Capturing Lightning in a Bottle

Lately, it seems that my life has been peppered with a lot of awkward interactions with complete strangers. People who know me will probably scoff at what I'm about to say, but I am actually completely terrified of just going up to strangers and talking to them. When I'm in these types of situations, I can feel myself reverting back to that shy little kid who was too afraid to initiate conversation, preferring to wait until the other kids noticed her and started talking to her.

To my credit, I've been working on it. I'll actually force myself to go into situations where I don't know anybody and make conversation. Usually after I make that initial contact, I'm over it, and I'll ramble on all the livelong day about everything from work to the weather, but lately it seems that every time I've done this, the interactions with people have been suicide-inducingly awkward. (Just made that phrase up. Go with it. It'll become a thing.) Then I get all paranoid and think, "OH MY GOD, WHAT IF I'M THE AWKWARD PERSON AND THESE PEOPLE ACTUALLY HAVE SOCIAL SKILLS AND I'M MAKING THEM WANT TO COMMIT SUICIDE JUST SO THEY'LL HAVE AN OUT OF THIS CONVERSATION AND NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND?" Then my head explodes.

Earlier tonight, I found myself in yet another awkward conversation with a complete stranger, and the paranoia set in. But before it got too carried away, it got me thinking: I've met so many people in my life. I've had so many interactions, from awkward conversations, to just brief pleasantries with strangers. But only a handful of these interactions and meetings have resulted in friendships. When you really think about it, meeting someone with whom you connect instantly is like capturing lightning in a bottle. You don't come by it often, but when you do, it's special. When you really think about it, making a friend relies on the perfect mixture of timing, fate, and a kindred spirit connection. (Just made up that phrase too. LOOK AT ME, ADDING TO THE AMERICAN LEXICON!) You can't just forge a friendship with anybody.

When I met all of my closest friends, there was an instant connection, an instant feeling of, "Yeah, I'm totally going to wind up being friends with this person." I can pinpoint exactly where and when we met (in no particular order):

Margie

If you were to ask Margie how we met, she would tell you that it was at cheerleading try-outs in sixth grade. I was sitting on the bleachers in the gym, and she sat beside me. Apparently my opening line was, "Hi, I'm Sarah. I'm having an asthma attack." I don't recall this incident, but I've said some random shit in my life, so it's not out of the realm of possibility. I'm just glad she didn't hold this first meeting against me later on in eighth grade when our friendship started to blossom, and in ninth grade when it finally solidified. I knew she was a kindred spirit when we paired up in biology class to dissect an earthworm, a frog, and a pig, and we went at our task with the RECKLESS, GIDDY ABANDON OF SCHOOL CHILDREN ON PIZZA WEDNESDAY.

Meagan

I met Meagan in choir practice shortly after moving to Perry. She just seemed like a nice, approachable girl, and I sat beside her during choir practice and youth group meetings and talked to her, pretty much forcing my friendship on her. If you were to ask Meagan her first impression of me, she would tell you that she thought I was an adult because I acted very mature. I was twelve. Ironically, after fifteen years of friendship, I now act like I'm twelve.

Ali

Ali was the first friend I made when I moved to Tampa. We both worked at Victoria's Secret. For my first day of training, I had to be at the store at ten, and she was working that morning as well. We sat and chatted while waiting for the manager to come and open up the store. Ali can non-awkwardly talk to anybody and make them feel at ease, and it was this quality that let me know that we would wind up being friends. Seven years later, I consider her my soul mate.

Arleen

I actually met Arleen online. When I first moved to Tampa, I was naive about a lot of things. I had just transferred to USF from North Florida Community College, a tiny school in north Florida. Students didn't send out mass emails to their classmates at NFCC. There was no reason to; the classes were small, and everybody knew each other. So when I got to USF, I wasn't versed in mass email etiquette, and would respond to every single mass email I got. I wanted to be polite, you know. Arleen sent out one such mass email to everybody in one of our classes, asking if anyone was from Spring Hill. (I think she was looking for people with whom she could carpool.) I emailed back and said that I wasn't, but that I had an uncle who lived in Spring Hill. From there we started emailing back and forth and decided to meet up in class one day. The rest is history.

