Where's the Love?

My family takes an annual vacation to the shore every year. We have for as long as I can remember. It's ALWAYS the first week in August. And we've always been pretty lucky as far as weather goes - I can remember it raining literally 1 day on all of our vacations, ever.

I was 9 or 10 that year, and my dad and uncles decided a trip to the nearby mall - which the woman at the front desk of the hotel said had an indoor playground. So off we went. What better way to keep 6 children, ages 10 to 6 entertained on a rainy vacation day?

If only my father had known what he would start that day.

We walk into the mall and see signs about a free concert for a new, relatively unknown pop band. I begged my dad to take me, and he obliged. Quality father daughter time or something like that.

We listen to the band - they are brothers, according to the signs. The youngest is my age, maybe a year older.

I'm instantly smitten. The band? Hanson. You know, "Mmmbop," long haired blonde brothers?

I've been a die-hard fan ever since. When Middle of Nowhere hit stores later that year and my fellow fifth grade classmates were drooling over Taylor, I already knew every word to the whole album, and most importantly that Zac was my future husband.

Ah, 10 year olds. Zac Hanson. Wasn't really dreaming big, was I?

Anyway, the next summer, they were touring and a friend's mom was buying tickets for her birthday for her and 3 friends. I was psyched. I had to see them.

My mother wouldn't let me go. My friends, the sweethearts* that they were, called me from a pay phone at the concert to let me know what I was missing. That Zac was cute and they were playing songs off their new album and they had both bought concert shirts and OMG how amazing it was and didn't it suck that I wasn't there? But I shouldn't be too jealous, because they were only in the 10th row. Not the first.

Fast forward a few months, when one of my friends comes over. She laughs at the Hanson covered walls and informs me that they are so elementary school and the N*Sync is what is cool now, and that I should take them down and she won't tell anyone I was so uncool.**
I take them down, silently apoligizing to the boys. She helps me find an N*Sync poster in a magazine to hang up, until I get more.

Once she's gone, all my Hanson posters come back up.

Fast forward 9, almost 10 years. It's the day of my college graduation and Hanson is playing just an hour away.
My mother informs me that under no circumstances is that an excuse to miss my college graduation and if i decide it is, she will disown me. And then dismember me.***

So fast forward to this past Tuesday. Hanson is playing nearby.
And this time, I make it.

It's a dream come true. Almost a week later, and my ears are still ringing. I can't pull the smile off my face.

They play their big hits. The crowd screams along. They play their newer, lesser known (and more grown up) songs. And the crowd continues to scream. We belt out every word, dance along to the music and reconnect with the inner teeny bopper that every girl posesses.

And I realized one universal truth about my undying, 15 year love of Hanson:

deep down, I still believe there's hope for me and Zac.



*Although, in their defense, has you ever met a kind 12 year old?
**Have I ever mentioned how much I truly despised and detested middle school?
*** She was serious. My mother doesn't joke about graduations. Especially when it comes to me.

Magic was in the air at The Jetty

the sun setting and being a fresh high school graduate, I felt like the world was mine for the taking. We were ready for what came ahead, and sure of who we were. It was the perfect shining moment in a vacation that other wise contained broken hearts, tears, and the beginning of a friendship unraveling.

But at that moment of sunset, sitting on the edge of the jetty, with my friends beside me, dolphins swimming by and the smell of summer in the air, I knew who I was. I knew where I was going. I knew that I would handle anything that came at me.



I thought I was invincible.

The Princess and the Frog

I took Hunter to see The Princess and the Frog last night, he's been begging my all week to see it, so I caved and took him. (because the word "SUCKER" is written across my forehead.) I was expecting to find it decent at best, not worthy of comparison to the Disney of my childhood.

I've usually got pretty good instincts, but this time I was wrong.

Disney has always had a special place in my heart. My first memory is going to see The Little Mermaid with my aunt - my first movie. Afterward, we went upstairs on the escalators and went to a store that had an indoor playground, and then a trip to McDonald's. The whole day felt magical. But when you are 3 years old, most days feel that way.

While The Princess and the Frog won't usurp The Little Mermaid, it will definitely find a place in my top 5 Disney movies.

After the movie, Hunter suckered me into a trip to Border's to get the book that goes with the movie. Again, because the word SUCKER is in big bold letters across my forehead.

