To The Boy Who Asked Me To Dance: An Apology

I was just scrolling through my NewsFeed and saw that you posted a status about the snow.  You're writing a book?? Or making a joke.  I can't tell.  I never understood your sense of humor in high school.  Actually, I never really noticed you in high school, except for at our Freshman Semi-Formal.  I want to talk to you about that.

I really owe you an apology.  When I heard through the grapevine that you were thinking about asking me to the dance, I'm not sure if you know this, but I responded like a total bitch.  It's not like anyone else was asking me, but I thought I was too good for you.  I thought you were weird.  You were always wearing that polo shirt tucked into your khakis, walking around talking about books that no one had ever heard of.  You hung around with that wicked short skinny kid with the spiked messy hair.  He wore the same leather trench coat everyday and the two of you probably talked about... I have no idea what you could've been talking about, but I knew I was too cool for you. Well, I thought I was too cool for you, so back through the grapevine I sent the message that I wanted to go to the dance with my girlfriends. You know, to let you down easy before you actually asked me. 

That night I got all dolled up in my White House Black Market strapless dress (my tastes haven't changed much) and bobbed my head to the beat in a circle of my friends wishing silently that the cute boy on the basketball team would ask me to dance next slow song.  He didn't, but you did.  You walked right over, wearing your suit jacket and tie (totally overdressed in the sea of DEB dresses and Old Navy slacks) and asked if I would dance with you.  Feeling awkward and reluctant, but not wanting to be rude, I said yes. 

Your hands were all clammy and so was your brow line and I felt so embarrassed not wanting anyone to see us dancing together. I remember looking around the gym, thinking everyone was staring at me - at us.  My friends stood together a few feet away, some giggling, some giving me apologetic "it's almost over" glances. You weren't watching them though, you were looking right at me. 

Thirty seconds into the song, "I... uhm.. I have to go to the bathroom." 

That was the best I could do? Seriously?  I said it and I ran to the to meet my BFF and left you there, standing near the DJ, alone. And I am truly sorry. 

Because now here I am eight years later drowning in a sea of unanswered OkCupid messages, hoping that boys men will text me first, hold the door, or buy my beer.  I, like so many women, fall for guys who don't want to commit to me, nor be seen together in public.  I fall for the sorry-my-phones-been-dead-for-three-weeks texts and the I'm-not-looking-for-a-girlfriend-but-if-I-was-it-would-be-you excuses.  I would kill for a guy to approach me now with the same confidence you did at our first high school semi-formal.... to walk right up to me and ask me to dance right there in front of everyone.  I didn't know it then, but clearly you were too cool for me.

You probably still are, as far as FaceBook can tell me.  You understand that there is more to the world than what's right under  our noses.  You raise funds for dreamers, and watch movies and football, and read books, and still wear your shirts tucked into your khakis.  I'm sure you're doing well, and I hope you are.  So, even if you don't remember this night, I wanted to tell you that I do, and I wanted to say that I'm sorry.  You deserved a better dance partner. 

There Is Nothing Cute About Raccoons

The following is a list of 10 of the most important lessons I have learned so far as a single twenty-something in the infamous proverbial "real world."  Just here to share some wisdom, take it or leave it - but seriously take it because even though I don't have my life together, some of these gems are really legit. 

1.  Beer does not put out the buffalo chicken flame.

This may sound like common sense to some of you; however, you can't imagine how many times I've been at dinner with someone who orders buffalo wings or a buffalo chicken sandwich with just a beer and no water!  They take a bite, swig the beer to null the fire and inevitably have to flag down the waitress for a glass of agua.  Do yourself and the waitstaff a favor and request a water ahead of time. 

2.  Fool me once, shame on you.

Fool me twice, still shame on you. 

If there is anything I have learned from being duped by guys, listening to my friends that have been duped by guys, and watching tons of RomComs where the girl is duped by the guy, it's this: blaming yourself is the absolute worst.  Does it totally suck that you gave someone a second chance and it doesn't work out? Yeah totally, but whatever.  If it had worked out differently you would've been psyched! So, give as many chances as you want and don't blame yourself for being optimistic, but when the hurting starts to outweigh the happiness, quit that shit cold turkey. Speaking of which...

