Archive for the ‘Friendship’ Category

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Friendship for Two

Sunday, July 3rd, 2011

A true friendship is one of the most valuable things in the world. Bonds with family are important, but they are also predetermined. A friend is someone you choose, based on your own plans or whims, your own criteria, your own conditions. In a way, the friends you choose say a lot about the person you are.

“So, you’ve never tried bubble tea?”

Tapioca

Two cups of Bubble Tea with tapioca

I’ve never been the kind of person who assertively seeks friends. What does that say about me? I’ve always been the type who wades in the water until a more aggressive swimmer decides to scream “Marco!” first. However, one friendship of mine has changed that.

“C’mon, I’ll take you to the best bubble tea place in Chinatown.”

Two years ago, I met Cassandra Lee through a mutual friend and she single-handedly transformed my life. Of course, when I first met her, I didn’t know that that would be the case. Every friendship starts off modestly, unassuming, even a bit suspicious. Traversing past the introductions is the fun part about meeting someone new, with the hope that you’ll both find something you can relate to.

“Hmm… well we have to find Mott Street. Then I’ll know the way from there.”

With Cassandra, introductions were completely unnecessary. She likes to jump right into the thick of things only to pull something out and make it into something new. When I met her, there was no awkwardness and no second-guessing. Her can-and-will-do attitude was infectious. No, I wouldn’t jump off of a bridge if Cassandra wanted to, but then again, she would cancel whatever was on her schedule if the jump included bungee cords. Like I said, she loves getting into the thick of things, but within reason.

“See, there’s fruit-flavored tea and milk teas. We could each get one and share.”

That’s the most amazing thing about Cassandra. She doesn’t act too radically to a point where it’s simply outrageous, but she doesn’t hesitate when she knows there’s some risk involved either. She is the eye of the storm: calm, but central to the integrity of all the commotion that surrounds her. And when we met I was proud to become a part of that commotion.

“You stab the straw right through the top. I always aim for the little guy’s nose: dead center!”

Since I met Cassandra, I’ve begun to realize a lot about myself. Life is certainly worth living more than once. After all of the mistakes you make the first go around, it would be interesting to see how things went if you were given a second chance. But the life you live now is the only one that’s guaranteed. You have to make the most of it despite what anyone tells you. When I met Cassandra, I realized I had to start making the most out of my life.

“The tapioca is the best part! I’m learning how to make the bubbles myself.”

Cassandra taught me how to live life in the moment, and I’ll always value our friendship for that. I didn’t choose to be friends with Cassandra, but I’m glad she chose me. It’s helped me recognize that decisions are to be made in life and you shouldn’t shy away from them. You have to make those decisions and not let them make you.

“Of course, I like to get one to-go and throw it in the fridge when I get home. At least until I’m really good at making my own.”

Cassandra has always been good at making her life her own and as a result, I’ve started to do so as well.

–Christopher Cusack, Hofstra University

Photo Credit: http://bubbleteablog.tumblr.com/

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Posted in Friendship, onLife, onValues | 2 Comments »

Avoiding Conflict at a Group Meal

Wednesday, June 15th, 2011

Nothing is more obnoxious at dinner than getting attacked for your food choices.

No matter how proud you are about your healthy eating choices, there are always a few people with whom, even if they claim to be understanding and open-minded, you would just rather not get into a heated debate. Usually, they are the type to easily start said heated debates without realizing they raised their voices, and before you know it, you wish you hadn’t even brought up the topic of climate change/political efficacy/favorite color at all.

Though you may not be able to avoid every potential “friendly intellectual discussion” they want to have, there are a few ways to at least circumvent frustrating situations while eating out with friends. First, when collectively deciding where to go for dinner, it’s best not to throw out suggestions that are obviously specialty restaurants. Even if the name gives no hint, once the group arrives there and sees that the menu has absolutely no meat on it, your friends could feel tricked. Since you would like others to accommodate your food choices, try to think of their preferences too. If you are trying to avoid gluten, suggest a restaurant that you know has gluten-free options. If you are a vegan, throw out names of places that you know will have food you can eat but also has meat and vegetarian dishes.

