Three years ago, friend Amy and I dressed up as Dr. Horrible and Penny (no one got it, by the way. We lived in sad, unnerdy times). Saw “Macbeth.” Traipsed through downtown bars. Danced with friend David. Ran into boss at the Red Martini.
Fast forward three years. Friend Amy is in graduate school to get her master’s in library science. I’ve been living and working in D.C. for two and a half years. Friend David is married and living somewhere in Oregon. Old boss has a baby. And last time I checked, the Red Martini was a bar called Würk, and I don’t think it’s even that anymore.
Had you told me any of this on that Halloween night in 2009, I probably would have thought you were insane.
And yet, here we are.
I absolutely failed at that daily blogging thing. Three W’s could accurately summarize what the last six months have consisted of: work, weddings and wine.
I really only wanted to blog for one reason — a college friend of mine died this past weekend. We worked at the school paper together. As the news of his death has spread, I keep seeing new updates on Facebook: statuses about memories with him, profile photo changes to feature him, etc.
It just made me wonder about why we save this outpouring of friendship and love for the end. We can only tell each other what we remember about him. We can’t tell him, and isn’t that the saddest part of all?
I guess the point of this is, I don’t want to save all of my fond memories and fun photos for when people are gone. I want to tell them, right here, right now.
So, you. Yeah, you. I appreciate you. I appreciate whatever it is you’ve brought to my life. Thanks. Really. Truly. Thanks.
I don’t think attending a taping of one of the greatest game shows of all time was on my bucket list, but hey. It happened. It was great. And I was a VIP, thanks to friend Mackenzie.
Not a bad start to the weekend.
I have had many ideas for blog posts over the last few days. Hopefully, I will get around to all of them.
But for now, only one thing matters.
I think you can take a wild guess at what that is.
Beer and junk food were had. Seventh inning stretching was done. Teddy did not race (my favorite thing about these games. WTF, Nats? #letteddywin).
Take me out to the ball game, indeed.
Re: Day 100 + some number: Singing.
So it turns out that one of my neighbors can totally hear me singing in my apartment. But it’s not while I’m washing dishes.
Rather, it’s when I’m sitting in my bedroom, practicing “Caro mio ben” or “Do not go, my love.”
I was running out the door on Saturdayand ended up in the hallway with my neighbor, Katie. Conversation is as follows.
Katie: Was that you just now, singing?
Me: Oh. Yes. Sorry, I hope I didn’t bother you.
Katie: No, don’t be sorry! I was about to knock on your door and check. It was lovely.
She then asked if I sang for a living, which made me laugh. I have to admit, it was quite a compliment.
Yesterday’s lack of a post was due to my heartbreak over the Titanic.
But really, how could one not be heartbroken over this?
Today went like this: yoga, choir, ballroom, Titanic (miniseries, not 3D, but only because I saw 3D on V-Day). I think if more days were like this one, my world would just be better.
On that note, I wanted to write something deep and meaningful about Titanic (the historical event) but really, all you have to know is that I love it. My fascination with it is endless. Crazy to think it’s been 100 years ago today.
But my heart will go on.
Roommate Kaitie told me how she came home one day and heard someone in our building belting an Adele song. It was not good, she said.
I, too, have a tendency to belt songs in my apartment. Sometimes when I am in the shower, but usually when I’m washing dishes.
And since my kitchen sink is right next to the window, it makes me wonder…can our neighbors hear me singing the way Kaitie heard that one girl?
After watching the latest episode of “How I Met Your Mother,” I can’t help but contemplate how much does or doesn’t happen in that much time.
Without giving away any spoilers, the episode shows characters Ted, Marshall and Barney fantasizing about their lives in three year intervals.
Which leads me to…Where was I three years ago?