Jenna

Jenna and I bonded over laughing at a girl falling on her ass after class one rainy day. And, yeah, Judgey McJudgerson, I know that was kind of mean girl of us, but come on, can you honestly say you've watched someone fall and not cracked up? I know you've seen "Scarlett Takes a Tumble." THAT SHIT IS FUNNY. Anyway, we sort of knew each other from class; we sat next to each other, and we were working on a group project together. But that rainy day propelled us from mere acquaintances to fast friends. As we were leaving class, Jenna ran up beside me and said, "Did you just see that girl fall on her ass?" which then started a conversation about how people falling on their asses is HI-larious, which then turned into friendship.

Olivia

Olivia and I were on USF's newspaper staff together, but I don't remember us really becoming friends until our Critical Thinking class. I think we bonded over the fact that the class was a joke and the professor was a douche bag. We're also smart asses, so our personalities just meshed.

Monica

I worked with Monica at Ann Taylor Loft. She was one of the assistant managers, and I thought she was way older than she actually was. Monica is my age, but because she was so well-composed and so...managerial, I thought she was in her thirties. It wasn't until we were working together one night and started talking that we found out we had a lot in common, including our desire to go country line-dancing. I still remember that first outing. We were on our way to The Roundup, a Country Western club. Monica was driving, and she was driving fast. We whipped around a curve, and she giggled maniacally and was all, "TEE HEE HEE, I HAVE SUCH A LEAD FOOT FOR SUCH A LITTLE PERSON!" Not gonna lie, I was pretty terrified, but she got us to the club alive and in one piece, that night and numerous nights since.

Kathy

I met Kathy in the same class in which I met Jenna. The three of us sat next to each other, and we were also working on the same group project. Like Ali, Kathy can pretty much talk to anybody about anything, making you feel as if you've known her your whole life. And, as with Ali, these qualities let me know that we would end up being friends.

When you really think about it, making friends is like capturing lightning in a bottle. I feel blessed to have captured lightning eight times.

West Side Ballin'

If you remember (which you probably don't), I mentioned that some friends of mine were planning to move to Pasadena. Well, sadly, they made the move July 4th weekend, but yours truly is currently conspiring with them about an October trip out West. Both Meagan's and my birthdays are in October, so I thought, why not fly out and celebrate together? There's no better way to celebrate the year of one's birth than with a trip cross-country, am I right or am I right?

Naturally, this trip will be epic. I mean, the three of us are ballers. We always managed to party it up right in Tallahassee, so I know that whatever we end up doing out West will be legen...wait for it...DARY. Since every legendary experience needs a soundtrack, I have taken it upon myself to create one for our upcoming shenanigans this fall. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you my West Side Ballin' playlist:

I know very few of these songs are about California, and most of them don't even mention the state or L.A., but that's just how we do. We're too cool for school and themed soundtracks.

October 2010: there will be a gangsta party all up in the...whatever area code Pasadena is. Buckle up and get ready for the ride of your life, peeps!

Open Letter of Friendship to John Mayer

Dear John,

I think you and I should be friends. No, I don't mean "friends" as a euphemism for "lovers" or "friends with benefits," nor do I seek out your friendship for my own personal gain. What I'm proposing is friendship in its truest form, plain and simple. Here's a rundown of the benefits you'd reap if you were my friend:

1. At the risk of sounding conceited, I'm a riot. At least I think so. I mean, I'd be friends with me. I'm also pretty mellow, so if you're having a day where you're just on edge or wound up tighter than a tick, you'd end up relaxing after hanging out with me. (Aside: some of my friends have said that when they first met me they thought I was a recreational stoner, so they might try to make snide little comments about me smokin' it up. Ignore them. They are full of crap.)

2. I say stupid shit all the time. Look, I know you were probably at a different place in your life when you wrote "My Stupid Mouth," but still. I'm no stranger to putting my foot in my mouth, so if you say something weird, there will be no judging from this girl. Also, and this has nothing to do with anything, but if you decide you wanna rock the Mark Anthony look and grow your hair out again, that's okay too. No judging, remember?

