Everybody Talks....about your relationship.

When it comes to the messy, muddy emotions of love a girl often relies on her best gal pals to guide her through the maze. We consult and analyze every comment, text, smile and slide of the hand. We ask their advice on why he hasn't called or what to wear. This behavior often translates into the relationship we ask our friends their opinion is on a fight we had with our beau. Sometimes we just ask them if we're crazy to try the long distance thing with a boy we only sort of know.

The problem is how much of our friends input is more harmful than helpful? We rely on our girlfriends opinions so much that they feel entitled to always give us their opinion on our relationship even when they shouldn't. At her cousin's wedding back in October my best friend Em met a guy and instantly felt that spark. The one that makes your spine tingle, your heart clench at an accelerated pace and sends elephants running wildly through your stomach. It could be lust or it could be love. The problem? The boy lives in a different state than Em. And while she has seen him several times since and even exchanged a few kisses most of her girlfriends think she's wasting her time.

They're totally against her and lets call him "Dave". They tell her she's wasting her time, that she doesn't know him well enough to really like him. They tell her it won't work because he lives in a different state. But really how do they know any of those things are true? How do they know what Emily defines as love or what she feels? How do they know what it's like when she and Dave are alone? And who are we all so ignorant that we think we can define what love means to someone other than ourselves. After all isn't love different for everyone? All relationships are different and all people are different so certainly different people in different relationships experince love differently. Sometimes I think our friends opinions cause us to ignore our heart and quite possibly ignore something amazing.

And in reverse sometimes we ignore our friends concerns when we should listen. One of my other best friends "S" began dating a guy online. S had never met him nor did he live in the same state as her. When Em and I confronted her about how dangerous her relationship was she got upset and defensive. Fortunately she quickly realized how worried we were and ended the potentially dangerous relationship. However, S isn't the first of my girl friends who has ignored her friends when they voiced some seriously negative concerns about her beau. I've seen too many of my friends fall into bad relationships despite their friends warning signs. I've fought with friends who got angry when I voiced the harsh truths about their boyfriends. I've watched them defend boys who called them stupid and treated them badly. I've seen them isolate themselves from their friends because their boyfriend didn't like how they were driving a wedge between their relationship. I've seen girls choose jealous and possessive boys over their friends and what for? Because they didn't listen to their girlfriends concerns in the beginning and the deeper they fell in love the more blind they became to the rift their boyfriend was purposefully creating.

So how do we know when to listen to our friends and when to listen to our heart? It's so hard to know when you're friends are overstepping from when they're giving you legitimately good advice. We all love differently so at the end of the day how do we know which of the thousands of voices to listen to? And we as friends at what point do we realize that we have to stop talking and let our friend just be happy?

Life lessons from The Office Finale

I've watched The Office series finale at least four times since it aired. And yes I still cried each time. It was the perfect combination of funny and sentimental that provided us with closure for the nine year relationships we've formed with the characters. And on top of all that messed somewhere between Creed's hilarious disguises and Erin's emotional reunion with her birth parents the writers of The Office slipped in some wonderful words of wisdom. So here are the things I learned from The Office finale:

1.Life's to short to be anything less than happy. "It took me so long to do so many important things. It's just hard to accept that I spent so many years being less happy than I could have been. It' be great if people saw this doc and learned from my mistakes...but it would just make my heart soar if someone out there saw this and she said to her self "be strong, trust yourself, love yourself, conquer your fears. Just go after what you want and act fast because life just isn't that long."

When Pam launched into her monologue about learning to love herself I again began crying hysterically. in part because the Pam I was on the screen was no longer the young naive, confused and utterly stuck in an unhappy rut we saw in season one. But, a grown women who was finally comfortable with herself. When she says "Jim was five feet from my desk and it took me four years to get to him."I was reminded at how important it is to take chances and go after what we want. We are os often told not to dream but to be logical and responsible. Don't travel to Europe and blow all your money, don't be an actress or a writer those aren't stable careers. But what good is money if your unhappy? It's important to chase our dreams. It's important for us to be happy.