3.  Quitters actually sometimes win. 

I quit everything that doesn't make me happy because I've come to find that quitting is not synonymous with failure.  From where I stand, everything in life falls somewhere on the spectrum between makes you unbelievably happy or makes you feel totally distressed, disheartened, and disappointed.  So, once something has crossed over the center line, tips-the-scales or whatever in the wrong direction, I'm out. I'm 22. I have a lifetime ahead of me to be happy, I don't need to spend any more time, energy, or money doing something that causes me more stress than good.  The happier, the better. 

4.  Most things in life are not permanent

(except like, tattoos and final sale items). 

Whenever you make a decision, no matter how big or small, you gotta remind yourself that it is not set in stone.  I mean obviously if you make the decision to quit your job and call your boss an "effin' bitch" or something, that's probably permanent, but most things that you do are not.  If you move to a new city and it doesn't work out, you're not stuck there.  If you go out with a guy and meet his family too soon, you don't need to marry him.  You, my single 20-something sista, are beholden to you right now, make decisions accordingly. 

5.  Fergie was onto something when she was up in the gym
working on her fitness with a witness. 

I know I just told you that you're beholden to yourself, but from what I've found it helps to have someone else keeping tabs.  If you set a goal, like fitness or finding a job or not wearing sweats every day of the weekend (some of my own goals obviously) then it's good to share that goal with someone else.  Not so that person can shame you when you're not doing it, but so that there's someone else who knows what you're working on and can support you or tell you to get your ass in gear.  I'd pick a friend that shares the same goal, that can be honest with you without being insulting. 

6.  No one can see the size on your tag. 

Please read that carefully again.  NO ONE CAN SEE THE SIZE ON YOUR TAG! There are only two times you really wonder what size someones clothes are.  1.) when it's your friend and she looks bangin' and you find yourself reenacting that creepy "lemme borrow that top" YouTube video; or 2.) whatever that girl is wearing looks way too big or way too small.  The second instance is what you want to avoid.  Here's the thing, you look better when your clothes fit. People can't see for sure that you're wearing an XS, but they can see what you look like in that size. Be confident in yourself, wear the clothes that fit your body, and forget about the stupid XS-XL labels tacked to the back of your neck, it's on the inside of your shirt, not plastered on your forehead. 

7.  The only investment you can make with certainty is in

a timeless wardrobe. 

With every investment - time, money, emotion - you run the risk of the unexpected.  Someone falls out of love, something falls from the sky, somewhere falls on hard times; you cannot predict what will happen in the future.  You can (and should) make a plan, set a goal, work toward something, but don't beat yourself up if there's an unexpected trauma, tragedy, or change of heart.  I've learned the best investments are made in your passions at that moment and in the little black dress, nude heels, and wool socks. 

8. There is nothing cute about raccoons.

Women should be able to bronze without restraint or fear of judgement.  There is no worse make up fopaux than the rancid act of raccooning yourself.  There is noting cute about raccoons, dark eye make up, white everything else.  Bronze like nobody is watching, because honestly, no one is watching.  When you stumble into the bathroom after 4 vodka crans you don't want to find yourself looking like a trashed woodland creature.  Bronze, baby, bronze! Just find the shade that's right for your skin. Orange raccoons aren't majestic, they're creepy. (Recommendations include BareMinerals Warmth, Clinique True Bronzed Pressed Powder, Urban Decay Naked Flushed, etc). 

9. Online dating is hilarious, awkward, and a two-way street. 

I've referenced my online dating excursions enough for you guys to know that I'm obviously taking it sort of seriously.  In the time that I've been on OkCupid, Tinder, and POF (the former lasting about 5 hours), I've learned that it is what you make it.  I live in a small suburban town where I can't throw a dead cat 10 feet without hitting someone I knew in high school (that's like a wicked gross thing to say, but I heard that phrase once and have never used it before in context).  My point is that I don't live in some cool downtown apartment surrounded by yo-pros ready to sweep me off into the sunset and studies have shown that you're just as likely to meet your spouse at bar as you are to meet them online. So, even if I'm not doing myself any good, there's no harm in trying.  Plus, some of the post-date stories are party pleasers.  Shout out to the 6'8" leprechaun whose "guilty pleasure" was going to Miley Cyrus concerts, I hope you find what you're looking for. 

