Even though, I did not come in 1st place, (I came in 3,083rd), I still feel like I won something. I won the realization that hard work really and truly pays off in the end. Thank you Ladies Only 10k, you've made quite an impact on me.

Merry June!

Did you think I had forgotten about Go Fish? I hadn't, and I haven't.  I have just been busier in the last few months than I have been in what feels like all of my life. And, well. I guess that's a good thing.

We made it to June. (HOLLAAAA!!) I wait all year for this moment. I am a summer time girl. I love the sunshine and the warmth. And, I like myself best in shorts, skirts, and flip-flop tanned. For most people the end of the year means December. But when you're a student or a teacher, your "year" revolves around the school calendar. Since I went into teaching six years ago after graduating from college, (and have been in school since I was two and a half), I simply don't know any other way of life. My year starts in September and wraps itself up in June.  Summer holds actual meaning for me. And truly... I wouldn't have it any other way. With just ten days left in the fourth grade, I feel it is safe to say that I did it! A congratulatory YAY is in order.  I survived my first year in a new place, despite many initial reservations and hesitations.

A lot has happened this past year, both personally and professionally. And, I've come a long way from the girl who cried for the first two weeks in September because I was homesick for The Center for Ants. Yes, I still miss my old school. But in a different, much less painful way.

When thinking about another school year coming to a close, it's hard not to be reflective on the happenings of this past year. When I started at my new school back in September, the first person who wished me luck via text message is no longer in my life. (As it turned out, he had a girlfriend while we were doing it). And once this information was brought to my attention, I didn't stick around.

Hindsight is really a magical thing. It allows you to see all the things that you couldn't see while you were in the thick of things. Hindsight and I agree on a lot of things over that relationship. The biggest one being: Cheers to it being done. I have grown wiser since, and yes--I do feel smarter about how I'd like to handle myself going forward.  Later in this same year I had a pseudo relationship. In the end I had to do something really difficult. I had to end it.  And while I do think fondly of this person, somewhere deep down I knew we weren't quite right for each other. And no matter what.... I still think I would rather be the dumpee then the dumper. I don't like knowing I am the source of anyone's hurt. And at the very least when I am the rejected one, I can write an angry blog post.

Things at work were challenging at times but as the year went on, I made real friends, and developed real bonds with my students. And, in ten days---I will really miss those kids. (Well, most of them).

Next Saturday, I will be partaking in my first ever 10K with my Becca Girl. I'm proud of the hard work we've put in in preparation for this event. Now, I just pray that I don't have to poop mid-run.

This year has brought me many great times and things. And, also some not as great times and things. It is comforting to know that with each experience, I grow and learn, just a little bit. And, I guess you really can't ask for much more than that.

Happy May!!!

Helloooooo Friends!

It is May, hooray!!!!!! I promise to write a long, lovely post soon.

Also...

Do you know what a dream it is for me that the three leading ladies of Beverly Hills, 90210 all have their own reality shows? That's Tori, Jennie and Shannen. Check it.

I love 2012.

American Reunion

I rarely use my blog as a forum to discuss movies. But, I feel a strong urge to do so. On Friday, I saw American Reunion with my sister. (Sidenote: We were literally the only two in the theater not on a date). I was very excited to see American Reunion. Just to be clear: I rarely get excited about seeing a movie. I usually decide if I want to see a movie based on how long it is. (My favorite movies are ninety minutes long).

However, I feel a deep tie to this movie, as it is a cultural icon from my generation. After all, the original American Pie movie centers around the class of 1999. I was a freshman in highschool in June of 1999, and I idolized my seniors (Class of ’99). 

American Pie (The Fourth) was the perfect blend of comedy, raunch and nostalgia. While the movie does not spend too long at the actual reunion, the music that plays while there is magical. Naturally, music that came out in the late 90’s was the highlight. Aka, my late middle school and early high school years, and I ask you...what could be better?