2.The Good Old Days are right now. "I wish there was a way to know you're in the good old days before you've actually left them." Leave it to Nard Dog to put how much we wish our lives away by living in the past or dreaming of life in the future. We spend so much of our lives wishing to be older to be "grown-up's" we dream about being 13, 16, 18 and 21. We dream about have a real job, a car, a loft and a cool group of friends to drink martini's with and we forget to live in the moment. But life is happening right now. The best days of our lives are the days that are happening they aren't the ones in the past or the ones still to come. We have to stop wishing our lives away. Because again life isn't that long.

3."there's a lot of beauty in ordinary things." As people, we tend to focus on the glamour and the big dreams. We want to be rich and important wit cool job, cool wardrobe and huge house. We want to go to lavish parties and sip fancy cocktails. But, sometimes amidst all those dreams of glory we forget about the little moments. Moments like when you're friend brought you soup because you were sick. The first time your mom let you walk to a friends house by yourself. Staying up all night with your friends or the first time you got kissed. It's all the little ordinary daily moments that make life beautiful.

So there you have it the final words of wisdom The Office left me with. I know it's a little late but has anyone actually forgotten the finale?

Finals Induced Nostalgia.

Somewhere between the exhaustion induced early morning haze and working tirelessly on my final projects, I realized something. This is the last finals week I will ever have. Even though I'm not graduating until August, my course schedule this summer will be very easy and minimal. So this week, these next few days are the last times I will ever have to feel the mounting stress of finals. This is the last time I will have to stay up for almost three days straight. The last time I will pull my hair out over papers and projects and tests. And what I realize most of all is that I'm actually a little bit sad about it.



I know what you're thinking, that the lack of sleep has gotten to your brain and made you delirious. I never thought I would feel sad at the prospect of never dealing with finals week again. Finals time is incredibly stressful. You barely sleep. You eat mounds of junk food and you study, perfect papers and projects until your brain becomes numb. It's emotionally and mentally draining.


But somewhere in the middle of all the insanity and chaos, something beautiful happens. I realized that some of the best nights of my undergraduate education were during finals week, in my sorority house. I know it sounds crazy to think that anyone could have fun during such a dark time but, I did. Some of the best conversations I've ever had happened during finals week.


My sisters and I would all settle into our chapter room with our books, laptops and obligatory snacks. We would basically move into that room for a week only leaving to eat, shower, nap and take our finals. Sometimes we would watch movies while we studied other times we just talked and as it got later we got crazier. We would stop studying every once in a while to crank the music up and dance around. We liked to call this "Club P". As the bass boomed and led to the break down, we would stomp (or in my case attempt to stomp) and laugh. For a brief moment we felt free and wild. We weren't studying for finals right then we were just being young. The music, although fast-paced, had a calming effect on us. After our song of choice ended we would feel a little more relaxed and refreshed.


Sometimes we did cartwheels across the floor. Some nights we whipped our hair back and forth so hard that our stomaches hurt from laughter. We would visit our friend hatchet lady and hope she would chase us around her neighborhood. She usually didn't, but it was still nice to get out of the house for a while. We made QT runs frequently. We needed our donuts,chips, Pepsi, Big Red and Cheetos to help us focus. One time we even called McDonald's to see what time they started serving breakfast. Then we piled everyone into one car and drove through their drive-thru three times before completing all our orders. We would push each other to keep going. We helped each other study. And sometimes in the early hours of the morning we told each other our deepest secrets.


Yes, finals was exhausting but it was also in a warped way so fun. As I study in my room alone in my apartment I find myself nostalgic for those moments and just a little sad that those days are over. I don't doubt I'm the only person who has managed to stay sane during finals by going insane. I don't doubt I'm the only person who has fond memories of those late nights with best friends. What makes me sad is I didn't realize how special and precious those moments were until now. If I had realized that maybe I would have cherished finals week a little more. It doesn't really matter thoughm because I know how important those moments were now. And I will hold onto them. I will save them for another dark night when I'm working late on a huge project for my job. In the dim light of my office while i'm hunched over my computer or holed up in a conference room, I'll remember those moments. And I will smile and again those memories will make another dark night bright.