10. Secure your own oxygen mask before assisting others.

Ya know when you're on an airplane and the flight attendant tells you that in the case of an emergency an oxygen mask will fall from the ceiling in front of you (and not fully inflate, which gives me such anxiety)? Anyway, you're supposed to put it on yourself first before helping kids or old people or people who just cant figure out how the elastic pulley things on the sides work. The airline isn't telling you this because they're assholes, they're actually teaching a super important lesson about self-preservation.  You are no use to anyone if you're not breathing.  It's natural in your 20's to want to have it all together and be there for the people you care about (at least it seems natural to me) because inevitably your friend will fall flat on her face (literally if her heels are too tall, figuratively if she is also a typical twenty-something), and you're going to want to help her get back up, which will be IMPOSSIBLE if you are not breathing.  Take time for yourself.  Make sure you're shit is in order before taking on someone else's shit.  Secure your mask or whatever.  It doesn't mean you don't love the others around you, it means you want to be ready for when they need you most. 

Puppies, Pinot, and President Fitzgerald Grant

Learned helplessness is a concept that was developed by Martin Seligman through an experiment he conducted based on the behaviors of man's best friend.  Seligman sent electric currents through the bottoms of dogs' cages so their little piggy-toes were shocked.  These cages had no apparent escape route, so the dogs were forced to stay put and endure the pain.  At first the dogs squirmed and jumped and looked for ways out of their chambers.  Next, Seligman put these dogs in cages that actually had a way out and shocked them again. The dogs, though, didn't even try to escape.  They stayed put assuming that nothing had changed.  That they were stuck.  They were helpless.

Now, I know Seligman sounds like a douche, torturing those poor puppies and shocking their little paws. I'm not even an animal person and I know that sending electric currents through the cages of theses pooches is a bad move, but what Seligman discovered through this experiment is so unbelievably pertinent to our lives, he should at least get a fist bump for his findings.

I'm not about to tell you that breaking up with my ex-boyfriend was akin to having shocks sent through my toes and that I was in an inescapable cage of emotion. That would be a metaphor even I am not dramatic enough to extend, but I am going to proclaim that I have 100% learned to be helpless.

Tomorrow night I am going on my 5th date with President Fitzgerald Grant... a little pseudonym for the guy I've been seeing that watches Scandal.  Fitz and I have been seeing each other for about a month now and things have actually been going great! We drink coffee, go for walks, talk about our classes (he's a med student...swoon) and I'm totally comfortable.  The thing is that whenever my sisters or my friends ask me what he's like or how things are going, my answer is always the same:

...fine...

Not like an angry-been-in-a-bad-mood-all-week 'fine!' or an upbeat-better-than-good-but-I-don't-want-to-sound-too-eager 'fine...!'  It's more of a got-an-87-on-this-exam-which-is-4-points-above-average-but-I-am-not-over-the-moon-about-it-I-did 'fine.' Ya know what I mean? Which is so annoying because I actually think I really like Fitz.  He's smart and good looking and doesn't own more shoes than I do - talk about a catch!  He's awesome and I think we could be moving in the right direction, but I don't want to get my hopes up. 

And there it is, Ladies and Gents.  I am Seligman's puppy.  For the last two years I have been trying to make it work with my ex-boyfriend. Over and over again I have been in this relationship where I have been excited by the prospect of being together... and then I'm left totally and utterly disappointed when things don't work out.  I give my time, effort, emotions, tacos (one of only dishes I am willing to make on the reg), and I'm still eating the tacos alone.  Now I am helplessly and hopelessly on the verge of not trying anymore.  My sisters are all, "invite him to family game night!" and "let's get dim sum!" and I'm over here like, "should I even shave my legs for our date tonight?"

So, I no longer think that Seligman was trying to be a jerk; I think he was trying to figure out why we're so willing to give up when things aren't easy.  Because when we try and try to no avail, it seems like we should give up.  But I don't want to feel that way.  I don't want to be the kind of person that looks at the glass as half-empty or whatever. Who cares if it's half-full?  What's the worst that happens when it's empty?  I want to look at it and think that at least there is room for more Pinot! (My proverbial glass is a long-stem wine glass, which makes sense because there not supposed to be full. Think about it.)