In addition, the movie did a tasteful job of balancing a semi-graceful entrance into adulthood, while not forgetting to look back on the past. And by sheer virtue, any movie that makes me feel nostalgic for highschool is okay with me. And, with my ten year highschool reunion later this year, this movie slid right into my reality. 

American Reunion also did a fantastic job of poking fun at the ridiculousness of the 90's. And, yet this movie has a modern twist--with references to JDate for one. Lastly, it was lovely to see my old favorite characters back together again. (Especially since many of them became train wrecks in their personal lives post American Pie).

In short, go see this movie. You won't regret it.

Oh, heyy Steve Sanders!

Greeeetings from Spring Break!!

It's been an amazing week off, and I still have one remaining week of freedom. Hallelujah! I'd like to take a moment and write about the biggest highlight of my vacation thus far. And, that is meeting Ian Ziering. Better known to all of you as Steve Sanders, Beverly Hills 90210 alum. Allow me to set the stage.

I was walking to the East Village to meet my great pals, Jeff and Nate for dinner at Spice Cove, fine Indian cuisine. (Contrary to popular belief I can eat things other than grilled chicken slathered in ketchup). En route to dinner, I received a phone call from my roommate. Upon picking up the phone, I could hear the excitement in her voice. She told me that Ian Ziering was promoting his new skin care line at her gym. Like the great roommate that she is, she told him all about me. My love for 90210, that I know the entire casts' birthday, that I have written multiple letters to castmates, and that there is a life-size poster of Luke Perry on my wall. He said, "tell her to come." Yes, that's right. Ian Ziering personally requested my presence. I had to get there... immediately. The minute dinner was done, I bolted back uptown to Equinox gym. When I arrived, there he was. Steve Sanders, sans his blonde Jew-fro. What I found instead was an extremely personable, friendly, forty-eight year old man. I introduced myself, to which he replied, "The girl who knows more than I do about 90210!" He gave me a big hug, then said, "We have to get a picture, and so we did. I smiled for the camera, and I haven't stopped smiling since.

Happy Stoop Sitting Season!!!

Let the stoop sitting begin! Stoop sitting season is now officially underway. With the recent change of weather, (thank God, I love you Spring), my most favorite past time can be resumed. Me + a best friend + East 9th Street stoop + frozen yogurt. (Optional)= Love.

Sing us a Song, Piano Bar

Despite the fact that I just wrote an entire blog about how excited I am to catch up on sleep, I love nothing more than springing forward for Daylight Savings. Yes. I lose an hour of sleep. But so what! (Pink anyone?) If that means sixty-five degree days in March, and daylight until seven pm, well...count me in!

Last night was spent at a rowdy, hilarious, and perfect piano bar. I have never felt like more of a New York City girl in my life, than I did sitting in that hidden gem, with my best friends. I was there with my best camp girls. (Sans Meelzy--we missed you). As each hit kept being played, song, after song, we all knew we were in the right place. A place where we were free to sing and clap as loudly as we wanted. This place was magical.

What I also loved about this piano bar, was the next-stage-of-life-girlies who sat next to us. All of them had rings on their fingers, and one of them was pregnant. (Yes, I realize that girls my age also wear rings on their fingers, and give birth, but none of my camp friends are there yet). They looked like they were in their early to mid-thirties, having a girls night out. We instantly became piano bar besties. They sang with us, they clapped with us, and they cheered with us. They asked us how we all knew each other, we told them...sleepaway camp. (They told us college). As we bonded over singing TLC's Waterfalls, Lady Gaga and more, I have never felt more at peace, or more at home than I did at the piano bar. And, as for all this singing (screaming), I did last night? Well...my voice has never sounded better.

Spring Break!!

In just six days, the start of my spring break begins. And, I couldn't be more excited. Two weeks off from six-thirty am wake up calls?! Sign me up! What remains interesting to me is what "Spring Break," has meant to me as time goes on. I grew up watching MTV Spring Break, and so my entire adolescent knowledge base of Spring Break included, Girls Gone Wild, and Jenny McCarthy. In my early twenties, Spring Break entailed getting incredibly drunk, every night, for seven straight nights. By the time I arrived home, my body was in complete shambles, and I needed a vacation...just to recover from vacation.