The Ring

“I specifically told you not to play with that ring!” It was true but I suppose that was partially what had made the ring so appealing-that mixed with the sheer excitement I felt when playing with my mothers shoes, clothing and jewelry. The ring by those standards became almost impossible to resist. At eight I longed to be like my mom, to have the same sophistication as an adult. I longed to be responsible enough to borrow the ring from inside the dark wood jewelry box with the plush red interior lined with gold leaves. “And what do you go and do? You steal it and you lose it, I can’t believe you.” “I’m sorry,” I mumble, repeat, over and over again frantically trying to make my mom forgive me. It doesn’t work, what else can I say though? “I’m sorry I didn’t think I would lose it, I just wanted to wear it!” Then the damn breaks and a waterfall of tears slide down from my face pooling below my feet. My mouth tastes salty-like I’m drinking water from the ocean but it’s only from the tears. I felt so small in that moment like an ant-small fragile and easily crushed. It began to feel like the world was caving in around me. At eight there was nothing I hated more than disappointing my mother- I looked up to her in every way possible-aspired to one day be just like her and I had disappointed her in an unimaginable way. “That was my mother’s wedding ring” “I know and I’m so sorry I just wanted to play with it.” And that was my mistake out of all the rings I could have plucked from her jewelry box I chose my Oma’s wedding ring. A simple small gold band-broken from when they had cut it off my mother’s finger when she was in labor with me. She certainly had prettier rings but this one was special-I suppose that’s why I wanted to wear it-to hold on to a piece of my Oma who died when I was three. Truthfully, though I longed to be mature enough, responsible enough to play with the ring. But, at eight I had no concept of my tiny hands being much smaller than my mothers. I didn’t pause long enough to think that one swift swing of my hand would cause the ring to fly off into the lush green grass, leaving it lost forever to me and to my mother.

“Sorry doesn’t make it okay. I told you to leave the ring alone and you lost it.” Not seconds after it fell did my friends and I frantically fall to our knees to search for it, but it was gone. My dad couldn’t find it either. When I had failed to find it I ran to him hoping, with the naivety only child posses, that his expert ability at finding lost things would recover the ring. But his super power fell short. “Your mother’s going to kill you, she told you not to take the ring and you lost it” The full weight of the situation took hold as I looked up at my dad’s somber face. I felt sick a somersaults of emotions tumbling around inside my tiny body.

The weight of the situation-hung heavy on my heart again as I looked at my mothers disappointed and utterly heart broken face. I don’t remember yet I’m sure she cried over the loss of the ring. I’m sure she cried over the loss of a piece of her mother that her own daughter had carelessly taken from her. I feared that what I had done was so unforgivinable that I would lose her trust forever. “I never fully forgave you for that,” she admitted to me years later. “I know you haven’t”

And how could she? I didn’t tell her that I hadn’t forgiven myself either. She didn’t hold it over my head or stop loving me. The world continued to spin on its access, and truthfully, she did forgive me. But sometimes as I walk down the familiar grey sidewalks of my childhood home I pause and stop three houses down from the corner. I stop and stare at the now brown, dried up grass where my Oma’s ring fell. I wonder briefly if maybe it’s still there but I know it’s not. I searched for it too many times before. It was gone “I still can’t believe you lost my mother’s ring.” “I’m sorry.”

Something I Forgot

I can’t remember all the words to the German game my Oma used to play with me. I can’t actually spell the words correctly either but, for the record I never I could. I can’t remember past the first verse “Huppa, Hupps Ryda, Clemmin schnoppin, scynider” which was sung cheerfully as she bounced me on her legs-I was tiny and giggly and I loved that song. I can’t remember her voice anymore either. I can’t remember the way she smelled-which I’m sure was of roladen, pierogi and a culmination of common spices used in German food. I can’t remember many things about her anymore. I was only three when she died from a stroke but her voice was lost long before then. When my mom and I would visit her-we would pack a picnic lunch-always with strawberries, she would pull me in a red wagon to the nursing home-the name is also lost to me.

I can’t remember what my mom would say to her but I suppose I hardly listened, it was to hard for me to understand what was going-to hard to deal with at three. I wouldn’t talk to her much instead just play with the teddy bears on her windowsill-gifts from relatives and friends. The teddy bear rainbow-who was my favorite eventually became mine when she passed away. I like to think that she was content to watch me play- young and so full of life when she was on her last breath. I like to tell myself that even though I said little my presence, my joy, and my naivety kept her happy and content.