Seligman and I on the same page about this whole learned helplessness concept.  It's totally learned, but I have good news!  Another forward-thinking-asshole of his time, John Watson, proved something else with a incredibly unethical experiment (another lesson for another day). Behaviors can be learned and UNLEARNED! We don't have to feel helpless forever! So, tomorrow night I'm going to be excited to see Fitz. I'm going to hope that things go well. I'm going to look forward to the future. 

And if things don't work out, I'm going to be fine. I'm going to look at the glass ready to be refilled. Plus, I'm lucky enough to know that some wine glasses are bigger than others anyway. 

Today Is Evaluation Day. The Key Word Being Value. Do You Have Any?

I haven't written anything here in a while, and honestly it's because I haven't really had anything to say. Which is weird for me, because I ALWAYS have something to say.

Then I got to thinking, maybe it's good I couldn't think of anything.  Maybe it means that I am moving on - moving forward.  Maybe my heart is mending itself.... which is partially why I haven't been writing: I am definitely on the mend.  I have been feeling better about myself, about my body, about who I am as a person; but that's not the whole story.  I've really begun to ask myself: how much of my self-worth comes from within and how much I base it on other people?

Let me explain, for the month up until spring break I was going to the gym five days a week with a friend of mine that is incredibly fit.  She was, and still is, running me through ab workouts, leg workouts, bike workouts, etc. She's like my own personal trainer and I'm finally feeling good about myself again.  Don't get me wrong, what I burn in calories, I make up for in beer consumption, so I have lost ZERO pounds.  But I'm feeling good and that's what matters.

See, that's where I question myself.  Do I feel good because the exercise is my way of releasing stress or accomplishing something? Sort of.  I definitely don't find exercise - cardio or otherwise - therapeutic at all.  That whole "running is my escape" mantra is awesome for some people, unfortunately I don't fall into that category.  So I guess only half of my reason for working out is that it makes me feel good physically... so what else?

The problem is that sometimes I catch myself doing things because it's how I want to be seen by others.  I want other people to see me as as fit as my friend, thus, I am working out with my friend.  Is that the worst thing in the world?  Absolutely not.  Any motivation can be considered good motivation as long as it's not hurting anyone.  But still, something about that irks me.

But it's not just that I want to be seen in a certain way, it's that I feel desperate for the acceptance of others.  I know I'm not alone in saying that I wish I had more friends; I feel like everyone does, and if you don't you're lying... or maybe you're not.  Maybe some people are perfectly content with the number of people that they wave to when they walk across campus, or how many different pregames they are invited to on a saturday night. And to them, I guess, kudos! But I want everyone to like me, which is clearly never going to be possible, but for some reason I'm still that girl at the bar complimenting everyone's shirt and trying to remember everyone's major, or life plans, or dog's name --  and it's not a matter of acting fake because I'm truly not.  I think I just like being liked! But sometimes I wish I could just be more content.  Like "you don't have to be friends with the girl washing her hand's in the bathroom, Self, just let her rinse them in peace." But I can't, and I don't know why.... and worse than that, I can't decide if it's a good thing or a bad thing - a virtue or an annoying flaw - because trying to be friends with people is something I like about myself, but I find it annoying about myself at the same time.

Annnnnd finally, why do I feel like I need every guy to want to make out with me?  It's possibly one of the things about myself that annoys me the most.  For the past two years I prided myself on being that girl who never went out prowling for guys.  I was the girl ready to drink beer and hang out with my friends, never worried about if the guy across the room thought I was pretty.  Now, that's so far from how I act I can't stand it.  I'm falling into the typical college girl trap and I hate it, but I clearly don't hate it that much because I'm still doing it.  I'm walking into bars, scanning the room for the cute guy I kissed last week, the boy from my Tuesday - Thursday class that sits across the room, or the guy who only gives me the time of day when there isn't a new sneaker being released the next day (weird non-relatable reference, sorry). But that's just my whole point, why am I so concerned about what they think of me?  They barely even know me!  Most of the guys I've made out with in the past three months haven't known me at all, but I'm so desperate to make them want to kiss me.  What is that?  That, my friends, is how girls mend their hearts.