Milk and Cookies

Dear Gia,

I woke up thinking about you today. It's not your birthday, it's not the day you died. It's just another day. But you were on my mind this morning. Although, you are never far from it.

Can you believe in June, you will have been gone for 5 long years? I look back and try to see where those 5 years have gone, but I can't. I remember when it was one month, and 6 months, and how terrible it still felt one year later. It still feels terrible, but I no longer trick myself into believing you are alive.

Except at Christmas. When Aunt Sharon comes through the door at Christmas, I still half believe that you will be right behind her. I wonder if that will change this year.

It's hard to believe that you would be 25 if you were still here - do you get older, where you are? Or are you still 21, younger than me now...the same age your sister is? That was tough for Aunt Sharon and Aunt Bunny - that exactly a month from now, your little sister will be older than you ever lived to be. I know it's on their mind, because when that day happened -the day I was older than you had lived to be, Aunt Bunny called me. She told me I was officially the oldest.

I'd rather still be the second oldest.

I wonder if Aunt Bunny still counts your death in days. I know Aunt Sharon doesn't, but last Christmas - Christmas is always hard - when someone spoke your name (you see, we still talk about you. We remember.) - a memory about something impish you did when we were little, and it was just the 2 of us - she said "it's been 1,298 days since my grandbaby left us. how many more until we see her again?"

I wish we had an answer for her.

We still miss you. Becky is having a baby, but I'm sure you already knew that. He or She will be the first person born in our family since you died - another milestone. DJ was only a baby when you died, and now he is in preschool, and like you, a little mischievous imp. But Carlin-Rose or Michael will not know you at all. There will be no pictures of him or her with you, there will be nothing to tell them "Your Auntie Gia once tickled you until you cried." about you - because the two of you will not have existed in the same world.

I remember on that terrible day, June 2, 2005 - a day that is forever burned into my heart - that I thought the world would stop. That time would never move forward and that it was just a matter of time until we all woke up from this terrible nightmare.

But the world started moving again, way too soon. And time proceeded on.

And worst of all, it's wasn't a nightmare that could be stopped.

almost 4 and a half years later, the tears don't come as often. the memories don't always bring a tear and hearing your name can bring a smile.

But hearing Baby Got Back or riding a roller coaster brings me back. Eating a cookie dunked in milk, seeing Jello commercials, the water pistol games on the boardwalks - they all bring you to mind.

And seeing a little girl who wants nothing more than to be like the big cousin she adores always stops me in my tracks. And it brings me back to our childhood and sometimes it feels so real that it's hard to believe it all happened so long ago.

But the reality always comes back too quickly.

You are gone, and I am still here.

I love you. And I miss you. Always.

A comma in the sentence of life.

I had the (dis?)pleasure of finding a fairly old journal of mine - starting a little over 2 years ago and ending up on Christmas 2008. It's one of 2 surviving journals I have - one I gave to my sister a few years ago because she asked for it.
I've been keeping journals since I was 6 - and had about 12 of them from the past 17 years. I used to look through them from time to time, but sadly they, along with most of my childhood possessions, were lost in the Great Move of 07 that No One Told Me About. I know it's been over 2 years, but it's something I still can't get over. They contained 17 years worth of feelings, thoughts and memories that I can never get back.

But this one journal that I do have - because it was with me (at college) when the GM07NOTMA took place - made me really think.

And realize that in my personal notebook, I am very whiny, mopey and all the things I don't let myself be on my blog.
usually. most days.

but there are some universal truths there that i can't ignore.
the number one being (and this has been a reoccuring theme throughout my teenage-present day journals) my less than lack-luster romantic life.
and I can't help but think that maybe on 12/21/08, after getting rejected in a very hurtful way, that I was onto something.

"I really thought things had changed this time...i stopped saying negative things about myself...even more, I stopped thinking them. I let myself be happy and not worried constantly about getting rejected. But of course, The Pattern had to show itself again.
It always starts the same. We go on a few dates, we talk, interest appears to be mutual. Then, it stops. Suddenly. For no apparent reason. He disappears, usually with some stupid explanation, or sometimes he just vanishes. And I never hear from him again. I was a filler between relationships, a comma in the sentence of his love life. Nothing substantial. Just a divider between the good stuff. Something to fill the time.
Certainly, if the pattern has repeated itself this many times, it must be me and not them, right?"