I can’t remember where I put the Eulogy and the program from her funeral. My mom used to keep them in a cabinet that was easily reachable and I used to borrow them sometimes to feel closer to her because she so often felt so far away. I can’t remember the words I spoke to my mom when we received the call that she passed. Words that eventually were recited at her funeral because how could a mere three year old be so wise compassionate and lyrical when she spoke. Yet, I spoke them and my mother if only for a moment cried tears of joy instead of sadness. I can’t remember all the words just my mom perched on our windowsill the spasms of her body and volcanic sound of her sobs-the feeling of wanting to make her smile. Yet. I can’t remember the poem, the plane ride, the visit to New York or even the funeral itself- just my mom’s volcanic sobs-her voice frantically telling my dad to write my words down. Yet, only one phrase remains to me “she’s in the sun and your heart”. I can’t remember anything else about her all I have are a few words and phrases-meshed with worn video tapes scattered around the house and vague memories of her funeral-mostly to faded to decipher. I can’t remember most of her and I lost one of the few things I had to hold onto her.

Love isn't One-Dimensional

I spend most of early January and early February dreading Valentines day. It's easy to get disheartened and depressed by the influx of Hallmark induced "love" whenever store you enter is decked out in a flourish of giant pink and red heart balloons, roses and chocolates. It is easy to feel incredibly alone when all you see around are flashes of happy and "in love" couples. It is easy to close your heart off and get angry.

I am no stranger to the feeling of loneliness and despair that Valentines day is capable of bringing. In middle school and high school it was gut wrenching seeing the halls lined with girls caring giant (and honestly hideous) teddy bears, balloons and flowers. The halls echoed with their joyous cries of love and excitement but left a cold and lonely feeling in their wake. I remember siting in class as student council entered my homeroom to hand out Valentine-grams. I remember the faint spark of hope that I would receive one. And the bitter disappointment that left a rotten taste in my mouth every time I came up empty. It wasn't that I never received presents from my friends and my parents always made the day special but it was easy to forget about them and focus on the bitter fact that I was alone.

The best valentines day I ever had was my senior year of high school. I was part of a mentoring program called PALS. One of the groups I mentored was a kindergarden class so on V-day I was excused from my sixth period so I could join their class party. I made them presents and cupcakes and I felt an overwhelming amount of love when their 25 faces rushed to meet me. They introduced me to their parents and flocked around me like I was "Hannah Montana" whom they had decided I looked like because of my hair color. It was over-all a day full of love and happiness and I never once felt sad that I didn't have a boyfriend. I had so much other love in my life that a lack of significant other seemed meaningless.

This year I found myself going down the bitter spiral again. I have often found valentines day to be a stupid concept because I believe you should always show people you love them. Not just on a day advertised by Hallmark but,every day. And I think we often forget that. Valentines day makes it so easy to show someone you love them Hallmark has given you all the tools you need and even a specified day to do it. But, when happens the other 364 days of the year? The problems you had before Valentines day will not be solved by chocolates and roses. Nor will a well picked out card with words of love written by someone other than you, make up for all the other days when you neglect your significant other. Valentines day hinders us from showing each other we care.

But that isn't even the real issue with V-day. The issue is it highlights only one aspect of love. It fosters the misconception that romantic love is the most important and only love that matters. It forgets to include the love we share with our friends and family. Those kinds of love are equally important and often the defining loves in our life. Our friends and family nurture us. They hold our hands and tuck us into bed at night. They pick us up when we are scared they cry with us when we are sad, stuff their faces with chocolate, plan elaborate schemes to bring justice against anyone who has hurt us. They reason with us when we are being stupid and always tell us the truth. These are the loves that carry us through life and yet when Valentines day rolls around they are forgotten and cast to the dust. We say we are alone because one type of love is missing from out lives. But we are not alone we are simply viewing all the love in our lives as insignificant. It isn't insignificant.

I spent the week leading up to V-day drinking wine, eating chocolate, watching John Hughes movies and staying in my really cute pajamas. And somewhere during that I realized not only do I love myself. My family and friends love me. My mom and even my Aunt sent me gifts. And when V-day rolled around I found I wasn't sad at all but rather happy and blessed. I have amazing friends and an amazing family. I had so much love in my life so why was I feeling so sad and bitter for all those years? Because Hallmark tells us that if you don't have someone then you have nothing. Well Hallmark you're wrong and I think you need re-market your holiday to include all facets of love.