I'm not pathetic, I'm NORMAL.  When you're heart is broken because someone doesn't want to be with you anymore, that's a terrible feeling.  It felt like something was wrong with me.  Maybe I'm not pretty enough, or nice enough, or blah blah blah... and I don't have his approval, so I've been looking elsewhere.  A lot of girls do it, and honestly, I think it's okay!  Even if my motivation for going to the gym is flawed, I'm going!  And if I'm taking extra time to do my hair because I want a guy to think that it's actually long instead of hair extensions (no secret, I wear hair extensions), then so be it!

Self-worth is a tricky thing when you're heart is broken when for so long your value was dependent on someone else.  And it's going to take some time to love yourself enough for two people, so until then do it how you feel it... and put on some lipgloss, you never know who's looking.

Dear Best Friend,

I really thought I was in love with you.  Isn't that weird to think about?  We were eighteen, driving to school, watching movies late at night, going to concerts all summer long.  We were the best of friends, but you're a boy and I'm a girl, so in my mind we were meant to be something more.  And I was right, we were meant to be something more, but not in the way I had imagined.

You are more to me than any friend, any boyfriend, anybody on this Earth.  You are a part of me.

When you first told me that you were gay, you put it so eloquently, "it's not that I don't like you, I just don't like what you are." Looking back I feel intense guilt that a moment that should have been about you was suddenly about me.  I feel ashamed that you were nervous to tell me, that you thought I would cry.  What does that say about who I was then?  Was I that selfish?  Now when I look back on that conversation, my eyes do well up because that was the day you became my best friend for a lifetime.

Since that moment, we have shared in every major, minor, mediocre or monstrous happening in each others lives.  The day I left for college and you doubled back to my house for a second goodbye hug.  The day you got into college and called me from the train, secretly in route to surprise me in New York.    The day I moved home from Philadelphia.  The day you moved to Washington.  Every phone call about a boy - your first love, my first love, and every one after that.  Family reunions, dinners, birthdays, holidays, weddings... you're my eternal plus one.

I think about all of the time I used to spending wishing, hoping, praying that you would realize we were meant to be together, and I'm glad for it.  Because we are meant to be together.  You and me. Us. Taking on the world together, because who you are as a person makes me who I am as a person.  You are my reason when I can't think straight.  You are my laughter when my tears are too much.  You're my call-me-anytime.  My "cut the shit, Jane."  My slumber party, defender from bullies, biggest cheerleader and toughest critic.  You are a part of me.

I don't think I thank you enough.  Maybe because I can't thank you enough.  I have grown to be someone I like because I have you in my life.  I am who I want to be because of you.  You are the strongest and bravest man I have ever met, and I am grateful you let me draw on your strength.  You are loyal and kind and beautiful, and I cannot imagine my life without you.

My fear is that I need you more -- that you are all of those things on your own and that I offer nothing in return for your unyielding, unwavering love.  But please know that I am here with you, for you, a part of you forever and a day.

I love you until the moon becomes the sun.

Suppose You Can Get What You Want...

Whenever I find an eyelash on my cheek in the mirror I am sure to make a wish, I take birthday candles very seriously, and I love fortune cookies.  I wouldn't describe myself as superstitious, but rather I have a lot of faith that what is meant for a person finds its way into his or her life.  Fortune cookies, to me, are the best part of sushi nights with my family, chinese food nights with my friends, and are an excellent excuse for mai tais or scorpion bowls.

I always like to say that my former boyfriend and I fell in love over fortune cookies.  He probably would not say that, but I do.  The first time I really remember the two of us having a conversation together was over a fortune.  A common friend of ours ordered chinese food for dinner and offered me the cookie.  Together my former boyfriend and I opened it and read allowed our first fortune together

Your income will increase.

I was disappointed.  I don't like the fortunes that have simple, literal meanings; my former boyfriend on the other hand was beyond excited.  We were getting paid the next day, so in his mind, the fortune was meant for us.  When I went to throw it away he stopped me, "hey, wait... you should save that," so I stuck it in the back of my phone case.  

The next time we got a fortune together was the first time I visited him that summer, the next time he visited me, and the list goes on.  Fortunes were our thing.  We got one last New Years and read it at midnight. We would sneak them from the dining hall for each other on stir fry Wednesdays --  it was our fun little game, and I saved them all.  My favorite one we ever got was from a restaurant in my town.  We stopped there one day on our way back from the grocery store and asked for just one fortune.