Of course, after going through all of the motions of democracy, you might end up at a restaurant you have never been to and didn’t have time to research their menu. If there’s one thing that might set off your opinionated friends into an unsolicited rant, it’s watching you take fifteen minutes to order because you’re asking your server for comprehensive lists of ingredients. But you’ve been to restaurants before, and the menus for certain ethnic cuisines are practically the same citywide. Once you’ve researched one restaurant and found which dishes are safe, you can assume to a degree for other places with similar styles. A little research into pasta types will let you know which kinds have eggs, and looking up traditional recipes for Japanese foods will let you know where soy can be hiding. This can cut down on the number of questions to ask the server and avoid placing a focus on you. Great places to try for big groups are Indian restaurants with their diverse meat and vegetarian options and choices of rice or bread. Use a Campus Clipper coupon to get 15% off on a weekend when you bring 4 people or more at Cuisine of India!

Even if your friends are aware of your dietary choices, they may forget in their attempts to be generous and offer you a bite of their order. Rather than going into the reasons why you can’t share their meal, a simple “No thanks. I’m good.” will suffice. To avoid further insistence, either immediately return to your previous conversation and/or return their action by offering them some of your food. Keep the dialogue going so that it doesn’t linger too long on the table and its trappings.

When all else fails and someone decides s/he really wants to talk about why you don’t eat dairy in an opinionated and gregarious manner, let him/her go through the spiel. Chances are s/he just wants to voice opinions about it, and whether or not you respond matters less than getting the rant out of his/her system. Even if you aren’t in the mood to debate, other people might want to jump into the discussion, which will take the pressure off of you to be the sole interlocutor. If you are in a group setting, the rest of your party most likely wants the same thing you do: to hang out with friends while eating good food and having lively conversation with more laughs than speeches. If you’ve picked the right friends, they won’t let one person gang up on you or bring everyone else down.

-Avia Dell’Oste.

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Posted in Friendship, onFood, onHealth, Relationships | No Comments »

Going the Distance

Tuesday, June 14th, 2011

People didn’t start leaving me until I went to college. All my life people stayed close by. My older siblings all stayed within a twenty-mile radius for college and when it came for my friends and I to apply to college, we didn’t dare look beyond the tri-state area.

When I first got to college I was ecstatic to find out that my new friends and newly acquired boyfriend all lived within an hour of our school. My family would come and visit on a weekly basis and many of my friends were just a subway stop away for me; everything was going great. That is, until sophomore year. Mallori, my best friend since I was 8 years old, decided to study abroad. She wanted to go to Ireland for an entire semester to be exposed to another culture.

“But what about your family, Mal?” I asked.

Really, what I was trying to say was “what about me?!” I personally didn’t have what it took to live in another country, let alone live outside New York, (I have what they call, “fear of leaving the island”) and to see her go was hard. That semester, instead of going down into the city to meet and go out at night, we had Skype and calling cards on hand for emergency girl talks.

When she came back, I thought I was in the clear. I had the summer going into junior year with everyone home to keep me company. But that summer as my boyfriend and I became closer, he let me in on a little secret; he had decided to study abroad in Brazil for spring semester. At first it was okay, we had a few months left together and when he left, we would make it work… I hoped. I mean, a friendship could easily survive separation, but a relationship? Even on the day his plane took off, I wasn’t sure we’d make it. And as the days went on, it only became harder and harder. I suddenly realized I had to act like a taken girl but I was always alone. I had the commitment, but none of the perks of a relationship. No handholding, no kisses, no napping together—no nothing. That semester I hardly went out. My mindset was to just get to class, get all my homework done and get to bed at a decent hour. My two roommates, who were both in relationships, would try to include me and keep me occupied, but it always ended up making me feel sourer. They were constantly pushing me to go out with them at night but it was a rare occasion when I actually did. I hated the end of the night too much. My roommates would all go to their boyfriends’ apartments and I would do a lonely walk back to our dorm room.  There were many nights I would be alone and cry in my bed listening to the commotion of students laughing and flirting and having the kind of night I had to wait four more months for.

But it got better.