"We accept the love we think we deserve. "

"So J is coming up again this weekend?" I asked.

"Yeah I planned a get together at M's house" H replied.

"That's interesting..." I said.

"What we're just friends" she replied. "I'm just saying you said last weekend was the last time you would see him for awhile and now you're planning a get together so he can come up? And you've spent three out of the past four weekends with him".

"Oh my god I won't bring him over if it bothers you so much." H said.

"It doesn't bother me, I'm just making an observation."

I let the words hang in the air, not daring to continue the conversation anymore. I knew it would only upset H further and truthfully she hadn't asked for my opinion nor was she open to listening to my point. And truthfully I was a little concerned by the situation. H had been hanging out with her ex-boyfriend for the past month claiming they were just friends despite the fact that they had acted on their residual feeling a few times.

It's not that I think there is anything wrong with rekindling an old flame it's simply that the reason's H broke up with J still exist. H isn't ready to settle down and although she repeatedly tells J this, she still runs back to him instead of moving forward. I'm no stranger to how hard it is to let go of someone we love but I worry that in the long run she is setting her self up to get hurt.

H isn't the only one who has the problem of moving on. One of my good friends Em often asks me "why can't I get over R? Why does he still affect me? He obviously doesn't care or want me so why can't I get over him?"

The solution should be simple and she's right R never had any respect for her nor did he deserve her affection. Yet, she still felt compelled to him despite his obvious lack of love her.

I'm no stranger to this situation looking back on everyone I've every dated I find myself wondering if anyone of them ever truly respected me? I fear that the resounding answer is a No. I've always been the girl whose hopelessly more "in love" with the guy. I've never been the girl at the end of the movie who the guy runs up to, grabs by the arms and screams "Michelle, it's always been you. I never knew what love felt like until I met you." He seals this triumph with a passionate kiss.

But that has never been my reality. I've always been the one on the sidelines the one who the guy never sees or if he does it only seems to be briefly. I know some of my own commitment issues and fears have held back my relationships. But when I think about the guys I've dated and the one's I've really cared about they've all treated me like trash. I'm easily disposable. In fact, when my last boyfriend broke up with me his reasoning was "You're just a mess and if stayed with you I would just end up babysitting and i don't have time for that."

The really funny part of that is I sat and listened to all his dysfunctional crap. I listened when he talked about his depression or his issues with his parents. I barely complained when he sort of disappeared into his head for two days and worried endlessly for the few days he was off his meds and wasn't feeling himself. And yet the one time I confided in him, the one time I broke down his response was to leave me.

i wasn't in love with him and our relationship wouldn't have gone very far. But nothing makes you feel more worthless than showing your soul to someone, exposing your fears and vulnerabilities to them only to have them spit in your face. It was so out of left field he gave no indication that he lacked respect for me. I believed the cheap lines he fed me about how "I was different and special" because that's what every girl wants to hear and yet when I needed him most he didn't care or respect me enough to stick around.

He isn't the first boy to treat me this way in fact even from my very first boyfriend all the guys I've really cared about have shown almost no regard for me. My first boyfriend after we broke up had constant conversations with my best friend about how he loved me and regretted breaking up with me. Every day for a year after we broke up I waited for the day he would come up to me and tell me himself. However, I later found out it was a cruel joke.

I am not the first girl to be made a fool of this way I am sure. Throughout high school and college I have seen my friends all fall to similar fates giving to much to someone who cares so little?

There is a scene from Perks of Being the Wallflower where Sam asks Charlie "Why do I and everyone I love pick people who treat us like we're nothing?" Charlie responds with "We accept the love we think we deserve."

And if that's true then the real question is: Why do my friends and I think we deserve less than we actually do? I think relatively highly of myself. I have a high set of standards and goals for myself so why when I comes to love do I pick people who don't respect me the way I do? Why do we all chose people who don't deserve or appreciate us? What are we so afraid of that we settle for less than what we deserve? Sometimes I fear I may never know the answer and that certainly scares me.