3. Location, location, location. John, I live in Tampa, Florida, which is a prime location. The beaches are like half an hour away, and bonus--the oil hasn't reached us yet! So if you've been wanting a little beach time fun lately, you can still realize that summer dream! And I also know the best place to park so we wouldn't have to pay! How great is that?! If you're still not convinced, then maybe this little tidbit will sway you: I'm only about an hour or so away from Orlando, so if you want to get your Disney on, we can easily do that! But wait, there's more! I'm only five hours from...drum roll, please...MIAMI! Can you say road trip? Think of all the LOLs we'll share, crusin' down the highway, dreaming of getting our drink on in South Beach! Except I expect you to pay your share of tolls/gas money/parking money. Don't be that guy, John. Nobody wants to be friends with that guy.

4. I won't constantly reference your songs or gush over your entire song catalog. Don't get me wrong, I love your music; it's ushered me into adulthood. However, friendship is a different dynamic than that of musician/fan, which means statements like, "OMG I loved the version of 'Your Body is a Wonderland' on Any Given Thursday!" and, "Can you sign my CDs/picture/notebook/breasts?" are out of the question. I understand this.

5. You've lived in New York. I've been there...once. But I enjoyed it.

6. You like Alicia Keys. I like Alicia Keys, too! We can listen to Alicia Keys records, chow down on some pizza and share some LOLs!

John, I strongly urge you to consider being my friend. Please, be the Big to my Rob. Be the Annie Sullivan to my Helen Keller. Be the Dave Matthews to my Band! (Well, not an actual band. It's a...you know what, I'm sure you get it.) This could be the start of something good, you and I. We'll get zany, make memories, all that good stuff. There's an air mattress in Tampa with YOUR name on it, buddy. Will you be my friend?

An Epic Weekend

Have you ever hung out with your friends with no specific agenda in mind as to what to do, but ended up having the best time of your life? I consider it one of life's little magical moments. The activities you do end up participating in when all of you meet up are completely unplanned and incredibly fun, and you walk away from the experience with great stories and even better memories. For me, last weekend was one such experience.

I drove up to Tallahassee to see my friends Meagan and Edwin for one last hurrah before they moved to Pasadena this summer (that's two more friends California has taken from me, the bastard). The only set-in-stone plan we had was to go to the Bradfordville Blues Club that Saturday night; the rest of the weekend was wide open. I got to their place around ten on Friday night, and we commenced to drink margaritas and eat Nutella and Ritz crackers well into the night.

Ah, homemade margaritas...great start to the weekend!


Saturday we woke up in the p.m. and debated on what to do until the blues club later that night. A friend of Meagan and Edwin's recommended we go to Po' Boys, a restaurant in downtown Tallahassee, and lo and behold, when we got there, a craw fish festival was taking place! (There was also a Pride Fest going on in another area of downtown, but Edwin and Jeremiah, Meagan's brother, vetoed that down real quick. They wouldn't even change their minds when I pointed out a man wearing a tuxedo and a pink boa. I mean, come on! That was people-watching at its finest! But I digress.)

After getting into the festival, we just stood around for several minutes. It was pretty small, and comprised mainly of a stage for live music, a few booths, the food area and the restaurant itself. But then the magic happened. We went up to the bar in the restaurant to get some drinks and saw that they were selling 24-ounce margaritas for $6. Six bucks! Six. Bucks. Two of my favorite things in life are booze and great money-saving deals, so when we spied the price of those drinks, it was like the God of Crunkdom was giving us his blessing and saying, "Go and party, my children." So we did. I ordered two. Meagan had one. Edwin and Jeremiah had several more. And a few beers. And all of us ended up having a party.

Meagan and I at Po' Boys. My excitement at the $6 margaritas is probably at an unhealthy level.

Meagan, Edwin and I


Later on that night, we went to the blues club, which was a blast all around. This was my first visit to the BBC, and I absolutely loved it. It's a little hole-in-the-wall club way out in the middle of nowhere, and our group spent the night drinking, dancing and drinking some more. The pictures from that night will say more about the fun we had than I ever could.

My sister, Laura, showing off her wristband and beer. She recently turned 21.




My favorite shot of Meagan and Edwin dancing.

My favorite shot of the night. Definitely captured how much fun we all were having!

Meagan, Jeremiah and I outside at the bonfire during intermission.

Me and my Bud. That Friday at work, some friends and I were discussing how you never see anybody order a plain ol' Budweiser when they go out. So I decided to order one.

I think that Meagan and Edwin's "last hurrah" couldn't have gone any better. It was indeed an epic weekend.