It's happened to me roughly six times now. And it's always very sudden - the one I was talking about on that day...we had been dating for about a month, seeing each other every weekend, talking on the phone every night, when he kissed me goodnight one evening, left, and I never heard from him again. I sent him a text the next day, which he ignored. I thought ok, maybe his phone is broken. Sent him a facebook message, wanting to make sure he's ok. Thanks to the stalkerfeed, I know he's been online. I get nothing back. So I call him the next day and leave him a voicemail. I tell him that I don't care if he's not into me anymore, but I'd really appreciate him TELLING me and not just blowing me off.
Nothing. He literally just dropped off the face of the earth.
it's not like I was in love with him, I wasn't even sure that he had long term potential. I think I really just liked the fact that a guy was interested in ME for once, and not using me to a) get to my friends or b) not be alone. But either way, it still hurt. Sometimes those are the blows that hurt the most.

Family.

When I talk about family, I could go in so many directions - my friends, who are like my family, my father's side of the family (who could be compared to My Cousin Vinny), actually, I could probably go on for a while about my father. Or, I could talk about my mother's family.

Growing up in my family was almost like growing up in a commune. . In my family there's no "second" cousins, or "great" aunts, (just GREAT aunts).... there's barely a distinction between cousins and siblings, or parents and aunts/uncles. There certainly isn't any difference between full siblings, half siblings and step siblings.

We pretty much had free run between our homes, weekends were definitely spent at Aunt Judy's, or Aunt Mimi's, never at home. Sometimes even weeknights were spent there. And believe me, if you acted up at Aunt Lisa's, you got in just as much trouble with her as you would have with your mom, if not more.

I'm the oldest by 2 years, and the only one who doesn't have a cousin my age. If you ask my brother Mikey who his best friend is, he will tell you my cousin Joe. Bex will tell you that her best friend is our cousin Ange. My brother AJ- his best friends are our cousins Ar and Kev.

It wasn't until I went away to college that I realized that my family is not the norm. Not everyone had Aunts, Uncles and Cousins within grabbing distance. Until I went to college, I never found anything odd about this situation. My college friends didn't and still don’t understand why it is that I am just as attached to my extended family as I am to the family I live with. Even when people ask me to talk about my immediate family, I still can’t help but talk about my aunts, grandmothers and cousins.

I was the first person in my family to graduate high school with out first dropping out, let alone go to college. My graduation, which in any family is a big deal, was a BIG DEAL in my family. Fortunately, Spring graduation doesn't require tickets and anyone can go. I remember marching out, Pomp and Circumstance playing, people all around clapping and cheering for their grads as they walk by.

I look over, and there is my family. Cheering. Mom, Dad, Suzanne, Mommom, Nana, Aunt Judy, Uncle Joe, Bex, AJ, Chris, Aunt Lisa, Aunt Mimi - Ar, Christian, Nellie, Uncle Bo, Angela, Ryan, Mikey. 28 people in all - there to watch me graduate and cheer me on. And that was just the family who was old enough - the youngest of my cousins were at home with the rest of my uncles. My friends laughed and called it "The Girl Fan Club." They were curious as to why my "whole family" was there.

I laughed and explained that it wasn't anywhere near my whole family. And then I explained the universal truth about them - they are just as much a part of my as my mother and sister are, they have done just as much to shape the adult I am becoming, have become. I can't even fathom who I would be without them.

13) Reconnect with an old Friend

check.
Although, it wasn't my doing at all..it's one of those things that just kind of happened.