One day it dawned on me that I was the one causing my own unhappiness and maybe this separation could be viewed as a good thing instead of a bad one. And with that revelation, everything changed. A whole new part of my life emerged. I began socializing and making friends with people I normally wouldn’t have time for, I met with teachers and excelled in class, I worked on my writing and made time for new hobbies and even got this internship at the Campus Clipper! I was happy and felt content with myself. I realized that there was no reason to fear leaving or being left behind. New York is an amazing city—no doubt about that—but if an opportunity came where I would have to leave, it would be okay to go. College pulls people physically apart from each other; but that doesn’t mean you have to become estranged from one another! Even if you aren’t a quick drive from each other, you are still just a call or an email away. When you really care and love people, a little distance is healthy and can make you value them more than you have before. Now that my boyfriend is home, our relationship is stronger then ever.  Our time with each other is precious but we make sure to make time for ourselves and other parts of our lives. It’s important to remember that if you’re far away from home or someone you’re close with leaves for a college that’s far away, remember that yes, the distance is hard, but they can always come and visit! You’re in New York City! They can come stay at the Blue Moon Hotel that’s right between Little Italy and SOHO and spend your days running around the city together (you couldn’t ask for a better excuse to do all the touristy stuff).  It’s important to feel grounded not by where you are but by what you do, and to remember that life always gets better if you give yourself the chance to grow.

Jackie Aqel

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Vagabonding in NYC

Friday, December 3rd, 2010

Written by Megan Soyars

Soon after I arrived in New York City, I found myself unemployed, friendless, and—worst of all—homeless.

I’d headed up to NYC from Texas on a something of a romantic whim. I’d seen the Big Apple portrayed glamorously in movies and television, I’d listened to Alicia Key’s New York, rocking my head to the beat and thinking, I could make it there. Life in the city drew me like a moth to flame, and just like a moth, my journey was unplanned and perilous. I simply packed up my bags, bid my parents farewell, and hopped on an overnight flight.

When I arrived in NYC early next morning, exhausted yet disparately exhilarated, I called up my friend to let her know I had arrived. I’d made arrangements to sleep on her couch for a week or two till I found my own place. She responded to my call with a devastating message—her grandmother had fallen ill and was moving in to live with them. In other words, I had no place to crash that night. I made some desperate scrambling and secured a $65 room at the YMCA for the next two days. Then I called up another random friend, who agreed to let me sleep on her futon for three or so weeks. But then she kicked me out early. Once again I was a vagabond.

After a month of hostel-hopping throughout the city, I was desperate to find a permanent place. I was tired of moving, tired of suffering through uncomfortable beds and loud hostel-mates, tired of throwing away clothes and toiletries to lighten my load.

While my fellow hostel-mates (all international kids around my own age) headed to the Empire State Building, the Statue of Liberty, and other bustling attractions, I sat hunched over my laptop in the lounge, scouring the housing ads on Craigslist. Then I made a discovery—a discovery that turned around my hapless situation and ultimately made my experience in New York City an inspiring one.

That discovery was the existence of Centro Maria Woman’s Residence. Centro Maria is one of several boarding houses in NYC. These boarding houses provide a safe and peaceful place to stay for hundreds of young people. Depending on the house, a person pays between $400 to $1,000 a month for a furnished room. Many of the rooms are single, but some are double or triple if you’d prefer a roommate. Several residences also provide meals, usually two a day.

So everything was provided for me at Centro Maria. I had a clean, furnished room, complete with a bed, dresser, desk, chair, and sink. I was given free home-cooked, delicious meals twice a day. I had access to a library, TV lounge, and computers. And all for $720 a month! But not only that, I was given a sense of community.

Centro Maria is run by the Sisters of Mary Immaculate. The Sisters genuinely care about each woman in the house. It is like having several moms who are all ready to lend a helping hand. I also have a great roommate; she is from South Korea and studying English here. And I’ve met so many friends during breakfast and dinner in the dining room downstairs.

I still remember how lonely I was when bumming from hostel to hostel during my first months in New York. I’d lay awake at night, listening to my hostel-mates chatter in their own language as they packed up their luggage for a midnight flight. I’m so thankful that I found Centro Maria, and I know the residence is a great option for students like you.