Now, in my late twenties, spring break means something quite different for me. It will be a time for me to relax, rest, and catch up on my sleep. And, I'm literally thrilled about it.

The days of wet t-shirt contests, and whipped cream bikinis are certainly over. (Just kidding; I never actually participated in a wet t-shirt contest, and have never worn a whipped cream bikini). But, perhaps these life changes are all in par with what it means to be getting older.

I think about the life I used to live in college. Drinking four to five nights a week, scarfing down late night food. (Sidenote: My drunk late night food of choice, after chicken fingers of course, was always New England Clam Chowder). Who the fuck orders New England Clam Chowder after a night of guzzling nine Bacardi and diet Cokes? I'm disgusting.

Now, if I drink (hard) two nights in a row, I am completely done for, and start my week off exhausted. What happened to the old me? Is this called growing up? The college version of myself would not be pleased.

Five years ago on a Friday night, I would be out, drinking my face off, in New York City. (Probably at Tonic). Now, sure, I might go out with friends, but I would also be perfectly content lounging around my apartment, wearing pants with some sort of elastic waist band. The thing is, I accept these changes. In fact, I welcome them. The only frightening thing is imagining where this progression takes me five years from now. There. Now that's scary.

LEAP YEAR!

Oh, heyyy you guys!!!

It's been way too long, and I know it! Stay tuned for a post this weekend. Lylat!

Weekend Updates

Well, it certainly has been a while. It was a great weekend. Last weekend was a great one too. I think that it's time to share that here.

This past weekend was fantastic as we celebrated Shelly Girl's departure from New York and on to California. What could have been better than a night spent with my best friends, dancing our pants off to literally the best music I have ever heard played in a bar? (DJ who works at Lit, marry me?). It was literal perfection. Also, an aside: What are the chances that at this bar were not one, but two different boys from my past. The last time I saw one of them, we were in a bunkbed, the last time I saw the other, it was birthday belligerence. Oh, I adore you, New York City.

Also, a special shoutout to Katiekiwi. Amazing to see a girlfriendbitch.

As for last weekend, well...I must give a great big shootout to Becky O, and her wedding. A night that I knew would be fun, but I had no idea just how much fun I would have, and where that night has led me since. That is all I will say for now, but Becky...Congratulations on your wedding. And, you are my Patti.

A pretty good looking crew, if I do say so myself!

Red Flag

Red Flag: (n). A warning signal. Something that demands attention or provokes an irritated reaction.

As 2011 drew to a close, I learned a very valuable lesson. (One that took me years to learn). It was this: When someone displays red flag behavior, this is a warning signal. It means STOP, immediately. (And run in the other direction). When someone displays this type of behavior, it is not your job to try and fix or change him. It means he is not right for you. Go and find someone who is. Red flags (in dating) are also in conjunction with deal breakers. They are called deal breakers for a reason. It is a non-negotiable, something you cannot ignore, and as stated earlier, provokes an irritated reaction. In the last few months, I have experienced varying degrees of red flag behavior. It's a good thing I know now to remove myself from further contact with these people. I give you the following:

The Freak: I met a thirty-one year old man at a bar, once. And, we have not seen each other since. Since our one time meeting, I often get one word text messages from him that simply say, "Cuddle?" What happens when a thirty-one year old man that you have met once, texts you at seven pm on a weeknight asking you to "Cuddle?" This is a red flag, deal breaker. Freakshow Alert. There is no overcoming this one. Run for your life!

The Flake: If a person cannot commit to making plans, they cannot commit to a friendship or any further type of relationship. If someone flakes on your plans (for a non-legitimate reason), and continues to do so repeatedly, this guy is not worth a minute more of your time. Run for your life!

The Asshole: Okay, so you have a one night stand. You reach out, they don't respond. At some point they reach out, say late one night, and they are now interested in meeting up? Red flag. Anyone who ignores you at any point, is not worth your time. Run for your life!