Ari was my childhood best friend. We met when I was 6 and she was 7. We lived down the street from each other - her family moved in about a week before mine did.
I still remember the day we met. It was June, right before school ended. But it was cloudy and I had on pants with a tanktop. I was riding my bike, as far away from my house as I was allowed to go. I had just learned how to ride a two wheeler and was so proud of myself. Ari was riding her bike in the street in front of her house, which I thought was the coolest thing ever. I stopped and watched her as she rode with no hands. This girl, in my 6 year old mind, was so cool. She noticed me watching her and rode over to me, pulled up right along side of me so that our front wheels were touching.
"I'm Ari." she said. "I live in that house. I'm in second grade. Who are you?"
"I'm Girl," I said. "I live down there. I'm in first grade. I'm not allowed to ride my bike in the street."
And so began our friendship. Over the 2.5 years that we shared a neighborhood, we had many infamous schemes and ideas. Among the most famous was our idea to have a neighborhood cheerleading squad and a neighborhood band. We wouldn't play the instruments, just direct the band. Neither one of us could play any instruments.
And then, my mom and stepdad got a divorce and my mother whisked me, my sister and brother away in the middle of the night.
A few days later, she came back to get our belongings from the house. Ari came running down the street when she saw my mother's car. She handed her a piece of paper with her address and phone number on it.
We wrote 1 letter a week, each, for 4 years, until about midway through middle school. We sent emails after that, but at some point in high school, we just lost touch.
This morning, when I logged onto my facebook, there was a friend request from Ari.

I still have every single letter she wrote to me.

Profound thought of the day:

"A good friend is a connection to life - a tie to the past,
a road to the future, the key to sanity in a totally insane world."
- Lois Wyse

One of my college roommates had this posted as her away message on aim today.
I miss her. I miss all of them. I miss the craziness of the 300 Zoo and the awesome year that we all lived together. It was senior year of college, and we knew the end of life as we knew it was in sight. (Yes, it sounds dramatic, but when something as significant as college graduation is coming, it IS dramatic) We drank too much, skipped class too often, laughed way too loud and made too many memories to name. It was the perfect senior year. The best way to end college. We were the 4 O's and J, plus Rosie and Posie. The 4 of us who spent the summer at 300 had a special bond - one we thought would last forever.
It didn't. M and C stopped speaking to me and K - and although C and I are talking again, a little, it's nothing like it was. I miss them both more than I can describe. K and I talk about it a lot. We had one of those friendships where we were one unit. We knew where the other 3 were at every time - and we were always laughing. No drama. A lot of laughter.
I miss it.
Most of the time they were simple things - the night that J and K got into a fight, M and her bf had just broken up, my crush decided I wasn't good enough and C had some family drama going on - we watched sad episodes of Grey's and cried together.
Or those awesome summer nights when we had the music blasting on our porch and we danced, beers in hand. And when school started serenading drunken freshman...for the fun of it. We had prime freshman watching land - right on the corner near the freshman dorms and smack dab in the middle of the party street.
Or the late nights playing drunk bus and laughing hysterically at M for insisting she wasn't drunk.

The memories, to anyone else, would seem unimportant, completely insignificant. But when you really look at them, they are what true friendships are made of.

Avoidance should really be my middle name.

I'm a true procrastinator in every sense of the word. I put things off until the last possible minute, every time, never fail. It's how I deal with confrontation.

I avoid avoid avoid. The messy bathroom? been messy for over a week. The books the cat knocked off the book shelf last week? still on the floor. The pile of clothes? Sitting across the room from the laundry basket. Matilda's litter box? scooped it on Thursday.

Guy I've decided I don't want to talk to anymore? avoid. Bad hookup who wants to do it again? run the other way when I see him. Mother who's trying to get in touch with me? don't answer her 4 emails, 9 phones calls, 4 text messages and 2 wall posts to my facebook (although in my defense it's because i dont want to say something i will regret in 10 years)

I know it's a problem, and I know that I need to stop being such a wuss and grow a set. But I can't help but think about the times I've faced something head on...like the mess referred to by my friends as the St. Patrick's Day Incident that Never Happened of 08. (oh yes, there is more than one SPDItNH..March 17th has never been my finest day..)

The week before St. Patty's Day, I met this guy, who we'll call WWIT*. Wwit was nice, albeit slightly dorky (just the way I like them) and better yet: socially awkward enough to make me the more outgoing party. We talked a little, and then I made the mistake of mentioning to one of my friends that I thought Wwit was slightly cute.
She told me that he was a good friend of hers, had never kissed a girl, and then ran off to organize the hookup. She always had a big mouth, damn her. There was no way I was hooking up with someone who had never kissed a girl at 22.
4 shots of tequila and 2 cherry bombs later, I decided that a kissing virgin was better than nothing and proceeded to talk to him for the rest of the night. A little after 2, I decided my roommate would be asleep and I could drag him home. We get up to my room, and all of the sudden I have to pee. I mumble something about having to pee, come downstairs and look in the mirror.
My hot and smokey eyes look a little smeared..ok more then a little. They look like raccoon eyes, and my face is bright red as it always is when I'm drunk. But really. I don't think he's in any position to complain and after my 6 month makeout dry spell, I really don't care. So I head back upstairs and pray hes as drunk as I am.
I open the door. He's naked. on my bed. at half mass.