Perhaps you’re living somewhere temporarily, or somewhere that you don’t want to be. Maybe you’re tired of the dorms, or your roommate, or you’re running out of money and need an affordable place to live. Consider Centro Maria! You don’t only get a room here; you get a family. And who knows—maybe I’ll see you at the residence soon!

Contact Centro Maria at 212-757-6989 or cenmariany@mindspring.com to secure a room. Or check out the many other NYC boarding houses available at this website.

And, if you’d like to know more about student housing, pre-order our $9.95 NYC Student Guide today by emailing us at clip@campusclipper.com.

-Megan, Trinity University

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Make New Friends and Keep the Old: Wet, Hot, New York Summer

Tuesday, July 27th, 2010

This past weekend, College Girl was up in the city visiting me.  We devoted about two hours only to talking about her split with Navy Boy (after which I promptly defriended him on facebook – I am of the opinion that it’s totally appropriate for friends to hold grudges for each other when one half of the friendship is too nice to be mad on their own behalf, but I digress) and the rest of the weekend enjoying New York City in the summer.

I have no job, and all of my friends know this.  They know that my life is primarily dictated by how much money my parents are willing to give me at any given time, and seeing as how College Girl is their favorite friend of mine, they weren’t too hard to get money from for the weekend.  However, I set myself to the task of finding free things to do, and as most of us either know or are learning, there’s plenty to do in the city that’s free.  I think I’ve seen a few blogs from some of the other bloggers dedicated entirely to the city’s free events scattered throughout the summer.

Brooklyn Bridge Park and Bryant Park both have movies showing throughout the summer, sponsored by SyFy and HBO, respectively.  In Brooklyn, every Thursday you can see a movie with the sun setting on Manhattan in the background and music provided by a DJ.  Their selection is varied, from Dreamgirls to Rear Window to The Big Lebowski and I’m counting down the days until August 26th when they’ll be playing Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.   Bryant Park is showing old school Hollywood movies, with classic favorites Rosemary’s Baby and Carousel. These two parks aren’t the only places showing free movies throughout the summer, but they’re my two favorites.

College Girl got to New York via the Megabus right around noon, just in time for a day of thunderstorms.  I have this standing theory that whenever I have a visitor, the weather is going to be bad, and the rain starting just as she texted me that she was in her cab is my case and point.  We wandered around my area of East Harlem for a while, not completely out of the rain even with umbrellas, before an impromptu trip to Whole Foods for ice cream, waffles, and pie.  Let it be known that from my stop on the 6 to the Whole Foods at Union Square takes about half an hour, but it’s definitely worth it for the blueberry pie.  After that we decided on an easy night of Chinese food and “Degrassi.”  Laughing at the absurdity of a tornado warning in New York that night, we both relaxed and caught up on each other’s lives, hoping that the next day would bring nicer weather and a chance for me to show off what I’ve learned about the city from living in it on my own for a year.

One of the best things about the city in the summer, not even taking into account the free opportunities offered, is Central Park.  With that said, Central Park is the perfect place for those with few funds to hang out.  Every summer Central Park is host to Shakespeare in the Park, often boasting big name actors that love their craft so much they are willing to put on a free show.  Tickets are hard to come by, free as they are, and can be gotten through an online lottery or standing in line for hours.  Saturday was The Merchant of Venice, and as much as I enjoy Shakespeare I wasn’t that interested until I saw the name Al Pacino.   I haven’t lived in the city long enough to be  immune to the appeal of stars like him, and again, the fact that such a thing is free, blows my mind.

Central Park also has its Summer Stage, and since we were unable to get tickets to Shakespeare in the Park, College Girl and I walked around until we literally stumbled upon a crowd of people all heading to, what we soon discovered, a free performance of the  Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater.  With the air cooling thanks to the sun going down, we watched the Alvin Ailey dancers with the soundtrack of live blue music in the background, and it was maybe of my favorite experiences of the city so far.

