It’s that thing…

I love me some Stefon. He’s by far my favorite sketch on SNL right now. The things he says are beyond ridiculous, and Hader’s laughing makes it even better. (It’s beside the point that I totally <3 Hader.) Anyway, with S’s birthday coming up, we decided to Stefon the Facebook invite up. What do you think?

SAMIR IS OLD

If you’re looking for a great way to spend a Friday evening look no further.

Orlando’s hottest party is “Samir is Old.”

It’s. Got. EVERYTHING.

Sting rays, collared shirts, Ukrainian people, a mortar without a pestle, And who’s that in the corner? Is that former presidential candidate Mike Huckabee? No, it’s a trashcan wearing a dress!

Come and celebrate with us and perhaps you’ll get to drink an Irish cement mixer.

You know, it’s that thing when when you mix a cocktail in the beak of a pelican and then immediately eat a raw potato and emigrate to the United States.

So come on over; we hope to see you there!

2012

Shannon, me, Katie

Here are two of my friends and I celebrating New Years Eve. Three things are abundantly clear from this photo:

  1. I have amazing friends.
  2. We’re very sad you’re not partying with us.
  3. I have rather large eyes.

Among other resolutions I’ve made this year (learn to knit, do some sort of physical activity besides riding my bicycle to work, do everything in my power to get my book published, start second book), I’d like to write more in this blog. I like this blog. It’s a good blog.

What are some of your resolutions for the new year?

Pre-Wedding Events

Here are a few of my favorite events that happened before the wedding:

Bachelorette Party - 

When I was in college, I played Alice in a play adaptation of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. Since then, I’ve had a great fascination and admiration for the character. I adore her innocence, and how it evolves and almost disappears by the end of the two-book series. I love her initial stubbornness, that later transforms to sheer passion and drive. That said, my bridesmaid Katie took my interest and turned it into the bachelorette party theme. She and my other bridesmaid Shannon planned it, and honestly, it couldn’t have gone better.

We stayed downtown in a super nice hotel suite for all five of us. There was red, black, and white confetti on the tables, next to “Eat Me” cupcakes and “Drink Me” beverages. Stirrers and napkins had the familiar playing card patterns. Even their gifts for me – which I shall not reveal – were red, black, and white (however, that wasn’t intentional).

We ate dinner at a tapas restaurant I’d wanted to go to called Ceviche. It was both fun and incredibly delicious. Then, we visited the clubs and bars downtown until the doors were shutting and our eyes couldn’t stay open any longer. We learned something important, though: even as a bachelorette party, when going to the fancier clubs, you’re just a statistic, nothing special. Yet, when going to the more hole-in-the-wall places, you’re royalty. We payed for one drink the entire night.  (Incidentally, I’ve always been one to prefer the hole-in-the-wall places, and not just for that reason. They’re more comfortable to me.) The next morning we had breakfast and left happy (albeit, slightly hung over).

Taco Night -

Due to work, my bachelorette party was the Saturday before my wedding. Many friends weren’t able to come, considering they lived out of state. To remedy this, the Wednesday night prior to the wedding (the same night Samir had his bachelor party), we had a mini girls night out. Eleven of us met at my favorite cheap Mexican restaurant near my apartment and – quite simply – caught up. Friends from high school and college met one another and got along as if they were old friends. It was easy and relaxed. After, we went back to my apartment and continued to the night. It wasn’t big and crazy, it was cozy and fun. It was exactly what I wanted. It gave me a moment to relax and actually catch up with some people before the real craziness began.

Work Party -

The following day, that Thursday, was my last day of work. Remember, I’m still new there, barely two months in, so it was incredibly nice of them to hire me knowing i’d need a decent amount of time off for the wedding and honeymoon. To me, that was all I could ask for. But they did even more. I came to to see raised eyebrows and hidden smiles from my co-workers. Confused, I walked to my door to find a giant balloon display. It was amazing! They also left me a card and gift certificate. I felt so…loved. And included.

Since the majority of our friends were in town by then, many decided to stop by. First were my bridesmaids Shannon and Sarah, who sat in my office for a bit to chat. It was so nice having them there, considering the three of us hadn’t been reunited in quite some time. (We were roommates in college, as well as fellow circus performers.) Then, Samir came by with three of the groomsmen. They’d been caught in a quick Florida down poor, so for the rest of the day, my office smelled like wet boy. Still, it was great seeing them. We had some hilarious conversations, and I was (for the most part) filled in on the bachelor party. (Samir and I had the luxury that we were friends with our entire bridal party. That is, I was close with his guys as well as he with my girls. It was so much better that way.)

I was let off work early that day (surprise!), so I walked across campus (with the balloons) excited to start my wedding weekend. At home, we played “Keep the balloon up” for about an hour with the groomsmen.

Running Charades -

There are no pictures of this night, and I’ll be forever sad about the fact. Samir had to go to the airport to pick up his sister, her fiance, and his friend from London, so I “babysat” the three groomsmen. Two friends in town, as well as two other bridesmaids decided to join us, and we went out for pizza at Mellow Mushroom. There, everyone got to know one another (as many hadn’t met the groomsmen before), and joked about the upcoming days. After dinner, we had two options: go out to a bar to hang out, or go back to my place to play running charades (a game we loved in college – I’ll explain later). Tom answered for all of us: “So, we’ll hit up Publix [supermarket] first to get drinks for the night first?” And so, our plan was made.