P.S. Thanks to Meagan for letting me steal some of her photos!

Birthday and Halloween Fun Or That One Time I Got the Plague

For me, October has always been somewhat of a magical month. Growing up, I would be so excited when it finally rolled around: my parents would dust off their Halloween decorations, my friends and I would excitedly talk about and plan our costumes, the air would finally get a little cooler, and everything just seemed to have a little extra sparkle. Halloween was one of those holidays where it seemed like anything could happen, and I always looked forward to the fun and mischief it would bring. Add to that the fact that my birthday is on the 30th (where not just candy but candy and presents were a sure-fire guarantee) and you probably have some idea of just how excited I was.

As an adult, I still look forward to my birthday, Halloween and October in general, but each year it seems like a little more of that magic I felt as a kid gets lost amidst the forty-hour work weeks, bills and other adult responsibilities that take up more and more of my attention. So this year, I decided to do something about it and reclaim the magic. And what better place to do that than at the most magical place on Earth? That's right--I'm talkin' 'bout Walt friggin' Disney World.

The night I saw the commercial about getting free admission to Disney on one's birthday, I just about tripped over my own two feet to get to the computer and register. Since then, I'd been waiting for October 30, 2009 to roll around with child-like anticipation, and when it finally came, my friend Kathy met me at my apartment and we set off together for the Magic Kingdom. I had high expectations. I hadn't been to Disney since my parents took me when I was four, so I was expecting wonder and awe. I was expecting to be transported to a place where fantasies were a reality, where people pooped sparkles and upchucked rainbows because everything was just that magical and marvelous. And it did not disappoint. We saw Pluto, Pinocchio and the Disney Princesses, walked through Cinderella's castle, spun ourselves dizzy on the teacups, and toured the planet on It's a Small World. We had a map and we had a plan, and we weren't leaving until we soaked up as much Disney magic as 11a.m.-9p.m. would allow for. And then somewhere between Tomorrowland and one o' clock that afternoon, the body aches and overall sense of feeling assy hit me--hard. Kathy noticed it when we took a break to eat lunch and she noticed I only ate half of my vegetarian wrap.

"You're not hungry?" she asked.
"I'm not feeling too well, actually," I replied. I then told her about the aches and ended with my resolve to just be a soldier and power through--after all, we were at Disney, and I wasn't planning on wasting my free ticket or her paid-for ticket just because I was feeling less than stellar. I mean, who knows when I'd get to go again? She seemed fine with that, so after lunch we continued on our journey around the park and ended the evening by watching the night parade.

By the time the night parade was over and we started on the trek back to my car, I was pretty much done for--the body aches had intensified, leaving me feeling like an old woman with sore joints, and they were joined by a mild fever and a bit of congestion. All I wanted to do was get home and pass out in bed. Kathy agreed to drive us back, and as soon as we hit the parking lot, I was fantasizing about reclining the seat back as far as it would go and passing out. Unfortunately, my stomach must have been fantasizing about emptying its contents, because, without warning, I projectile vomited--and it was not rainbows. I felt an odd mixture of physical relief, mortification, awkwardness and awe. I was mortified because I was in a public place, and I knew of at least two people who were trying to leave who got a front-row view of the show; awkwardness because I just threw up for the first time in front of Kathy, which brought us to a whole new level in our friendship; and awe because of how much distance my stomach gravy cleared from my mouth to its final resting spot on the asphalt.

Poor Kathy, though. Other than her kids, she doesn't do well when people get sick, and I didn't get enough of a chance to warn her. At the first "throw up" sound I made she exclaimed, "Are you gonna get sick?!" and then scrambled off to find some napkins when I started heaving. At the end she was just about as breathless as I was when she asked, "Are you okay?" her eyes a mixture of fear and bewilderment. She was a sport, though, and a good friend--she tried to drive in the far right lane of the interstate as much as possible on the way back, just in case I had another episode.

Saturday--Halloween--was more of the same, just without the projectile vomiting. I spent the entire day watching TV and movies and trying to move my head and body as little as possible, and added pizza to the routine later on that night. Luckily, I didn't get any trick-or-treaters--if I had, I'm sure they would have run screaming the minute I opened the door.

So that was how my birthday and Halloween went down. I can't say the weekend was a total waste--that Disney night parade was pretty awesome.