-Mary K

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Posted in Friendship, onEntertainment, onLove, Out On The Town, Outside Manhattan, Relationships, Student Maximu$ Summer/Fall 2010, Uniqueness in NYC | No Comments »

Make New Friends and Keep the Old: Breaking Up is Hard to Do

Tuesday, July 6th, 2010

After seven years of dating, Navy Boy and College Girl have ended things.  Five months into an engagement that surprised absolutely no one, the two of them called it quits quietly somewhere between New Jersey and Washington on a cross country road trip they set out on together.  I’m sure there’s a metaphor in there somewhere, them driving to Washington together and her flying home, alone.  I think that if this was a movie, she would have gone to the airport only to be stopped by him at the last moment with a grand gesture and a “Stay with me!”  But it’s not.

Navy Boy and College Girl breaking up is a difficult for me to accept as it is for a young child’s parents getting divorced.  I said it before that I don’t like change, and I really don’t.  Navy Boy is being deployed somewhere in two weeks, and I think his deployment involves being in a submarine for three months or something but I can’t remember and it’s not something I feel right asking either of them about.

The two of them were the basis of every argument I’ve ever had about things working out if you try hard enough when it comes to distance and those you love, but I think now they’re working more towards the “If you love something, let it go” end of the cliché spectrum.  My dad actually brought that saying up when he first heard about the two of them, and it’s funny to me that he would say that, that he was as invested in two kids’ relationship as much as any of their friends were.  I think, more than anyone else, my two friends know what it’s like to deal with growing up.  Both know what it’s like to sacrifice for someone you love, and to know when giving up on each other doesn’t really mean giving up on each other, but that it’s still the best thing to do even if it hurts.

College is a time for meeting new people, seeing new things, experiencing new experiences.  They’re both going to get that chance now, though in different ways, and that’s a good thing.

-Mary K

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Networking: the art of knowing a guy who knows a guy.

Monday, July 5th, 2010

I attended a pretty blah networking workshop the other day but managed to walk away from it with some  not-so-blah food for thought:
Networking–you can and should always be doing it. Although workshop instructors make it out to be a science, it’s really more of a life philosophy. It’s the the acknowledgment that anyone we meet at any point can take us to new and exciting places regardless of whether they help us out or we help them out.

Networking is about coming to terms with the fact that by yourself you are a pretty small entity, but with links to others, your reach is infinitely broader and your possibilities increase exponentially.

Sound good? Okay, so where do you start?

With the very next person you encounter.

It means genuinely taking an interest in the people around you without a specific end goal in mind. After all, you can’t pin point a goal until you have some information, so just go information digging. Make it your mission to keep searching until you discover something about the person that
surprises, intrigues, or excites you. Keep exploring till you hear yourself saying: “Oh! Really?” And focus on listening, asking open ended questions, and thinking of how you or someone in your network could help this person out. Introduce people to one another whenever the opportunity arises. Remember also to network with people you already now. The person who is now your physics homework buddy can also turn out to be an event planning guru or know someone who is.
So connect yourself, connect others, then reconnect–as long as it’s genuine and you are interested in the give as much as the take. Let’s make this world a more collaborative sandbox.