Back at our apartment, we hung out for a bit, and then engaged in the Best Game Ever. One person, the list-maker, is in charge, while everyone else breaks into two groups. The list-maker creates a charades list, usually with a theme (for instance, Lane’s first list featured jokes from that night). The two groups going to into two separate rooms. One person from each team goes to the list-maker to get the first clue, then runs back to his/her group to charade. Whoever from the team gets the answer, runs out to get the next clue and so on until the list is complete and one team is the winner. There’s a lot of running, and a lot of yelling (albeit quietly).

Samir and co. eventually joined us, adding a THIRD Tom to the mix (not confusing at all). Lists included “things from Lauren and Samir’s apartment,” “Things I think are awesome,” “Things from the 90s,” “Things from London.” Now, are clues aren’t as simple as “Puppies!” Oh no, they’re full-on sentences sometimes, or words you’d never heard of before. That’s what makes it more fun.

We got to bed around 2 a.m., with Tom #3 on our couch. It was, hands down, one of the most fun nights I’d had in a while. Samir and I fell asleep smiling, confident in the fact that the next few days would be epic.

Time Travel

Sometimes I wish I could go back to parts of my life, as if they were destinations on a map. Pack up the car and drive back to my first day of college, as I cautiously walked up and down the dorm hallways, anticipating the next year of my life. Schedule a flight and visit the marina in Sarasota the day I was nervously proposed to. Even the smallest of times, those that don’t often get recognized on my radar, I’d like to see – the day in the drama room back in high school where we planned the rookie induction week. When we all felt invincible. Of course, I can visit the places, but it’s never the same. I can repeat the same drive I took with my college roommate, when we belted out Disney songs for two hours straight on the way to Cocoa Beach, but the moment is gone. People change. I change. Or, in the case of spots I spent most of my formative years hanging out (Borders), places close.

Now, more aware, I try to bottle of the moments, freeze them in time, wishing I could put them on a GPS as a favorite place to visit. Go back one day ago when I was sitting lazily by a lake, eating dinner from a food truck with some of my best friends nearby. I know the moments that’ll stick with me, the ones I’ll file away to bring back on lonely days.

A few days ago, my high school best friend said she couldn’t come to my bridal shower, and probably not my wedding. The friendship had been dwindling for a while; we were no longer “best friends,” but she was the kind of person I wanted to keep around. There was so much history there. I wanted to be with her through the end of her story, to see what became of us. So when I heard this final blow, instinctively I thought…

It’s okay, we’ll just go back to Chick-fil-A, to that night ten years ago when we stood idly under the street lamp, talking to our friend who just got of work. We had no plans for the night, nowhere to be, so we decided to hop in the car and just drive. Fast. Us in one car, the two guys in another, we raced to the playground we frequented, the one no one else visited after sundown. Windows down, hair flying, we laughed, knowing what we were doing was wrong, but loving every second. We were free. We were flying. And we were alive.

Of course, we can never go back to that time. The Chick-fil-A is there, but the guys no longer live in the state. We could all reconvene, but it won’t be the same. We’re not those carefree 17-year-olds anymore. We have responsibilities, and second acts to our stories. One we don’t even talk with much anymore.

And it just seems so final, knowing those moments are over. The ones I still think about, and remember with distant eyes and a hidden smile. But as painful as knowing this sometimes is, I’d never want to get rid of them. They were my glory years, after all. They remind me of who I once was, and what I’m becoming. They remind of the good and bad, embarrassing and exciting. And while I can’t book a train ride to go visit them, I can open my mind like a briefcase during those periods of “oh, remember when…” and revisit them, if only for a short time.

Ten Years Later

I was just informed that my 10 year high school reunion is scheduled for September 10th. A few things came to mind when I read it:

1) It’s FOURTEEN DAYS before my wedding. I guess that’s close enough to going back married, right?
2) I have a very limited amount of time to achieve my goal of becoming a published novelist before the reunion.
3) It’s really been ten years.

Ten years.

It’s weird, I’ve been reading the book Commencement by J. Courtney Sullivan lately, and its been taking back to those early days of college with misty eyes and longing nostalgia. Now, getting this news, I can’t help but think back to high school. Who was I back then? How much have I changed?

How much has everything changed?

I didn’t have the Internet for my first two years of high school, and didn’t receive a cell phone until graduation. I had just started driving the previous October, and had never spent more than a week away from my parents. I was young, shy, with big bushy hair and contacts that didn’t give me a headache (as they do now). I cared deeply what others thought, but rarely voiced my own opinion. I wasn’t quite me yet – but I was happy. I had people who loved me, and that was most important. Especially in high school.

Because honestly, ten years ago the most important thing was friendship. At this point, I was already accepted to FSU. I was on my way to graduate, and prom was the only important thing on the horizon. And even that was more of a social gathering, than a romantic night. I held on tight to my friends, and went out with them every night. Be it someone’s house, Chuck-E-Cheese (where two worked), the mall, Borders, or just the neighborhood park, we were there. Living. Breathing. And all in the crazy mess of hormones and high school together. Hands held and eyes closed, we sped through the days, not wondering what would happen next, and not really caring. We lived in the moment, whether it was crying over a breakup with cookie dough, or arranging strategic games of capture the flag with water guns.

At 17, I was still figuring things out, still looking for more, and eager to embark on the next chapter of my life (yet still, scared to leave everything behind). I was good in every sense of the way, but I still drove fast and stayed out past curfew. I was invincible, in the way only a high school student could be.

So, to celebrate the date being set, this week I’m going to post a few stories from high school Lauren’s days. Before circus and Samir, before writing and teaching. I’m unlocking the diary, and remembering what it was really like to be 17: afraid, excited, confused, under appreciated (as we all were, right?), nervous, thrilled, and, well, young.