Our brightest blazes of gladness are commonly kindled by unexpected sparks.  

I should correct my previous statement: I fell in love over fortune cookies.  Ever since we have broken up, I have been less than delighted when my sister and I finish our sushi or my friends' scorpion bowl is empty because my favorite part of Asian cuisine has been tainted.  Fortune cookies started to become a bitter reminder of all of the fun memories we had.  Is it pathetic that cookies started making me sad? Maybe, but they did nonetheless. 

The other day, I went to pick up dinner for my family at the same sushi restaurant near the grocery store where we had gotten my favorite fortune.  While I was there I asked for one extra cookie to open by myself in the car.  This fortune, I told myself, was meant for me.  Whatever it said was going to set the tone for my new life - my new outlook for the year ahead.  I know how cheesy this all sounds, but that's honestly what I did.  I opened the fortune and found a phrase I truly believe was intended for me.

Suppose you can get what you want...

At first I thought that the universe was telling me that if I want to get back together with my former boyfriend I can, but then I took a second look.  My fortune is telling me that I can, without a doubt, find what I'm looking for.  I should never settle.  I can find someone, something, anything that makes me happy as long as I know what I want and I accept nothing less.  So for now, I don't know exactly where to find what I'm looking for but it's out there; and I'll find it in the unlikeliest of places because our brightest blazes of gladness are commonly kindled by unexpected sparks. 

I've Been Through a Lot of Shit This Year, But I'ma Keep My Head Up Like My Nose Is Bleeding

A recap of my year.

January
I rang in 2013 with my former boyfriend and his friends.  The entire situation started out rocky because I had originally asked him to spend the night in my hometown and he could not commit one way or the other - obviously waiting for a better offer to come his way.  Finally we agreed on me traveling to spend the night with his friends and family.  As the night went on, he became more intoxicated and I became less enthralled.  On the plus side, my outfit was casual yet sparkly... on the downside, he puked jagger and his brother blacked out only to tell me how my visiting ruined his night.

The highlight of January, however, was visiting my best friend, Kevin, in Washington, DC, for the Presidential Inauguration, or as I like to call it - my first Beyonce concert.  The weekend was incredible!  We went to the Massachusetts Democratic Party's cocktail party, watched the leader of our nation's inauguration for a second term, and danced the night away at his school's Inaugural Ball.  I got to dress like a princess and we made once in a lifetime memories.

February
February came and I made the decision to no longer be a college athlete.  I had walked onto the lacrosse team when I transferred to make friends and get myself in shape.  Once the friends I had made graduated and I dropped twenty pounds, however, I realized that playing college sports was definitely not for me and that I was not happy dedicating four hours a day to playing a game.  Sometimes I miss being a part of a team with built-in friends, plans, and athletic gear, but then I remember all of the time I have spent on schoolwork and with my family that would not have been possible if I was still on the team.

Right at the end of the month, my family, along with my former boyfriend and I, went on a ski trip to New Hampshire.  It was incredibly fun! I learned how to stand on two skis, grew closer with my (at the time) soon to be brother-in-law, and my former boyfriend was awesome with my nephews.  He snowboarded one day and skied with me the next, took it slow so I didn't feel stupid, and we were in good spirits all weekend.  On the way home we stopped at what became our favorite memory of the weekend, a restaurant called the Poor People's Pub and had french onion soup and studied for his exam coming up the next day.

March
Veryyyy little happened in March.  Spring break was uneventful.  I spent the week at home... alone.   I missed lacrosse for the first time when the photographs of my old team started pouring in from their trip to South Carolina, and there was a snowstorm so my former boyfriend could not travel to my house for the last two days of break as planned.

April
My former boyfriend and I got in our first real fight... in front of his family.  We were invited to spend the weekend at his family's condo in upstate New York.  On the way there I asked if he would come with me to visit my friend at her school the following weekend.  He told me maybe, but then later in the night told me (in front of his brother) that he did not plan on coming because he simply "didn't want to"... and his friends would be mad at him.  I was infuriated.  While I may have overreacted, I was I could not understand why he could not take one night to meet my childhood friend.  What was so important that had to be done with his friends that night? Drink a few extra Coors Lights?  After a day and a half of tension, we fought it out... he apologized... and agreed to come.  In the end however, he STILL didn't meet my friend because his favorite college basketball team was playing in the championship and I encouraged him to stay at school and watch the game with his friends (I can be reasonable).  The team lost.