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Late Night Creations

Friday, July 2nd, 2010

written by Sabina Ashbaugh

We always substitute an egg with two tablespoons of vanilla soymilk—a slight variation that leaves the dough runny and easier to mix with the cracked wooden spoon. The timer is set for 12 minutes, not 14 as the cookbook suggests, with a reminder at the six-minute mark to switch the top and bottom trays in the oven. Despite these careful discrepancies, accumulated over countless nights, our creations are never completely predictable. We speculate whether it might be the heat of the dimly lit kitchen, and that volatile summer breeze that seeps in through the windows and seems to soften the contours of the room.
Despite our many trials, my sister and I never fully plan our baking efforts, or even carefully measure out the ingredients of our amended recipes. The soymilk substitution, now a permanent step in the cookie making process, came from a late realization that the egg carton was deceptively empty. As if to support this impulsiveness, the planned desserts baked for family dinners—the pumpkin or apple pies, the blueberry cobblers, the cinnamon buns, the madeleines—are never as good as the spontaneous endeavors to satisfy late night cravings. The immediate satisfaction of these creations quickly assuaged the worries and anxieties amassed during school or work. Tasks divided and ingredients laid out, my sister and I get to work setting right the wrongs of the day.
It has been a year now since I moved away from home. Some months have flown by while others have painstakingly inched to a close, with pangs of homesickness and late night baking cravings that seemed to arise out of nowhere. Family, a concept that had seemed so natural and tangible just a year ago, has slowly been abstracted to stand for that sense of place so radically reconfigured after leaving for school. In times of stress, I often caught myself about to call the house with a confused plea of “What should I do?”
With distance I have come to realize how often I unintentionally underappreciated this form of support. I cringe at the thought that the ease and spontaneity of those nights spent baking are a lost bridge between my sister and I—treasured memories to look back on fondly but ones impossible to recapture. And yet the removal of this crutch has also forced me to examine how I will right the wrongs of the day in my own way—not by baking, but through the careers and choices that lie ahead.
Moving away is an exciting step towards independence and deciding how and what one wants to change in the world. In the midst of so many choices, the advice offered by family is a means of grounding oneself in times of transformation. Finding a niche in college involves exploring how one will contribute to society and improve the lives of others, but it also requires the recognition of the debt owed to those at home.
Growing up compels us to accept these recipes, relationships, and plans for future change. Family rituals become memories as traditions are re-made. It is important to maintain ties with those that helped us get where we are, and continue to want to see us succeed. Helping others starts by looking out for and appreciating those at home, and paying tribute to those left behind.

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The Melody Of Unexpected Rhythm

Friday, July 2nd, 2010

written by Angela M

Illustration By Tao Zao

I grew up on Disney and nightly walks with my Russian grandparents, sunflower seeds sticking to my fingers, old lady tales dripping from my ears like borscht. I was never told not to smile at a cute Asian boy, or to repress a casual wink at a dashing Spaniard.

Maybe I was never told to not do these things because: 1) I don’t smile often, and 2) I can barely wink. Regardless, there was never any objection to multicultural friendships. Romantically speaking, though, it was never really spoken about, perhaps because it was never really expected.
My first legitimate ounce of interest in the opposite sex could have something to do with my current situation.
I was in the first grade, and his name was Timothy. He was everything I wanted in a boy. He never spoke to me; he rarely, if ever, held the staircase door open for me; and he cheated on me. I don’t know whether it counts as cheating if we were never in a relationship, but my heart was temporarily in shambles. Did I mention that Timothy was Asian? Did I also mention that I’m white and Jewish and from Brooklyn?
At 22, and not a bit less romantic than my first grade self, I find my heart taken once again (this time, in a less make-believe type of way). I am in love with a writer who just so happens to be outside of my race. Raised Muslim but not practicing, my Indian love connects himself with the folk of Jackson Heights, Queens before anything else. To sum things up, not only am I dating a fellow who’s a hundred beautiful shades darker than my pastey self, but I am also dating someone outside of my borough.
We met at a house party. His band was playing, and I later on learned that he had asked our mutual friend to invite me, since he was too shy to do it himself. The night felt like something taken out of one of those typical teenage movies where the girl seems to be playing coy, not realizing what’s going on, and the guy is fumbling over every other word, crossing his fingers that he doesn’t look as dumb as he feels. It took me half the party to realize that I was falling heavy over someone who I had never expected to come across.
Surprisingly, my mother was more accepting of my new found love than some of my friends. When I say some, I really just mean one. My Jewish friend Rebecca* was stunned to realize that I was romantically involved with someone so far from my religion. I kept it secret from her for as long as I could, afraid of the very reaction that I got. She started telling me that being a Jew meant that I was part of the chosen ones, and how keeping religion alive in my family was imperative. Basically, she made me feel like the black sheep of the herd. A day after her attack, she apologized wholeheartedly and told me that I have her full support in any decision that I make in life. (I can only imagine how Rebecca’s reaction would have been if I had confessed that I was getting married!) Just to be clear, I consider myself Jewish more in terms of culture than practice. Echoing Keats, “Love is my religion.”
In a city where love has an astigmatism and hearts beat to their own bongo, interracial coupling is more common than ever. Every way my head turns, I see it: hands of different colors holding on to each other. It’s beautiful, really. And now, I am part of it. We grew up hearing different languages being spoken at home, eating foods synonymous to our cultures, but we were also scolded by our parents for leaving cookie crumbs in our beds, and watching too many T.V. shows instead of doing our homework. Plenty of people in college date people who they didn’t expect to be with. We aren’t really all that different, though. We both love literature and writing, we listen to the same type of music, and, obviously, we both enjoy a good house party.