WTF?

I close the door, open it again, just to make sure I wasn't dreaming. And sure enough, there he is. still naked.
I can't help it. I start to laugh.
Apparently, this is offensive, as suddenly he's not even at half mass.
Wwit asks me if i'm always like this before sex.
I ask him if he always expects sex before any foreplay.
He asks me to define what I mean by foreplay.
I tell him to put his clothes on and i'll show him.
In my drunken state, this still seems doable.
He gets dressed and I attempt to makeout with him. He informs me that he doesn't enjoy kissing, but prefers to get right into other stuff and proceeds to start groping me.
And I think wow, he might not be into kissing, but he must have some inborn instinct about how to move his mouth around a boob.
And then the pants come off. And I suddenly have to pee again.
Go back downstairs, and pass out on the bathroom floor**
When I come back upstairs in the morning, he's gone.
It's a fairly small campus, but fortunately for me I never see Wwit on campus since he is a business major and never has classes in the Humanities and Life Science buildings. My friend who originally introduced us told me that he had a great time and wants to do it again. I am completely flabbergasted. WTF? Is he INSANE? Or did he time-travel and assume that I am the owner of his v-card?

The next weekend, St. Patty's Day weekend. Kegs and eggs at the college bar, a pastime at my school. My roommates and I manage to get a table, and are sitting there when Wwit comes in with his friends. I quickly hide under the table. Avoidance #1 is successful, he doesn't see me.

Later that day, we're on our porch doing Irish car bombs and drinking green beer*** when Wwit is walking down the street, again with his friends (later find out they are his roommates). I run into the house and stay hidden, hoping he has just kept walking by instead of stopping by to see if I'm home. Avoidance #2 is a success.

Later that night, at the bar. How we are still alive at this point, I do not know. I turn around and bump straight into Wwit.
He asks me if he can come over tonight.
I laugh at him and ask him if he is mentally disturbed, really naive, or if he is suffering from one night amnesia.
Apparently this is about as amusing as laughing at someone who is naked in your bed.
he tells me that he had a great time, until I passed out.
I inform him that I passed out because he was such a stud.
this sarcasm was not well received. by not well received, i mean he thought i was serious.
he informs me that if i enjoyed last weekend, i would enjoy tonight even more.
i double over in laughter.
he tells me laughter is not a turn on.
NEITHER ARE YOU, i yell. before puking on his shoes.****

*stands for what was i thinking.
**this may or may not have been done on purpose
***how exactly do they make it green? I try not to think about this....
****For the record, that was the second time in my entire life I have ever vomited while drinking. The first time I later found out that I had the stomach flu.


This is why I avoid. Confrontation does not suit me.

high school?

Last night, for the first time in the 5 years and however many months since I graduated high school, I missed high school. Or I felt nostalgic for it...slight difference.
My Big coaches cheerleading at her alma mater. K and I went to watch the cheerleaders since it was homecoming. All around us the high schoolers are decked out in their black and red, cheering, the cheerleaders are yelling and the band is playing.
It made me miss colorguard. Standing in the bleachers yelling "GO WEST GO." Spinning my rifle out on the field and hearing the drummers start cadence. Getting to the school at 8 am on saturday mornings to get our hair braided. It made me miss the safety of high school, of knowing where you stood and who you were...or who you thought you were.

I've never had these pangs of nostalgia for HHW before. At graduation, all my friends and classmates crying and all I could think about was how much longer. Even when I first started college, I had already put high school behind me. I'm used to missing college - high school not so much. Not that I despised high school (the way I hated middle school). I actually enjoyed most of high school, especially my senior year, but i didn't have that love for it that most people have. I was always looking forward to college, I always knew the best was yet to come.