May
The school year ended and summertime started with a bang!  My mother worked so hard and planned my sister a BEAUTIFUL brunch for her bridal shower.  We drank mimosa's, opened gifts, and I read a poem that made my sister cry.  It was truly my favorite part of my sister's wedding events.  My sister made a toast when she thanked everyone for coming and what she said still resinates with me today.  "This is what I've been looking forward to... everyone being here together because I feel like my whole life is women, and I love you all."  My life has truly been shaped by the women in it.  After my dad's passing it was my aunts, sisters, and mother who stepped in to pick up the pieces, to raise me, and to help me grow into the woman I have become.

June
In June I turned 21 and it was amazing!  My mother and sisters surprised me with a trip to Florida to celebrate my birthday in Harry Potter World! The following week my two best girlfriends (one from college, one from home) brought me out for the night and we danced and drank our faces off.  The next night my mother allowed me to have a party at my house where 20 of my friends from home and school came and we spent the night playing drinking games and catching up in my back yard.  It was a blast!

July
There is no possible way to describe the convoluted, terribly timed happenings of July 2013.  I planned my sister's bachelorette party for July 13th.  That same morning my mother woke us up to tell us that our grandfather, who had been in an out of the hospital for the previous year and a half, had passed away in rehab early that morning.  A wave of devastation and relief crashed through our household.  As morbid as it sounds, relief came first.  He was so sick for so long, needing countless surgeries and round the clock supervision.  He had been hallucinating, sleepwalking, and suffering for too long.  Devastation came next because he was our father figure... our strongest, longest male figure, and he was gone... and life went on.  I did my best to rev my sister up and we went out for her Bachelorette party on the town! My sisters, mother, and the bride's friends went into the city for a lavish dinner and drinks, and then us girls were off to the races! We drank, danced, sang, and snacked on the way home. The night was a stark contrast to the way the morning had begun and emotions were obviously mixed, confused, and overwhelming.... and my sister puked the next morning.

The funeral was scheduled for that Tuesday.  My boyfriend not only did not come, but actually did not even offer.  I received a picture from him that afternoon at a baseball game with his best friend...He skipped my grandfather's funeral for the all-star game.  I visited him that Thursday for the weekend because he had gotten me tickets to see my favorite singer in concert for my birthday.  So was I upset? Could I be?  How do you say thank you for the birthday gift, I would trade it in if it meant you would have been there to support me this week?

August
My sister married the man she will spend the rest of her life with.  I love him more than words.
My former boyfriend and I fought after the wedding. It was the beginning of the end of our relationship.  I realized during photographs that he did not see himself as a part of our family... or even consider it a possibility.  I wish that I had invited my best friend Kevin to be in the photographs instead because he is my forever.

My former boyfriend and I fought for the rest of the month about everything - his lack of commitment to visiting me, his lack of reasoning for not being there for me when my grandfather died, and especially his disregard and lack of desire to understand or even respect my feelings.  He never did anything out of love or desire to make me happy - everything was out of practicality or convenience.

September
The new school year began.  My former boyfriend and I basically stopped having sex and I did a lot of crying.

October
We broke up.  It was "my decision."

November
I began this blog.

December
I am so ready to start the New Year.

In the words of Little Wayne  - I've been through a lot of shit this year, but I'ma keep my head up like my nose is bleeding.  If anything, this year has taught me that shitty things happen... all the time.  Timing sucks, people change and hurt you, and you know what you have to do? Keep living.   Because its not everyone, every time, and everything that hurts.  There actually are people out there who love unconditionally and make your life worth living - and those are the people I am going to fill 2014 with.  The people who I care about and who care about me.

I am ringing in 2014 with my friends.  Two of my girlfriends from school and two of my girlfriends from home, and I could not be more excited about it.  Life is about reflecting on your past, drawing on what you've learned, and building upon it in your future.  New Year's Eve is the perfect time to do that, so New Year - New You, and I'm wishing you all the happiness life has to offer.