*Name changed to protect privacy.

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Make New Friends and Keep the Old: Looking Back

Thursday, June 3rd, 2010

On February 20th 2007, I turned 17.  In New Jersey, when a person turns 17, and if they have fulfilled all of the requirements, he or she is eligible for their license.  Well, I got mine – along with my first car (a 1990 Buick LeSabre, navy blue).  I was so in love with my car, and had so many plans for it…my parents had already gotten me a really awesome sound system to get installed, and I couldn’t wait to drive it down the shore for the first time.

Fast forward to March 4th 2007.  In New Jersey, high school juniors have to go take the HSPA, High School Proficiency Assessment.  The HSPA spans four days, and lasts about three hours each day.  March 4th was the first day for my class, and I wore my favorite tee shirt and most comfortable pair of “lounge” pants, and flip flops.  By the time the day was over, I was ready to get home and relax.  So of course no more than hour after I had gotten home, I got a call that I needed to go to my best friend’s house for an emergency band meeting.  Not exactly excited to get there, I nevertheless got in my LeSabre and started down my street for the easy two mile drive.  This is where things get fuzzy, because not halfway down my street I, for some reason, swerved, then over corrected, and ended up driving straight into the side of a house.

The first thing I did when I woke up, having passed out for probably a minute or two, was call my dad (not 911, of course, because that would have made sense).   I then texted my friend something along the lines of “I was just in an accident on my street.”  The friend I texted, my best at the time, got to me in record time, before my father and the ambulance he called on his way from the office.  Now imagine, I’m sitting there in my own blood, cradling my broken wrist; I didn’t know it at the time, but the front of my car was crushed all the way to the windshield , which was also cracked from my face meeting it (and that’s why they tell us to wear seatbelts).  After checking on me, my friend took it upon herself to knock on the door to make sure no one was inside and injured, ignoring the danger she could have been in from the now structurally unsafe house.  That being done, she came over the passenger side, which I had somehow slid too, procured napkins from somewhere and did her best to wipe the blood from eyes and mouth – she did all of this before any other help arrived, but checked first to make sure help was going to arrive at some point.  Now, you may wonder why I bring this story up.

I think about it sometimes, about her wiping blood from my face and staying with me until I left in the ambulance.  I think about it because just a little over a year after my accident, we were suddenly no longer friends.  I wonder how we could be so close, and care so much about each other, and how that could just end.  It’s horrible how the fact is that friends, no matter how close they are, can just grow apart.  It started with a fight that probably wasn’t even that bad, and then radio silence.  BOOM, no more friendship.  We still talk occasionally, and when I’m in town we’ve gotten coffee before, but there’s nowhere near, and never will be again, the closeness we used to share.

On the other side of that, there’s the friend who made the half hour drive to visit me in the hospital each of the five days I was there after the accident.  She brought me movies and real food, and even washed my hair for me after about three days of me living with the blood, glass, and vomit that was by then crusted into it.  Of course, with my broken nose I didn’t even notice how rank I was, so the hair washing was more for everyone else’s benefit, but that’s not the point.  I’ve known her for twelve years now, I believe; she actually was my babysitter when I was younger, fun fact.  Our relationship is probably more like sisters than friends, and we can go from laughing hysterically together to me wanting to punch her in the face.

I just wonder why that friendship is different from the other one.  There’s no denying that Friend B and I have had probably over a million fights, radio silence included, yet we’ve always remained friends.  I’ve questioned in another blog on whether or not some people are just more important in our lives, and I didn’t want to think that I could rate my friends like that.  But I guess somewhere inside I do, because the simple fact is that one of those friendships is over, and the other is just as strong as ever.

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